| a poem i wrote last year |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|10:21 pm] |
4/12/09
te'ebrini- Arabic endearment meaning "may you bury me."
i am all these things, my body,
my stiff muscles and my quick-jumping skin
my horselike chuffing and my too-fast hands
my rolling eyeballs and my wild attention
my slopes and angles
as if we are all angels fighting blindly, struggling in a thin fluid, all, every one of us, together
4/13/09
books to read:
Sue Hubbell, Broadsides from the other orders: a book of bugs
Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore
Attar, The drunken universe
the Quran (the pretty translation)
i am way slacker today. get to work!
and then you push through the fence of sticks that we, with our long grasses, trussed up by the house, and you plow your feet into the road to see what grows
and dust of the world drifts down on your hair, burying the raw shining you took with you and the spores and pollens of many lands nestle against your skin, and you return to us years past the limit of our memory with your body bristling and aflame with the sprouts of many nations, roots dragging behind you out of their long bed, and you measure yourself against the floor to see if you still fit the place you left and all your sprouts and spores take wing and scatter to the hidden places where our closest herbs call home, and stake them out, and knock the food from their hands, and piss in their wells, and cuckoo their children, and stain our quilt of long grasses with their wild accents, and your body is the hill where families picnic, and no one remembers your name. where are you pushing through? are you the traveler or the road?
checking Hs against the fake book your eye is drawn to a torn corner and twelve pairs of brown shoes, three days before your eleventh birthday you ate a pastrami sandwich but you can't imagine that now. where do they go, the ways we once could believe? the ways we found things likely? what interpreters are we now? all things are thin and sticky, and they peel off one after the other.
4/14/09
This poem tastes like cumin and sage, ochre and gray-brown, barely turmeric. acres of trees have grown up along the highway, but nothing yet pushes through its surface. coyotes cross it now without caution, and rabbits drop their bones there of a night. it still when it rains smells like yellow and mushrooms, but will not grow the yellow -green algae i smell, will not become slimy with oranges and pinks, will not take on a rind and ferment. in time, like all things, the land will subside and pull pot-holes in the highway, and rain will gather there and pull the pollens in with it, and boil down to a thicker soil, and long grasses will push their sugar tongues from beneath it, and it will be a bowl of roses. so there will still be pottery when we are gone, but no eyes to make it beautiful. there will still be time when we are gone, but no memory to tell its story.
4/18/09
we are tying the grasses in bundles, we are heaping them in armfuls upon a sled and dragging it to the front of the house. we are twisting handfuls of grass together until is arcs over itself in colors. we are winding it purple over gold like a woman's hair twisted dry in the sun. we are wrapping green around gold and tying it off with a square knot. we are dragging the things we once carried by their dangling arms, legs, hair, muffled by a sled of grass. we are lying down together muffled, quiet like, rubbing out skin against purple ridges, throwing gold at the sun. oh how i love you Baltimore. we are eating the timbers from the inside out, and making a mansion out of each. we are elevators. we are running over eachother in waves and nestling and spreading out our infants.
4/19/09
and how they all run inside us, and how we too are the mansions, and how we are wrapping our hands around pillars of grass.
they're cherry-bomb-smart, these drops and galleys, these bright feathers we clutch to our chest, these blue sky with gold sun in them, these empty fullnesses, hollow hearts, birds-singing, lion-roaring, clock-clicking, equation-spinning, cake-baking, cherry-growing, ore-alloying, tight-holding, ours. jaws ajar and out they grow, rootless lianas, seated in air.
4/28/09
remember, its emptiness is fullness.
remember how tired we were, and how our hearts flashed inside us, and how we wove them together into music. remember the sled ride home. remember dragging the sled over the grass we pushed down, and the burrs in your hair, and the sun stinging your cheeks. remember the yeast smell of summer. remember the river pouring through air, the way we sucked it into our cheeks and held it there, the way we gurgled and gasped in it. remember gasping for breath. remember the dryness of lungs before a fire, and the way we invited flame in, the skin of stone under our hands, the breathing hearth holding in the dancers. remember craning your neck to look up its throat and the purples the dancers had streaked there, remember their indigo hands trailing over the stone. remember how you fed them pillars of grass and they snapped maypole around them until all was asleep. remember how you rolled your eyes around the room all smeared with indigo and shivered for the dancers to come back. remember how you found yourself wrapped in purple and you rolled your arms to feel it brush against you. remember how you danced yourself warm, slapping your feet on the stone, until you were full of pillars of grass and blazing. remember how you looked up and found them, the dancers small and distant, cold and emaciated, shivering above you, swimming in indigo. you are a small house in the wilderness. you are slapping the ground. when you let go and sank in indigo their dancing was lace around your arms, and the sound of bells. they are dancing to the drum of your rose-red heart. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 9th, 2009|11:19 pm] |
there's a bunch of secrecy about magic in a lot of traditions. you get initiated and they teach you more stuff. in my experience, this is backwards, a sign of a tradition that's about tradition rather than magic. magic is secret not because the people that understand it are keeping it from you, but because it can't be explained. you do stuff, you practice, and you start to get it. initiations are going at it from the outside in, from appearances to get to substance. practice is discovering substance, and appearance drapes itself on that.
i wonder if in some traditions, during initiations, they put your head in a place to get it faster. interesting idea. |
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| symmetry |
[Oct. 26th, 2009|06:47 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  i should be working | ] |
the order of events:
1. i read _Game of Thrones_ and developed a huge crush on Tyrion Lannister
2. i saw Peter Dinklage in an episode of 30 Rock and developed a huge crush on him, because he reminded me of Tyrion Lannister
3. HBO cast Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister.
well done, HBO. |
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| BFA show me! |
[Oct. 23rd, 2009|03:56 pm] |
hey! BFA show is soon! SJSU Gallery 5 Nov. 2-6, reception Tues. 3 6:30-9ish. some of the work for it is here: www.flickr.com/confoundedcontraption
and some is not there yet. you can come see if you want to!
http://confoundedcontraption.com/art/bfa.html is a website where y0u can see one piece, and the info again.
i find promotion awkward. even though this isn't really promotion, it's just an invitation, i keep getting half-way through a sentance and thinking "why would you care about my BFA show?" i guess maybe you like art. i don't really think you like art, but maybe there'll be free food? but maybe i'll run out of food. but maybe there will be other people there that you like and you can talk to them? anyway. jtlyk, BFA show. |
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| colorgraphemia and language modality |
[Oct. 19th, 2009|08:28 pm] |
so, i have mild color-graphemic synaesthesia. i feel dumb about it, because i didn't have color-graphemic synaesthesia until about 2 years after i did a research paper, over the course of which i found out what color-graphemic synaesthesia was. it kind of looks like i have synaesthesia hypochondria. i've been keeping records of what letter or number is what color at month or two intervals, on the theory that if i'm just making this up i won't have consistent colors, and it seems pretty consistent. anyway:
( here's what i've noticed: )
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 13th, 2009|05:58 pm] |
hey, my friend has a bunch of feral cats in her neighborhood, and she's been catching them and trying to take care of them. there's three tiny kittens need homes. can you help out a tiny baby kitten in need of love? even if you can't keep one, fostering one until we can find a permanent home would help. do you know anyone who could adopt one?
get in touch. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 24th, 2009|09:04 pm] |
like so many of us, i get periodic migraines. they aren't diagnosed migraines, but they match descriptions of migraines i've heard, so that's what i'm calling them. at the worst, they're debilitating headaches with disorientation and light sensitivity and nausea. sometimes it's just disorientation and floatiness. here's what helps, in order of degree:
distraction. somebody funny to talk to puts it off, sometimes long enough to get over it..
caffeine. knock the headache part right out, and the nausea usually goes with it. disorientation i can deal with.
sleep. sometimes you just have to turn off until it's over.
hope this helps you deal with any similar thing.
in other news:
imma start a professional blog about projects, events, etc. on my homepage. i have a hierarchy of online intimacy: lj is the highest, then facebook, then twitter and this new blog. so you all are invited to read my twitter (confoundment), but twitter friends are not necessarily invited to read this blog.
i'm procrastinating on inking this drawing, because what if i mess it up?!?! it's for a friend, and i'm pretty sure they'll stop speaking to me if it's lame.
other things i've been thinking about: synesthesia, sign language. |
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| i made a comic! |
[Aug. 7th, 2009|03:13 pm] |
it's called "the Parakeet Caper" and it's about a heist. i wrote and drew it in 29 hours (four of those were sleeping,) making it an "Eastman variation" on Scott McCloud's 24 hour comic. it's pretty good, for how stressed i felt a lot of the time. you can see in the art work my degrading mental and physical capabilities. it was a lot more uncomfortable than i'd expected (bad wrist cramping during the lettering, numbness and tingling in extremeties, sore shoulders and neck, nausea and dizziness, in retrospect none of this is completely suprising. also a little visual stuff, moving specks and colors, nothing extreme) but i'm glad i did it. JFB laughed more when he read it than at almost any other comic i've seen him read, but that might be in part because he likes me.
this is my first complete full-length comic. about time!
i think the writing's better than the art, which is interesting because i've spent so much time over the last ten years learning to do art, and next to no time learning to write. it may be one of those "critical eye" things, where the writing is not actually better than the art, i just don't know what to look at.
we're getting lunch and i'm slacking for a minute, then i'll scan it so you can read it. i want to share it with you because i made it and that's what stories are for! sharing!
i do recommend you try a 24 hour comic, if you're so inclined. advice:
you cannot have enough ergonomic support. you're going to be sitting in one chair for days. everything that can go wrong with your posture will.
keep snacks handy.
also caffeine. i prefer yerba mate, it makes me feel alert without jitters (and from hour 16 on the muscles in my hand were shaking anyway) but follow your heart.
extra everything. you never know when your ink will turn out to be an insoluble mass of ooze.
a buddy to get you extra things if you need them.
jump in! it's only 24 hours of your life. it is strange that nothing happened yesterday. i mean, i made a comic, but yesterday had no presence as a day. i sat down to work, and now it's Friday and my wrist hurts. time warp! |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 5th, 2009|12:29 am] |
Today jfb received email from a friend we ran into the other day, and the email mentioned in passing that his girlfriend was "intimidatingly pretty." well, intimidating, sure, i get that sometimes, but the other part? the premise doesn't even make sense. i'm interesting looking, if you're patient, but hardly pretty. i started thinking about why jfb's friend might have felt the need to build a sentence like that. i thought about how most women i've met, either obviously or deep down in secret, are terribly, painfully insecure. and when we don't like what we are, we begin to idolize things that are different from us. from that perspective, from the perspective of an attractive married woman of average height and build with a newborn, i might look very appealing. tattered, paint-stained clothes might remind one of times before one had to look respectable. a tall, lanky frame might seem strong, and weird hair might seem deliciously devil-may care. thick eyebrows might seem like freedom.
i'm describing this badly. the point of this post is that a lot of women, based on no tangible flaw, despise themselves and look for things outside their scope to admire. sometimes this need for the new supercedes aesthetic ideals. a new aesthetic is born, one based on novelty. Antithesis.
she said she felt like a buffoon, which was funny, because i also felt like a buffoon, but for different reasons (i couldn't remember her name and i kept saying things that sounded jerky, even though i meant well. also none of my jokes were funny.) it's too bad that when both parties feel like buffoons, it doesn't cancel out. math, where are you when i need you?
also i'm reading Gene Wolfe's _An Evil Guest,_ and i'm just not getting it. i've really enjoyed everything else i've read by him, but i don't understand what's happening in this one or why. at all. they just did one of those ask-a-question-then-stop-in-the-middle-because-you-realize-the-answer things, and i couldn't even figure out what kind of answer it was. you've lost me, book. anyone else read it? |
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| i will eat all of these beans |
[Jul. 14th, 2009|07:02 pm] |
there doesn't seem to be an upper limit on how many green beans, prepared in the following method, i will eat. i keep buying pounds and pounds of beans, so i'll have leftovers, and then i just eat them all. all of them. at once. as if there were a portal to the infinite vacuum of space in my throat, and green beans are the key.
Eat All Beans:
--> as many green beans as you can carry (wax beans are fine, but not quite as good; spotty beans are ok, but the texture is not ideal.)
--> salt
--> pepper
--> lemon juice
--> pot with an inch of water in the bottom
pull the stem off the beans and break them into manageable chunks
boil the water
put the beans in the water and simmer, covered, on med-low for 5-10 minutes.
they'll turn bright green, then dim and go grey-brownish. it's all good.
drain the beans, then sprinkle salt, pepper, and lemon juice over them.
Eat as many as you feel like, and then go buy more beans because you are out of beans now. |
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| a funny thing |
[Jun. 14th, 2009|11:44 pm] |
went to Kim Vermillion's house for a pie party and
1. i was 2 hours late, because i thought it started when it ended, but funnier than that:
2. we had the same hair cut.
#2 might not seem funny to you. this is probably because you haven't seen my haircut. seriously, apart from color and stylishness, identical! even the long left sideburn! she said she got hers on stage in Finland, with an enormous pair of rusty shears, and i remember when she twittered for ideas about how to get her hair cut. i wonder if one of her twitter friends said "remember how Kate used to have one side of her head shaved? do that, except leave the left sideburn long and shave a little on the right, too, like a rakishly-angled mohawk." i wonder if haircut zeitghosts were guiding my hand last Sunday when i cut most of my hair off.
probably not.
i wonder if there's anyone else in the world with this haircut. there are two of us; anything's possible! |
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| Start Reck and the million tiny lights |
[May. 14th, 2009|04:50 pm] |
in other news the Star Trek movie was great (and Spock was a cutie.) it's funny how big a part of American culture Star Trek is. Also i keep having to prevent my hands from typing Start Reck. what does that even mean, hands?
but Star Trek. Had ramifications at the time of its inception, such as mainstreamization of a genre work, inclusion of Russian and Japanese crewmembers, etc. Lasted 1 bazillion years, through many permutations, and now enjoys a comeback that combines current pop icons (Simon Pegg, J.J. Abrams, etc.) with historic Star Trek things (character tag lines, everyone leaning to the left when the ship is hit, etc.) Star Trek is a part of our national vocabulary, a body of cultural lore (that some of us are more versed in than others.)
for me, part of getting older is accepting that i'm nothing special, and i never will be anything special, and the crazy, incredible things that have happened to me are just stars in the galaxy of human experience, just one page in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez book, just my personal variation on the crazy, incredible things that happen to each of us. i'm getting to know the quiet desperation, and it's not the perjorative i once took it for. it's just the incredible importance of my tiny life. |
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| Memorial for the Living week 1: Anthony Cuneo and Robin Williams |
[May. 14th, 2009|04:13 pm] |
So, sometimes people die, and then everybody says nice things about them. Wouldn't it be more efficient to say nice things about people while they're still alive? To this end, every week until i forget to, i'm going to pick one person i know and one famous person and appreciate them.
Anthony Cuneo
I love Anthony. he didn't like it when we called him Tony, but we did it anyway and he forgave us. He was my only tie to the Santa Cruz friends when Beren died. he kept everybody together, which is one of the best things humans can do. He's the fastest reader i know, and he's way smart and handsome. seriously, brother read War and Peace in like two days. I don't remember if he ever massaged me, but every sign indicates that he's a really good masseuse. also he went to school to learn Rolfing, which is a funny word. Anthony is funny and sensitive and kind and sometimes irritable, but he's still usually nice to the people he's irritated at. Also he makes killer sushi. I'm really glad i know Anthony. He makes my life better.
Robin Williams
Robin Williams has done a lot of stuff, most of it super funny, some of it not so funny, some of it on hard drugs. many of his performances are characterized by this lush, heartshaking humanity; i'm thinking specifically of 1hr. photo, Hook and his early stand-up. Robin Williams has a smile like a bhoddisatva, as if he knows how fucked up we can be and loves us anyway. also i like his hairy arms. Robin Williams is an unexpected gift. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 19th, 2009|11:47 pm] |
hey, i finally put up pictures from my recent gallery shows! that means that if i took a picture of you being eaten by a monster, it's here:
www.flickr.com/confoundedcontraption |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 11th, 2009|12:09 am] |
Spent ~ 10 hrs painting words on a church. time slipped by like fairyland! also i stole a croissant from the homeless. all my crimes are victimless and absurd.
i love this world and it's leaves and words and raindrops. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 9th, 2009|01:29 am] |
so, it's the start of my 4th month at Kaleid (not counting the 6 mo. i did a couple years back) and i've sold two silver rings, one silkscreen, and one ink drawing. the awesome bracelets, books with secret hiding places, and rings set with stones are untouched. the lesson: set no stones.
oh but also the other lesson is sometimes people are willing to pay me. i leveled!
finished the "shady people saying nice things" series this evening. i feel really good about it; the composition, form, realism/stylism, flat/deep, stark/soft, line quality and juxtaposition all feel pretty strong. or, i dunno. they're just what i wanted to see. they feel like their own sovereign entity. will post pictures when i get to it. current score: 9 pieces done for the April show, 3 weeks to go. onward!
also did live painting at the Barefoot opening with Pellet and Saner. funtimes! did a picture of monsters. make that 10 pieces. |
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| work- complete? |
[Mar. 7th, 2009|03:12 pm] |
here's something i'm working on for the April show. what do you think? i should fix the weird thing around the leftmost horns, and maybe... put branch shadows on the door? is the color and the atmospheric perspective working? i know the perspective on the antelopes is wrong. the rightmost one looks tiny! and the middle one kind of looks like its levitating, or on a hill or something. anyway, tell me what you think and give me some perspective. the other kind of perspective.
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 28th, 2009|03:08 pm] |
now when i start a new drawing, i look at the paper and feel warm and excited that a new friend is going to come out of it.
except the salesman. i don't know about that guy. |
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