Friday, December 31, 2010
So it's the new year.
I'm in San Francisco.
My body feels funny, like some parts of it are more awake then others. Like a sleeping mountain, some of the animals start to stir but mainly the core of it is just grounded.
For some reason I think of the dark crystal. I think of the moment when he's in the fog. When things are waking up beneath him.
I'm applying to the European Graduate School. There I go flying somewhere new. I want to stay in one place but each time I think that, I see another opportunity to discover the world and I just can't, I just can't get myself to stay.
Some people think it means I'll never stay anywhere long enough to establish myself. I think that's just what society might tell me. You have to stay somewhere, you have to "build" your life up. Your empire, your contacts, your bussiness, your world.
I guess I'm just not interested in that.
Or I am , but I'd rather build up my world, my contacts, the new strangers who leave lasting marks on my life on a global level.
I'll share my art along the way, but I've realized it thrives off the new, off the travel. That's where my creative energy really comes from.
overwhelming emotions are the raw material for creating anything.
Travel tends to stir some overwhelming emotions.
San Francisco is calm this time.
Calm like being on a boat.
A boat me and my friend Aria wrote stories about yesterday.
i'm sitting in front of a heater, or i was moments ago.
one of my oldest tendencies. finding the warmth and sticking near it.
i love apartments here, they are peculiar because they never get warm enough, so living here somehow tended to feel colder than chicago. I guess when the place you inhabit is never quite warm enough you would remember. Always a slight chill at home. We don't put up with that much in Chicago, its cold enough outside so we create our nests and safe havens inside.
i drew this yesterday while aria played some new songs off his new album.
i think this was right after i heard 'japanses parisian'. which is my song.
if you know me well then you might know why this title is fitting. and if not then maybe the meaning can only resonate all these colors so fully for the one who created it and the one it was inspired by.
like a lot of art.
no matter what, we're going to bring our own sentiment to it. the moment will mean something different to someone else, and those words will strike a different chord in someone else's harp shaped heart.
it's now 10;07 am. i think i'll venture off soon. to a coffee shop. or a small book store. they are
everywhere here. you just cant help but find yourself having wandered into a new little cabinet of
curiosities everytime you walk out the door.
here, is the little house i fell into sleep in last night.
"our job is to realize the world as we see it, not to perform it as we know it."
its the new year.
all things change.
all things full circle.
all things new.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
so like many things in life i let this slip away for a while.
it fell under a shelf, or behind a desk.
sometimes you use something and then you begin to use something else, and you forget about the first thing you started, or you lessen it's merit, then it resurfaces- you're confronted with it and you think..oh wow , now i do remember.
i remember what it meant to me, and why i had it.
my neck is cold, i'm in a room that isn't particularly warm. my hair is still damp from a shower and it doesnt help that chicago winter is creeping up.
this morning was the first real gust of it.
as i walked down monroe i thought
"please let me survive winter,
please let me survive winter."
then i thought of the little train who could
" i think i can,
i think i can".
and then i thought, i wonder how many people in the world are as childish as me.
i love it .
a boy just sat next to me.
there is a hum in the room, a hum of a heater, but the air is blowing down on me and its not very warm.
its just soft air.
soft air, i like the way that sounds, it reminds me of clouds. or being in a plane, when you look out the window, all you see is soft air.
i've been waking up in the mid morning hours of night. i will call them twilight hours, or magic hours.
they are states between sleep and dreams and time and space.
i whisper what is going on in the state of my unconscious mind to the boy sleeping next to me.
sometimes he responds, usually he just uses touch as a language. its funny how love lets you rediscover this new language of speaking.
it makes me wonder about those who are blind, those who use solely sound and touch to speak.
it also makes me think of my grandpa, whose stroke has left him without words, he understands all but can only use gestures and touch. can you imagine?
something like the little mermaid whose voice was locked away in a seashell.
i asked him a question the other day about dual identity, he reached down and squeezed my hand so tight, telling me everything i needed to know. i told him i loved him, then he squeezed it again, and maybe once more for good luck.
i think he told me three paragraphs of language in that moment. 3 paragraphs of touch.
the boy in my bed tends to write essays in touch. on the nape of my neck, small of my back, leaving letters and sentences in my hair.
i awoke yesterday to tell him a car was on fire and he was the only one to put it out, everyone just watched. it was like a dance, or routine. the fire in the car starts, you put it out, it starts again, you put it out a second time, the flames capture this awful amount of attention, but people are just stumped. they arent directly affected, or their car, so they watch and they let you to continue this cycle, i bite my finger nails.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
i was nodding off on the train ce matin. exhausted as usual. in the morning i sent out some emails as i watched lucca- this was my view of the eiffel tower.
id like to start here with maybe 100 ballons, each one with a letter or wish in them, then go to the eiffel tower, and from the top let them all go.
maybe id write every worry that crosses my mind.
im still kind of just an 8 year old stuck in the midst of my own creative chaos making wishes all the time. consequently im a fragment in these cities transcending temporarily- like everyone and the newspapers they read- through it.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
this is paris. sometimes i feel out of place, i'm not sure of my home. and then i view these homes on benches and my perspective is completely changed again.
someone reminded me to really strip my expectations and ideals of this place away and start at square one; what's really in front of me. the here et now.