 |
| stacking. |
we sat, on stools, around a small table. smokers danced in front of three fireplaces. the toilet broke. my drinks were strong.
2/12/12
2/11/12
2/10/12
2/9/12
2/8/12
wednesday.
 |
| lines. |
intuition
anticipation
peripheral vision
movement
full body
hiding
exposed
layers
a holding pattern
anticipation
peripheral vision
movement
full body
hiding
exposed
layers
a holding pattern
2/7/12
2/6/12
2/5/12
2/4/12
2/3/12
friday.
 |
| red and gold. |
i'm playing a video game on a set of steep stairs. it feels like a pyramid. the bathroom floor is wet from people showering. the other girls seem familiar but i don't know them. i have no idea what i'm doing with the game. i'm trying to give the controller away but no one wants it.
2/2/12
2/1/12
wednesday.
 |
| shadow on a storage building. |
we're all along the edge of the room and he's in the middle. he reminds me of an elephant for some reason. he's dusting off and moving around the mantle piece that's in my room now. we're uncomfortable. i'm changing my clothes a lot.
1/31/12
tuesday.
 |
| ramp. |
i held one half of the mask of a cat in my hands. i fell down. legs tangled, i stroked her coat.
1/30/12
1/29/12
sunday.
 |
| apples. |
we pack ourselves in the van. i'm in the way-back. the umbrellas for protection have been installed. the heavy beams for the aquarium, lifted up. all of us are out of breath.
1/28/12
1/27/12
1/26/12
1/25/12
1/24/12
tuesday.
 |
| self-portrait. |
we're staring at a pyramid. someone says my breath smells better. a little boy and his mother ring the door bell. he drops and breaks the tea-pot as they enter. i'm swimming in a lake in the basement. the phone rings. i'm hiding.
1/23/12
1/22/12
1/21/12
1/20/12
friday.
 |
| tube. |
as you say, you notice these things, and they puzzle you, and you love them. it is a very exciting subject.
-pina bausch.
1/19/12
thursday.
 |
| bridge. |
there's nine of us all together. i'm the last to take a shower. i'm in a small convenience store while i wait. i'm on the phone. the conversation is positive and then turns ugly. the connection's not great. i worry.
1/18/12
1/17/12
tuesday.
 |
| grand and milwaukee. |
we'll be picked up in four minutes. all we want is a little sip of something. my clothes are stained with spots from the perfume. i quickly rush around and try to change.
1/16/12
1/15/12
1/14/12
1/13/12
friday.
 |
| reaching. |
i carry a fifteen pound weight across the room. i push on the back of my head to stretch my neck. i crouch down to the floor and explode upward with a jump.
1/12/12
1/11/12
wednesday.
 |
| clues. |
the warm weather was today's reason for wandering. guess there's a bunch of abandoned cars and piles of old machinery just to the east of the home deeps on elston. i was a detective for a couple of minutes. i looked hard at things. i felt young.
1/10/12
1/9/12
1/8/12
sunday.
 |
| rock wall. |
thinking about accumulation, things that glow and things that melt. tomorrow we start on the movie. shrimp and wine and a sleepover.
1/7/12
saturday.
 |
| sweet bread. |
i'm in the front of the rabbit. the window's down. the air smells of deep fried chicken, walgreens and i94. there's a long line for the red box. i slide two fingers against my scalp in a search for scales and wait.
1/6/12
1/5/12
1/4/12
1/3/12
1/2/12
monday.
 |
| the sky. |
about an hour before the sun sets, there's this specific kind of lighting. it fills me with an energy difficult to describe in words. the feeling makes me curious to know more about everything around and inside of my body.
12/27/11
tuesday.
 |
| sunrise. 1924. |
i can claim no background except perhaps the woods, running streams, hunting, fishing, camping, the sky.
-arthur dove.
12/24/11
12/23/11
friday.
 |
| hanging. |
sometimes the light from the sun hits the side of the window in the morning. the colors shift and deepen. i like to watch them move around.
12/22/11
thursday.
 |
| zoom. |
its in between the storm and window panes. i've never watched one this close up before. it strokes its wings with its front legs after licking them. it slams against the glass and makes a teeny sound.
12/20/11
tuesday.
 |
| state and congress. |
arts with the brain in mind, the elusive obvious, teaching to change the world, the evolving self, and movement education: child development through body motion. all overdue books have been returned. i'm on a break.
12/18/11
sunday.
 |
| inside and out. |
the whistle blew and i pushed off. ahh! is it the dolphin crawl? the butterfly stroke? this pool is huge! i'm quickly left in the dust and doggy paddle my way to the other side. i'm wearing my thick winter jacket. a trainer comes over and in a dark, scary, and disappointing voice asks, "well, did you even put your swim cap on?" my response: "i'm sick! i thought i could do it! i know i'm a nobody but i still love to swim!" she walks me to the locker room and i'm left alone with a million screaming children.
12/17/11
saturday.
 |
| thorndale redline stop. |
how do people make a relationship to knowledge? how is a desire for learning engaged?
12/16/11
friday.
 |
| here i am. |
i was tight rope walking on a narrow wooden pier that went this way and that way and way way out into the ocean. i spilled some of whatever it was i eating onto my borrowed turquoise dress. the stain had been marked with a white circular sticker. a miniature five spot, no bigger than the tip of a fingernail, flew through the air like a feather and then landed on the wing of a crow.
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