sunday.

shapes.

today: the whole neighborhood smelled like chemicals, a warehouse just north of us spent the night burning, i played basketball, i read about instructional objectives, observables versus unobservables, i cut the feet off of an old blue pair of socks, i've got one on each arm, i worried about a lot of little things, i ate cantaloupe and brussel sprouts for dinner.

saturday.

hammond, indiana.

29 miles from here to there.  beginning to plan the walk.

thursday.

weights for tents.

fresh outta school and loud in the back of the bus.  i listened to your jokes and watched an old man shake his head.  you all seemed so wide awake.

wednesday.

hoses and tarps.

lugging supplies on 2 crowded trains.

tuesday.

period 6.

teaching art is cool.

monday.

michigan.

...the spatial forms and fantasies through which a culture declares its presence.

-paul carter.

sunday.

new series.

straddling the rumble strips.

friday.

lap.

the map presents us with the reality we know as differentiated from the reality we see and hear and feel.  the map doesn't let us see anything, but it does let us know what others have seen or found out or discovered.

-denis wood.

thursday.

shadows.

i made a pact with my mom tonight.

wednesday.

switching seasons.

i sat across from you on the train this morning.  both sides of your colored pencils were sharpened and you were loudly humming.  your bags touched the feet of the man next to you.  he was reading the red eye while you drew. your hair was grey and wild.

tuesday.

view.

it can help to remember that feeling unsettled or awkward is often a necessary and natural stage in learning and will pass with practice.

-paula denton.

a new tattoo?

monday.

snip.

i was waiting on one side of the barn.  a boy asked if i needed a ride.  i knew i did but didn't know where i was going.  i said yes.  he said it wouldn't hurt before looping a lasso around my ankles.  as i flew through the air i repeated the words just trust this three times in my mind.  i landed on the other side of the barn.  the landing was rough.  i stayed on the ground with my feet tied together.  i was late to the wedding, which is where i was supposed to be going.  my grandfather was the first to see me arrive.  i couldn't hear the words of the ceremony.  i jumped into a small pond with my cousins and uncle.  we took pictures of each other and the water.  it occurred to me right then while swimming that the evidence we were collecting would make this night seem more natural or normal.  our being together was strange in right now but the pictures would only show our laughter and wet hair.

sunday.

horses.

it ain't over.

saturday.

the teacher i hope to become.

an ongoing investigation of layers.

thursday.

floor.

things and their shadows.

wednesday.

the city from a roof top.

eating spinach makes my teeth dry.

monday.

near clark and monroe.

keep public schools safe from private corporate monsters.

-a sign at the rally.

sunday.

wind.

strike is on.

saturday.

advance uniform.

i sat in a high-backed chair painted black in a room i'd never been in before.  i had on an over-sized khaki colored shirt i like to wear.  on the tv were sea creatures pretending to be screen savers but i knew they were real.  i was called down to the gallery where a man sat near a giant wall of windows.  it was so bright in there.  i could barely see his face.  a bunch of my drawings were there hanging in a row.  the man asked how i was able to make the blue crystals so shiny in the one closest to him.  it was a strip of blue tape crumpled up.  i didn't want to disappoint him so i acted like he meant it as a compliment and not a question.  i smiled instead of answering. 

friday.

lake and jefferson.

everything's piled on top of everything else.

thursday.

patterns.

injecting specificity into ambiguity.

-teddy cruz.

wednesday.

field museum.

teenagers, a young person and dinosaur bones.  i spent the day drawing old artifacts while thinking about my past and present.

tuesday.

tow zone.

i watched the giant waves move the wind while holding onto the bushes near shore for support.  i saw a building collapse into pieces of dust through the window of my classroom.  i thought i knew a girl who lived there.  moments later a rectangular parking garage on the roof of the high rise next door fell fast through the ground.  i heard the men sweeping up the mess whisper their escape plan.  they were in on the disaster.  i knew i should tell someone but didn't and followed a long empty hallway to another room instead.

monday.

moving.

it's the day before it all begins again.

sunday.

letters.

a birthday, a young one, it was the day.  i hung back painting turquoise stripes on the table cloth after defending my purpose for hanging back.  we were all in a garage.  some of the kids buried their heads into the shoulders of some other kids.  i screwed up.  dirty looks, head shakes, an infinity pool.

saturday.

layers.

we watched an apartment building light up in flames last night on our walk home from tacos.

thursday.

stairs.

making a visualization of a description.

wednesday.

wall.

i was blowing you a kiss.

tuesday.

shadow & pink.

bought a new gallon of white today.  i carried it home on the train.  i held it by the wirey handle attached to its sides and flipped it back and forth between my hands.  i listened to a group of men joking while working on restoring the front porch of a house i pass regularly.  a couple of people were walking their dogs.  a girl on a bike with a big bag and no helmet flew down the street.

monday.

55 gal lb.

there is no theory of walking, just a consciousness. but there can be a certain wisdom involved in the act of walking. it's more an attitude, and it is one that fits me all right. it's a state where you can be both alert to all that happens in your peripheral vision and hearing, and yet totally lost in your thought process...

-francis alÿs.

sunday.

window.

staring.

saturday.

truck.

people have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.

-kurt vonnegut.

 

friday.

real talk.

in high school i went to a basketball camp in wisconsin with my friend and teammate, courtney.  we played 20 some odd games over the course of 3 days.  my hair was long.  i was tan.  the nails on my 2 big toes fell off.

thursday.

missile.

eavesdropping on premed students at the coffee shop = whoa doggy!

wednesday.

lot.

whistling esses.

tuesday.

cranes.

just how will mooseymcmoosles find his way back to alaska?

monday.

puddle.

i could see rushing water at the very bottom of the drain.  i spit into it and watched the glowing mass of mucus fall fast and then cling to the side of the pipe.

sunday.

stairs.

walking maps, drawing maps, talking maps.

saturday.

train.

the phone call felt familiar and so i said yes to the job.  the woman i'd be subbing for, a girl i knew in high school, thought maybe a field trip would be best.  she recommended a boat ride.  i agreed.  on the day i was to teach her kids i showed up at 1:40pm.  since classes began at 8, i was late.  i had trouble pronouncing names during roll call and wasted about an hour's worth of time.  some of them were on my side.  some of them were dancing with hula hoops in the center of the room.  i escaped and set up shop in the courtyard to sell old t-shirts to some friends i used to know.

friday.

door.

the sky is loud with planes.

wednesday.

fire.

waking

my secret way of waking

is like a place

to hide.

i'm very still,

my eyes are shut.

they all think i am sleeping

but

i'm wide awake inside.

they all think i am sleeping

but

i'm wiggling my toes.

i feel sun fingers

on my cheek.

i hear voices whisper-speak.

i squeeze my eyes

to keep them shut

so they will think i'm sleeping

BUT

i'm really wide awake inside

-and no one knows!

-lilian moore.

monday.

dish bones.

how do you make sense of something that looks like nothing?  brian greene's got me thinking about dark energy.

sunday.

anna.

knife in the ground broom in the tree.

friday.

night.

leaving the city for a few days.  mmhmm.

thursday.

bird.

making tub people smile before the race.

wednesday.

blank.

i tried twice to plug the hole with cardboard and packing tape before the fish escaped.  i watched it search for water.  a monkey fell near by.  my cousin caught a dragon underneath the leather couch and let it go.  a little girl in line told me to shut up.  i ratted her out to the teacher.  her story didn't match up with mine.  i felt guilty afterward.

tuesday.

1, 2, 3.

a row of houses turning neon colors along with the sunset.  i couldn't find delilah's.  i lost my purse.  50 miles from milwaukee avenue.  in need of a canoe and 6 towels.  they made me steal the towels from the gym.   

monday.

working.

i'm rifling through a stack of drawings.  they're matted in bright white cardboard frames.  everyone's giggling in a circle. 

sunday.

hydrant.

a bunch of us were in a park.  i asked if we needed permission to lay down the strange shapes we'd made.  the hat worn by the woman in charge tipped down over her face.  she smiled.  we all watched from the center as young people in pairs began to move the pieces around in the grass.

friday.

alley.

places matter. their rules, their scale, their design include or exclude civil society, pedestrianism, equality, diversity (economic and otherwise), understanding of where water comes from and garbage goes, consumption or conservation. they map our lives.

-rebecca solnit.