[quoting Ali M. telling me whom to ask for when I drop off my film at Color Edge.]
Waylon Jennings, Tina Fey, William Eggleston, creamy smog, the smell of frost,
and 25 to-do lists chock full o' practical tasks I just never seem to get to...
I need a day off. I don't feel outlandish in my demands and requests
- although, people keep reminding me of the looming economic crisis -
I just need a li'l break from that rushing whir outside of my head.
I'm dreaming of an Indian Summer and skinny dipping in a natural hot spring
on the Jersey/Penn. line. Even better I'll hop a train Westward; read some books,
photograph strange places, and add fodder to small-town gas station banter...
Run around in an area of fresh cut grass, barefooted and drunk,
without worry of glass or dog crap. And chiggers.
Chiggers... does anybody recall what those bugs were exactly? Illinois was
full of them. They left bites smaller than mosquitoes (bites), but in a triad pattern;
always around your ankles and pantylines.
I always thought they were kind of pretty, like connect the dot triangles
in patterns of pinky symmetry.
I want my eyes to burn from sea salt air. And to feel that pang of terror,
that never fails to creep in my guts right around night fall,
when the water turns black as raw oil and I start to imagine seaweed
morphing into Ursula's soul garden captives.
I swear, I'm going to take a vacation soon.
I'm brimming with anticipation, and my reserve for work is burning away fast.
I went to Minneapolis recently to deal in and do some art-making...
this is work I never tire of, but always seem to get to last.
Regardless, it was a nice break and I got to see some people I've dearly missed.
My lovely girl, Brenda, has this entire attic to her art-doings...
Stephen took this picture of me at Grumpy's; right before I butchered 'None O' Yo Business' by Salt-N-Pepa. I decide tonight that remembering being really good at rapping as a nine-year-old, in no way verifies you can ACTUALLY rap that song... it got ugly.
Yikes!
The fishbowl drink and Rachel Morgan. 'nuf said.
My old housemate.
The only real vacation-y event of the whole weekend - the Renaissance Fair.
swweeet Red Ice Balls served in a frozen orange...
and this:
Alottalovetomyarthandlingcos...
