Updatin' the Interweb.

School's nearly done with and I plan on spending my first sweet moments of Winter Break...working!  On stuff I like though.  I need to churn out some mobiles, a journal, and some other handmade crafts before Christmas hits.  Wish me luck.

I plan on making my 6 year old niece a drawing journal.  My friends and I have this habit of creating little journals full of prompts such as "Draw the inside of your mind" and you draw it.  It's a fun silly thing to do.  My niece got such joy out of taking part in our journal, I thought it would be grand to make one for her.  So I'm going to fill it with things that would pertain more to a little kid. 

I'll also be making some shirts and mobiles for friends and family.  I've got a lot of work cut out for me, but I'll be happy to be crafting and not studying!  Especially since my next semester of school is going to be a boatload of work.  Math AND science, plus TWO English classes.  Bye bye, social life. 

I'll post pictures as soon as I've made some progress. 

Tied

In an unmistakable knot, we are tied

We are tethered.

Tornadoes couldn’t tear us apart

Even when people wish it,

We hold fast.

Two heads in one, they say

Gruesome.

We dance a delicate part

Your waist, my hands

We breathe alike, we think alone

Two heads are better than one

All that exciting news I spoke of has dissipated due to reasons out of my control.  However, this is for the better for everyone involved. 

Aside from that, school is in full swing.  Today I wondered why I was dragging ass, only to realize I hadn't had coffee.  It's a bad sign when you need your morning coffee, but I can't help it this semester.

While my big project has been nixed, I've got a few other side things to work on.  A few of my friends are in a Halloween art show and I'm hoping I have enough time to make a mobile-type skeleton thing.  I have sketched out bits in my head, but have yet to actually produce anything.  I'm also considering making a few of the paper cut outs I was really into about this time last year.

Must do homework.  This blog post is clearly an escape route from studying.  Bah.

Buzzing on news.

VERY excited that an idea I had about a year ago is finally coming to fruition!  And on a level even I didn't think could happen.  With the help of a local art group (which I think I'm a part of now) and their connections, I'm getting the chance to not only showcase my idea, but also to decorate it. 

I won't say yet what it is, but stay tuned.  Things are happening and I'm oh so thrilled to be a part of it!

BFFF

My best friend (for over 20 years now!!) and I celebrate birthdays that are exactly two weeks apart.  I celebrated mine and she did a wonderful job decorating a surprise party with large paintings of forest creatures (raccoons, deer, owls, bears).  Even if I had just gotten those paintings without the multitudes of friends and family, i would have been overjoyed.  Thus, it was an extra special birthday this year.

For her birthday, I was supremely stuck.  I can be crafty and handy, but recently I've been knee deep in school and work.  I had ideas, but where to start?

First, I decided I would draw her a picture and frame it.  This isn't to say I think my work is so great it needs to be framed.  No, it's more of a joke.  Every birthday since I can remember, she has drawn me a card (they get better every year).  Every time we have art jams or creative times, she asks me to draw her a picture of a squirrel.  It's always a line or two of shaky scribbling that ends with the inevitable "I can't draw".  So I drew her a picture of a squirrel.

I bought her some knick knacks from the Korean stationary store, three pairs of earrings, art pens, and some tights.  Here's the final product:

The earrings are each on their own button and then fastened to the tulle.  Everything else is neatly bound up by the tulle.

I also made her a small mobile to hang somewhere.  I was really lost on this project because i just started out with some paper pinwheels.  I made about 8 or 9 and couldn't figure what to do with them.  At first I was going to make a banner that said Happy Birthday and attach the pinwheels for decoration, but Gaby wasn't big on being loud about her birthday this year.  I figured that wasn't the way to go and nixed the idea.

I tossed ideas around for probably a whole day, then decided on a mobile.  The idea was so half-baked when I started.  I first used a hanger (what I was thinking, I don't know!).  Then when I realized it looked overly homemade (in a bad way), I started over.

I happened to find three small wooden dowels and decided to use those to build the mobile.  Here is the finished product.

The paper pinwheels have buttons attached at the center and the string runs through each center.  I've never built a mobile, but it was surprisingly fun to mess with the balance of objects on the wooden sticks.

This will definitely be something I am going to play with more.  I think with more practice and more time, I can get pretty good at mobiles.  I just love the way the pinwheels look when they spin. 

Out of Commission

I have very much been inactive about this blog and my creative life.  A few updates for you:

I am FINALLY feeling more on track with school.  Talked to a counselor, got some things lined up and will hopefully be ready to transfer soon.  This means I'll be taking at least one semester of 5 classes and definitely 2 summer school classes, but I don't care.  I want to be done and I want to graduate.  This also means that I'm not taking any art classes and that I'm pretty much pushing creative things to the side save for a few minor details. 

I'm mostly really happy to focus on something long term.  I finally cemented being an English major and also emphasizing creative writing.  Next semester I'll be taking more English classes and that is really exciting.  Plus, CC art classes are always around, so when I get my bachelors I can always go back, which I plan on doing. 

I'm also trying to focus more on my own writing in general, so a break from other artistic forces will be good for me.  The few things artsy fartsy things I still plan on doing involve writing anyway.  I want to write more skits/do more performances.  And I just barely have gotten involved with a friends art group, so hopefully I'll be making that come true soon.  I have a lot of ideas and bits written down that need to be shown.  I would also really love to start making short stop motions.  I've also got good ideas for party themes and am just waiting for the right moment to unleash them unto the world. 

I've also been volunteering at a great co-op bicycle center.  I'll be posting pictures and some details about that later.  For now, I must scribble notes for a quiz tomorrow.  Tata.

Kundera

I finished my K book for the A to Z list a few days ago. It was a long time coming. I think I started it a few months ago. I could say that with summer school and my sister being here, I just wasn't finding the time...but I'll be truthful. I just couldn't get into it.

I've had a lot of friends and respectable people recommend his work to me. I started The Unbearable Lightness of Being a few years back, but never could get more than a few pages into it. After perusing the K section, I thought he would be a good choice. I picked up The Book of Laughter and Forgetting.

From the get go, I pretty much knew I wouldn't like it. In my opinion, he shouldn't have written a book, but an essay or series of essays. I got the sense that I was being preached to, or even looked down on as if I wasn't good enough.

I will say that I gave the book a good hard chance. I read the whole thing through and tried to take what I could from it, but in the end, I felt unappreciated as a reader. I got the very strong sense that Kundera, or the voice he was writing through, was very pretentious.

I distinctly remember a portion where he discusses how a spoken word can be emphasized. Here's a very short excerpt:

He said the word "subtle" as if it were in italics. Yes, some words are not like others; they have a special meaning known only to initiates.

I don't know about you, but I know what emphasizing a word means and I know that when it's in italics, it's being emphasized. I also know it can create special meaning for said word. This whole little section sort of sums up how I feel about the book.

It felt a bit preachy, had a holier-than-thou type of feel. I just wasn't, and couldn't get, into it. Maybe in a few years, at a different point in my life I'll like it more, but I'm pretty iffy about that.

In Which: Homer Simpson Saves My Life

We’re walking down the aisles, lit up bright with rows of beaming bars of light.  The reds seem more vibrant, the blues livelier, the yellow casts off rays like the sun.  You’re wearing that vest, the one they make you wear.  I think it looks good on you, it fits.  You think it’s a burden.

We’re in your store.  Or at least the one you work in.  It’s all aisles, up and down.  It’s all colors and boxes, and bottles of hairspray and tins of crackers.  It could be any store.  I could be anywhere.  But I’m walking down this aisle, number 4, with you wearing your smart vest.  Even with you here, we could be anywhere.

We pass kitty litter, with pictures of cats looking pleasant as they tiptoe from a box, leaving behind waves of clean scent behind their dirtied tails.  We pass the dog toys, the training treats.  We are talking about something inconsequential.  I can’t recall it now. 

It was then, in front of the dog doo pick up bags that you stopped and said, oh I meant to give this to you.

Out of your vest pocket, you plucked a shiny something and handed it to me.  It’s a button.  The kind you fasten to your coat pocket or lapel.  Homer Simpson smiles up at me, his round butt covered in blue jeans just stuck on a pin, smiling.

I look up at you in your vest and I’m smiling a big thank you.  I put that pin on right there and then, right on the lapel of my grey blazer.  Homer Simpson, fake though he may be, is a good man.  I sense spiffy good luck in the near future.

You like that I’m happy.  You grin with broad white teeth.  Overhead, white circles garble your name.  You say you’ve got to actually work now.  You’re putting that vest to use, though the vest does nothing but make you feel silly.  I still think it looks good.

I follow you to the end of the aisle and around the bend I’m hearing disgruntled muttering.  Your hand draws back across my body.  Be careful, you whisper, stand back.  She’s been here before.  You’re tense as you lean back whispering, watch out she’s got a strong left arm.

The shiny soles of your heels turn around the aisle end.  I follow, gingerly, listening for danger.  The dry lifeless cackle of an old woman hits my ears.  Before I see her, I can tell she’s armed.  She sounds wheezy, tired, as if the fight’s been fought.  Between bursts of exclamations, her throaty breath heaves as if she is lunging or thrusting. 

Things sound bad.  I’m afraid to see what it looks like.

Her hair is white oblivion.  It is cumulus clouds.  It floats gently above her flashy head, swaying with the winds of her thrusting, her lunging. 

The thin lithe of a fishing pole’s hook and sinker come whipping through the air.  Her hands, though brittle, made quick work of it.  She lumbers close and her breathy rasp screeches maniacally and I’m frozen quick, lost in her white oblivion.

The fishing pole whips at me and I know, surely, I must be dead.  There is no movement quick enough to escape her pole, her horrid breathing.  I can see the end of the fishing pole, the glint of the hook, but I don’t even put up a hand.  I just grimace and wait for the sharp stab of death.

Seconds pass.  A sharp plink and just barely your voice reaches my ears.  You’re saying something and I’m desperate to hear it.  You’re grabbing my arm and I am sluggish.  I say, I’m dying, just leave me. 

Slowly the sound comes back, my breath comes back.  I look down and Homer Simpson is smiling up at me, a fish hook stuck right in his happy grin. 

I think I hear you calling me an idiot. 

I think Homer Simpson just saved my life.  I’m smiling like an idiot.

Birthday Gift

A friend of mine celebrated her birthday recently and in an effort to get/create something for her that I could spend minimal monies on, I decided to take an existing shirt and create an applique on another.  As a kid she liked Pokemon, so to keep her youthful memories alive (though admittedly, neither of us is very old) I took an old Pokemon shirt, cut out the main picture and stitched it onto a new one.

Simple process, but it was cheap and easy and something homemade is always nice!

You can't see the shirt, but it's a normal black shirt from Forever 21 (only an easy $3.50!). 

Here's a little detail on the stitching.  Just a basic stitch. 

And since the applique was fairly simple and even impersonal, I decided to stitch on a little heart to the back of the shirt.  It's placed on the bottom left hand side and I meant it to be a sort of secret.  I attempted to attach a little A in the middle (her name starts with an A), but ran out of time.

Overall, I'm happy with the turn out, though I believe next time I'll work on something more hand made and less of an applique.

Sweet Tooth Satisfied.

This past Saturday I baked some goodies for a bake sale/art show called Sweets for the Sweet.  It was put on by Red Hands Media in order to raise money for a future large art installation in Long Beach. 

My friend Genesis invited me to partake, so I spent Saturday afternoon mixing, kneading, and rolling out some lollipop pies.  I didn't get a chance to take any pictures of the process (there was a whole lot more going on that day aside from the baked goods), but here's a picture of the end result:

It's a tad hard to see, but they are shaped like hearts.  The filling is blueberry.  I planned on making cupcakes as well.  Actually, I MADE them, but didn't have time to decorate them.  Just as well, anyway, since some adorable little girls contributed a ton of cute ones!  Yep, that's a "spaghetti and meatball" you're seeing.

A couple of artists from the Red Hands Media group also created work specifically for this show.  This is Cyndee's and one of my faves.  They are fruit bats!  I love the colors and how she displayed them.

Also, Art (the creator of Red Hands Media) and his lady-friend, Genesis, collaborated on a piece:

I have a lot of talented friends and I'm happy they can display and sell their artwork in such a great community environment.  Hopefully I'll be able to continue to help them.

Sweets for the Sweet

A good friend of mine invited me recently to partake in a bake sale/art show this Saturday.  Here's the flier:

Since I was just asked a few days ago, I haven't the time (what with summer school 4 days) to craft or create anything sweets-related.  No moneys either!  I'm spending a few bucks on ingredients to make some (hopefully) sweet cupcakes.  Come see me and support art!  A portion of the proceeds will go to the Red Hands Media group and the rest will go to a starving artist (me, hahaha). 

Paaaar-tay

I've been lying low recently and not doing much but riding bikes, swimming, and eating. Ha.

I haven't much moneys right now, so I haven't done anything artsy. But a friend of mine celebrated her birthday by throwing a zombie themed party. In honor of her awesome ways, I made her a zombie unicorn pinata. I didn't make the actual pinata (toooo lazy to go through that), but I bought a horse from a party store and transformed it.

The unicorn part was easy.   Last year, my best bud Gaby and I made a unicorn pinata (for this same friend.  What? She likes unicorns!) and it was so simple.  Just a horn, really.  This year after the horn, I wasn't sure which direction to go.

This is a preliminary photo.  I added blood, scarring, and green skin.  I put black for the eyes, but wasn't sure what to add.  I also added black paper to the left foot to try and create a "missing foot".  It didn't quite work.

This is the finished product.  More blood, and green skin.  I also changed the colors in the tail, but you can't see it here.  There were also pink heart on the front and sides.  I left the front one, but changed the side ones to black and green then added more blood.  I also added blood to the missing foot that you can kind of make out.  I think my favorite part of all is the bloodied horn.

And here is the aftermath.  She really enjoyed the pinata.  She was actually the only gal to hit it since her second swing knocked the body clear off, leaving only the decapitated head dangling for all to see.  Inside, I stuffed the pinata with mini lollipops, fizzy lollipops, whistles, bouncy balls, two normal sized candy bars (for two lucky drunkards), condoms (plain old rubber and festive colored ones!), and smoke bombs!  The smoke bombs were a total hit. 

Overall, the pinata was a hit.  I had a good time making it.  And it was SO cheap.  I had leftover streamers for adding gore and got most of the favors from The Dollar Tree (my fave store since I became so broke).  More than anything, I'm happy happy happy it was a hit with my friend and the party.  I hope she keeps that severed zombie unicorn head forever. 

 

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

I finished my J book a few weeks ago and due to finals never had a chance to blog about it.

It's by Shirley Jackson and I believe it was her last novel. I haven't read any of her other stories, though I know her short story, The Lottery, is famous and lauded many times over.

The book was quite good. The story was interesting and the narrator, Merricat, was fascinating. She seemed crazy, maybe delusional. Her accounts of events, at first, were fully believable, as it seems a narrator should in a book. However, the more I read, the more it appeared Merricat might be more than just kooky. The idea of a narrator skewing stories works rather well with this book.

The story itself is flat. The characters are static, situations don't change. In this respect, I could see why some people wouldn't like Jackson's novel. For me, though, it really pulled the story along. I thought the story wasn't so much about Merricat and her sister, but about their surroundings, their neighbors and how people reacted to them.

I loved it for its dark, creepy thoughts. I loved it because it didn't hold back much from the cruelty of others, the cruelty people can force onto others just because they can.

I have no complaints about this book. It was beautifully written and well worth a read.

PS. I'll post a picture later.

Product

I haven't posted much of anything in a while.

I'm being more productive, though, I swear. And summer is full of potential, I can feel it in me. I want to create, create, create. Make some little videos. Make some art. And write till my hands swell up and fall off.

I'm working on a few different things and the worst one thus far is my children's book(s). Who knew writing for children could be so difficult? I've got the story mapped out. I just need to get the actual words down.

Fingers crossed. Summer will be my time to work out all the kinks.

Bones

I was having really restless sleep last night. I kept waking up every hour or so. I was tired, but couldn't find myself in a proper state of sleep. I woke up one last time at around 6:45am and couldn't fall back asleep until I churned this out. It's a first run and not revised, written in half sleep. Eat it up, my dears.


It takes a lot out of us.
Sitting sideways, the way we like.
Our shoulders jut out, bones beneath the sun.
It doesn’t last long, but it warms us just enough

We’ve still got our hair grown, but not growing
You always moan that you forgot.
It’s our hair that keeps us human
Our hair that won’t be growing.

Dust gathers in heaps around our feet
Leaving dirt under nails,
Smudges on our cheeks.
We forget, we forget,
To keep our eyes to the sun
We forget to stay human
Our hair grown, but not growing.

I Got Beef

I got beef with our educational system.  What sort of place do we live in where students at a city college, that is, students that have been allowed to graduate high school, can’t read without stuttering and certainly can’t be asked to write a single coherent sentence?

I know, you’re probably thinking helloooo, City college.  Yes, most students at a city college are sub-par.  Yes, most students didn’t have the ambition, grades, or money to afford something better, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid (or so I thought). 

Rudimentary reading and writing skills shouldn’t be a classification for stupid or smart.  They are rudimentary for a reason.  They are a part of the basic skill set we need to survive in this society.  I can make exceptions, some people aren’t great at English, some aren’t native English speakers.  But for criminy’s sake, I’m asking for a comma here, a period there, a sentence that actually makes sense.

And my beef, this time around, is why in God’s name can’t these students compose a clear sentence?  How come they’re unaware of when to throw in a period or when to use “was” instead of “were”?  I think it’s unacceptable that kids are allowed to graduate.

I mean, what’s the point of going to school if a majority of the kids are going to be glossed over?  We’re pretty much holding them hostage for 8 hours a day and then releasing them into the wild, unprepared and ill-suited for the real world. 

We’re supposed to be this great and powerful country that all other countries should covet.  Yes, we’re supposed to be amazing, yet we are breeding and perpetuating the common idiot.  Is it “the man’s” way of keeping us down?  Is it a conspiracy to make the rich richer and the poor poorer?

Probably not, but it’s definitely a sad, fucked up state of affairs when people 18 and up probably spell worse than my 5 year old niece.

And why are we catering to the Spanish-speaking community???  My niece goes to school and the children that speak only Spanish aren’t being integrated into the English language, but being taught in Spanish.  How will that help them?  In the long run, they’re in the United States, and as much as some people don’t want to admit it, speaking English is imperative. 

Not only that, if we’re going to cater to Spanish speakers, why are other foreign tongues not treated the same way?  You go anywhere public, you’re likely to see signs and hear notifications that are said in English then in Spanish.  Where are the announcements for the Chinese?  For the many other people that don’t speak English as a first language?   

 If you ask me, THAT’S a conspiracy to keep the poor man down.

It's May Already??

April was a whirlwind! I spent a little over a week in Chicago, took a gazillion midterms and saw a lot of old friends.

To kick off May, the man-friend and I rode bikes to the train station and hopped on one to LA. After a visit to Freestyle, we trekked through the streets to Griffith Park. It was sunny and filled with interesting characters and strange interactions. It's really a lost enjoyment, the act of walking. I don't think many people do it for the leisure aspect of walking and observing anymore. But every time I go on a walk, I see or hear something interesting.

On our way back, we made a pit stop at The Soda Station to say hello to our friend/owner, Michael. We bought a grape soda from him and were overjoyed at how delicious it was.



Don't be fooled by his utterly bored face; the soda was beyond what we expected. And he's even opening it with a Soda Station bottle opener!

I Got Beef

The more I see these days, the more aghast I become. I've got a lot of things on my mind to rant about, thus I'm preparing to bring back (though it was very brief while it lasted) "I Got Beef" rants. Only this time, I plan on not only ranting, but picking and choosing certain companies and people of import to direct my raving too. I not only intend to post those thoughts here, but to send them out to the proper people.

This will help myself sort through my own feelings (hopefully to inspire creativity and rid myself of writer's block) and maybe even feel a little bit like I've made a difference.

Going Back

I've been in a state of confusion regarding writing topics. I've also been in a rut with my dreams which not only affects my mental well-being, but also my writing. A lot of what I write is inspired by a dream or thought. Instead, I've been waking up tired and dreamless. I've had nothing to look forward to when I wake up which makes me feel even more tired. It's a morning routine to recant to myself what adventures I've been on while slumbering.

I'm not sure how to improve my dreams, but I've been returning to old (and unfinished) writings to try and siphon creativity from them. Here is something old that I'm working on completing. It kind of falls apart, but the first paragraph flows beautifully (in my mind) and I would love to complete it. The second one kind of jumbles around and I enjoy the third one. It all needs a lot of work and, cross your fingers, hopefully I can manage to work something out.




How sweet the sound of keys pressed softly in the dim glow of a fading sun. While dusky shadows trace a silhouette, fingers fold over the twinkle of each ivory bone. In the cramped corridors of what was once a pulsing nightclub, the silhouette plays for no one.

Outside, the city bustles. Like ants scavenging, the people follow an invisible trail, eyes trained to the floor. The pavement slops, wet with a gritty dirt that coats the city's streets and walls. Yet, the people don't see this. The streets are packed with jostling arms and pendulum legs swinging back and forth, back and forth, with no thought. People seem to move regardless of destination or will. Out here people have all the time in the world, but can't stop to breathe, or think, or listen.

From deep in the heart of the jungle grown from seeds of concrete and vines of steel comes a most unusual occurrence. Something has changed. People walk with the same automatic movement, but something, perhaps, seems different. Through the heavy stale sound of silence, a certain brightness brews. For most, the brightness, the twinkling lightness is a sensation almost forgotten.

He bleeds in a pool of inky black, slipping with his eyes closed. Around him business suits clatter by, each sleeve ending in a pale hand grasping the sleek leather handle of a briefcase. Skirts cut business appropriate short swing past, the puff of air moving slight his hair. His pants soak slow in the warm wet of his own life and when he opens his eyes, he’s staring at crotches jostling and cloth covered butts shuffling away.

It’s warm in his head, in a most unusual way. The leak in his side throbs less making it easier to focus, easier to steady himself on the ground. But with each movement, the warmness in his head seeps as if hot blood had never reached

Scans

I've been rooting through old family pictures per my mom's request and scanning them onto my computer. I have about 40 so far and will keep on sifting through the countless albums. It is fun and nostalgic and makes me want to create some sort of crafty project that's not lame or boring or tedious as a scrapbook or photo album.

Until then, here are some particular favorites thus far.

My mom in Korea when she was a young lady. Isn't she beautiful?

My mom at the Korean airport the day she left for the US.

My mom and dad. Look at those buffet prices! Hot dog!

The sisters. Janice is at the top, Angie on the left, and yours truly on the right.


Goofy family picture.


I think this is the Grand Canyon. Wherever it is, it's blustery.


Some sort of school day.


Gaby and I. Best friends till the day one of us croaks!

Volcanic

Discovered this and thought it was amazing. I've always liked volcanoes and have always wanted to see the Northern Lights. And there's mysterious lightning, you say, that can't be explained by scientists? There's no way I could pass up looking at this. Oh, and there are pictures of horses being guided to safety. Beautiful horses, no less.

It's a good day.

Volcanic Eruptions Here!

Hopefully by later this week I will have something original to show ya.

Tits&Ass
D

Never Let Me Go

I finished this book by Kazuo Ishiguro almost entirely on the plane ride back from Chicago. The combination of reading it in one sitting and being surrounded by people, yet completely alone had a profound affect on my opinion of the book. It was a nighttime flight, so most people were asleep and after reading the book I was offered a good two hours to just contemplate what I'd read.

The story was written from the protagonist's, Kathy's, viewpoint. She sorts through memories of her past and we are taken from past to present. This is, I believe, the only was this story could have been written with enough appeal, since for the majority of the book, the true reasons are hidden. Had he initially told the reader the main secret, it would have been far too campy and predictable. However, written the way it was, it came around quite nicely.

The chapters and paragraphs are tied into each other by a simple, often times annoying, tactic of leading the reader through. For example, a paragraph would end with something like "This reminded me of that autumn day Tommy and I met at the fountain." The next paragraph or chapter would then chronicle what happened at said fountain. This in itself would have been tolerable had the author not chosen to use the method repeatedly through the story. It's a small irritation, but it irked me nonetheless.

The eventual outcome of the book is unsettling, yet strangely calming. In the plane, when I finished the book I closed it and placed it in my little storage pocket. I poked my head up and stared at the domes of hair, most of which were lolling in uncomfortable sleep. It further enhanced the strange feelings of living in a world quickly being engulfed by technology, a world where in a 5 hour plane ride I spoke not one word to a stranger.

I enjoyed the book, even grew misty eyed in the last chapter. I didn't want to put it down, not once. I'm under the distinct impression that had I read it at a different time, not in an airplane that I might think different. As it stands, I did read it now and on an airplane and I did enjoy the book.

Author J, whomever you are, I'm coming!

Listen to this:

This is by Cibelle. It's called Lightworks and it's a cover. I've put both the Cibelle version and the original, by Raymond Scott. It's also been sampled by J-Dilla which I've also included.

We Call It Pop 'Round These Parts

I'm finally settled enough to update this nonsense. I've got my pictures sorted and my head screwed on right. Post-vacation depression is hard to kick.

Chicago was, to put it in terse terms, glorious. It has been a long time since I've been on vacation, let alone one that lasted longer than a week. I didn't realize how much I missed my sister, but seeing her solidified that fact like all the countless pounds of fat my belly consumed while there.

Her husband and her bought a house in December and it is a very beautiful, large first house. They live in a town called Elgin, about an hour's train ride outside of Chicago.
First impressions: No telephone wires and no fences. It's all open land and it was quite nice to romp around with my niece with no fear of traffic.

There are lots of white people, not that that's a problem. It was a tad disconcerting, though, noticing all the unabashed stares and very obvious confusion on their faces. While on a train we had a family of four stare unblinking at us. Regardless of the shock of another race, it seems only polite to NOT stare. I would have expected the parents to give us this courtesy, but no, the mom stared more than the two girls. Also, Angie has told me that she's repeatedly gotten questions asking if Gretchen is hispanic (they say Mexican) which, when you see the pictures, will make you laugh at the absurdity of it all.

The city was beautiful and terrific fun to navigate and travel through. I love not having to drive (one of the worst parts of coming home!) and people watching on trains and buses. I also saw Thom Yorke walk by me on the streets!!! It was a delightful trip, if only for Thom.
I could go on, but for now, some pictures!


My sister and cousin on our train ride.


A random building in the city.


Waiting for the train on our wild (not) night out.


My beautiful niece playing flashlight tag in the dark of her house. Such a brave little fart!


Teammates! She wasn't all that scared, but kept imploring "Dacy, hold my hand!".


My sister, Angie, and her husband, Jack, playing flashlight tag.


Buckingham Fountain! It was off and drained, but still worth the picture.


My nieces (the second one came with my sister and her hubby a few days later).


A big goofy family picture (sans my parents).

Sigh, I love my family.

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Sorry Won't Cut It

But I'll say it anyway. Sorry it's been so long since I've had a real post, but I'm busy and just returned form Chicago.

I have plenty of pictures, a book review, some new writings, and probably too many thoughts.

I'll be updating soon, so be wary.

Tits&Ass,
D

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She's a Lady

I am up past everyone else again. Today was pretty run of the mill. Got a pedicure with my cousin and, let me tell you what, it's boring! You sit around in a poofy chair and pretend to make small talk with some stranger. Or if you want, you can read a magazine and pretend there isn't some stranger rubbing the callouses off your hardened paws. It's strange what women do to themselves. The women kept plugging her amazing eyelash extension work. And all I could think was, "You saying my eyelashes are too short?"

It's also a damn travesty how damn expensive it is to upkeep your "beauty".

But, the rant shall continue another time. For now, here's something I wrote on the fly and didn't really edit. It's probably not done, but Im starting to feel tired.


She speaks with words I've read in Bibles
and moves like silk sliding on her skin.
And her skin,
her skin,
is white.
It soaks up moonlight,
beams breathing from her pores.

She wanders caverns long fallen from use
like a spectre in the night
Her pale white glistens,
but her hair,
her hair
is black.
It dribbles down her back
playing delicately on her spine.

She

I chose the book, She: A History of Adventure by H Rider Haggard, for my H book. I wanted something that wasn't a classic and that wasn't too contemporary. I believe this book came out around the same time as The Jungle Book and it has the same sort of feel.

It follows two men on a mysterious adventure deep into the jungle. An old chest with an ancient story on a shard of pot leads them to believe that a great queen simply named, She, is the murderess of a long gone relative and that he must exact revenge upon her.

While the storyline is interesting, it is a bit typical of an adventure novel. I will say though that it was probably near the first of its kind and I'm probably just late to pick it up. The speech gets a tad tiresome as it's all "thou must, thou shalt," and a whole lot of other very proper ways of speaking.

As a whole, the book was good. Not great, the speech killed it for me, but a good adventure story.

Ps, sorry for the standard internet-searched photo. I'm still in Chicago and don't have anywhere to upload pictures!

Greetings from Elgin!

Midnight plane rides, bottles of wine, Handsome Furs on repeat and finally arriving in Elgin. Zombie stupor through the morning with bubble blowing bike rides and reading books to kids. Whitecastle mistakes and temporary Simpsons tattoos with a late night session with the sis and a long-awaited slumber in a foreign bed after 30 some odd hours without a wink. Saturday morning mishaps, waiting for the locksmith and standing in the rain.

Eating "cheez-lits" with the niece and finally making a train to head in the city. Grand buildings and winding winds and staring back at the vast amounts of white people. Sightseeing, getting lost, trekking for hours just to realize the destination was closer than we thought. Subways, wind tunnels, and stoney-time goodness.

"Love & marriage, love & marriage. Go together like a horse & carriage..." stuck in my head and determined to see Buckingham Fountain which apparently is drained during winter, but I still took pictures. Parks, trees, wind, wind, wind. More walking, cheap breakfasts, and chugging on the train back to Elgin for Easter egg hunts & dinner & flashlight hide and seek in the dark. Sitting awake typing this before I fall asleep to wake up in the world of oddities my brain calls dreams.

Tomorrow holds long walks, swimming (!!), and more family time. Sigh, if only it didn't have to end.

Travels

Tomorrow night I depart for a long-awaited vacation and visit to my sister in Chicago. I'll be there a little over a week and will probably not be updating this blog while I'm there. I'll get to see my niece and brother-in-law and will finally get to travel after staying in California for so long! I think the last time I traveled out of state was to Las Vegas and I can't rightly say that that was a relaxing vacation. It was more a drunken rampage with a rowdy bunch of girls.
I'm very much looking forward to sightseeing, eating new places, and seeing my family. :D

Today, the man-friend and I had a mini date to the Discovery Science Center especially to see their bubblefest! They had a famed bubble scientist (it makes me giggle every time I say it) named Fan Yang who has a ton of Guiness World Records for things like Most People in a Bubble, Largest Animal in a Bubble, a Great Wall of China Bubble, and so on. It was pretty entertaining and well worth the extra 3 bucks.

Mostly, it was entertaining because it was very much like a bubble infested rave, sans the drugs and plus a bunch of raucous kids. All in all, it was wonderful. It's too bad they don't let you take photos during the show, but here's one from the cloud area.


He's always got his head in the clouds....

Ending the Dry Spell

Had an interesting weekend. Friday was ladies night and I made a sample of a pop up card heart. I'll be working on perfecting the pop up. Saturday was just lovely; spent with the man-friend, going on walks and to a friends art show.


After having been extremely dry in the creative writing department, I am just bursting with ideas and words. I am working on turning "Piss and Vinegar" into an absurd, nearly silent play/dance to be performed at CraftWarrior's next party, The Strange Cabaret.

I'm starting work on a series of short stories, poems, thoughts, and maybe even skits all about walking. I've also got ideas for children's books that I'll collaborate on with a fellow friend/artist.

Hopefully I'll have lots more to show you in due time.

Monster

The day it bellied up in the sky’s reflection
Is a day we wouldn’t forget.
Not for a long time coming.
Its thick mass of strange flesh rained ripples
Through the clean glass lake,
Turned ripples to waves and washed itself over us.

Our monster swam for years,
Decades and centuries.
Before letting us catch sight of its milky white belly.
Something we couldn’t forget.
Your massive mouth hanging slack,
The rot of years stinking rank,
Behind rows of black flat teeth,
We breathed every sick stench of you in.

You left and we left.
Things changed and
The lament we all cried
Was about the day you died.
How we felt it,
In a spot deep in the back
How we felt
The way you felt,
Belly up in that clean glass lake.

When the monster left
We were left behind,
Lamenting the day you died.

Piss and Vinegar

Woke up with the room pulsing deep in my head. The slight spin of the ceiling and leftover remnants of liquor still clinging to my lips only reminds me of the way last night spiraled.

I look for water. The room is still dark. But in these hotel rooms, you never know, night or day. Those curtains are made to keep out any hope of sunshine. Welcome to your dim lightless hole, we hope you enjoy your stay.

Water. My hand picks up a bottle. Lightweight, empty. I chuck it to the floor. Sitting up, I see the bodies. My friends. Two curled up together, one beside me, the last sprawled across her own bed arms splayed in a drunken heap.

It’s still dark out. I think. Those damn curtains, makes it hard to tell. I slip off the bed and trek through the sea of bodies, clothes, and shoes. The bathroom door slides with a swift satisfying smoooooth hhsssssssssssss.

The light switch, here, somewhere. Here. White light cuts quick the darkness and my eyes clamp shut. I let the door slide shut again.

Slowly, I adjust. Head throbbing still, just pulsing slight in the deepest parts of my brain. Hands in front of me, I steady myself on the cluttered white counter. Five girls crammed into one minimized hotel room. Five girls’ worth of colored pots of this and that shit.

I turn the faucet and reach for the ever faithful glass hotels always seem to have ready in each bathroom. Brimming with cold metallic water, I drink. With each gulp I notice giggling and hushed whispers. The door hisses smooth.

A girl twitters, skips a beat and slinks in. Gold jumpsuit cut short, booty short. Next a boy: tall, shirtless, and smiling with a secret. After him, another boy, this one shorter and less memorable in general.

They saunter around me touching with feather light hands, my hair, my face, the pads of my fingertips. They giggle. The girl, her butt wriggling in her short shorts, the gold just twisting and shining in that white bathroom light. They laugh and tease my hair, blow kisses by my cheeks; so close their hands cup my face, their breath blows cool.

Now they break away. The short one standing in the bathtub, laughing head bent over. We should pee, the girl suggests, eyeing me. A round of sniggers.

They surround the toilet. The shirtless man, with his penis tucked between his legs, winks and turns his back on the toilet bowl. He steadies himself; turning to be sure he’s aiming proper. The short one plunks himself atop the tank lid and holds his sturdy dick ready.

The girl, with her legs locked straight curves at the waist and lets her gold jumpsuit glide off. Breasts bloom from the gold, a pair of lush tits split by the dark line of her cleavage. She laughs. We watch as her breasts laugh with her.

And then showers. They pee; the short one holding his squat strapping dick, the topless one facing the wall and trying to aim. The girl, her breasts, letting loose her body temperature piss.

Ohhhh, I shudder. Piss, pee, goddamn urine. My head still pounding. Their laughter still cackling. Why, I trill, why all at once. Why, I quaver, why like a trio of raving lunatics, why in such awkward positions. Why, why, I tremble, is it so damn yellow.

They blush. They laugh.

The door slides open, hissssss. Big hair, blonde, twisted in two spiraling columns climbing high. I know you.

Big blonde hair, doesn’t notice the three ranting pissers. Tall blonde columns of highlighted hair, turn to me, he says I should judge a contest.

Eddie, those two blonde spires repeat, Eddie says I should. When my hair is this twirled magnificence, the blonde spikes say, Eddie says I should judge a contest.

The girl has her breasts tucked away, nipples burning hard behind the gold jumpsuit. The short man brushes my hair. I hear laughter, little chirps, little chimes. The shirtless man brushes his bare chest against my arm.

Big blonde hair, breasts, piss and vinegar. Laughing. Laughing, the door slides a smooooth satisfying hssssss.