November 23, 2004
Sam requested this detailed portrait of himself for a complex game he made up for Rowan while she was in Alaska for a month.
Sam and I decided the kitchen cabinet was a little too dull, a sort of splattery slaughterhouse red, so we illustrated it.
Our kitchen is a bit more lively now...
He did the mottled mountain part at the bottom.
Girl in Carhardts-the glass broke when I framed it.
Photos courtesy of Daniel
November 10, 2004
makes an ordinary thing like getting home from work into a mystical adventure.
It came rolling in, great flumes of it covering up the ave, cars, buses, people... I felt like I strode thru clouds, leaves crunching underfoot, singing blindly into the soft blankness, feeling like a magical being on a momentous journey.
I zipped my jacket up to my chin and tucked my arms tight to my ribs for reassurance. It was eerie, beautiful swirlings around streetlights and people looming up suddenly here and there, sharing a moments rueful grin.
Then I spilled into my house, back in the nice, normal warmth with the lego boats and cars vying for floorspace with the giant 3d bug puzzle and my paints and new sketchbook. Magic interlude over, but c'est la vie and it was time for some chicken soup anyway.
Tea and Krishnamurti tonight.
It's funny, I grew up on his teachings, but I don't think I ever actually heard his voice till now. My massage teacher, Svadesh, loaned me some of his tapes. I like 'em, he actually sounds sorta cantankerous, in an old hindu sage kinda way. He keeps asking his audience if they're getting it and gets downright annoyed at their reverent silence.
Wish I could've talked to him myself. It would have been good to meet the genuine article.
November 08, 2004
having a down week... Don't know if it was the election, or the coldass drizzley weather, or the holidays coming up all wierd and cold and unfamiliar without D, but whatever it is, it's been a hard bitch to shake off.
Rebecca was feeling kinda similar, I guess, so we decided to hit the town saturday night. She totally treated me, too, all cab style. We Pioneer squared it, listened to(and made fun of) various uninspired DJs and then hit the New Orleans Club for a pretty cool jazz band.
We chowed on catfish, corncakes and hushpuppies, extolling the virtues of the humble, and yet so satisfying, cornmeal-I mean, dang it, it's even good as plain ol' cornmeal mush!
People were shakin' they bootay, all kindsa pretty women, but the sweetest of all was this old couple, out there cutting the rug, his hand tight to her waist and her long white hair swinging in time to the beat. They were just so clearly having a great time, loving dancing and loving being together... Nice to see in this blighter of a world where it's so damn hard for people to work it out.
Rebecca was starting to nod, poor chickie gets up at, like 4:30am to go to work... So we listened to the last song(belted out in trueblues style by an audience member whom they invited up, she just happened to be a jazz singer from Minneapolis) and strolled around downtown for a bit before bundling into a taxicab home.
It was good to get out, it didn't quite kick our blahs outta town, but it helped and I'm blessed to have such an awesome soul for my housemate and friend.
I was supposed to go dancing the next morning-but it got cancelled at the last minute, so there I was all up and braided and all, on a sunday morning, with nothing to do till sam got home at 1. Rebecca was wandering about sleepily getting her morning together, so I wondered:
'Are you too hungover for a massage?'
Of course the answer was an enthusiastic "bring it on, babe!" So I spent my morning massaging. First Rebecca, then the neighbor, Sarah, then Sam-a full all out little boy massage too, that was really fun although I felt kinda like I was massaging an exploding gigglemachine.
It was definately a good use of the morning.
Sometimes you just have to yield to the inevitable, that sleep is not forthcoming, even at 3:24am...
I mean there's only so long you can lie there, strumming through the shit in your mind and massaging all the nagging pains in your jaw, stiffneckedfoolofaneck, foot or whatever...before you're ready to leap out of bed and run nakedly screaming down the quiet neighborhood block(which really wouldn't do at all since it would merely serve to waken all the good folks who did manage to sleep tonight and, besides, it's perishingly COLD out).
So, of course, here am I, blogging whilst the 'bedtime' tea brews up(mentalornotsomentalsinceIjusttypeditnote-REMEMBER the tea, do NOT burn up pan).
Sam's awful cute when he sleeps. All fluffy-headed and open-mouthed.
I woke out of a nightmare a coupla hours ago:
Started out all innocent and pretty, walking through a parklike neighborhood, wandering trails and beeeautiful forest interspaced with houses. I was carrying two lovely golden glass goblets, one in each hand. The one in my right hand had a broken foot, rough, but not jagged. As I walked, I caressed the break with my fingers, enjoying the texture and feel of it.
Pretty soon, I noticed that the houses were getting fewer and more rustic-looking, not in an aw,in'tthatpicturesque sort of a way, but more in a runforyourlifeifyoucanlittlehippiegirl'causeyoujustenteredredneckvillean'yourlifeain't worthaburraowl'roundhere kinda way.
So, with that creepy sinking feeling, I advanced(any good horror movie heroine knows it's no use being all smartlike and walking AWAY from the danger). Abruptly, a largish man brushed past me, going in the same direction, halfturning as he did so, taking me in at a glance and halting a few long strides ahead of me.
"You OK, young lady?" His voice activated all my warning flares with it's veneer of civility and concern, drooling with lustrous possibilities. My mind flashed on all the terrible things that have happened to foolish girls alone in the woods-if only little Red Riding Hood had listened to her mother!-while measuring the distance between us, taking his age and fitness(older than me yet still hale enough to outdistance me with ease) and the terrain(uphill, rocky, uneven-not a good bet)into account.
Somehow, as I replied that I was fine, tried to distance myself without turning my back on him and judge whether yelling would do any good(not likely in this redneck o' the woods), I also noticed he was dressed like a professor, or even a priest, stodgy-looking suit, white collar. I relaxed slightly, until I saw the goblet he was carrying-large, also gold glass and watched as he deliberately, almost casually, smashed it's cupped end on a rock and now he was coming for me...
Too late, I tried to run, tried to think-could I use my goblets as a weapon too? Could I smash into him, take him by surprise, defeat him? But he was bigger than me by far and already nearly at my throat with the dreadful gleaming yellow points of his broken glass.
"Alright", I said, "Please don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you say." The words choked out of me like rote, my part of the script... He grasped me harsh around the shoulder and glass against my throat, I slowly set my goblets on the forest floor.
I could feel the sting as the sharp edge bit my throat, feel the blood trickle, see his rising fascination... He brought his hand up, curving the daggerlike edges down, down against my breast and I felt sick anger rising, bile strong in the back of my throat.
I slipped my hand up, grasping the edge, not caring if I lost my fingers, astonished as it gave way before me, folding up like origami, like a crystalline fan, collapsing upon itself and falling in a harmless tinkle to the moss.
Now there were people around, mostly women with children in strollers and I screamed and yelled for help.
Most of them seemed to think I was nuts, they all knew him, he was just a nice old professor, or priest, a good man, clearly incapable of the evils I was accusing him of.
I ran on...
And here I am, and Sam just sat up in his sleep and said: "What the...?" and then rolled over asleep again... I'd better go tuck in with the boy and make like a good little counter of sheep.
At least I remembered my tea this time. No pans were harmed in the making of this post.
November 05, 2004
believe it or not,
I'm NOT the skinniest girl in the world after all... I worked on a woman tonight and holy bones, was she ever tiny. A runner, all tight sinewy muscles stretched over bones, a rather challenging massage, tryin' to keep a good firm friction line going on a wee, tight, rubbery muscle that just about jackrabbits out from under your fist every chance it gets... Class is definately paying off yo, I used a lot of the new techniques today.
It was a busy night. I didn't even have a chance to eat the dinner I packed until I got on the bus home after my shift was over.
It's a pretty unpredictable business. Yesterday it was dead, nada, not one massage the whole shift... Tonight, full shift-yippee!
Got the second half of photoshop class tomorrow, we'll be getting all layery and shit-looking forward to that!
broken, cold, sunshine.
I'm not here, or there.
November 03, 2004
four more years...
Shite-Sam will be ten years old by the time we finally see the last of Bush!
But hey, please don't despair, or expatriate! Be strong in who you are, stand up for what is right and stay right here, in this crazy mislead country, fighting for the truth. It's even more necessary now!
I'm eating my homemade black-eyed pea soup, listening to NPR, hearing peoples distress, or rejoicing-someone just said he believed in Kerrys social programs and thought he would have been the better choice, but he voted for Bush because of 'moral' reasons(gay marriage and abortion). That's pretty much the crux of how the popular vote went, I think. Morality, always a killer ticket to ride.
Time to paint some more blade wielding, wrathful, gloriously naked goddesses.
There's more than one way to win a war.