12.31.2009
12.26.2009
The lead-in to the holidays has been nothing but hectic. Tons of running around. Tons of plain working. A bit of spaced-out, unproductive sitting. Some anxiety. Not a lot of food and then a lot of food. You know.
Smoother sailing, from here. Consider this post me trying to kiss and make up for lost time with no real posting. Soak it in, mmm. So, this is Christmas, WAR IS OVER, etc.
Smoother sailing, from here. Consider this post me trying to kiss and make up for lost time with no real posting. Soak it in, mmm. So, this is Christmas, WAR IS OVER, etc.
12.15.2009
12.14.2009
12.12.2009
12.11.2009
12.10.2009
"A world that dreams
Is a world where things grow;
And for every tossed out schmuck in the kitchen,
watching silver tea pots screaming with steam,
There is a happy child far off in the fields
Wondering the time and tending to seeds."
I start work, tomorrow, and that is exciting. Happy birthday to my Dad, tomorrow - that is also exciting.
Is a world where things grow;
And for every tossed out schmuck in the kitchen,
watching silver tea pots screaming with steam,
There is a happy child far off in the fields
Wondering the time and tending to seeds."
I start work, tomorrow, and that is exciting. Happy birthday to my Dad, tomorrow - that is also exciting.
12.09.2009
12.07.2009
12.06.2009
The rampaged intent to burn my skin in the sun,
and to press my shoulder into the hard side of a heavy, plywood greenhouse that NEEDS to be moved.
The hands and fingers in the dirt.
The sweat stinging the eyes.
The action, the action, the action, the action!
THE FEELING THAT I AM, SOMEHOW, AN ANIMAL.
The spikes and horns on all spitwords shouted at other drivers,
and the loudness of drumsets and piano soundboards.
The genuine feeling implanted in one's mind
that what was once feared to be the whimpering, remaining outline of a failed firework,
is actually a long-since distracted dervish of solar energy
about to roar with the throat of a wind tunnel.
(April, 2009)
and to press my shoulder into the hard side of a heavy, plywood greenhouse that NEEDS to be moved.
The hands and fingers in the dirt.
The sweat stinging the eyes.
The action, the action, the action, the action!
THE FEELING THAT I AM, SOMEHOW, AN ANIMAL.
The spikes and horns on all spitwords shouted at other drivers,
and the loudness of drumsets and piano soundboards.
The genuine feeling implanted in one's mind
that what was once feared to be the whimpering, remaining outline of a failed firework,
is actually a long-since distracted dervish of solar energy
about to roar with the throat of a wind tunnel.
(April, 2009)
12.05.2009
I'm not entirely sure if we got snow today, here in Rhode Island. If we did, it wasn't for any noticeable amount of time; and I was only outside for parts of the morning.
Just as soon as I say this I might change my mind, but I can't wait for the snow. Can't wait for it. I want to have intense walks through crispy, cold, white landscapes.
You need to appreciate the misery of the winter, or it'll eat you with a hoary chomp.
Just as soon as I say this I might change my mind, but I can't wait for the snow. Can't wait for it. I want to have intense walks through crispy, cold, white landscapes.
You need to appreciate the misery of the winter, or it'll eat you with a hoary chomp.
11.30.2009
11.29.2009
11.28.2009
The last four days, in no particular order - including Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving was great. I'm back to the grindstone with a bunch of stuff, this bit included. I'm full of leftovers. Mmm...
Sat at the Providence train station, sketching quickly a few things that were around me. Brought The Stand with me and tore through a chunk of it. I had nice clothes on, for a change. It felt pretty good.
Fell asleep at 7:30 at night. Weird.
Sat at the Providence train station, sketching quickly a few things that were around me. Brought The Stand with me and tore through a chunk of it. I had nice clothes on, for a change. It felt pretty good.
Fell asleep at 7:30 at night. Weird.
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