raising fallen tannenbaums

2009-06-18T18:47:00.009-05:00

new book, 10 bones:

it's great because there are pictures? from the 60s?

new shoes, price irrelevant (ahem):

they're great because they are brown leather perforated oxfords. yeah.

i promise the next post will be about some crafty crafts.

i really need to go to memphis

2009-06-10T23:33:00.003-05:00

THESE ARE SO GREAT.

Shin Murayama. Maybe you've seen?
So what have I been doing with my summer?

does learning about one and a half guitar chords and watching weeds count for anything?

i am fat man's personality on a thin man. or vice versa.

2009-06-08T17:17:00.003-05:00

what is worse than having no money?
ironing your dad's shirts for one and a half hours and having only three dollars.
this is what is meant by dehumanizing labor.
i applied at every area barnes and noble and every local library, but like, this recession is for real?

does unemployment give me an excuse to loaf on my couch watching info-mercials and drinking lemonade?

you should have put him in custardy

2009-06-02T22:18:00.003-05:00

Maybe you've seen this already.
But if you haven't, you need to see this.

I mean, this is Jim with a beard.
Jim Halpert.
With facial hair.
I mean, can this get more insane?

world market is like a convenient store and a baby borders combined

2009-06-01T21:25:00.003-05:00

soundtrack for today:

started off the day glueing feathers and paper boxes to headbands, then i drank smoothies, and ended the day at a picnic in the park. apparently i am the only one who thought a plaid dress, lace-up leather sandals, and big wooden earrings would be appropriate for a summer day? i need new friends.

granola

2009-05-17T23:02:00.002-05:00

hhmmm, i just heard about danger mouse and sparklehorse's new album, dark night of the soul, which features the like of James Merce, Scott Spillane, and....David Lynch! banana fana fo fana!
but, apparently the music will never be officially released? "For legal reasons, enclosed CD-R contains no music. Use it as you will." very mysterious. fortunately, i have been able to listen to it all on npr.

also fortunately, and also mysteriously, i found a funny little blog on my favorites that i did not know was there! surprise! and from this little bloggy i borrowed the above mind boggler.

scraping bubblegum off the window panes

2009-05-13T16:41:00.006-05:00

Why has it been so long, good gracious, since I have visited this blog? I have no excuse. Please accept this photo as my apology.

The other day I began making a list of all of the things I am going to do over the summer. Let me tell you, it will be no small task to complete this list. Here is a little snipet of the masterplan:

find a t-shirt with Kurt Vonnegut's face on it. make it. buy it. steal it. by any means necessary, get this shirt
actually learn how to play my guitar
read on the road again, on the road
make daily use of my typewriter

And many other things. Also, I promise to maintain this blog more responsibly than I have in the past. Promise.

2009-03-16T22:16:00.000-05:00

That is me. The short one.

2009-03-15T08:21:00.002-05:00

Sometimes when I open a tea bag, I find little sayings printed on the paper leaf. Today, my tea bag said:

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.
Dorothy Parker
1893-1967

2009-03-12T18:09:00.003-05:00

what, you say, are those little rhinestones in that hair?

my friend, i believe so, and i sort of wish i could be one of those rhinestones.

2009-03-08T11:22:00.002-05:00

Lately I have been so sleepy that I have been going to bed at ten thirty and sleeping very late in the morning. I think it has something to do with my new haircut.

we're going to a party.

2009-02-24T22:03:00.006-06:00

Hey hey hey chickadees. So lately I have been kinda apathetic. Maybe tomorrow, being my birthday and all, will be better. But somehow I am thinking not. I would not object to a german chocolate cake. Also, I would not object to these:

or these:

Oh, and some quality time with Emile:

Mmmmkay thanks.

methinks it a token of healthy characteristics, when women of high thoughts love to crochet

2009-02-21T10:34:00.006-06:00

So the Etsy shop is now up and running. The Second Fiddle is my sister and I's little place for selling our very cozy, very pretty crocheted wear. Everyone should come and buy something!

a time they'd never forget (if only they could remember)

2009-02-21T08:39:00.002-06:00

Spent the last week sleeping on a dear friend Kara's couch. Her cat would climb up on the couch behind my head and intentionally ram me. Last night we watched Dazed and Confused, which only served to further convince me that I am in the wrong decade. We had a Juno watching party, at which we wore lumberjack shirts. And I ate more cake, pie, and cookies than I have in my entire life put together. Tomorrow I have to sell snacks at a benefit concert. If I can get a ride. Maybe I will get a wood-panelled station wagon for my birthday. Let's hope so.

you know, i just think that this is ridiculous

2009-02-09T16:44:00.005-06:00

I have not been around in a while, dearies. I have been filling out applications for summer programs and reading up on reconstruction. Also, I have been crocheting like a fiend. Also, preparing to start up my etsy shop. Also, a million other things.

please stop talking like a civil war text book. please.

2009-01-25T21:40:00.005-06:00

Spent the remainder of Christmas money on: Noble Beast, a collection of Emerson Essays and Poems, banana spring rolls. I spent over an hour at Barnes and Noble, because they started playing the Fleet Foxes album (beginning to finish) and I had to stay and listen to the whole thing, obviously. Not that I hadn't already listened to it twice that day. And do you know what else I did this weekend, my lovelies? I clean house, I bake brownies, I watch My Cousin Vinny twice in a row, because I sort of secretly wish I was Mona Lisa Vito. Also, because I am silly. Maybe if I put off writing my topic proposal, my Dickinson response, and my translation a little longer, enough snow will fall and I will not have to do them until tomorrow night. Maybe. I think so.

there are two kinds of doorhandles you can twist

2009-01-22T22:10:00.002-06:00

I have had a very tiring week, my lovelies, and that is pathetic, because I was only at school for half a day. That's what I said, not even a full day, only a half of a day. But that is okay because I will sleep for as many hours as I can, and then I will put on my hat and fill up my thermos and it will be the weekend and then everything will turn out all right in the end. But as it stands, it has been a very tiring week.

Supposedly there was an Italian Renaissance, and a Harlem Renaissance, and supposedly there was a fellow by the name of Roger Fry and a woman by the name of Virginia Woolf, but as far as I am concerned that was much too long ago to be of much consideration because there is an absolute need for those things and those fellows right now, and no matter how hard I look, and no matter what people tell me, I just do not see them. I do not see them. And I wonder if they were ever here, or if they are only things written in books, like everything that I thought was real is turning out to be. And I love things that are written in books, but sometimes that is not enough. Right now for me that is not enough.

we know your house so very well

2009-01-19T17:39:00.002-06:00

I checked out this book from my school library the other day, despite the fact that I know absolutely no french. I am a Latin student. But darling Catherine read the first page and it was very exciting. I would never have thought to find such a book in my school library. It was a most pleasant surprise. I just crocheted the coziest little neck collar-ish thing. I do not know what it would be called, except maybe a little hug. That is what I would call it. A hug.

tiny baby tears i will collect a million years

2009-01-13T20:27:00.002-06:00

If we had roots, they would sprout from our fingertips. This, I can say with certainty.

Yesterday, when I came home from school, I put on a green sweater and lay on the couch with a glass of tea in one hand, and my other hand over my face, and like this I listened to my Charles Mingus record. Today, I wore a scarf that is as long as eternity.

your kiss is on my butterfly lips

2009-01-12T19:31:00.004-06:00

I seem to be in love with a thousand people all at once.

I am also in love with leatherbound notebooks.

english breakfast tastes like darjeeling

2009-01-08T19:17:00.003-06:00

So today I went to a coffee shop owned by a friend and I drank two (2) almond italian sodas. The building has a little tower like circular room above the door. And there was a man riding his bicycle down the street with his guitar on his back.

And happy new year, I guess. I am not the type to make resolutions, though I have resolved that this year is going to be beautiful. I have this vision in my brain of a pale blue velvet skirt, high waisted naturally, with a large pearl button. And I have this vision of petticoats covered all around in needlepoint pictures of women with doves in their coiffures.

at the beach

2008-12-30T22:59:00.002-06:00

the only way to go to the beach...

o make straight what long was crooked

2008-12-27T14:33:00.005-06:00

Well, Merry Christmas. My dad gave me these wonderful records. I am beginning a vinyl collection, and these are most wonderful editions. They've all been played probably three times by now. Also, I have recently purchased the most marvelous yarn of the century which will make one fabulous cowl. That is my hopes, in any case.

ceasefire

2008-12-21T22:01:00.006-06:00

by Paul Graham

tied with a hundred knots of bronze

2008-12-16T13:42:00.006-06:00

There is a Jackson Pollock exhibit at the slam.

And Andrew Bird is coming in March.

shantih shantih shantih

2008-12-01T17:42:00.003-06:00

i have a perfect cure for a sore throat. cut it.

2008-12-01T00:19:00.006-06:00

Ah Alfred. I watched the Hitchcock Hour tonight, an hour long drama, The Dark Pool, the involved black mail, riding pants, and vodka and tonic. But Thanksgiving was very nice. Sleepy and slow. I feel like I can begin compiling a Christmas list without feeling guilty.

to be great is to be misunderstood

2008-11-19T22:47:00.002-06:00

Today I was not feeling well at all. My palms were sweaty, my eyes were droopy, and I called my mom from school and asked her to pick me up some of those tissues with lotion because my nose was chapped and red. So I decided it would have been best to stay home from the Punch Brothers concert. And now all I can do is watch youtube videos and sigh.

chocolate muffin tops and worshipping the ground you walk on

2008-11-18T22:11:00.004-06:00

french films

blueberry pancakes

stuffy noses

crossing my fingers for punch bowl

why aren't you excited about my neighbors having a pet monkey

2008-11-11T16:19:00.004-06:00

two very classy people...

one very complex, dark, enigmatic person...

a number of people with peculiar modes of reasoning, yet modes of reasoning none the less...

makes for a weekend full of wonderful encounters, and never getting my homework done.

the part about popping balloons was a stretch

2008-11-05T17:46:00.003-06:00

a few little thoughts:

t. s. eliot is a god

i am much too much too reserved

with the exception of my cut-off shorts, i wish i could wear skirts every day

i don't know which version of this song i like better. i like different versions on different days.

fat cats and quickly approaching curbs

2008-11-04T19:21:00.004-06:00

I was a jazz age poet for Halloween. My literature teacher said that I should wear me costume when we study Jack Kerouac and the Beats. I died. On Saturday I went shopping for used cds with my dad, and we bought Nickel Creek, Miles Davis, Van Morrison, and Paul Simon. Monday Today was my dad's birthday, so we bought him an apple pie and Iron and Wine's Woman King album. We went to a little Italian restaurant and drank coffee. And now we are sitting around watching the election.

i'm sorry for you

2008-10-31T23:11:00.002-05:00

one pot of tea and five champagne flutes

2008-10-28T23:07:00.001-05:00

If you were to look me squarely in the face and say, "Why, dear, that can't be what you mean,"

I would look you in the eyes and sighing say, "Why, love, if only I could say so seriously."

fruit is a symbol of fertility. and fertility. and you can take that whatever way you want.

2008-10-28T17:48:00.004-05:00

a little list for you:

gothic poetry

oversized mauve sweatshirts

golden rose earrings

playing paul simon on a broken guitar

cynical federalists

the prospect of eating breakfast pastries for dinner

my literature teacher in the jazz age

dead, gray flesh and dark, dead eyes

2008-10-27T16:54:00.004-05:00

Collages courtesy of the talented Thomas Eggerer. My favorite is the first, because Adidas' little tribal skirt get up matches the colors on his car. Very classy. And I like his furry legs. And it is just a beautiful collage.

let's defeat evil with an awesome dance party

2008-10-24T18:37:00.009-05:00

Today made my life. According to some personality Harry Potter character match/quiz, I am Lord Voldermort. Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord. BEAST. And look at this wonderful photo of two of my favorite people, Harry Potter year 4 and Harry Potter year 7 of Harry and the Potters, or Paul and Joe, if you are like me and have been to so many concerts you know them on a first name basis.

this craziness, also courtesy of Paul and Joe

my sister's old man computer she just brought up from the basement

this pencil skirt

and this piece of beautiful beautiful art hanging on my sisters bedroom wall, in a wooden frame she made herself.

good use of eastern philosophical thinkers. thanks andrea.

2008-10-21T19:34:00.004-05:00

really. i don't think you look familiar at all.

2008-10-20T22:39:00.005-05:00

Today marks the beginning of a very long, very stressful week. I have too many articles to edit for newspaper, and by edit I mean tear down to quotes and bare bones and rebuild with my very own words. I have too many missing assignments from my week long pneumonia absence to make up, too many essays, translations, tests. And I have too many distractions (i.e. the office, chocolate milk, upcoming concerts, library volunteers). At least fall is one hundred percent here, and I have been celebrating with chai tea, sweaters, Neil Young, and great big books. And also red dresses that I will posting on soon. And, courtesy of a friend, I have discovered that I very much like Over the Rhine. Listen.

listen to john and paul. not the apostles, the beatles.

2008-10-19T17:01:00.008-05:00

These are by artist Andro Wekua. The color and the shape is great. There seems to be a theme of shadow and, I don't know, would you call it evasiveness, in the first four pieces. And then the last is out of place, more real, honest, maybe. Plus the women in the first four are all facing the right, and the girl in the last photo is turned left. I don't know, I just notice things like this.

god bless this mess

2008-10-16T19:56:00.005-05:00

this is sick.

and i am in no way condoning homemade tattoos, which are not not not sterile and are a little disgusting.

but this is some serious craziness sickness.

from serps press, "home made tattoos rule"

trouble ye no more

2008-10-15T23:39:00.007-05:00

Just read the most charming little novel, The Clothes They Stood Up In, by Alan Bennett. Mr. and Mrs. Ransome go out to the opera, and return home to find that they have been burgled. Of everything, leaving them with floor to lie on, baseboards to lean against, their opera clothes, and the contents of Mrs. Ransome's handbag. It involves beanbag chairs, dry humor, top of the line stereo technology, and some rather shocking plot developments. What else can you ask for, really. Read it in a day, it's only a little over 100 pages, and the characters are so beautiful.

And here is what I did today:

bought a golden sweater. and also t-shirts, to be cut apart, torn apart and otherwise beautified.

took the PSAT, and, after discovering that i do prefer wooden pencils after all, walked around all afternoon with a number 2 tucked behind my ear, scribbling out long shopping lists.

where the wind lieth where the wind dieth

2008-10-14T20:20:00.003-05:00

the poem of my life.

Come lie with me and be my love
Love lie with me
Lie down with me
Under the cypress tree
In the sweet grasses
Where the wind lieth
Where the wind dieth
As night passes
Come lie with me
All night with me
And have enough of kissing me
And have enough of making love
And let our two selves speak
All night under the cypress tree
Without making love

by fabulous lawrence ferlinghetti.

i am impatiently waiting for my american lit class to come to the beat poets. ah, to be separate from one's soul generation. my heart aches for late 1950s, early 1960s

they save all the cheap desserts for the carry out anyway

2008-10-12T21:18:00.007-05:00

We took my grandma to a sausage and sauerkraut dinner at a church somewhere, and there was a small band, and the old man with an accordion sounded just like Sinatra. And I had to tell the little German men that I wouldn't be eating any of the sausage because I don't eat meat. That was hard.

ten minutes in a library

2008-10-11T21:46:00.001-05:00

by Kenneth Pobo...

I read fantasy and science fiction. My parents hope I'll gravitate toward Billy Graham's complete oeuvre, but no dice. Last week, my minister saw me sitting in a yellow chair in the local library reading Orwell. He sniffed, asked is this the kind of book that glorifies the savior?
    Having no words, I smiled. He's not the kind of guy you can argue with. He has a wife named Millie. She's not the kind of wife you can argue with because she never speaks. She lives in a box and he takes her out each Sunday morning. After the benediction, he puts her back and stuffs her in the vestibule closet.
    Vestibule. Who uses words like that?
    He didn't smile back. He looked like a car that's been sitting in the sun all day in a mall parking lot.
    "Well, is it?" he asked.
    "I, I" still grinning.
    In a black leather jacket and sandals, the savior dashed through the library doors, said hi to Mrs. Havens who nodded politely and went back to processing Mrs. Gill's library card, and stood before my minister.
    "Leave this boy alone, you dreary old ratbag."
    "I, I" still grinning.
    My minister didn't "fall" to his knees. His knees dropped below the floor, through the basement, and ended up close to the center of the Earth. The rest of his body followed.
    "But Lord, Lord, I was only...."
    "I didn't come to Earth so you can nitpick about books. I came to... wait, why did I come? Well, whatever. What's done is done."
    Turning to me, he asked, "Would you like to watch All About Eve with me?"
    I hadn't heard of it. He got positively giddy talking about how great Bette Davis was, how she this very minute was on the right hand of his father and they were having a gay old time trashing Jack Warner who was already trashed in hell. He did make the film sound good, but, black and white? How ancient. I remembered that the savior was ancient, that he reportedly had done a soft shoe with Adam in Eden while Eve went shopping.
    "How does it feel to be ancient?"
    "Many gorgeous things are ancient. Think of the Rocky Mountains. I made them and did a damn fine job of it. Satan is ancient too. We've tried to patch things up, but he's difficult. He says I'm difficult. He's a good poet, though."
    "How does it feel to be perfect?"
    "Less good. I'm always happy and at peace, a regular bliss cowboy, but there's little surprise. Every now and then I'd love to have an argument, but I'm always right, so why bother?"
    Mrs. Havens started flicking the lights, the five-minute-to-closing warning. I carried my Orwell to the desk for her to check out and said "See ya" to the savior who was sticking out his tongue at my minister who had little chance of climbing back up from such a deep pit. What would Millie do now? Would anyone find her box on Sunday and take her out? Had the minister at least poked air holes in it?
    The savior breezed out the door and, presumably, back to heaven. I kind of thought he might check out a DVD, but I guess he can play every film ever made on a screen in his head.
    My family lived five blocks away. I walked out into the night punctured by a few street lamps. I thought about stopping in at Joy's house, it wasn't all that late, but I admitted to myself that Joy wasn't my girlfriend. And that there was no Joy. But there was Orwell and the things he told me from the book's spine as I picked up my pace scared me. He said he believed in no God.
    Yet I had just seen Jesus and rather liked him. At least he stood up to my minister bully. Orwell said no, no, it wasn't Jesus at all. Even if it was, there's another book to write, one that takes eternity to finish, and Satan ran all the publishing houses so he had no choice but to offer him first rights.

the greatest horror film of modern cinema

2008-10-10T18:28:00.002-05:00

The first version of the Phantom I saw was the 1925 silent version starring Lon Chaney and Mary Philbin. And it's the best, hands down. In middle school it inspired a movie I made with my friends, which we called the Lukewarm, about Judas Iscariot. It was pretty good, considering our age, and I would gladly share, if the computer hadn't crashed just days after the movie was completed. I guess it couldn't handle it.

I promise better posts after I recover from pneumonia. Which I am blaming on my flu shot. Someday I will be a conspiracy theorist old woman, ravaged by disease, who sits in my armchair, all my cash stuffed in the refrigerator, which is empty anyway because how can it be trusted.

every way you look at this you lose

2008-10-08T22:15:00.010-05:00

I love polaroids. Probably more than anything else. Just because of that white border. And the color shifting. It's sort of reminds me of sleazy motel rooms and cheese pizza. This is Rhiannon Adam on polaroid, and I think she hit it spot on.

"As I would later learn, Polaroid is the chosen medium for candid moments, illegal activity and secret rendezvous."

photos courtesy of DazedDigital

And what is this craziness about no more polaroid film, might I ask? An outrage. What are the candidates going to do about that?

i was misinformed

2008-10-06T17:38:00.010-05:00

Todd Selby's fashion photography...

and a few other photos of his I liked...

pussywillows, cattails

2008-10-05T20:11:00.007-05:00

So busy, haven't had much time for posting. Went camping this weekend, playing Gordon Lightfoot on the guitar around the fire, reading poetry, and carving pumpkins. But I was too busy downing hot chocolate and sucking on cough drops to take pictures. This is a new teapot recently added to my (modest) collection. Given to me by a great aunt.

I took some pictures at my grandma's house a couple nights ago. Thinking of submitting one for the first photography club contest of the year...

And happy October. The weather is finally cooling off, which means black tights, hot tea, and jack-o-lanterns.

they only wanted to have sex in the rain

2008-09-30T18:47:00.004-05:00

This is a quote from Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums, which I just read for the first time, and which put me in just the right mood for my upcoming camping trip. All I want to do is hike through the mountains and whisper haikus to the trees.

"Try to do it without stepping on the aardvark. Don't be a sucker all your life, dummy up, ya dope. Do you see what I mean? My lion is fed, I sleep at his side."

That's not really a haiku,

but here are a few:

"Talking about the literary life–

the yellow aspens."

"Rocks on the side of a cliff,

why don't they tumble down?"

"The sparrow hops along the veranda,

with wet feet."

And here is possibly the very nicest thing ever said:

"It's a shining now-ness and we've done it, carried America like a shining blanket into that brighter nowhere Already."

Alas, if Jack Kerouac had not died years and years ago, and if I had not been born in the nineties, we would make love in public places, not think anything of it, and scratch poems into cliff faces, and think nothing of that.

we sing mostly in the mornings

2008-09-30T06:27:00.002-05:00

The big old men were sitting on their thrones

rattling their wine-soaked bones.

everyday is an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines

2008-09-29T23:42:00.007-05:00

These are portraits taken from Vainty Fair's online article, "The Faces of Vanity Fair." What I like about these is the women's faces: all stark in black and white, all different expressions of what I feel like is essentially the same thing. Gloria Swanson's eyes are smoldering. So beautiful.

from top: Kate Moss by Bruehl-Borges, Martha Graham by Imogen Cunningham, Katharine Hepburn by Cecil Beaton, and Gloria Swanson by Edward Steichen

how far we go along the road away from ourselves

2008-09-28T22:38:00.006-05:00

Photos by Theodora Allen. See more here.

i will never pretend to be a part of this

2008-09-27T10:27:00.007-05:00

These are scanned from an Annual Art Catalogue from 1981. The first two are from a series by photographers Joe Gaffney and Alberto Dell'Orto. The next four are a series by photographer Henry Wolf. I like the first two for their sophistication, and I especially like the expanse of red wall in contrast to the black and white jumpsuit. In the last four, I like the men more than the models. I love their poses.

t. williams talks to birds

2008-09-23T23:58:00.002-05:00

...a poem by Neil de la Flor

Tennessee Williams once visited Manhattan where he celebrated the Broadway success of A Streetcar Named Desire with a leather purse. She called him, 'Len.' That night, Len and the purse sent cocktails to hookers on 42nd street. Girls sipped so-called dirty martinis with white rubber gloves. For the clients' pleasure they sipped quickly.

Quietly, the other day, I found an ad in the Miami Herald that read, Tennessee look alike seeks farm hand for companionship. I left a message wondering if he looked like the State or the playwright, never mind the possibility that Tennessee could be a woman, or a transvestite looking for human liver. Nevertheless, the impossible news headline was true—Dog caught walking owner off bridge. Plummets to death, owner not dog.

Father John once said he got cold spells when he entered the church, or something like that. I told him to wear mittens.

Mittens, he said. Are for boys!

Father, I said. You are a boy.

A glass menagerie, glass menagerie, menagerie of steel, stainless steel, I've stolen my lines from the great Herodotus, or Hercules, I can't remember which was Assyrian. Istanbul is a city with great glass walls, erected with the sweat of tigers, lions, and bears. The mighty walls, like skin of cats, are see through. I see through, you see through. I can't see through, you can't see through. I am done with this cat business, the 9 lives of Nineveh, or 9 Visigoths, or Vishnu nude bathing on porcelain counter tops with margaritas in both hands.

A list will be my final attempt: a horn, clobbered, musk, alabaster, gloat, Los Alamos, credenza, last night, a dry hump, a parakeet.

When the Edict of Nantes was declared null and void girls bought hot pink lipstick. Abolition is freedom if you can't read. Reading is ______! But only if you close your eyes when you do it.

Madness, you say. Madness, I say. Say, do you understand the function of that squiggly line in calculus? The one that looks like it wants to be infinity. That's the function of madness.

what makes the animal run, run away

2008-09-19T19:45:00.007-05:00

Yes, this is what I do on Friday nights. Hair masks and blogging. These are from artists Gary Hill, whom I find very interesting. His art has an interesting take on perspective.

and i love your double chin

2008-09-16T16:31:00.011-05:00

These illustrations are by Herbert Bagilone, a Brazilian artist. Here's what he says about his work:

"The basis of my work is speaking about the coldness and competitiveness in people. I like to be ironic about things such as individuality and death, and the paths to reach or escape from this. I find it funny when I walk on the streets and see people with their eyes open but dead inside. This makes me think and wonder if I am still alive."

This is his street art. Which I like even more than the illustrations.

somehow this isn't what i thought it would be

2008-09-14T22:35:00.011-05:00

Stumbled on this book while wandering through the library the other day. It's a photography book, 50 Sad Chairs, by Bill Keaggy. The book measures about 3 inches by 3 inches, so on the art shelf, next to all those ginormous galleries, it was a dwarf. Too charming to pass up. And the photographs are lovely as well. They are all abandoned chairs, found in St. Louis Missouri. My favorites...

Sorry for the shitty scanning job. And here are my own found chair/bench photos. Not as good as Bill's, but I get credit for effort, right?

the daughter of these hills

2008-09-13T15:21:00.007-05:00

Um, why had I not seen this movie? I watched the Oscars, I saw Daniel Day Lewis and his earring receive the award for Best Actor... so why had I not seen this movie until last night? I don't know. But I do know that this is the best movie I have seen in a while. It was a real psychological thriller. At least I thought it was intense. And those prolonged minutes of silence at the beginning, followed by the continuous play of some craziness music? Genius.

the white girls wander the strip mall singing all day

2008-09-11T17:08:00.012-05:00

Lately I've been drawn to black and white photography. It's so honest. Almost brutally honest. These are by Arkansas photographer Mike Disfarmer. I think it's pretty self-explanatory.

no one belongs here more than you

2008-09-09T22:25:00.007-05:00

I read this over the summer, and thought it might make an interesting review. I know it's not recent or anything, and that many of you may have read it, but nevertheless...I thought it could be of interest. There were a few stories within the collection that I enjoyed, like the one about the swim lessons and the one about Blanca the sister. But as a collection, it was boring. All the characters were essentially the same person, just in different bodies. And I got the impression that every character was actually Miranda July. I felt like she was inserting so much of herself into the stories that they were autobiographical. She seemed to be using her stories to showcase her own quirks, and, if I may, flaunt them. Disturbing, funny, and insightful at times, but overall, repetitive and slightly snobbish.

I have to give her credit for the book jacket. The colors pop, and the simple, contrasted text is bold and striking. And how amazing is it that there are four colors to choose from?

I've never seen July's film, Me and You and Everyone We Know, or seen any of her performances. The reviews I've read match up with my general opinion of her work–July tends to have this quirkier-than-thou aura. I was wondering if any of you have ever read/seen any of July's artistry, and if you felt the same way.

taking the monotony out of monogyny

2008-09-07T17:40:00.007-05:00

Today I went to a flea market. Here's what I bought. If I had $692, I would have brought home a hand-painted accordion, a lighted art deco ash tray, a marionette, a pair of bird sketches, and an apothecary chest. But as it was, I had ten dollars, and thus brought home a suitcase, a model T is a globe, picture of an old fire engine, and some jewelry. Not bad. My grandma gave me some gold, old-womanish necklaces and earrings that will be great for fall. Grandma jewelry is pictured in bottom left. Everything else is flea market.

Also at my grandma's found some very dirty horoscope cards. Not what you want to find our your grandparents' dresser.

i had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion

2008-09-05T15:08:00.000-05:00

Okay, so, why is it that no matter how determined I am to focus, and actually absorb somehting in class, I never can? ADD? Maybe I'm distracted from all the sporadic, eclectic, and slightly scatterbrained collage art work that has lately been mesmerizing me. And luckily, more collage art is easy to find: Wiki.

from top: Joseph Cornell, Jane Frank, and Agnes Montgomery

See what I mean? On another note, went out for some coffee and live music tonight, but didn't get to hear any of it because of this old man who was spilling his heart to me and Kara.

you obviously know what i'm talking about

2008-09-03T17:53:00.000-05:00

I figure that since this is something like my blog's maiden voyage, I won't get into anything too heavy. Let me just say that I am new to this blog thing. Well, I've had a blog, but never one I've been serious about maintaining. But I promise I'll get the hang of it. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this. Did I mention that I am hating this weather? Can't wait for fall. Last night I bought a pair of brown leather heels to go with my navy knee highs and black tights (but not at the same time).