I am in school. I am a grad student. It's weird to work really hard on something that you're not very good at.
Recently I have been trying lots of new things. I made a clock last week at a monthly Ateliers workshop and in November I am going to this wonderful silk scarf dying workshop. How exciting!
Some pictures from my trip to Berlin and Paris:
Friday, October 29, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
This is righteous. Muslim women protesting the burka. I don't know the details of this picture, where the protest occured, if all the women are alright. But I'm glad someone is doing something. I'm not talking about baring your breasts, I'm talking about being serious and putting yourself out there. I don't think I could ever be that brave, but I'll try.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
That's the way boys are
Down the road the darkest shadow
is locked up on a dark drive.
Cats and plastic owls peer down, off and down from eaves.
Engines and acquaintances purr in the distance.
In this town lawns are littered with white plastic chairs that won’t ever melt
down to dirt. I am searching
for ringing light in the wake of your memory.
Seeing faces in parked cars at night.
---
I am learning how to drive a car.
is locked up on a dark drive.
Cats and plastic owls peer down, off and down from eaves.
Engines and acquaintances purr in the distance.
In this town lawns are littered with white plastic chairs that won’t ever melt
down to dirt. I am searching
for ringing light in the wake of your memory.
Seeing faces in parked cars at night.
---
I am learning how to drive a car.
heart of my own
I always plan to make a scrap book but I wonder if I actually ever will. I was reading this about a wonderful Toronto artist named Melinda Josie and am having a dress made out of some of her fabric. Also a parisienne artist named Nathalie Lete. They are so productive and inspired. I hope that I move through life creating something. I am not sure if I do.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
flying over the ocean
It's officially summer in the city and all I can think about is European travel, Jake's gardens with fresh vegetables for us to cook and eat raw, and sitting outside in the open air at every opportunity.
The band I'm in is playing a show in Toronto later this month and I get to see my old friends. The last year that I spent in Toronto was one of the most illuminating and beautiful years. I learned so much about myself and about people, I finally let myself learn about the world.
I spent the afternoon at my parents cottage lying on the dock with my hand in the water. I'm still afraid of monsters in the water but I felt like today there couldn't be any monsters in that kind of sunshine.
The band I'm in is playing a show in Toronto later this month and I get to see my old friends. The last year that I spent in Toronto was one of the most illuminating and beautiful years. I learned so much about myself and about people, I finally let myself learn about the world.
I spent the afternoon at my parents cottage lying on the dock with my hand in the water. I'm still afraid of monsters in the water but I felt like today there couldn't be any monsters in that kind of sunshine.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
sometimes
I sleep in the bed of a man who digs trenches in the earth to grow spinach and radishes and corn.
He says that he'll be patient with me and so I can continue to play with his tiny cats. The summer feels dreamy like it always does, like waking up after a long sleep.
I Guess You Don't
It's the way that you look sometimes,
'I'll roll a cigarette and tell you about the best friend I've ever had'
and then you don't.
The look that says 'I'll tell you
about the first night together, the first snowy morning of the season,
the way snow piles up on branches and
a clear, long drive home after.'
You and your Jerusalem artichokes, your horseradishes
and all the Bleeding Hearts. Don't you know
how to hold anything back?
He says that he'll be patient with me and so I can continue to play with his tiny cats. The summer feels dreamy like it always does, like waking up after a long sleep.
I Guess You Don't
It's the way that you look sometimes,
'I'll roll a cigarette and tell you about the best friend I've ever had'
and then you don't.
The look that says 'I'll tell you
about the first night together, the first snowy morning of the season,
the way snow piles up on branches and
a clear, long drive home after.'
You and your Jerusalem artichokes, your horseradishes
and all the Bleeding Hearts. Don't you know
how to hold anything back?
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