Whaddayalookinat!?

The Machine

2010-05-03T13:46:00.002-05:00

Greg and I are taking a workshop together at Callenwolde: Mixed Media, Photo Collage and Resin. It seems to be a good group of folks involved. We’re instructed by the lovely and the talented Elizabeth D’Angelo – another healed artist courtesy of Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way”. She’s a complete delight and we are both enjoying the experience she’s set up for the class.

The concept is cool. Each week we will collage a layer and cover it with about 1/8” of resin. By the end of the class, one should have a mixed media collage about an inch thick. The depth would then speak to time and development through the course of our eight weeks together. Both development in skill and process and thought, right? Get it? Totally cool.

The concept I’m exploring is the church as a machine. I’ve been pondering this topic for quite some time and it seemed like an obvious theme to spend these sessions exploring.

Layer #1 – the machine. I snagged some web images and did a photo transfer of these simple machine illustrations. I added a bit of color just to get past the intimidating white of the clay board. I also added the blown fuse you see to the upper right immediately as it will take a while to submerge in the layers of resin. I found that fuse while walking home from the train one day. I couldn’t believe my luck to find such a wonderful bit of used-up brokenness.

Layer #2 – the church. This layer was attained by color altering a photo, printing out and using a matte medium transfer. In the end, I rubbed off more than I’d intended but that’s how the cookies crumble and how we are challenged to move beyond our original plans. At this juncture, I added the lure. (I think Greg found that for me.) I added the bones. (These are part of the cremated remains of my friend, Kelly’s cat, Nikki.) I also added chips of colored glass gems from a bracelet I received from one of my Sunday school children. I hope his feelings wouldn’t be hurt at the demise of the gift but if a 4th grader could understand, he’d know that it is even more precious now and more personal and appreciated as a piece of my art.

Layer #3 – working the two. My focus at this point was mostly determining that I wanted a lot more church interior. I realized the machine is generally not immediately noticed in the church so it would make more sense for the church interior to be the dominate visual. At the same time, I tried to marry the machinery to the interiors – confuse the two – as they tend to be confused in the physical world. I added another layer of bone and broken glass. I’m starting to understand the potential of designing for depth.

Channeling Rain Man

2010-03-04T13:42:00.001-05:00

We are renovating our kitchen and yes, I am going insane. Many of you can attest to my Rain Man-like qualities. Perhaps you’ve seen me front the merchandise in my own refrigerator or maybe you’ve witnessed my inability to let the radio or television volume land on a round number. You’ve seen me struggle with writing in blue ink or using a pen without its cap. Worse yet, you’ve witnessed a freak out as I desperately search for a writing implement of choice because at that moment, I can only write with that specific beloved pen or pencil.

The level of the blinds must rest parallel with the panes of the window. I like to wear black slacks on Monday, grey on Tuesday. I often don’t like the number 3 and I have mixed emotions about the color red. I like to stand on the same square of cement on the MARTA platform until I get a bad feeling about that square and then I work towards finding a new square of favor - chosen by its alignment with an usually duller or significantly more buzzing light fixture perpendicular to a freshly painted trash receptacle or handrail which allows me easy access to stare at a favorite crack in the wall, stain on the walkway, or bolt on the track.

These things keep me happy, balanced, focused. Well all that is shot to hell now – at home anyway.

This used to be my kitchen.

This used to be my living room.

Here is everything that was once properly housed on shelves – in an orderly fashion, labels faced front and potentially in alphabetical order.

It’s paralyzing honestly and I really look forward to all of this wrapping up and the establishment of a fresh and mood-stabilizing new order about the household. Until then, pardon my progress.

1,000 thank yous to Dad’s hard work - hanging cabinets and dropping new outlets while the cats look on in freak-out amazement. Shouts out to Mom’s MacGyver-like skills as she cooks meals using only a crock-pot, toaster oven, propane grill, aluminum foil and perhaps a Swiss Army knife...or I don't know, maybe duct tape. And super-props to Greg, my folks and everyone who has lowered their expectations for me during this most disturbing of times. I swear I’ll be back to “normal” soon but now, it's 4 o'clock, time for Judge Wapner. 4 o'clock, time for Judge Wapner. People's Court. Judge Wapner. 4 o'clock.

Carmen Miranda

2009-12-09T19:46:00.003-05:00

She came up recently in a conversation. I'd forgotten about my Carmen Miranda obsession that was born late one blustery Iowa evening watching AMC. I tried to explain the amazing Busby Berkly segment with Carmen and a bunch of chicks dancing around with enormous bananas but of course could not do it justice. Enjoy.

Small but successful...

2009-12-08T13:31:00.004-05:00

My current excuse for not getting into the studio more often is simply 'the winter blahs'. I did manage this weekend to create the card below for a good friend. I gave it to her so quickly - a half hour after completing it - that I'd not had time to even form an opinion really. I did get this snap shot and now that I've had some time with the photo, I've determined I am quite pleased with the piece. It's been awhile since I've posted visuals. Enjoy.

Habits of Happiness

2009-12-03T09:08:00.001-05:00

I wanted to write about the happy drinking bird and how it relates to one of my habits of happiness – walking quickly. Unfortunately, I discovered that the happy drinking bird is not a perpetual motion toy, although, I am reassured, this is a common misperception.

The happy drinking bird is a heat engine toy. So, my analogy is gone and I’m not sure how to cope as my need to walk quickly is indeed a tool to keep me from getting bummed. I don’t know why, but it is. I’ve always used a visualization of the happy drinking bird to make this correlation between the energy of walking and the perpetuating of happiness not seem so disconnected.

This is a perpetual motion toy but visualizing it does not make me happy. Frankly, it puts me on edge. So the circuit is no longer complete. My action may still equal proper emotional response but I no longer have a visual in my head to rationalize it. Yes, ignorance was bliss.

I’m not sure if this is the case now, but in the 80’s the perpetual motion stress toy was a popular gift for your busy executive. It’s a gift for the one who has everything because why would an object of so little use be purchased by such a high achiever? One does not get to the level of having an office with a desk that would compliment a sleek, metal and cherry-stained perpetual motion machine by engaging in ridiculous compulsions like spending money on a sleek, metal and cherry-stained perpetual motion machine. Or at least that is the mindset of one trapped in a beige cube where a happy drinking bird would not only cheer me up but look quite at home and furthermore remind me of why I do not schlep.

...and now a little catechism...

2009-08-31T11:25:00.004-05:00

Excerpts from "My First Communion" by Most Reverend Louis LaRavoire Morrow, D.D., Bishop of Krishnagar. Copyright 1941.

The angel smacks herself in the head. "Oy-vey!"

I love how practical applications of arithmetic come into play here. I was never any good at word problems.

Back to School

2009-08-18T16:50:00.005-05:00

I couldn't help but notice that it's back to school time so I thought I'd post this, my favorite, back to school photo.

This was obviously before the "morning person" gene kicked in.

It can only get better...

2009-07-23T08:26:00.007-05:00

I finish up my prayer time by Lindbergh Station - unusually early, so odds are I’ve forgotten to pray for any of you. I go right into my journaling trance and before I know it Lennox Station is being announced. Yikes, wrong train! I scurry to get up, grab my open backpack, drop it, crap falls out. I’m not quite sure what all, but I snatch up my backup pair of headphones, watch various somethings roll under a seat, pick up a loose and completely obsolete MARTA token and immediately drop it again, sling my backpack over my shoulder, audibly slamming it into a seat (thankfully not the head a fellow passenger), see a gentleman pick up that allusive token and prepare to hand it back but the warning bell of the door is sounding and I gangly, stumble out – in that catching-forward sort of stammering run - just before their closing. Damn, I wish I could have watched that scene but I suppose I’ve entertained others by actually being that spectacle.

I head southward, back to Lindburgh and transfer north to North Springs. I get off and realize, in this bright, suburban station, that I do not have the sleek black slacks that I’d intended to wear this morning but instead am wearing the slightly more casual pair of brown trousers that I’d actually worn just yesterday. A bit on the high water side and sported with black patent leather 3” heels, I’m either on the extreme edgy side of fashion or look like a complete moron. I’m not sure but I don’t think I’ll be leaving my cube today.

Of Matter

2009-07-13T12:20:00.008-05:00

This may have been procrastinating or it may have been actually part of “the process”. I’m always suspicious as to what I may or may not be trying to pull and I am easily tricked by me. Regardless, I went on a photo exhibition through East Point yesterday. The goal was to find rusty things, wires, transformers, signs of decay and therefore signs of solidity in this increasingly ephemeral and less physical world.

I rode my scooter over to the mysterious railroad and industrial area I’ve seen from MARTA but have never ventured towards. It was fascinating and all rather abandoned on a Sunday afternoon. It was all I could do to not park the bike and walk down an enticing and seemingly long forgotten railroad track. Who knows what one might see? It’s unfortunate (or fortunate) that as an adult I have a sense of vulnerability, otherwise, I would have certainly wandered where I shouldn’t - entered restricted areas, abandoned buildings, apparent hobo camps. These sorts of places naturally intrigue me but are most likely a recipe for trouble.

I long for days past when I’d explore the lesser known parts of suburban St. Louis – the storm drains, graffiti zones of the park, Madrid plaza. At my grandparents’ small town we’d explore the vacated town hall and post office: broken dishes, damaged pianos, dead pigeons and rides on the folding chair cart. Here in Atlanta, I’ve wandered with a friend through the back woods of Piedmont Park. There were many an encampment and curious items and people to be found there - most suspicious. My most favorite Christmas memory is exploring a burned out house in Midtown with my neighbors. Light switches dripped down the walls, cd cases melted together, beams were exposed, shiny-black and deeply crackled.

All of these environments give me such a thrill. I feel alive in these places of the unknown, dark, forgotten, rotting, with the smell of that black fine dirt found in old attics. I feel solid, yet finite...all too real.

MARTA Dance

2009-06-29T13:50:00.009-05:00

To my delight, and at no additional cost, my commute home included entertainment.
I give you MARTA dancer:

As this continued on, I thought what am I doing taking snap shots? So, here's some video of the action:

I don't know what he was listening to but I was listening to The Clash during this performance. Unfortunately, I was not able to capture the part of the dance that included taking the shirt off and then quickly, stylishly and to-the-beat putting it back on.

Ode to Angie

2009-06-10T08:50:00.005-05:00

Today would have been my sister's 40th birthday. Would we have thrown her a big party? If so, what type of party? Who would have come? What would she have been like at 40? It's odd to loose someone - someone, who, in the end, I didn't really know.

I knew her because I grew up with her but any attempt at trying to know her - her thoughts and feelings - was, often, to know her for my advantage: What was exploitable for my gains? i.e. - How can I get her to come back to my bedroom and kill a spider for me? How can I convince her to swap chores with me or agree that we should be watching Gidget reruns instead of The Waltons (What a bunch of squares!)? I did not try to know her in order to find out how to love her more. I did not search to know her experience - her view of the world. I suppose I was just too young and self-absorbed, even at 25 years-old.

Angie taught me patience and acceptance. Our relationship honed my sensitivity, sympathy and dutifulness to the outsider, the over-looked, the targets of mockery. She loved me and expressed that love quite outwardly. In all honestly, I didn't know what to do with that expression of love at the time. Now I just look back and accept it.

One of the few physical inheritances I received from my sister was a Queen cd. I had no idea she was a fan. I was not terribly familiar with the band but now I think of Ang whenever I hear Bohemian Rhapsody or any of their rock opera anthems. In retrospect, it totally makes sense that she would have been fond of their sound. This goes out to you, my sister:

I have people in my life, who, perhaps unbeknownst to them, I consider my adopted sisters. Remembering Ang and what I didn't bother to know encourages me to remember how important and temporary siblings can be.

"In the midst of life we are in death, etc." - Morrissey

Analog Morning News

2009-06-04T11:26:00.006-05:00

AM newsgirls

National News Story

cont'd

Local Diamond Theft!!

...and your 5-day.

Wabi-sabi

2009-06-03T10:41:00.012-05:00

June 12th is fast approaching and The Morgan's are as unprepared for the digital TV transition as they would have been on Feb 17th (the original deadline). We did get a converter box for the smaller TV upstairs. (Thank you tax payers.) We went out and bought a new television for the main house as our former had lost the ability to degauss itself and consequently broadcast the upper 3rd of all programming in fantastically stunning yet hideously unnatural colors. We actually got sort of used to it and were bored when presented with what we were really intended to see.

Regardless, if you know any other loony-tunes who are too cheap to pay for cable and are receiving the DTV air broadcast signal, you've certainly heard the complaints of a sudden need to upgrade to a better antenna in order to receive programming that was once easily tuned-in. Hey Obama - where's my free and professionally installed, new roof antenna!? It is nowhere to be found. Actually, the home we've purchased has never been wired for cable and still has a charming mid-century antenna attached to the chimney. I intend to hop up there this weekend and give a go at wiring that rusty assemblage of metal to our fancy new tv. Wish me luck (or tell me I'm crazy)!

In the meantime, as we continue to watch the analog versions of stations - whose more temperamental, digital cousins refuse to present us with a consistently locked picture - I am saddened that the jaggedy, ghosted, white-noise-filled version of the morning news is about to become history. Gone. Permanently. This is not like record spinning, folks. There will not be an eccentric cult of analog television watchers. The signal will be gone. The FCC has other uses for those wavelengths.

Armed with this realization and disheartened by the cold, solid picture that awaits me, I intend to document these last few days of beautiful imperfection for the ages.

(This animated gif is dedicated to Dera .)

Poster Child

2009-05-19T13:04:00.035-05:00

I came back from a business trip to find my 7-year old corporate ID photo blown up to a punchy 8.5 x 11 and then displayed on velvety black boarding along with 6 other colleagues’ photos. While I was out, e-mails, voice mails and meeting notices had piled up in an attempt to notify me of my forthcoming honor. An opportunity to have a better photo taken for the display was offered as well, albeit too late.

I am a Georgia Clean Air Campaign “Clean Air Champion”, having allegedly kept 25,000 pounds of pollution from Atlanta skies – a bench mark I did not know I was attempting to reach. I’ve received a certificate, a special commemorative gift (a.k.a. coffee mug – a.k.a. future landfill item) and the admiration (and/or snarky mockery) of my co-workers. My comrades here at the Ministry of Propaganda crafted a banner for my cube; attended my award ceremony (knowing I’d never show up on my own accord); threw me a cookie party (Huzzah!) and changed our inspiration board topic to “Reasons Julie is a better person than you:” Ouch.

I am a native of, and culturally rooted Midwesterner. One of our greatest Midwestern values is to never be accused of getting a fat head..

or too big for one’s britches.

(Google image search "pants split" - you'll be entertained for hours)

This probably explains why I’ve never been fond of accolades. I’d rather not have the attention. I also harbor a bitter grade school memory of being awarded a certificate for “Most Improved Handwriting” after having numerous pages of in-class assignments (hours of work) ripped up, by my teacher, before my eyes. Why? - because I was holding my pen incorrectly. The award was obviously motivated by the guilt of the psychotic 5th grade teacher who must have realized her teaching methods only fueled hatred and rebellion vs. motivating me to adjust my grip on a writing implement.

Another brick in the wall…

By the way, I still hold my pen incorrectly.

So, in this morally-relativistic world, I am being lauded as a model citizen for the ethos d’jour. It’s been odd as I did appreciate the cookie party and was touched that my comrades made such a fuss. I’ve also been struck and a bit frightened by some of the reactions as I attempt to downplay the whole program. People have come up to me and essentially apologized for not doing more to reduce their carbon footprint - like I might give rat’s ass.

For the record, my reasons for selling off a car and adopting a mass-transportation commuter life-style are as follows:

Spiritual – I have time to read, pray, write, draw and meditate (a.k.a. nap) on the train. I enjoy being among the masses – a part of the populace.
Economic – I’m cheap - another great Midwestern value. Less gas money, car insurance, no toll to pay and I win gift cards for logging my commute with the Clean Air Campaign. (That’s how this all came to be).
Political – I don’t like using my money to purchase foreign oil and potentially fund terrorism.
And maybe it actually does something to improve air quality. It definitely takes one more car off of Atlanta highways during rush hour. You're welcome.

The big to-do at work...

my cube...

cookie party!!!

Oh, and I was awarded with some kind of back massaging tool which I have donated to the group for their support of my green initiatives...

Cool

2009-05-17T15:42:00.002-05:00

In retrospect, I got kind of pissed this morning but, as I returned from the bathroom, I'd managed to regroup. I am reminded of this great scene from "West Side Story".

"Cool it, A-Rab, cool it, cool it!"

Visualizations of beatnik dance scenes get me through more in life than I'd like to admit.

Evidence of a stressed office worker...

2009-04-20T07:52:00.002-05:00

Last week was crazy busy and completely frustrating. At one point, I got pissed off and threw my pen into my monitor (I broke the pen...happily not the monitor.) and then ate a bag of m&m's and mini chocolate chip cookies.

Hot Fruit and Found Roaches

2009-04-09T14:34:00.011-05:00

So, last weekend, Greg comes into the kitchen with this bag of tangerines and oranges. They were a gift from our beloved next-door neighbor. Evidently, I kid you not, a truck loaded with citrus overturned on the highway. Our neighbor and his daughter joined the free-for-all mob in snatching up the produce and then shared their wealth with us. It is way more than we can eat. I’ve begun unloading to friends. So, if you receive a handful of oranges know that you are holding stolen goods - or insurance loss – whatever helps you sleep at night.

Having lived in the hood and having had friends who lived in even hoodier hoods, I’ve learned a thing or two about hot goods and the protocols surrounding them. I once inadvertently purchased a stolen set of David Bowie CDs in a sketchy Atlanta burrow. A friend of mine lived there and her neighbor came by with a case of CDs priced at $2 a piece. He said he’s helping his recently unemployed brother unload them for cash during these hard times. Wanting to help and wanting listen to “Moonage Daydream”, I bought the set. After Heidi’s neighbor left she said, “You know he broke into a car and is selling those for crack.” I did not consider that.

Lesson: It’s just good thieving ethics to make up a story that removes the burden of guilt from the consumer.

Back in the 11th Street days, I learned many lessons of the hood. One lesson is that the folks going through your garbage are not necessarily looking for the cans you forgot to recycle. It was always interesting to watch one man’s trash become another man’s treasure and our dark, lattice-camouflaged porch was a front row seat to the action on the street. I generally did not mind the folks who picked through the trash but there was one guy who really pissed me off.

The big fat, greasy white guy with the green sweatpants never put the trash back. He’d rip open the nicely tied kitchen bags and then leave them next to your now empty, Herbie Curbie. Honestly, I’ve seen raccoons with better manners. So, as this fellow pissed me off more and more each day, I slowly became paranoid against him as he seemed to be unusually careful in sifting through the trash and I never saw him walk away with a find. I began to presume identity theft and Elizabeth and I became more apt to burn volatile documents in our fireplace. Eventually, I moved to a slightly swankier part of Midtown – hey, right off Ponce – and did not see sweatpants guy anymore.

One day, perhaps six years later, I was parked on my old street having dined at nearby Joe’s on Juniper. Heading back to my car I see sweatpants guy going through the trash right next to my vehicle. He says to me, “I wouldn’t be in this neighborhood if I were you.”

I asked why and he gave me a list of unsavory characters I might run into: fags, Jews, niggers (I can’t believe I just typed that), etc. Humored and emboldened I said, “Well, then why would you be in this neighborhood?”

“I came to this neighborhood to take a shit!”

An uncontrollable smirk broke across my face to that witty retort. I wished him well as I got into the car and watched him score a roach out of the trash he was digging through. He triumphantly raised his pinched fingers out towards me so I could see his good fortune and then promptly fired up the miniature spliff. So, that’s what he was looking for. Who knew?

Bat Dream

2009-04-02T12:01:00.008-05:00

Last night I dreamt I was in yet another house in dire need of renovation. (This is a very common setting for my dreams.) Again, it seems as though I’d purchased the home and intended to bring it up to a livable condition. The interior was dark and dirty. Many windows were broken and covered in plywood in various states of rot. The windows that were intact were so dirty they could hardly bring light into the space. I walked through the dark uneven decay of the small house with someone who was either my husband or contractor.

Suddenly, I felt something soft clinging to my ankle. It was a large bat who, like a puppy, was attempting to affectionately win my attention. I petted it a bit but then we went on. Again the bat flew down, this time to my shoulder where it sat there and nuzzled its silky fur into my neck. It gave me loving head butts and looked up at me with a hope of affection. I caressed the sweet-eyed creature, rubbing its face against mine. It was really starting to win me over and I began to ponder whether I’d want to keep it as a pet. The social ramifications of having such an unusual pet were my only deterrent.

* * * * * * * * * *

I tried to find a picture of a bat as cute and sweet as the one in my dream but frankly they are pretty creepy in most photos I'd found.

Unfortunately, the dream dictionary has many possible interpretations for bat appearances. So, any thoughts on why I would dream of such a thing are welcomed.

Happy Clam on the Half-Shell Day

2009-03-31T12:00:00.001-05:00

It’s National Clam on the Half-Shell Day. I am not really a shellfish eater. I was never really against the food but otherwise, never really for it. When I read Leviticus and learned it was not kosher and I could therefore proclaim some kind of holy justification against eating shellfish, I was all about it. Even today, I avoid shellfish, not to the extent of refusing to eat it if it were set in front of me at a meal but I would most likely not select it if given a choice.

Reading Leviticus also helped me finally come to grips with my vegetarian past (a late high school and into college phase). I thought I was being ethical or something like that but then I realized I was just sort of self-righteous. Then, I got really fat from way too much pasta alfredo and moved to the south where it was difficult to find a vegetable with out a hunk of meat swimming in it anyway. So, as incrementally as I began, I stopped.

I was still bothered, however, as I’d eat meat for dinner and think, why don’t I just eat my cat tomorrow? What’s the difference? I demand nothing short of consistent logic! Oh there is a difference: “You may eat any animal that has a split hoof completely divided and that chews the cud.” (Lev 11:3)

Don’t eat the cats.

Of course, in Acts 10, Peter has a vision of a sheet full of animals of all kinds and a voice says, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat...Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.”

Go ahead, eat the cats.

Later, Peter concludes that the vision was actually about baptizing some Gentiles.

So, no, do not eat the cats.

Bottom line, learning a bit about kosher eating freed me from having to even fathom eating the cats. It’s been a great relief to me and I’d imagine the cats...assuming, strongly assuming...they CAN read my mind and consequently know how self-righteous I am regardless of what I eat.

2009-02-26T08:15:00.000-05:00

"Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell me your dreams."

2009-02-17T12:39:00.009-05:00

I seem to be remembering more and more dreams. They are becoming terribly detailed and furthermore, I am, within the day, quite confidently discerning their meaning. Even freakier, some of these dreams have turned out to be mildly yet uselessly clairvoyant.

For example, last week I dreamt a friend of mine was running about panicked planning a trip. There was more to this dream: a dark and bizarre house with a chic, illuminated, glass-walled, yet entirely junk-filled closet; a mad search for socks and finally a b-movie grade, special effect crescendo involving people turning into banisters, floor lamps and the like. When I told my friend about the dream she starred in, I was shocked to discover that she was, indeed, planning a trip. I was invited along on said trip but figured the ominous ending of the dream would guide my answer. Not to mention I’m too cheap and too married to go off with a bunch of single 30-somethings for an extended weekend in Utah.

I also, had a fantastic dream the night before Pope John Paul II died. I know, it’s hardly clairvoyant as the world spent days watching CNN footage awaiting the white smoke to signal the poor guy’s death but it was a cool dream: There were vivid papal reds and a swirling mosh pit of bishops holding aloft the pontiffs’ throne as he surfed the crowd giddily…and everybody sang “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”.

Monday morning I woke up from a seemingly disjointed dream involving super-8 footage of yours truly, complete with my high school 80's perm, involved in various competitive gymnastic events…the balance beam; that thing where you run and launch yourself over that horse or what-have-you. Greg was bummed to learn that I was not engaged in the dancing with the ribbon on a stick competition but hey, I don’t write the dreams, I just report, research and then ponder them. The dream went on in more detail but ended with various anonymous friends accidently leaving their groceries (abundance) in my freezer (preservation or behavioral coldness). The grocery sacks included beer (happiness, socializing), eggs (birth, creativity) and wheatgrass (good health, positive change). The dream caused me to change my plans for the evening.

If you are curious, I found a website where you can enter dream objects and themes for interpretation (as used above):
http://www.dreammoods.com/commondreams/

Did you know that the color gray indicates emotional detachment?

So, now these dreams seem to be inserting themselves as a constant in my life and furthermore an essential part of my decision making process...and I like it. I’ve caught myself demanding I be given dreams to work out my life quandaries du jour. I may never really have to make a decision ever again. What a relief!

Odd Dream

2009-01-25T16:32:00.005-05:00

I had an odd dream last night. I dreamt I was a passenger in a car traveling along a rather large surface street in what appeared to be the Central West End of St. Louis - although it could have been any Victorian or Edwardian boulevard of any American city. Our car came to a stop at a red light where I observed a school bus stopped opposite the intersection from us.

The light turned green and my anonymous driver headed through the intersection. As we crossed, we saw to our left, that the bus did not move in reaction to the green light. As we passed further, we saw a stylish young woman in a nice wool coat at the back of the bus. She had a 2x4 wedged into the back bumper of the bus and she was bearing down rhythmically on the board causing the bus to bounce accordingly. All this did not seem too great an effort to the young woman and she engaged in the activity as if this were a normal part of her day.

My driver explained to me that the bus was full of school children who are on a cross country trip. The bus has broken down and the woman, I assume the guardian of the children, is bouncing the bus like that to simulate the soothing rhythm of driving along the highway so that the children won't wake up and realize that the bus has stopped.

Twelfth Night

2009-01-05T12:20:00.001-05:00

There was a time when Twelfth Night, Epiphany Eve, was the final day and climax of the Christmas season. The rising popularity of New Year's Eve celebrations evidently sounded the death knell for this tradition. Now, January 5th tends to be the day that the big year-end car sales come to a close, vacations end and folks solemnly return to work or school...broke, tired of partying...kind of happy the holidays are over.
It is also my birthday. See some of my favorite birthday twins below:

...a contemplative Marilyn Manson...

...your buddy, Ted "Isaac" Lange...

...the always classy (except in this photo) Diane Keaton...

It is also the birthday of Jean Dixon...pictured here in a deep trance or in dire need of Anacin...

Happy Birthday celebrities!

In western astrology, my sign is Capricorn - the sea-goat. Here is a list of Capricorn attributes you may or may not have seen me (or my celebrity friends) demonstrate:

practical and prudent

ambitious and disciplined

patient and careful

humorous and reserved

pessimistic and fatalistic

miserly and grudging

The Reflex

2008-12-09T13:31:00.005-05:00

The Ministry of Propaganda is engaging in a 2009 department planning meeting today at 3pm. A co-worker, freshly returning from the stomach flu, has graciously offered to attempt to vomit during the meeting in the hopes of wrapping it all up by 4pm. I’ve offered my full support in this endeavor. I love that grade school-like tactics are still discussed and seriously considered among my comrades here at The Company.

The most interesting place I’ve vomited - outside of from a window of a car traveling west at 65mph along highway I-70 - is on a Ferris wheel at St. Thomas Apostle’s annual parish festival. It was 1983 and my friends and I had headed up to the carnie-infested fund raiser after a pre-teen lunch favorite, Totino’s frozen pizza. After several dart-throwing attempts to win feathered roach clips – having, at this time, no idea what they were, other than cool – we headed to the Ferris wheel.

Before this juncture, I had no idea that I suffered from motion-sickness – a curse that remains with me today. I’d say by about the third rotation, I was becoming quickly aware that something was amiss. I made the mistake of warning my buddies, ominously seated on either side, of the potential for disaster. Like a wounded animal, my announcement lead to immediate torment - additional rocking of the car and a rollicking rendition of Duran Duran’s “The Reflex” starting with the lines: “I’m on a ride and I want to get off; but they won’t slow down, the roundabout…” The stereophonic effect of two 12-year olds doing their screechy-best Simon Le Bon impersonations was the last straw.

I did my best to contain my amazing heave away from my buddies, myself and the innocents on the hot black top below. The bright spew on the floorboard contained those perfectly square pepperonis that only the cheapest of frozen pizzas contain. The sing-along abruptly stopped and shortly thereafter the ride. Needless to say, the feathered roach clip-adorned carnie was less than amused.

Yes, I have other tales about retching but I’ve got to prep for the meeting right now by feeding my co-worker multi-vitamins on an empty stomach.

2008-12-05T18:48:00.002-05:00

Righteous Room.

2008-09-07T17:18:00.011-05:00

Sketchbook stuff = backs of heads at church.

Secondly, tangles of wires are REALLY interesting to me as of late. I can't get enough of cell phone towers either. How fortunate.

2008-08-24T08:53:00.001-05:00

Still life w/ lilies & artichokes. I finished this Tuesday night.

2008-08-04T17:38:00.000-05:00

Here's a sketch of Greg, Meeko & Hunter. I drew this Sunday.

2008-07-20T12:00:00.006-05:00

2008-07-09T16:40:00.005-05:00

More MARTA sleepers...

2008-06-29T16:07:00.003-05:00

Here's a sketch of an unsuspecting sleeper on the train. Greg said that it is reminiscent of "The Death of Marat". I like that idea so I call him Marat.

2008-06-29T15:56:00.001-05:00

...and here's a still life that I may tweak some more.

2008-06-29T15:50:00.002-05:00

Here is an update to a piece I'd posted earlier. I'm still not calling it done and I'm still looking to steal your ideas.

2008-05-05T15:39:00.007-05:00

This is the first actually finished piece from my class, "Holy Obligation". I've got another on the sidelines (piece below) but it still needs something...I've got to stare at it some more. Coming soon.

2008-03-30T16:56:00.003-05:00

Last night at about 10pm, the door bell rings. It's a hot wing delivery man who's been mistakenly sent to our address. He apologizes and then heads down our driveway in the rain and somehow manages to wander into our yard and get stuck in the mud. He comes to the door again to explain what had happened and apologize. He returns with some friends and a large truck but they are unable to move the car. The next morning, the car is still there. See below as our amazing sub-compact ensures we make it to church. We come home and the car is still there but eventually with a little help from Two Bros. towing, makes it out of our lawn. The wild violets, clover, chickweed & dandelions are ruined. We are devistated.

2008-03-24T17:05:00.007-05:00

Here's the latest work-in-process - working title, "Lasting Vision". Have you noticed that I've yet to finish anything? Don't panic, it's organic.
Also, please enjoy this childhood photo of my sister's affection for me.

2008-02-28T18:53:00.008-05:00

Vicariously ride the MARTA with me. You know you want to. Please take special note of urban outdoorsman with cell phone.

2008-02-19T19:30:00.005-05:00

Greg and I went record shopping. Look what I scored. I got it for $6! Not the best quality but hey. I own an original Animals album. Digging it!!

In other news, Addison loaned me some of his "Art 21" DVDs. They are so inspiring. I'm learning so much about process, philosophy, inspiration and research. It all makes sense suddenly...it all makes sense.

2008-01-27T14:30:00.001-05:00

Both of these are works in process:

2007-04-15T16:16:00.001-05:00

Okay, someone or something took a crap on our deck last night.

Can you see it? It's at 8-o'clock from the wall socket. Disgusting!

If you have any information in regard to this incident please contact me immediately.

2007-04-07T07:16:00.002-05:00

MQJ's "Under the Jasmin Tree" currently holds the title of most listened to album I've purchased this year.
I often listen to that album twice in a row or even several times in one day...at least three times a week. Honestly, I don't know how Greg lives with me.
Ceili likes to listen to MJQ as well. She sits on the sofa near the right channel speaker - that's the side you hear the vibraharp the most...she digs those crazy vibes!
pictured - crazy album art - an Apple Records release
also pictured - Miss Ceili hanging out back on Argonne

2007-03-18T11:28:00.000-05:00

Karaoke -
Etymology: Japanese, from kara empty + Oke, short for Okesutora orchestra

I spent St. Patty's Day at the East Point Corner Tavern, celebrating my friend, Melzie's, b-day. It also happened to be karaoke night at the tap. I apologise to the good people of East Point for my attempt at Trini Lopez's "Lemon Tree". Although I was assured I sounded just like Annette Funicello - hey, is'nt that an insult? - I know my vocal stylings were probably more akin to the sounds a cocker spaniel might make when injured.

For my next go at Karoke, I'll stick to a song I know I can sing or, "the crowd pleaser"...where everyone knows the words and sings along in rock-out solidarity.

That's Melzie at the mic...and yes, EPCT is a smoking allowed establishment.

2007-03-06T19:50:00.001-05:00

Hugs -
It all started with yet another awkward hug - I went right arm low and I guess I should have gone right arm high. I thought, surely the internet can straighten out my social confusion. Boy, there is a lot out there:

Here are the physical basics.

Here is the psychological underbelly.

Both are fascinating sociological happenings.

2007-02-25T08:50:00.000-05:00

We've thoroughly enjoyed our most recent Netflix rental, "Guerrilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst". I have to question why I enjoy the Patty Hearst story so much...I mean people were killed. She just looks so cool robbing that bank. I guess she is a symbol of taking everything from your upbringing and the confines from which you were raised and shucking it out the window. I can't help but wonder if she really was not your classic Stockholm Syndrome case, but was, in actually, given one window in time to be someone completely different...to not be held responsible to what was required of her as a Hearst...or a civilized human being for that matter...to be a revolutionary instead of an heiress. (Gal 4:7) We'd all love to claim Stockholm Syndrome to cover up those less than glorious moments in our pasts, right?
Greg and I both particularly enjoyed the audio clips of Patty calling from the compound or what have you: She heaves all these dramatic sighs as she announces she is a political prisoner of the SLA. One of our favorite lines goes something like this: "They are not frightening me any more than is necessary..."
By the way, one of my favorite songs from one of all time favorite bands is Camper Van Beethoven's "Tania". Interestingly enough, until like four years ago, I'd never noticed that the song was about Patty Hearst. Honestly, I can be so dense that way.

2007-01-28T08:44:00.000-05:00

I've totally dropped this blog thing since I returned to the oppression of the daily grind.
Lately, however, I feel refreshed. We bought a new receiver for ourselves this Christmas. My old one, which I had owned since 1989, had served well but was crapping out. It took awhile but I was able to find a two channel receiver with a phono input. Listening to vinyl has somehow renewed my spirit.
I'm currently listening to "The Who"...at 5:37am on a Sunday.
Greg and I've been record shopping together lately. So, much fun. Quite addictive. I had a conversation about records with a co-worker who suggested I check eBay. I've looked but have yet to buy. I am particularly interested in buying some old Zombies albums...so if anyone's got them in a dusty corner in their basement, please contact me before calling Good Will.

2006-06-01T17:10:00.000-05:00

Back to work today. I'm glad it's a two day work week to start out with. I remembered my way around campus and all. Unfortunately, my phone extension was moved - or only existed in another, unreachable dimension - same thing for my pc. I moved upstairs, hence the upheaval.

2006-05-19T06:45:00.000-05:00

Today, we were all up early. Watching the BooBahs at the start of one's morning always leads to a stellar day - at least that's what Hunter always says.

2006-05-17T13:13:00.002-05:00

What's new? We've got a new back door installed. We just need to trim it out. It really brightens the kitchen.
Today, Greg came home for lunch. I really enjoyed that.
Also, yesterday, I had my post surgery appointment. My doctor seemed really impressed with her insicion. I am free to drive a car now. I forgot to ask if that includes The Laffy Taffy. I'm going to use my own determination for that.
Until next time...

2006-05-10T09:04:00.000-05:00

Honestly, I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to have a blog while out on disability. I really don't have that much going on over here.

2006-05-05T09:49:00.000-05:00

I've had a couple of days of visitors. Yesterday, Kelly and Harper (pictured) stopped by for a very enjoyable visit. Kelly is my Saturday grocery shopping partner. As I am currently unable, Kelly is Greg's shopping partner.
Wednesday, Deb came by and brought her video game system. All in all, I would say we were equally matched: Tony Hawk Pro Skate 2, NHL 2005. We played a bit of Grand Theft. I had never played. I could hardly steal a bike; however, Deb has found that the best part of the game is shopping for new clothes. There are these cheat codes that give you tons of money and then you try to find all the clothing stores and buy yourself outfits and hope that those thugs don't start shooting at your new gear. It's pretty hilarious.

2006-05-03T09:59:00.001-05:00

Here is a picture of Mom cleaning up the guest house she stayed in. She worked until the bitter end. She flew out last night. We'll really miss her. I'm sure Dad is thrilled to have her back.

2006-05-01T12:07:00.001-05:00

Sorry for the gap in postings, loyal readers. I went through a bit of a slump there. I cut back the Percocet and have realized that it was doing more for my mood than I knew. Thursday, Friday, Saturday and even Sunday were kind of tough. I'm kind of an active person and my inability to be active is making me snappy. Just ask my minions.
I few things have cheered me up. First off, I've recieved an invitation from Governor Tom and First Lady Christie Vilsack to join them and other Iowa graduates for a reception at Twelve Atlantic Station to "learn more about the exciting career and lifestyle opportunities created by Iowa's prospering economy". Although, I will be unable to attend, it's good to know Ol' I-O-Way wants me back. If I could bear the lung crunching cold, I'd consider going up to the land of the half-buried bathtub Mary grottos. I don't know if Iowa is in dire need of Interior Designers but who knows. I know there is a way Iowa would embrace Greg as well.
Secondly, Mom made me take a considerable walk outside. That helped alot to raise my spirits. I must admit, I was not impressed by my stamina on that walk but I did make it home and up the drive. It felt good.
Until next time...

2006-04-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

Had a rough couple of days there. When I was released from Piedmont I was told that I would be fatigued however up until about mid-Monday I saw no sign of this. I guess I was just so thrilled at being home. It's all caught up with me now.
However, I'm back again with some fresh photos. The first shows me with evidence of my adoring fans outpouring of love upon me. I got wonderful flowers, cookies, cards, fancy slippers, addictive Japanese puzzle books, e-mails and phone calls. Thanks to everyone! It so nice to be remembered.
The other photo shows two of my minions. The one in the background working much harder than the one in the foreground. Seriously, Mom has been great. Greg and I couldn't make it without her.
Until the next burst of energy...

2006-04-20T08:29:00.000-05:00

Leaving in a few minutes but first one last ride

2006-04-19T06:32:00.000-05:00

Today is my last day at work before my six weeks of disability. I really have nothing to say yet as I am not currently on the pain medication I've heard so much about and am looking forward to.
Basically, I just wanted to have something so that I can point folks to my blog before I leave. So, here it is folks. Spread the word. More to come...