Inspiring, isn't it?


Maybe this is why someone once told me they had a dream where I showed up and gave them guidance with aphorisms. 

tommyrot

Remember how I write parking tickets for my job? And how sometimes I contemplate doing weird jobs like that my whole life? And how sometimes I admit it's for this very reason. It sounds like a lot of what I've been doing lately. Homemade crap? Yeah.

schooled.

Today I learned Van Morrison is from Ireland. Should I have known that already? Thank heavens I know now.

of the prairie and of the clouds • driving to Jamestown fall 2011

in honor of Thanksgiving I make this announcement:

I have retired this necklace as of about a month ago. But nobody else can have it. It will stay in my drawer as if my drawer was a museum? 


Maybe some day I'll tell you about my new idea for necklaces. That is. If I ever get to that checklist.

mrglh!!!

I had a brilliant idea yesterday: what if we made music videos to classical music(i.e. not pop culture music–the culture opening it up from top 40 to wut all us kidz listen to). It would be like fantasia+MTV+youtube. And I would start listening to Mozart again.


Last night I had a dream that I was in a church meeting that was alternately Catholic and Mormon. Each would take turns speaking and we took turns with our sacrament. Except that it was more substantial than the regular bread and water/wafer and juice(wine?). It was more like taking turns for a Last Supper or pot luck. I don't know. I think at one point I looked down at my plate and thought, "What's this purple stuff? This isn't sacrament..." And I think there was plaid flannel somewhere in there, too.


Does anyone else feel like they should be completing this check list everyday:


1. Read a book
2. Knit a scarf
3. Run 5 miles
4. Do yoga for an hour
5. Study the scriptures both spiritually and intellectually so you could rattle off all of the laws in Deuteronomy and their cultural implications.
6. Bake delicious things
7. Meditate for half an hour
8. Get lots of work done
9. Walk to work even though it adds on at least half an hour
10. Write a lengthy and insightful journal entry
11. Read at least 3 peer reviewed articles and find a way to make them fascinating outside of academia
12. Write a couple of letters
13. Make sure the house is all really clean
14. Design and sew three shirts
15. Mend that cardigan


And since you never seem to manage getting all of that done instead you only reread books that you liked as a kid so you don't get anymore stressed by surprise plot twists, never cook anything and you never journal, you try not to think about writing grad school application letters, and you try to ignore all of the people you said you would write to.


OK cool.

I love painted faces. I love learning why people paint their face. I love painting my face (but not with make up)

learn more here.

letters for all of you! kind of. not in the mail though. just right here.

Dear friends and family and maybe a stranger or two,


I like my job. Even when my job is standing in a parking lot at 7:15 in the morning watching the sun rise and stomping my boots to stave off the 6˚ F weather. Because we went from weeks of 47˚ to this week where 27˚ is the high. Also, I'm really excited I figured out how to make the degree symbol ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ or if you're french the ciècle symbol ˚ ˚ ˚ ˚ also this guy: •••••• Really fun and aesthetically useful. So I hope they show up correctly on your computer, otherwise have fun with those WingDings!
•
See, I know what needs to be done and I know I'm useful when I'm hauling pylons in a tiny pick up truck that has no sound system. Where the tape deck or radio would be there's a piece of tape on the dash that says, "Please hum." And it's just nice to greet people when I'm the gate keeper. The gate being a road block that I drag open and shut.
˚•˚
This is a relief from academia where I'm always wondering, Did I just make that up? Everybody knows [insert an exciting conclusion I have just arrived at] already, don't they. or Why is this article so convoluted?!? What's wrong with engaging your readers? Why do they hate people? It's OK, nobody's going to bully you for being a nerd anymore.
•˚•
I have begun investing money into serious winter gear which makes me feel like I should only apply to grad schools where intense winter boots and long johns will be useful. Luckily my top picks are in Canada.


∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

always (are you catching that?)
M


P.S. I'm working on my emailing strangers skills.

hello from north dakota's clouds and telephone poles. and treetops. and street lights.

everything is a tangled web [of lies]!!!

ho-o-ome

Jbottoms found this for me:

If this is your dream house we can probably make a home together. Don't worry, I'm thrifty and nice and I have a book that should teach me how to make wall hangings like that.

things I find around the house part 1, or who looks really silly in this picture?

National Geographic Vol. 178, No. 6, December 1990

"Look fierce and don't smile for the camera: Those were the instructions given by this French television crew to Dzu Bushmen living in the Tsodilo Hills. Today few Bushmen, if any, live as simple hunter-gatherers in the manner of their ancestors. Paid to shed their Western clothes–and to pretend to stalk the crew's helicopter–they are being used to perpetuate a commercial fantasy" p. 50-51

"A sheet of water a few feet deep spreads over the Kalahari sands to create a lush oasis studded with islands that grow when silt builds up around termite mounds. Here I found an Africa I thought no longer existed. Here was a place where the antelope, the zebras, and I could drink freely from the same waters." p. 10-11

a picture for my sister

the rocks in this schoolhouse

School of Me takes place everyday even if I try to stay home/away sick. It's inescapable.


Everyday there are lessons in Observing Tree Branches Against The Sky, How To Walk To Avoid Getting Gravel In Your Shoes, and Seeing Fat Squirrels Out Of The Corner Of Your Eye. A treat in the School of Me is when I get a lesson on Hearing The Honking Of Migrating Geese.


I regularly learn about how to be more suspicious of politics from Democracy Now!, the intersection of science and life (that's redundant) from RadioLab, there's a survey of literature with All Books Considered, there's Remember How You're A Nerd And NPR Makes You Laugh Out Loud To Yourself/Music from All Songs Considered (might I recommend the episode The 90s are back, or whatever?).

photo curtesy of this person. (that's Kurt Cobain with a cat, or whatever)

And don't worry. Just like "real" school, there are still school crushes. Like this guy and this guy.

As I research my future I come across things I think are funny. Sometimes I'm fairly certain there's a good chance they may be funny to other people.

happy halloween

Mound by Allison Schulnik from garaco taco on Vimeo.

favorites

the secret is that I feel incredibly guilty for deriving so much amusement from a man who holds his country in a suffocating and unfeeling grip but you know....he's my dream boat despot

a hypothesis for a question I've been asking for a long long time

We feel compelled to tell our stories to each other because we grow collectively not individually.


Chew on that and tell me what you think. Please. Because according to my new theory I only grow with you.

the midwest cut me down at the knees

This morning there were grey clouds overhead and rain sprinkles on my windshield but I was out on the prairie so I could see that forever to my left and to my right was bright blue sky. This is a thing about the plains: you can watch weather in panorama, you can see what's been, what is, and what will be.


Blue Sky to the left was one of those blues so bright I think "It's amazing you're real, if somebody painted you I'd think you were fake and I'd look for the cherubs about to bust from your fluffy clouds." But underneath it are some quiet miles of farm fields. Which is almost the opposite of the fake blue sky, I used to think it was boring. But I learned as I grew older that there's a primordial hold land has inside of us if you are willing to .


In the fall it bowls me over. I throw up my hands, I surrender, I've fallen, North Dakota, you've got me. I won't ever leave you (but I will)–I love this quilt of bleached wheat and dark earth. I love your lace lines of trees.


Oh, I will leave you. We both know it. What's happened here? I feel drawn on to a career in media and research fields which keep me moving, never settling. And I like that, I want to see places, to change. Perhaps it is my generation or, at least, definitely certain subcultures of all ages, where we've perceived the blindness that can happen as you settle. Things are your way, they must go your way, why are others doing things differently? You must stop doing things differently.


I feel I should lose myself in another country, force myself to adopt different customs to instill in me the knowledge that other ways are good. As if my doing this will add understanding and some kind of karmic healing to the collective unconscious of the world. 


I also feel I don't belong here. In many ways. I could also disillusion you of any Stars Hollow notions you have faster than you can say David Lynch. These are topics for another time. 


So I'll leave.


But I'll come back.
To visit, at least.
Well, I'll always love you.
I'll always dream about the fall.

P.S. The rockstar/mythological figure debate continues. My mom votes Mick Jagger as Narcissus. 

classy lady time

Check out my lady friend Kathryn's awesome stop motion video



Untitled from kitsune-kun on Vimeo.

things that make me laugh

“the chances that Rimbaud will become the bible of your life are inversely proportional to the age at which you first discover him.”
-Daniel Mendelsohn–as quoted in "When you're strange: Should we consider Jim Morrison, rock's Bozo Dionysus, a real poet?" by Daniel Nester, an essay on poetryfoundation.org.


update: WAIT A SECOND, wouldn't David Bowie be the Dionysus of rock? After discussion with my sister we have decided: Mick Jagger is Dionysus and Bowie is Hermaphrodite. I mean Aphrodite. But that's not quite right either. Who's the Greek god of enjoying a good dramatic lip-sync? Would't Queen be Aphrodite? He's really looking for somebody to love, and check him in that white jumper!

What's really awkward is when you're peering through the windshield of a car in the shade and you start to realize there's a person in there looking back at you. This isn't a napping person–which you will find fairly regularly as a parking person at this college campus–this is an alert person staring back at you. "Ha, ha...Oh, hi" you'll say–as if they can hear you–you'll give a small wave of your hand and move on. 

north dakota cloud appreciation

I spent my morning in a parking lot, how bout you?

The campus I work at is smoke-free, which means that everyone has their smoke breaks in parking lots and alleys. I mostly find this funny, I mean, what do you mean campus is smoke-free? If the lots and the alleys aren't campus then all you have left are the buildings and one grassy quad. I don't give tickets for cigs, though, so this just gives me an audience, added incentive to put a little strut in my step and flourish in my windshield wiper release.

Here I will admit to something: I have always been intellectually ambitious. From a young age (four) I have admired people with multiple doctorates. I don't need to be acknowledged as the smartest kid in the class (because I rarely am) and I don't need to do G R E A T things and win noble prizes (I meant that). I've been thinking lately that I'd really like to be like the letter p in pterodactyl. The p is silent but in on all the action. I want to be silent p (I meant that).

So I've started my own brain growing school with several courses. Someday I'll tell you about my school of one. That's my cop out for not boring you now. You can thank me later/now/yesterday.

  

I have a goal to see how many times I can use this picture.

P.S. I have decided that if I ever get a life prison sentence I will read Ulysses by James Joyce.


And today is Mali Refugee Music Day (at my school of me). Enjoy!

just a bit of what I have to show for myself

I FINISHED THAT INFERNAL QUILT FACE THAT'S 90% HAND PIECED • PHEW!

I AM A DESIGNING WOMAN

GARAGE GUARD DINOSAUR • ROAR!

can't get enough of this song

if this idea lasts for a week and a half we know it's real

(day two of consistent interest in archival/library science pursuits)
(day two is NBD. I had a day two for documentary theory, film theory, and film art)


¡I JUST FOUND MY NEW FAVORITE PERSON!
¡SHE BLOGS ABOUT THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW IF YOU'RE CONSIDERING LIBRARY SCIENCE!
¡SHE EVEN BLOGGED A LIST OF THINGS YOU CAN DO WITH AN LS DEGREE!
¡WHICH I WANTED TO READ EVEN THOUGH I'VE ALREADY FOUND A FEW JOBS I REALLY REALLY WANT THAT REQUIRE ONE!
¡I LOVE WHEN THE INTERNET FINDS YOU USEFUL PEOPLE!
¡MAYBE I WILL TAKE THE GRE AFTER ALL....?


¿WILL SOMEONE TELL ME IF I SHOULD DO AN ARCHIVIST MASTERS OR LS/MANAGING KNOWLEDGE?

deer, eye cantaloupe

Sometimes library science programs are called Masters of Science in Knowledge Management. Which sounds A-MAZING.


That's what I do sometimes. I say, What if I were to get a masters in.....and then spend a few nights researching schools and programs. I could make a board game out of this.

Every job I want asks for archival or library science experience. At least I think every job....Sometimes I think some....What was it that I wanted?


I had a really great idea the other day: let's rename Daylight Standard Time (or whatever it is) to Daylight Bailout. It'd be happening. Or, might I say, the hap.


Also, I have a few things to show for myself and someday I may show them. They include a dinosaur and an infamous hand-pieced quilt.

prone to wander, Lord, I feel it

A sixty mile drive to church by yourself will give you plenty of time to ponder and I had a lot of thinking to do about Boondock Saints this morning. Of course I'm enthralled by modern day (ridiculously violent and tattooed) Catholic saints– Mormons are all about modern day, hence the full name of the church: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (totally different kind of saints, you know, a little less bloody); and hence Mormons everywhere flocked to TV's, radios, and internets last weekend for General Conference to hear modern day prophets. Religious zeal of any age is captivating to me but particularly N.O.W. So I'm into prophets, obviously; and have recently become more interested in the motivation behind Muslim extremism–this is what happens when you listen to a lot of Democracy Now! podcasts as you hand out parking tickets for a living; and then there's those Boondock Saints (not related to Val Kilmer's The Saint).


The other thing that I have a lot of time to ponder is the dash of the Honda Civic Hybrid I get to drive. It tells you lots of things that other cars might not which is what led me to drive 65 mph home today. That wind really kills your miles per gallon I tell ya what. Note: speed limit is 75 and there are a few people driving slower than me. At 65 I really began to appreciate the subtle differences of rust, orange, green, the dried corn and bleached wheat of the fields. A gentle little slope here and there, the texture of the different grasses, the heavy mist. Geese flying around. These are things I see but don't absorb as well at faster speeds. I enjoyed myself but still felt like I was moving backwards compared to everyone else. At this point in my mullings I realized, THIS IS A METAPHORE FOR MY LIFE. I love this time I get to meditate, spend time with my parents, consider religious covenants, sort through my life–but I feel as though I'm taking a heck of a time getting to where I'm going. I've got nothing to show for myself and everyone else seems to be skipping right along...Have you felt that dichotomy? "I'm doing what I need and I love it" going hand in hand with "am I a bumbling bum?"


I guess they have to go together. Else what would motivate the introspection–the soul deepening searching?






Faite attention: symbolism + mobile = symobilism. Great new word, right?   

dandy

When you get here we'll go straight to Ye Olde Books and Curiosities shop. Later we'll go to the Historical Museum and bring quarters to make the model trains go. If you get here today we'll go to Girl Talk tonight. I'll finish my quilt so that after the show you can curl up in it and sleep happily. Happily, which is an adverb because it's describing how you sleep. It makes me a little anxious when people mix up their adverbs and adjectives, I wonder if they realize what they're saying. How are you doing? Should be answered with I am doing well. If someone asks you What are you doing? then you can say  I am doing good. Because you're all doing good. Do you see how that has a completely different meaning? Although not entirely unrelated because, for instance, I am more well when I am doing more good. Things are just flying out the window. Other than that, I'm not a strict grammarian. Go ahead and say anyways.


What if I go teach English in Thailand or Vietnam? I saw my passport lying on my dresser last night and thought, "You're so good looking...maybe we should go somewhere." Is that a good way to make life decisions? "Heeeeeey good lookin'/Whaaaaat you got cookin'"


I'm looking forward to today so Ima sayonara (see, not a strict grammarian). I just wanted to talk.





And if you were wondering, this is my favorite color scheme ever:

Linda Ronstadt get your eagles wings here

Is everyone writing about the fall? Are you tired of it? Then go away. Stop reading. For I want to tell you about crackly leaves that fly horizontally. Or that float around like flocks of geese in the sky. It took me years to figure out why fall in Utah looked funny. There's no wind, leaves just fall straight down to a uniform circle under each tree. Doesn't that make you giggle? Oh....just me? Ok.


There's wind here and it makes everything perfect. Having a bad day? Go outside and shout "QUE SERA, SERA!" as you imagine you're dissolving like dust in the wind and blowing away. Having a good day? That's because you've got wind beneath your wings. Feeling dramatic? There's a tempest outside for you to play around in. I'm telling you, you're covered. Covered in wind. And possibly leaves. With a few acorns to bop you on the head.

you heard the man! on to philadelphia!

funniest Freddy ever.



Can you figure out why they dressed the girls in pajamas that you'd only give to a girl of six or a quirky woman of 82?

"ke-bab"

It's easy to get a skewed picture of what I'm doing with my life right now, I should know, I live it. Not that it matters if you are all skewered but when it's me things get crazy pretty quickly. Like today when I was thinking, Do I miss school? If I were a professor I wouldn't be giving people parking tickets. I should be a professor. If there is anything I have learned from having a father who teaches future teachers: T H I S   D O E S   N O T   Q U A L I F Y  A S   A P P R O P R I A T E  J U S T I F I C A T I O N   F O R   B E C O M I N G   A N   E D U C A T O R ! ! !


But possibly even worse is when I start wondering, Who could I marry instead of do this job? Not that marriage would negate the necessity of me working but knowing that there is no one within a 60 mile radius whom I would ever marry, ergo: move at least sixty miles = I don't do this job. This is not too strong a statement, there are not that many people in this 60MR and I know enough of them. But truth be told, I can never think of anyone in a kajillion mile radius whom I would marry right   n o w   either.


So.


I give people parking tickets. And most of the time I remember that's not all I do.

/// punny punny punny! \\\

F A L L I N G    S L E E V E S

I should note that when I first thought of this (after a successfully witty night, at least that's what my Mom will tell you) I thought to myself (chuckling), I am so funny tonight! I'm so clever! It wasn't until I started making this picture I realized that it wasn't actually that funny. Didn't stop me though.

A N N O U N C E M E N T ! ! !

You never thought I would but I did. I actually posted stuff into my etsy shop. Now go buy ten of everything.


margebjork on etsy

slogging through poetic irony/envisioning grunge era combat boots

As the dutiful ticket hander-outer and general inspirer of parking dread that you are, you will come to find that quantum physics and the 4 Non Blonds make some of the best listening material while mucking through your gravel lots.





High ground still holds its magnetic power over me only now it's not so much chairs, tables, or counters. I find myself walking along parking blocks and retaining walls as I make my rounds. I tap pad the tickets into a gadget about the size and weight of those Saved by the Bell cell phones and my hip slung printer gurgles them out. In the seconds of print-waiting, if I happen to be listening to some moving jams, I stare up at the trees, do a little twist and tap my toes on my cement balance-beam perch. Yes, as promised K$, I've been dancing on the job.

whirlwind in my brain every time I sleep

Last night–or rather this morning sometime after waking up starving at 2:30 a.m., eating toast and reading for two hours (Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens) and crawling back into bed to marvel at how I'd forgotten thunder can be R E A L L Y    R E A L L Y    L O U D–I had a dream that I was going to be crowned Miss North Dakota. Only they checked with me first to see if I'd actually accept even though it seems I'd competed in this pageant of my own free will (Meaning no disrespect to pageants, it's just, well, me. My perverse sense of humor answers black lipstick and fake nose ring to the question of pageant). We can realize this means that even in my dream they knew my erratic history of conforming to society. I think they wanted to save their faces and mine by confirming this outcome beforehand in case I took the public moment as a soapbox on how factory farming of livestock and agribusiness contribute more than television to the dwindling of our culture, intelligence, and character as a nation; or expound upon my current moratorium against reading news of domestic politics; or for fear that I would show up as Zombie Miss North Dakota.

I thought about what it would mean to accept the crown of Miss North Dakota and I knew it could only mean one thing: appearing on national television in a swim suit.

I declined and I'm sure they went off to surprise another, more deserving young lady but I woke up. 

et alors, nous voyons...

I haven't the foggiest idea of where my college diploma has ended up after this move, however, I did just find my Cloud Appreciation Society certificate!


New theory: People who know where their college diplomas are don't end up with part time jobs giving out parking tickets to other students who are in pursuit of their own diplomas.

my weekend:

I have attended two dance parties this weekend. I have been the only attendee. They were held in my living room and bedroom. There was music at one of them.

now bees try to pollinate my headphones

true story. Or stories, because it happens frequently. I thought this was because of the floral print but one was bent on pollinating my nose yesterday and my nose is not floral print, so...


The trick with being a parking attendant is not to roll your eyes when it seems that some people think a garter is a sufficient substitute for a parking pass around their rear view mirror. Or their high school graduation tassel, Guinness beer lanyard, or crucifix. I prefer parking passes. In fact, I have developed a great love for parking passes.


It's a small campus, about the size of your thumb. Half of our lots are gravel–which has as much to do with the campus being in a flood plain as much as with the student body size. I'm learning license plate numbers and soon might have all of campus memorized. I already dream about ticketing at night which is the worst. In the day I'm pleasantly distracted by podcasts, in sleep it's just not restful.

As the Solo Enforcer of Parking Dread I can make my rounds in an hour. I'm having to memorize staff vehicles–there aren't many campus cars so everyone drives their own. I only deal in parking so vehicles are always separate from owners. It's a hazy guessing game but nobody seems too worried, so I don't worry either. If I ticket someone on staff they just tease, "Well, we know you're doin' your job." Of course they know I'm doing my job, in fifteen minutes of my morning shift I more than covered my wages for the day with all the fees I hand out.

Sometimes I have a desire to confront students on the sidewalk and say, "Do you know that I graduated? Do you know that I have a bachelor of arts? Isn't it weird that now this is my job?" I imagine that if I did this some sort of hysteria would erupt like uncontrollable giggling or I would just become excessively awkward and stutter. Why I feel like doing this is not something I fully understand. Part of it is narcissistic, I have the impression that the smaller population size you put me in the more I'm bound to stand out and so I'm convinced it's only a matter of time before everyone on campus has seen and recognizes me. 

In fact, at the heart it is rather a selfish desire: to try to command attention from perfect strangers who have their own lives with concerns and hopes. Particularly strangers who are in pursuit of their undergrad and who do not need to be squashed by the reality of what that degree might get them. 

Maybe it stems from a natural desire to understand and validate my current position in life. I may have always imagined growing up that I would be an artist living off of my wits and exploring the outlandish corners of society and philosophizing on their poetic qualities but still I find living it a challenge. I can only see two steps ahead and I want to know two years ahead. Is that so much to ask? So far the answer has been yes, it is too much to ask. Probably because I'm pushing, rushing, wanting, instead of meditating and prayer and......what? I just don't know.

mean lady

I gave everyone in the world a parking ticket today, or at least, it feels like it. But tell me, is it inhumain to smile and bop your head a little bit as you listen to Talulah Gosh and slip a $10 fine under someone's windshield wiper? No. It can't be. Especially with the product of today's side project:

Upon seeing what I'd done my dad buried his face in his hands both in laughter and horror.

"I equate happiness with contentment, and contentment with complacency, and complacency with impending disaster."*

I've been thinking this for years: "[Laurie] discussed the differences between British and American TV. 'I think good-looking people seldom make good television,' he said. 'And American television studios almost concede before they start: ‘Well, it won’t be good, but at least it’ll be good-looking. We’ll have nice-looking girls in tight shirts with F.B.I. badges and fit-looking guys with lots of hair gel vaulting over things. So at least we’ll have achieved that base standard of entertainment.’ He shook his head. 'I think that’s hugely misguided. The glory of American television is Dennis Franz.”


*Hugh Laurie, link NYT article

half of me thinks you'd want to stay updated half of me thinks blogs are absolute vanity

Cutting my hair this afternoon turned out to be somewhat more of an adventure than I had intended but that's what you get when you forget that little safety switch on the hair clippers. 

In truth, I've always wanted to try steps and push my androgynous limits but have been too chicken. Huzzah!


I've moved in with my parents to a small hometown which makes my Friday night socials the kind of things you want to write books about. I won't be writing books, I'm at my limits trying to think how to tell you properly of characters I spent my night with. Suffice it to say we watched Singin' in the Rain, jumped to a discourse on West Frisian–the language of Friesland and of which I'd never heard of but is believed to be what English would sound like if we hadn't been conquered by Normans (the French). And to finish it off:  





I've been thinking, it's kind of great to be here. 

because of my excessive fondness for strange juxtapositions and journals:

THIS IS THE SECOND DAY OF APRIL 2011
it is mostly cloudy and I will appreciate it-clocked in at 11:03

4 April 2011
FROM B&N TODAY
Stories and poems for extremely intelligent children of all ages (a book) (on shelf next to Best of Women's Erotica 2)

7 April 2011
"P A T I E N T   S P R A Y E D"

8A
butter
plumb sauce
produce

24 April 2011
There are so many things I hear in church and related activities that sound extremely apocryphal. 

we cannot remember the future, time just keeps moving forward

xkcd + clouds

that's just the way it is

I am a 24 year old, bachelor-of-arts holding, part-time parking attendant. Starting next week I give people parking tickets. I got the formal job offer by phone yesterday afternoon. It's something you laugh and cry about because of its hilarity and patheticness. But mostly it's funny. Mostly I find it weirdly charming and a perfect fit for all my other larger-than-time plans. Werner Herzog, love me.


Looking for the moon on a cloudy night led to my mom and I driving out to rural roads that ring our town. It's when it's cool, breezy, with the sky like dusky purple velvet falling into fields of wheat– fields that you know go on forever–when I feel at home, when I find comfort from the idea of this whole sea of earth wrapping around me. Indeed, in dusky lights I'm sure the plains are a blanket I could curl up in.


This will be a strange year. This morning I went on a walk to try to take pictures of the fog hanging around town. That was mostly impossible as fog is best seen in the distance or out of the corner of your eye. But I did see leaves already turning yellow. "Hey!" I wanted to yell, "It's only August 31st! Couldn't you at least wait until September 10th or something?!" No go, winter will be here in a month and a half which serves as an answer to my question of whether I'll dare to attend to parked cars while listening to my ipod and dancing in this extremely/strangely reserved society. I don't think it's possible to dance outside in winter. Not here. I'll try for you, though.

ground to a halt

HAVE ANY OF YOU EVER PRIED APART YOUR WESTERN DIGITAL EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE AND LIVED TO TELL THE TALE? I JUST NEED TO FIX THE LITTLE BITTY TINY EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THING CALLED THE PORT. ARRRRGH.

I got the shakes!

This is the town that made me. Kind of.

Come visit right now. You're the only one(s) I have to share this with. I have friends here–well one with some budding possibilities–but for various reasons they don't fulfill this role of share-dom at the moment. Mostly because I'm not sure if they're constantly suffering from the wonderment I feel as I walk around town. I have picked out some houses we should walk past so you can help me decide what it would be like to live there, who lives there now, who built a house like that, who chose that color. Most houses here are neutrals, but here and there are sherbert-like neon homes. Who can blame them, winters are long, people are reserved. I remember now how I've always wanted to shake this town up. Come visit and you can be part of my guerilla (or gorilla) poetry movement. Or whatever else I come up with. Do you have an idea? Hurry, get here, let's be star people.

I went to the thrift store again today. And again the girl at the cash register looked familiar, I must have gone to high school with her. I hesitate saying hello to people I [think I] know because a couple of Christmases ago I recognized a girl in the grocery store. She saw me but showed no sign of recognition. "Hello!" I said, "I'm Marge, remember me?"

"Yeah, I do."

Oh....

And more frequently people don't recognize me. My piano teacher of 11 years looked confused and a bit upset when I saw her and rushed to say hello, same with several other people at that wedding. It's always a toss up, do they really not know who I am or do they hope never to see me again? What would be the case for the girl at the thrift store? I said hello and re-introduced myself (six+ years and all).........and I couldn't tell.

Well, what have I got to lose? This town could use some shaking. Ask me some time and I'll remove the gloss and reveal the seedy underbelly of small towns in remote areas before I restore their glory again.


P.S. GET HERE NOW!!!!!
P.P.S We'll go to high school football games, they're just across the street. Or the water treatment plant? Just a short walk. The shortest walk ever....I might still know the music therapist at the senior citizens' center, we could sing about the yellow ribbon round the old oak tree.... 

rambling, probably mildly unclear, filtered list of gratitude

1) I am actually scheduled to present my paper at a conference. I'll be seeing you, Claremont. 

2) I hangout at the county historical library daily. (My second haunt is the public library. Which you should see.) There is a list of a few people who I am extremely excited (and not even nervous!!!) about interviewing. Sometimes, at the museum, as I'm searching through old pictures and newspaper clippings somebody plays ragtime on the player piano. 

3) My mom and I have now introduced lake swimming to our repertoire. Lap swim to come as the weather gets colder. No waves and wind and late afternoon suns but on the other hand, no algae covered bodies. 

4) The mornings are cool and breezy just the way I always remember them. 

5) I still finish a couple of books a week despite the rules I've had to set for myself about leisure reading (the finishing up of books sometimes is to the detriment of the amount of sleep I get). 

6) I still bake soda bread when I cannot sleep. And after I eat a slice of it hot from the oven, I think about how peaceful dawn is, crawl into bed and fall asleep so happy. 

7) There's a specific photograph I plan on taking tomorrow. 

8) My closet works as a sound recording studio. 

9) I should find a poetically silly place to do yoga.

10) I get picture texts of my nephew from my sister and she calls me often.





∞  Now and here are beginning to make sense. 

sorting past and present

when you move back to your childhood bedroom

I remember the tantrum that led to this emphatic statement against dresses.

movers and shakers (and settlers) (in this order)