Cut canvas, applied several thin coats of gesso, & steady free association drawings while studying for the LSAT.
Currently upgrading my 2011 Hackintosh build. Here are the original specs from an old, cringe-worthy blog post.
last night i fell asleep listening to tvs type and breathe over a bad skype connection
this morning i woke up to a series of skype conversation bubbles
it read like a poem
it inspired this poem,
as well as reawakened the desire to create a multimedia arts journal which somehow mirrors / recreates the poetry which happens thru technology, like messaging systems
25 : suck myself out the heart i give it back
a somewhere moves air
ghost says yes to heat
a successful day at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books
$2 used books (!!)
met a wonderful soul at Stranger Comics
finally got to see Niobe in print
excited for free comic book day so i can score myself a copy + poster
10 : suck myself out the heart i give it back
the steps we take to climb
after the book festival, i sat down to rearrange all the books in my totebag
next to me was a mother and her boyfriend and her son
walking across the way was a mother and her son
both boys were very young
the rambunctious one was climbing the stairs, the shy one curious
asked “wanna play?”
the boy ran to his mom. the other continued playing. it took a long time for the mother to agree.
“yeah!” the shy boy exclaimed
but by the time the shy boy came back the rambunctious boy was no longer playful and suddenly shy
everyone stood around awkwardly
it was the most heartbreaking event i’ve witnessed for days
it gets worse
they attempt to play. it’s awkward. no longer spontaneous. the mothers attempt to leave. they’re still trying, though, those boys. the shy one and his mother go but he tells the boy he’ll be back, they just have to move the car. only the mother with the boyfriend and her son remain. she says, lets go. he says, they’re coming back. they’re not coming back, the mother responds. they’re coming back, the boy says. they’re not coming back, the mother says.
a little while later, i leave.
and of course
i pass the mother and her son, coming back.
there has to be a better way
how do we learn without wasting a life
09 : suck myself out the heart i give it back
& a buried map no one will ever walk, again
the past two days have been full of mistakes in the adventures of bookmaking
it’s nice to find time and quietly reflect for poetry, though
08 : suck myself out the heart i give it back
there are six directions
a body in the dark
hears only one