Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Digital Haze
“How do you do it Z?”
“I just go moment by moment and try to enjoy the process.”
“I can’t imagine. I have a tenth of the worries and I watch you go through it with grace or mostly with grace.” I laughed internally knowing what a bungling mess it must look like from the outside. I looked around my place and laughed at that too, all the meager little things paired against a technology bomb. ‘Come and see it’ I thought but I lost connection to who I may be talking to. I kept looking for my friends and who to trust and in a sense I still wasn’t sure which is what I told Spence last night at the bar.
“Can I be honest with you man?”
“Shoot.”
“I’m not sure who to trust. I’m not even sure at times I can trust you. It’s odd even saying this. I look for authority in my friends, I look for trust.”
“Daniel, he was never your friend. I’m sorry.”
I had told him a tale of a guy who used my energy, just sucked it up and gave little back. It ended in retreat and solid ground. I held authority.
“I know, me too. I’m sorry too.”
From a dead sleep I woke up laughing with an erection. It was a good long belly laugh and a good long erection. A sign I thought. I turned toward Butter who had been tossing for hours.
“Was I laughing?”
“Yes. I thought it was funny, you were laughing in your sleep.”
“You’ve been tossing babe.”
“No, I slept well.” I smiled. Something big was behind those eyes. I didn’t press and I didn’t speculate.
The weekend contained amazing turns of fortune. I put it all into A.S.B. Maybe if the summer heat doesn’t drag me into a digital haze I’ll tell it. Remind me to tell it.
“I just go moment by moment and try to enjoy the process.”
“I can’t imagine. I have a tenth of the worries and I watch you go through it with grace or mostly with grace.” I laughed internally knowing what a bungling mess it must look like from the outside. I looked around my place and laughed at that too, all the meager little things paired against a technology bomb. ‘Come and see it’ I thought but I lost connection to who I may be talking to. I kept looking for my friends and who to trust and in a sense I still wasn’t sure which is what I told Spence last night at the bar.
“Can I be honest with you man?”
“Shoot.”
“I’m not sure who to trust. I’m not even sure at times I can trust you. It’s odd even saying this. I look for authority in my friends, I look for trust.”
“Daniel, he was never your friend. I’m sorry.”
I had told him a tale of a guy who used my energy, just sucked it up and gave little back. It ended in retreat and solid ground. I held authority.
“I know, me too. I’m sorry too.”
From a dead sleep I woke up laughing with an erection. It was a good long belly laugh and a good long erection. A sign I thought. I turned toward Butter who had been tossing for hours.
“Was I laughing?”
“Yes. I thought it was funny, you were laughing in your sleep.”
“You’ve been tossing babe.”
“No, I slept well.” I smiled. Something big was behind those eyes. I didn’t press and I didn’t speculate.
The weekend contained amazing turns of fortune. I put it all into A.S.B. Maybe if the summer heat doesn’t drag me into a digital haze I’ll tell it. Remind me to tell it.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
ravenous
“I had a dream, do you interpret them?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, as in you have this skill?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what my name means?”
“Yes.”
“You know what Daniel means?”
“Yes. It means roughly, the Lord is my judge.”
“And what does that mean?”
Silence.
“And you interpret dreams?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you my dream?”
“Yes.”
“I stood on the edge of a Ravine in the mountains with company. I can’t tell you which company, the faces were soft and the memory of them even softer. This was in the big mountains, the ones that are heavily forested like those in the Northwest. The ravine was wide, maybe 100 yards. It was in the foothills of larger peaks and the travel was exhausting. On one side was a fire road and on the other largely impassable ground. I was on that side with my companions. The mood was light or at least not overly heavy. Shortly thereafter we were joined by a Marshall and a worker who traveled the fire road. They seemed to be surveying and we didn’t speak but were in company together. I moved across the ravine and although it was exhausting I moved fast and with strength. On my way back across to rejoin the others I spotted a black bear moving up the ravine from a long distance off. The bear gained unnatural speed and leaped up toward the group zigzagging her way. She attacked from the south end of a large granite boulder where my companions had gathered. Her teeth gripped my arm and locked down hard. I lost blood and movement and remained calm. The Marshall and my faceless companion looked on with odd calm, with the same calm of the bear, with my same calm. I awoke.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, as in you have this skill?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what my name means?”
“Yes.”
“You know what Daniel means?”
“Yes. It means roughly, the Lord is my judge.”
“And what does that mean?”
Silence.
“And you interpret dreams?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you my dream?”
“Yes.”
“I stood on the edge of a Ravine in the mountains with company. I can’t tell you which company, the faces were soft and the memory of them even softer. This was in the big mountains, the ones that are heavily forested like those in the Northwest. The ravine was wide, maybe 100 yards. It was in the foothills of larger peaks and the travel was exhausting. On one side was a fire road and on the other largely impassable ground. I was on that side with my companions. The mood was light or at least not overly heavy. Shortly thereafter we were joined by a Marshall and a worker who traveled the fire road. They seemed to be surveying and we didn’t speak but were in company together. I moved across the ravine and although it was exhausting I moved fast and with strength. On my way back across to rejoin the others I spotted a black bear moving up the ravine from a long distance off. The bear gained unnatural speed and leaped up toward the group zigzagging her way. She attacked from the south end of a large granite boulder where my companions had gathered. Her teeth gripped my arm and locked down hard. I lost blood and movement and remained calm. The Marshall and my faceless companion looked on with odd calm, with the same calm of the bear, with my same calm. I awoke.”
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Magnolia
Just when I think we’re in the clear I see the dark days and God will send signs. “Hey, hey, can you help me out?” I gave no response. “Hey, I’m homeless can you help me out here?” Usually my policy is to engage and offer help like the directions to the shelter or maybe just a word or two but this was a side street and not my usual route and be damned if I wasn’t in a bad way so I declined contact. “I hope this fuckin’ comes back at you karmically?” A Karmic curse. I scanned the ground for dead tree limbs or stones. My blood has been running hot. But I kept on as a second curse was thrown. It was a test and this was a demon. There’s no way really to tell, being there no other witness, whether this happened as reported or was a partial construct of imagination. My fears of late have faded to a dullform reality, even a confidence, and keenly I can see this change has spirits worried. I made it another 20 yards, found a stone and turned to be certain I wasn’t followed. The street was empty and the bum recessed. But the curse stuck. It attached itself like magnetized iron to _ _ _ _ ‘s curse. “You’ll get yours you’ll see. You are a bad person.” I knew I wasn’t but I find that vitriolic hatred fascinating. A curse is a horrible energy and very effective to empath’s, of which I am one. I call the empathy a curse. Donna calls it “like the best curse ever.” It helps to have some other perspective.
When I got to the bar I switched my plan from beer to whiskey and got deep into it. The bar was not my usual Monday night and despite my efforts to get it going I left to return to routine, resisting all the while the desire to look for demons to smash. “Yo, my Monday night!” called the barkeep. I was the only fool in the joint and they know me as the Monday night. Most Monday nights a party follows – arm wrestling tattooed Italian semi-yuppie types with sufficient form to hold down the place. Not this night. Instead I watched ultimate fighting between metal videos. “I got to admit, I like to watch guys beat the fuck out of each other.” “Me too” the barkeep nodded. “It’s better than war I think. Just let guys pound the shit out of each other. There should be a cage on every corner.” This filthy city was making a beast out of me. “Look, watch this blonde dude.” “You mean that pretty boy?” “Check it, that pretty boy is bad ass.” He was, it wasn’t but a minute before the other guy was knocked out with medics crowding round. The whole scene was sufficiently gay enough that I started texting. It wasn’t long before I was reporting all my hopes and fears to Philly. Philly was a love interest turned confidant and just crazy enough to get it. Crazies have an effect on me. “Babe, if I’m not hooked up and you’re not hooked up by July, you’re mine. We’ve got like two days in the city then off to Atlantic City and hopefully a day at the ocean.” “Ok, deal.” I had the vaguest of thoughts that she may be an angel – I know because she has guts, demons are cowardly. We exchanged banter and I left to take the long way home, the whole way, straight through disease and up the brick, stone and concrete to a creaky bed and a date with Magnolia.
When I got to the bar I switched my plan from beer to whiskey and got deep into it. The bar was not my usual Monday night and despite my efforts to get it going I left to return to routine, resisting all the while the desire to look for demons to smash. “Yo, my Monday night!” called the barkeep. I was the only fool in the joint and they know me as the Monday night. Most Monday nights a party follows – arm wrestling tattooed Italian semi-yuppie types with sufficient form to hold down the place. Not this night. Instead I watched ultimate fighting between metal videos. “I got to admit, I like to watch guys beat the fuck out of each other.” “Me too” the barkeep nodded. “It’s better than war I think. Just let guys pound the shit out of each other. There should be a cage on every corner.” This filthy city was making a beast out of me. “Look, watch this blonde dude.” “You mean that pretty boy?” “Check it, that pretty boy is bad ass.” He was, it wasn’t but a minute before the other guy was knocked out with medics crowding round. The whole scene was sufficiently gay enough that I started texting. It wasn’t long before I was reporting all my hopes and fears to Philly. Philly was a love interest turned confidant and just crazy enough to get it. Crazies have an effect on me. “Babe, if I’m not hooked up and you’re not hooked up by July, you’re mine. We’ve got like two days in the city then off to Atlantic City and hopefully a day at the ocean.” “Ok, deal.” I had the vaguest of thoughts that she may be an angel – I know because she has guts, demons are cowardly. We exchanged banter and I left to take the long way home, the whole way, straight through disease and up the brick, stone and concrete to a creaky bed and a date with Magnolia.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Love is Fatal
Love is fatal.
One moment she’s not there, not even a germ in consciousness and the next there’s a forest of life. I need a map but no one knows where I can buy one.
“You don’t buy them Daniel.”
“Yea. Jesus H though, it’s already too late, I’m doomed to suffer the heartache.”
“Well, until you learn then the suffering will continue.”
“It feels like life, like birth, not entirely pleasant but bursting with potential and energy. The stuff that turns the world.”
Z smirked then laughed in both indictment and agreement.
I sat forlorn. “What a fuckin’ world.”
From what I can tell we all feel like this. There’s war and peace and songs and art and politics and disease and cure and no thought at all and genius and forest and desert and yogurts and wheat and beasts of burden and soft creatures and weapons and armor and ideas and consequence and sand and stone and currency and buzzing things and for all the world the instant and the crescent of daylight.
“I want to wrap up all that I can think of and give it away,” I told Z.
“Well, OK, you can do that. That’s art I think.” I agreed.
At work the task was to house the most delicate of objects on a support secure for international travel. The real work is essentially to do no harm. To be certain that any act of handling, movement, display or eventual removal does anything to its intent. Debate and discussion will shape what that intent is especially if its creator is dead, or more accurately debate and discussion will define temporary rules that govern its preservation. Temporary could mean a century or more. Much of the work is this measured consideration and then simple gestures to accomplish the task.
Luna would say to me, “Daniel, you must be certain that your actions are in line with your desires. I mean REALLY consider it and see if your choices and actions preserve those wants.” In an instant I knew they didn’t but I fired a retort within the most structured self deceptive capacity – something true that both reflects my knowledge of the counterweight while simultaneously acknowledges my parry; “All a woman need do to have me is show up and keep showing up.” Good friends will see through that dogshit but show up anyway. Better friends pick up the tab and whisper “I love you” behind a mountain of fists.
One moment she’s not there, not even a germ in consciousness and the next there’s a forest of life. I need a map but no one knows where I can buy one.
“You don’t buy them Daniel.”
“Yea. Jesus H though, it’s already too late, I’m doomed to suffer the heartache.”
“Well, until you learn then the suffering will continue.”
“It feels like life, like birth, not entirely pleasant but bursting with potential and energy. The stuff that turns the world.”
Z smirked then laughed in both indictment and agreement.
I sat forlorn. “What a fuckin’ world.”
From what I can tell we all feel like this. There’s war and peace and songs and art and politics and disease and cure and no thought at all and genius and forest and desert and yogurts and wheat and beasts of burden and soft creatures and weapons and armor and ideas and consequence and sand and stone and currency and buzzing things and for all the world the instant and the crescent of daylight.
“I want to wrap up all that I can think of and give it away,” I told Z.
“Well, OK, you can do that. That’s art I think.” I agreed.
At work the task was to house the most delicate of objects on a support secure for international travel. The real work is essentially to do no harm. To be certain that any act of handling, movement, display or eventual removal does anything to its intent. Debate and discussion will shape what that intent is especially if its creator is dead, or more accurately debate and discussion will define temporary rules that govern its preservation. Temporary could mean a century or more. Much of the work is this measured consideration and then simple gestures to accomplish the task.
Luna would say to me, “Daniel, you must be certain that your actions are in line with your desires. I mean REALLY consider it and see if your choices and actions preserve those wants.” In an instant I knew they didn’t but I fired a retort within the most structured self deceptive capacity – something true that both reflects my knowledge of the counterweight while simultaneously acknowledges my parry; “All a woman need do to have me is show up and keep showing up.” Good friends will see through that dogshit but show up anyway. Better friends pick up the tab and whisper “I love you” behind a mountain of fists.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
May Pork Skillet
I looked out across the yard, across the idling locomotives, over the top of industry, past the green line of urban flora, past the steeple, up the hill, into the sky and watched the last light shift off without incident. I paced and sipped a post supper coffee, looked back toward the door imagining a dog waiting to leave and a girl on the couch – all the experience mingling with fictions and odd timings. It sometimes feels like that, like waiting. I paced more. The word from the kennel was the usual changes, the boss overworked, the puppies grown and ready to leave the nest, the cock on the attack, the bees and insects festooning the early nectar, the river soft with Heron. The day had gone well, I gave what I could in lecture and moved out. I listened to students, they listened back. I saw the dull media confusion of television dreams and gave alternatives. Now, at the studio, I was filled with a warm contentment, happy that the prior day’s traumas were over and looked to recent correspondence for news. What’s next? People reveal themselves in all sorts of ways, what they want, what they find, who they love, what hurts in the space between. I find myself empathizing with all of it. Finality is a poor choice most of the time. Then I felt the restlessness creeping in so I wailed on my ax until the damn thing was covered in it.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
The true and the ugly
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I had to assess the situation. Although, this assessing doesn’t help I suspect. I thought everyone had three or four stories churning about their skulls at any one moment. It turns out, after conducting a short informal survey among the humans in close proximity, they don’t.
“What were you expecting to happen?”
“I don’t know, it seemed fun, I’m just having fun. I thought that was clear?”
“No, it wasn’t to him.” I had just finished an impromptu wrestling match with a guy who took my bar stool. I won. “How was he to know that it was your seat?”
“My vest is on the hook in front of it.”
“Now you’re being a belligerent asshole.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Now I really knew it was me. Maybe I wasn’t having fun. Well, at least the front of me was having fun. On the back there remained a heavy load.
I went home and read the girl’s last note because it’s a good piece of writing and handwritten and honest – I keep it pinned to my wall as a reminder of the work I need to do. It says in paraphrase that I am responsible for all my failures. She took her moment of departure to leave me with that thought. Essentially it means; it’s you, not me. It means; you are crazy. I thought of what happens to bodies when they connect. I thought of the fluids and chemicals shifting and changing the dynamic shape of people. I think of those girls who kind of come along with me, mixed in my blood by serendipitous design. And I thought of the unruly and sometimes confusing nature of my profession. Then I set to work attempting to foster love between machines. They needed the right words and we were getting closer to the electronic heart.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I had to assess the situation. Although, this assessing doesn’t help I suspect. I thought everyone had three or four stories churning about their skulls at any one moment. It turns out, after conducting a short informal survey among the humans in close proximity, they don’t.
“What were you expecting to happen?”
“I don’t know, it seemed fun, I’m just having fun. I thought that was clear?”
“No, it wasn’t to him.” I had just finished an impromptu wrestling match with a guy who took my bar stool. I won. “How was he to know that it was your seat?”
“My vest is on the hook in front of it.”
“Now you’re being a belligerent asshole.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Now I really knew it was me. Maybe I wasn’t having fun. Well, at least the front of me was having fun. On the back there remained a heavy load.
I went home and read the girl’s last note because it’s a good piece of writing and handwritten and honest – I keep it pinned to my wall as a reminder of the work I need to do. It says in paraphrase that I am responsible for all my failures. She took her moment of departure to leave me with that thought. Essentially it means; it’s you, not me. It means; you are crazy. I thought of what happens to bodies when they connect. I thought of the fluids and chemicals shifting and changing the dynamic shape of people. I think of those girls who kind of come along with me, mixed in my blood by serendipitous design. And I thought of the unruly and sometimes confusing nature of my profession. Then I set to work attempting to foster love between machines. They needed the right words and we were getting closer to the electronic heart.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
cracks and lines
“I fell in love.”
“You’re wasting your time with that stuff.” I knew it but then again I wasn’t sure. That’s the worst part about it, not being sure. I was sure about love, I just wasn’t sure about the waste of time.
“Maybe.” I said audibly and thought about it for a minute.
“You know Z, the day I get it right is the day I die.”
“I know.”
My mind was flooded with something. It was flooded with possibility. I felt stupid and alone and good. I was happy.
“I’m totally smitten. And the best part is I’m never going to meet her. We agreed to that. We will never meet.”
“You are hopeless. It will find you Daniel, you don’t have to do a thing but it may take a while. It may take three years.” He was talking about love. I knew it would. I wondered what he saw that I didn’t.
“Maybe so but I’m enjoying myself, I’m living.” And then there was a hollow spot like the blind spot where the optic nerve hits the eye. The small doubt, the belief that I couldn’t trust my judgment. I knew two things, that I felt love and that I had no clue how to proceed. I looked up from my meal, he looked down into his intent and undistracted. I thought for a brief moment of the day he or I would leave. I knew that day would come, it necessarily had to.
I looked to the boy who was sort of playing with his beans. “What’s the deal? I thought you wanted beans.” He had a plate full of food, quickly chilling. He shrugged. And this is the process almost every time, delayed eating until dessert is on the line then frantic shoveling to beat the clock. I looked back to his papa who by now had finished his last bite and turned to get up. The boy looked toward the fridge then back to his papa then to his spoon which he used to shovel the food in before the window of opportunity closed. Ultimately he would get his sweets in time because he knew the finality of the decision and he was learning all the ways he could to manipulate it.
Then I broke away and walked back home after cleaning up. When I got there I made note of what I saw. The studio was filled with pieces of things - pieces of televisions, pieces of prints, pieces of ideas. The monitor was bright with further pieces scattering its surface – pieces of video, pieces of images to print, pieces of projects in pieces for manipulation. I stood among it for a minute, made a few choices and then sat to write and tend to love in all its distant cracks.
“You’re wasting your time with that stuff.” I knew it but then again I wasn’t sure. That’s the worst part about it, not being sure. I was sure about love, I just wasn’t sure about the waste of time.
“Maybe.” I said audibly and thought about it for a minute.
“You know Z, the day I get it right is the day I die.”
“I know.”
My mind was flooded with something. It was flooded with possibility. I felt stupid and alone and good. I was happy.
“I’m totally smitten. And the best part is I’m never going to meet her. We agreed to that. We will never meet.”
“You are hopeless. It will find you Daniel, you don’t have to do a thing but it may take a while. It may take three years.” He was talking about love. I knew it would. I wondered what he saw that I didn’t.
“Maybe so but I’m enjoying myself, I’m living.” And then there was a hollow spot like the blind spot where the optic nerve hits the eye. The small doubt, the belief that I couldn’t trust my judgment. I knew two things, that I felt love and that I had no clue how to proceed. I looked up from my meal, he looked down into his intent and undistracted. I thought for a brief moment of the day he or I would leave. I knew that day would come, it necessarily had to.
I looked to the boy who was sort of playing with his beans. “What’s the deal? I thought you wanted beans.” He had a plate full of food, quickly chilling. He shrugged. And this is the process almost every time, delayed eating until dessert is on the line then frantic shoveling to beat the clock. I looked back to his papa who by now had finished his last bite and turned to get up. The boy looked toward the fridge then back to his papa then to his spoon which he used to shovel the food in before the window of opportunity closed. Ultimately he would get his sweets in time because he knew the finality of the decision and he was learning all the ways he could to manipulate it.
Then I broke away and walked back home after cleaning up. When I got there I made note of what I saw. The studio was filled with pieces of things - pieces of televisions, pieces of prints, pieces of ideas. The monitor was bright with further pieces scattering its surface – pieces of video, pieces of images to print, pieces of projects in pieces for manipulation. I stood among it for a minute, made a few choices and then sat to write and tend to love in all its distant cracks.
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