Log in

22 October 2010 @ 01:59 am
sometimes i have to ask myself, "are you an inside artist or an outside artist?"
and by that i mean, an artist who creates from images within themselves or images found in the world.
(inside v outside is creating this spacial connotation that i'm not actually trying to bring up right now but will probably be important at a later date)

actually i didn't really ask myself, i had the realization that i'm an outside artist after i got high.
while i was surfing the web, wonderin' where the hell everything went.

anyway, as soon as i said it out loud, and I did, ("i'm an outside artist"), it immediately became clear to me how so much of the way i operate is based upon that which is external. not like: we must eat or we must transport our bodies from one destination a to the other destination b. but more so, in that "always dating men and realigning my life to fit perfectly within their orated and solipsistic future life achievements aka goals" kind of way. it's not their fault. that's just the way they are. and i'm the way i am trying to be the way you are. i mean, they are.

i can't think of an image and draw it. i'm constantly "sourcing" or "appropriating" or "engaging in the language of our contemporary visual lexicon". which, granted, is really interesting and important. it's just not coming from this hidden, somewhat fantastic, nook inside of myself. this is where i mention my childhood. yawn.

so, i bought a real notebook last week. and i'm writing in it. and attempting to draw in it.
i'm going on a real fucking vacation for one week. leaving wednesday. my very first vacation as an adult.
asheville, north carolina here i come. moogfest, hoorah.
03 December 2009 @ 01:54 am
dear friend,

it has been some time since i last wrote.

i sit here, at someone else's kitchen counter,
while drinking someone else's mostly finished bottle of white wine,
bathed in the dim warm light of someone else's christmas decorations,
unable to sleep.

on a whim, i allowed myself to sleep in until 10am,
and then proceeded to read in bed until nearly 1pm.
today was indeed a rare luxury.

after biking the few short blocks back to my house,
i got stoned and took a shower, or maybe i showered first.
i only use free expensive shampoo these days. until i run out.

i biked to the library and bummed a cigarette from a hippie outside,
she was all smiles and talking on her cell phone, american spirit, for sure.

went to a class at 7pm, someone passed out candy and i got sugar high,
sugar high and silly, in that way i can't stand about myself, where i talk too much
all the while, pulling out my hair, the asinine fat guy to my right driving me absofuckinglutely bonkers.
he's reminding me of that stupid smile one of my exboyfriends use to make,
i'm making the face now,
and it's revolting.

(i've switched to someone else's mostly finished bottle of red wine)

came home, ate dinner, watched tv with my boyfriend until it was time for bed,
i channel surf, he snores, i'd read but i just finished my book this morning,
i lay there, like i do every night, floating every last terrible thing i've ever done before the jury

tip-toeing downstairs, i find someone else's nearly empty bottle of white (now red) wine
and check-in on you.
28 March 2009 @ 12:13 pm
maybe it's this sinus pressure
but after my morning theraflu
(and running late to work)
i had the strangest moment of clarity.

i printed off some grad school applications.
time to start getting this all in order.

the show is printed and being framed now.
all chromogenic prints.
and all i want to do now is paint.
and clean my room.
and set up shop.


Introduction: a matter of time.
April 3, 5-7
Office of the President
7th Floor Law School Building
University of Southern Maine
18 March 2009 @ 10:55 pm

have i really changed so much?
people say, you're better than that.
which, obviously i'm not, because i'd do it again.
you just wish i was someone else.

i didn't take offense when you said i was different now.
but i've certainly been thinking a lot about it.

i know i just had a month kind off, but i'd like another one.
timed with moving into a new apartment,
with a big room, where i could finally pour out all this junk i've been collecting
(metaphorically and physically, hallelujah)

sugar and spice.
everything nice.
09 February 2009 @ 10:22 am
oh mr. ripley,

i'm with you dear friend.

04 February 2009 @ 06:33 pm

the lab scanned this terribly.
i fixed it as best i could on joe's parents computer.
04 February 2009 @ 04:24 pm

i've been making pictures.
& taking my vitamins.

i have a job.
wash, cut and color?

for the most part, i miss the music.
04 January 2009 @ 01:33 am
everything is piling up.
everything is a cover for the piles.

i hate finishing a series, i should just start not watching the last episode.
of course, this wouldnt work, i need to know.

who's there for you from season one through seven?
i would have been. i'd love you to the very end.

i can't take it from you, the way you take it from me

all of this came on so fast, a realization with no way out
i hang on to friends like injectable clotting proteins, twelve hour half life baby

they always kept me away from the knives growing up
when dicing tomatoes, i'll never be as good as you

its not my fault.
i was made this way.
26 December 2008 @ 05:50 pm
nothing has seemed real, until this very moment, it was as if i were watching the strangest movie
isn't it odd how we can forget that we are alive?
24 December 2008 @ 10:19 am
professors, will you just post my grades already?

today is my last day at portland color. sadness.
interview on friday at the regency spa, which would be ill, pray for me.
also an interview on saturday at a medical spa facility, but it's in south portland, im sick of driving.

i need a vacation.