Lost

"The thing's hollow—it goes on forever—and—oh my God—it's full of stars!"

Sean Stiegemeier has pulled his exquisite timelapse teaser of the stars at night from his Vimeo catalog. I remember how the music and the visuals were so very perfect that I felt like I was dreaming. I've added this footage instead just so I can remember where I was when I found the first clip. A fair replacement. Thank you, Luka Balkovic!

 
Timelapse teaser from Luka Balković on Vimeo.

Woman on Wire

I ramble. This can be annoying, but my thoughts are messy and barely alive... like the 20 something plants scrambling for rays in my living room. I blame the drugs I experimented with and the many hours of sleep lost from doing them. In one of my episodes, I tried desperately to remember, through all the muck, what I saw that could change the world… one. The wars, the priests and rabbis, the camps, processed foods, and poor, defenseless animals against the NRA wasn’t enough and their names became part of the muck. 5 big yellow stars later I could only think of a man on a wire on top of the world. What it took to be so far away... Poetry and stillness is the move. Possibly, no, most definitely, a woman, too. It led me to the snowman who once told me he never overthinks. What he really meant was everything is up there, on wire, just not me. Then the Brit who said it was OK to be thought-less for days. I don't know what that means. I want to explain everything and understand what isn’t mine. But a businessman, who I never met before, simply sent me his thought in image form. I remembered just now as I'm listening for Saxman - making me high. I dream of hanging on.

Darkroom Diaries

luton spring

Seen & Heard

*Baby girls giggling for reasons that elude me.

*"There's nothing more crushing to the artist than believing an impression was never made." - tv to jd

on my way

whatever you're looking for

Darkroom Diaries

an empty lot

Running Woman 12: The Resolution

I've decided to sign up for a 10K run (6.25 miles). Why do I torture myself, you ask? (Actually, I don't think anyone reads this f*cking thing, so maybe the question is directed to the friends in my head - Madonna, Oprah, Tori, Angelina, Amel, Cheri, Parker, Wendy, Snooki, etc... ) Because I'm convinced I like putting myself in painfully annoying & equally exhilarating situations that never result to anything but an incredibly exhausted heart.

I ran 2.6 miles in 29 degree frosty weather through a path right out of a Tim Burton sketch. Bare boned trees looked alive and ready to pluck me out of obscurity... or into it...

a thundering collision

of kandinsky

Vincent

I saw this at the MOMA and couldn't help but feel a dark, spooky, horrorific, kindred connection.

Darkroom Diaries

The Walk

I was nervous when Papito M volunteered to take me for a walk. I had grandiose ideas about capturing a place I really only knew through song, 8mm films, countless childhood stories, and the yellowing black n white photos hidden in family albums. No one else had been interested. Still, we were oceans apart in years and frankly, I didn't know if my diminishing Spanish vocabulary would carry Papito M and me through an entire day. In the end, I got on board. On the bus that is. It drove up a steep hill, making turns at probably the same speed as the buses on the highway, and dropped us off in the hood. We walked. Maybe it was hours or days. He was 76, so time was important and irrelevant. Words were light as a feather. Although, he tends to be quiet anyway, I couldn't help but believe I was understood. He was patient. Brave. Silent. A gentleman. He was everything I needed to reconnect, then bought me lunch!

When we got back from our walk, Mamita A was pissed we ate. This meant she was worried, but was too proud to care. When Uncle A asked about the sites, I couldn't find words to describe them.... I remember the Virgin statue at a dangerous traffic circle. There was a stairway "to heaven." Lightbulbs dangling from trees. Homes where future lovers lived. Old men playing cards. Fútbol dust. It was brilliant. Papito M was brilliant. And mostly I described him...

an angel.

Darkroom Diaries

My profesór told me last night that I need to take a chance. There's a vast gray area, but black and white is not yet defined. A bit foggy. New cameras mean long learning curves, but... "Let the image unfold," he said. "You are holding back because of all the intricate details." "Let (them) go."

I'm wondering if he was referring to my latest prints.

Warhol Wonders

“Isn't life a series of images that change as they repeat themselves?”

Happy Halloween, superstars.

DayTrippers

The Derelict and I most definitely are kindred spirits. No question. I called him frantically asking a rhetorical that he was none too happy to answer anyway. "Why am I such a tard?!" I lost my keys tonight, so it begged the rebel yell and this is so very typical. I lose everything, including love, and keep threatening to get more organized. My heart rate exceeded its maximum potential and my cheeks burst into plum tomatoes. How else to find brick-heavy keys? Of course, my professor, who of cooourse I have a secret, darkroom crush on, entered the picture. He was there for the chivalry. Then, after all the slightly composed dramatics, I found my keys at Public Safety and his day was done. I digress, the Derelict answered with a, "Well I've given this a lot of thought..." and obliged. His explanation went something like this -

I've been trying to figure out who was worse. I used to think I was a little better off and you were just a bumbling tard floating through life clueless, but now I think maybe you're winning and I'm just a bigger one. The problem is we're daydreamers - living as if we had all the time in the world to be creative. We don't want life to progress because we haven't achieved our goals. Change is hard on us.

The Derelict said a lot more that was pretty hilariously poignant, as he fumbled around to find his wallet.

Running Woman 11

My sister made me run today. It will be the first at 38 years young. What a difference the fall air makes. It tasted like my freezer. I crawled and clocked in at 2.5 miles. It should have been faster and longer, but I'm older now.

Jojo

Tonight I met up with a monster.

The kind that breathes under

your bed within the

deepest, darkest, corner

of your mind. Living loveliness

from a bouquet of roses.

In the end

a windy walk home.

I was flirting with danger

all along. A long, humiliating night

listening to the music

that was never gone too far.

I am who I am.

Even on my

birthday, I can

sing. So, tiny little Monster,

I give you -

my stars.

Seen & Heard

* Baby #7 crawling on wet grass straight toward a big puddle as super Z mom and her college B gal pal watched in awe.

* "I'd rather deal with a player than a p*ssy." - Queen(s) M w/wine glass in hand, legs crossed, & tude in full effect.

Darkroom Diaries

I printed until my eyes burned and my back gave out. The result was dark and moody and maybe "obvious." Note to self, the O word hurts more than "unoriginal." Reminder to my other self, everything isn't original and nothing is ever obvious.