Today's indulgence:

(among others)

Cheesy fried potatoes with garlic,

hot sauce, and other spices.

(Really, I'm just tickled they

got done all the way through.

A momentous occasion, it is!)

NOM NOM.

Right now:

English Breakfast tea with a splash of half and half
The sweet muses of Fleet Foxes
Bear cuddled up in bed with his nose glued in a book
Not one, but two pairs of wool socks


Totally twitterpated over:

New kitchen arrangement
Mineral oiled butcher block countertop
A certain red hoodie
Florence Welch

                                                                      Five dollar
   Fake tulips                  polka-dotted hen (!)

This spectacular lampshade I

happened upon at Goodwill

Thank you, day.

Sing To Me, Fleet Foxes




 The orange walls inside
First Cup Coffee on
Woodstock make my
heart sing. The most
spectacular orange,
rich and tasty, as the
backdrop for my bright
green oversized sweater,
plus a fat cup of
smooth coffee. Superb. 

And me without
a camera . . .
You'll just
have to imagine.
Because it was superb.

Attempt at skyline.

A young gentleman at

Fresh Pot last weekend. 

He stood prettily at

the counter chatting

with some folks. I like

his bag and peacoat.

                  Dear Devon,

                                                                    I effing love your eighties-tastic

                                                                   glasses. They made my day. And you are

                                                                   super hot, too.

                                                                                                          Love,

                                                                                                                 pb

Bambino in . . . 34 days? 

Oh for crap's sake.

Inside the Studio

Jane Hammond

"I think one of the things that's interesting about art is that it holds all these aspects of yourself: your intellect, your autobiography, your emotional life, your sense of humor.  It holds all these things about you, half of which you're helpless to keep out of it."

"One of the things I think is confounding and difficult for an artist, or that I've found so, is that there is a certain pressure on you -- I don't mean a commercial pressure but a sort of aesthetic pressure -- to formulate something you might call a style."

Sunny (!)

                            Stupid cold,

                                but sunny.

  

Urban Decay?

From: Mom
To: Daughter
Subject: Idea!

I just ordered some of that invisible eyeshadow primer stuff from Sephora <yeah, I'm techno-savvy> and got to thinking that us old ladies <read: wrinkled, lined, splotchy, craggy, and saggy> need a new line of make up products to make us look younger and more vibrant. It can be the Over 30 version of Urban Decay. . . I shall call it Rural Renewal.


Yo'Ma

These Shoes Were(n't) Made for Walkin'

A wonderful afternoon walk.  I'm wearing my Deck Shoes everywhere and they're starting to wear out already.  I always say, Never trust a Target shoe, but damn it I'm in love with these.  Wear 'em into the ground, like everything else.

 Well, the flowers say it's Spring, so . . .

Oh, hi there.  You look very much like my Love.

...and a fun drawing to top off what I might venture to call

a Perfect Sunday.

Poems & Things

Little line drawings placed in a haste a haze a flash
of thought to prevent overexamination,
overexploration, overinspection too much observation, 
because overthinking is destruction;

Drawn in the moment to catch the piece of time
the fleck of breath and flicker of light filtered through the trees in a moment that's gone before you decide it exists.



Written for Jchandle, December 2007:

     Say whatever to

     slippers in the rain
     bad drawings
     being hungry... still
     charcoaly fingers
     paintings that make you barf


     Hello,

     Christmas
     and snow
     chili dogs
     evenings that call for trains
     and maybe some goodbyes
     and rain

     hello there,
     I love your face.



October 2007:

A place where the long shadow of long golden bamboo leaves stretches across the stained white wall in the electric sunshine, singing, wind churning so deliberately I feel my soul shift with the trees;
voices, distant, muffled against brilliant blue skies as yellows scream, and in my head I plead, God, make this moment forever.

(Not) Just Another Saturday

I consider myself a lucky person.  I feel grateful for the things I have and do not mourn the things I don't.  Like having such a stunning landscape to get lost in.

...this beautiful city that I have fallen so dearly in love with, soaking up the things in life I value and treasure.

Red Coat, 2011.

                   Cafe Nell

                   NW 20th & Kearney

                   Atmosphere : Bright, fresh, contemporary

                   Coffee : Deep, warm, mellow

                   Service : Phenomenal

                   Food : Superb

                   Conclusion : Deserves a go

The chili dog really didn't stand a chance.

In memoriam, this nineteenth day of February, year two thousand eleven.

It appears my shoes ended up having a pretty good day.

Hello, knobby tree.

 Ah, there's the Portland I love ...

Today I am wearing puke colored shoes that match my puke colored sweater, the color not of my heart, but close to it.  I slept deeply last night in spite of unsettling dreams about robots, dinosaurs, and a horrifying upheaval of the world as I know it.  The robots themselves aren’t the unsettling part, but the part where they discover I’m the only human left and try to destroy me –-

I still feel a little unnerved. 

In the dream, my friends and coworkers, the ones I’m with today, are all robots that look unmistakably like humans.  I feel more than a little compelled to give them a once-over, maybe examine them a bit, to see if I perhaps find clues to their true origin.

     Yeah, MG – I hope you don’t mind. I’m just going to lift up your hair and have a nice long look at the back of your head where the hair meets the scalp.  Maybe a lengthy gaze into your eyes, deep into your pupils.  Feeling okay today?  Any, uh, malfuctions, per se?  Oh, no reason. 

Sweet KT ...

No strange findings to report thus far.  Except dried chocolate on the crotch of my pants.

on·er·ous

[on-er-uhs, oh-ner-]

–adjective

1. burdensome, oppressive, or troublesome; causing hardship:

   onerous duties.

2. having or involving obligations or responsibilities,

   especially legal ones, that outweigh the advantages: an

   onerous agreement.

The Objective

That is not the objective. 

The objective is to do what I’m doing,
go where I’m going, for the sake of doing so. 
Not for the sake of someone else wanting it,
not for a means to an end.

----> I’d rather have my own problems than anyone else’s.


Oh, for the love of --
       
          Sephora by O.P.I. in Metro Chic
          Godiva Chocolatier Gems
             You're like Joan Jett, only better.
          Fresh fruit bouquets

Not Quite Haiku Haiku

Some old poems from my Creative Writing Class in 2007, following a particular structure.

Very fun.  I like.


Fear lurks behind the tabletop
wrapped in cellophane
screaming at the pepper shaker.

Trauma walks into a dusty room
masked in peanut butter and twine
fighting for dear life to not be drowned.

Beauty passes by a restaurant on a street
dressed in pearls and perfume
skulking at the lifeless vermon.

On a lofty wraparound porch, happiness waits
disguised as a mistake in navy velvet
pouring marmalade into the weeds.

Ignorance promises bliss in nude beaches
clothed with smiles and laughs
flirting with looming disaster.

Art fondles the bus stop bulletin board
wearing black slacks and turtleneck
wondering why it hasn't all burned.

 

Of Noshings and Merriment

Today (meaning yesterday):

                   Indeed, Friday has come again successfully

                   Australian Dark Chocolate Macadamia Nuts

                   Misto hand-delivered by KT (made with bold, not Pike's)

                   Why, hello little plant

                   What the Pho?!

Today (meaning today):

                  Breakfast at home with Bear...........................Check

                  Rockstar hair, please....................................Check

                  Good dose of affirmation from lovely friends........Check

                  Hearty laughs.............................................Check

                  (Multiply by ten)..........................................Check

                  Coffee in the evening....................................Check

                  Amount of Happy..........................................100%

                  Conclusion: Success

                       

In the Life

Dreams of tidal waves. Death. Friend’s death. Death’s death. Alarm. GANK GANK GANK GANK. Roll over. Roust. Slump. Slippers. Lights. Pills. Brush teeth. Apply face. Cereal. Insert eyes. Hair. Clothes. Lock door. Bus. Elevator. Clock in. Machines on. Sort. Distribute. Unlock. Put away. Avoid. Good morning. News. Water. Phone. Grumble. Vitamin C. Coffee. Stack. Rearrange. Put off. Oatmeal, raisins, walnuts. Coffee. Open, close. Iron. Vitamin D. Submit. Process. Pee. Distribute. Open, close. Phone. Evade. Sort. Phone. Process. Resubmit. Fix. Correct. Resubmit. Copy. Phone. Phone. Water. Move. Pee. Deliver. Complete. Issue. Print. Fill out. Attach. Put in folder. Pass off. Clock out. Email. Facebook. Microwave. Beans. Cheese. Uh-huh, yeah. NOM NOM. Exit. Rinse. Dishwasher. Elevator. Sunshine. See my breath. Willamette Week. Jonesin’. The Mercury. Vulgar. Puke colored flats. Blinded. Warm building. Phone. Plod. Elevator. Peach detox. Water. Coffee. Clock in. Elevator. Basement. Elevator. Open. Sort. Copy. Pee. Machine on. Submit. Submit. Submit. Submit. Phone. Phone. Submit. Phone. Submit. Submit. Phone. Grapes. Cottage cheese. Copies. Print. Sort. Tear. Print. Distribute. Resist. Log. Plan. Lose. Rearrange. Find. Walk. Type. News. Water. Run through. Stick. Elevator. Bank. Hi, I’m good. Thank you. Elevator. Tidy. Machines off. Clock out. Shut down. Lock. Close. Shut. Elevator. Finger scan. Avoid. Elliptical. Water. Treadmill. Water. Arms. Stretch. Abs. Focus. Stretch. Water. Coat. Pack. Bus. Doze. Dank. Unlock. Deshoe. Decoat. Radio. Water. Dinner. Crossword. Dishes. Tidy. Remove eyes. Shower. Wash off face. Jammies. Blow dry. Brush teeth. Pill. Cozy. Crossword. Doze. Lamp off. Fetal position. Dreams. Death. Famous person’s death. Dream away.

Quick, Give Me a Title! --Your Mom Looks Good in that Tube Top

                                  

                          “You don’t often see camels involved in a riot.”     –KT

If I could get past my short attention span,

         I might be able to  accomplish something really great.

“I bet the Dalai Lama doesn’t have to push paper.”    –Will

                     It turns out my gynecologist is not, in fact, a lesbian. 

                     I won't say I'm not a little disappointed by this.

Of note:

    Fantastic calamity

    Calamtastic fanamity

                                    The bus stinks it smells like mold and vomit,

                                    sour and stale like wet shoes

                                    worn and old, like a weary old man with creaky joints and sticky bones,

                                    sad and lifeless like the plants my brown thumb smothers, letting go

                                    to other times and other lives away from wilted skulls and fragile soil.

Divritriculus

From: Mom
Sent: 02/08/2011

So yeah . . .

I'm a little scared for Jim. I don't WANT to think about the "what if," but I can't help it. . . so, I'm puttering around and practicing deep breathing. . . I may go in search of drugs here shortly. . . <not really>

Jim says his diagnosis might technically be "diverticulitis," but he's calling it "angry asshole," which is better all the way around. Especially since he pronounces diverticulitis "divritriculus."

On a different note = you have TOTALLY got to check out the "google" header for today. It's a mind bender! THAT'S the job I want. . . changing the google. 

I'm gonna go. I've got bacon on and with my new SUPER HOT stove, there's a good chance I'll catch the kitchen on fire.

Yo' Ma

.

On the docket:

         >Find a Figure Drawing group
         >Get new Molskine, 'cause this one's shot
         >Locate brain

                    
        Hi,

        Get me out of here.
        Please and thank you.

                 Love,
                    pb

.

ennui

[ahn-wee, ahn-wee; Fr. ahN-nwee]

-noun

a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom

a feeling of listlessness and general dissatisfaction resulting from lack of activity or excitement


.

A Fellow Named Jack

                         A nice kitty I met on a refreshing weekend walk. 
                         I nearly took him home.  I call him Jack.

There is no other feeling like the feeling that you are being true to yourself,

like riding the wave, satisfying the craving, finding balance on one foot, being weightless.

           Just keep on working, madly and furiously.

The baby's room is so cute, so frickin' precious, so stupid perfect with the little waves and green closet and so many baby shower gifts.  So.  Many.  Gifts.  Like, let's get a bigger house 'cause we have so much stuff, or let's get this friggin' nursery painted so we can actually walk through our kitchen.  You think you won't need the number of diapers you have but you will, oh you will!  And it seems like such a big deal now but once Jack is here all the crap will wash away and you'll discover what matters.

          Roots

           Stems

            Veins

             Arteries

               Nerves

                Cords

                 Threads

                  Strings

                   Ropes

Yes

• Airplanes                                                           
• Handmade booties
• Old friends, new stories 

No

• Taping
• Feeling foreign
• Non-pulpy juice beverage

.

                                 

                                 Me:  I can't stop thinking about this boy.

                                 Brother:  So don't stop thinking.

On Being in a Funk and Not Returning Calls

From:  Mom
Sent:  2/4/2011 8:11 AM
Subject:  Hey?

So silent . . . everything peachy keeno? Busy busy? Etc. etc?

Yo' Ma

Oh, I'm working on Lil's biography. It's gonna be called, "The Dog With the Bat Wing Ears."  Eh? I also have a photo request to make . . . more about that later . . .WHEN YOU CALL YOUR MOTHER, bitch.