Musings Overview

I found a very tiny faux Moleskine in a bucket on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.  It is filled with beautiful, breathtaking, completely insightful and wildly delicate drawings, words, ideas from late 2007-early 2008.

I was in college then.

I remember these tiny sketchbooks I kept.  At the time they were merely a dumping ground for all the gunk floating around in my brain at any given moment.  A place to purge.  Remove.  Record.  Repeat.

I never suspected I would encounter one years later and be fully swept away by its contents.

It is truly a gem.  Anyone who knows me knows this is not a sentiment I reserve for my own makings.  I am simply that struck.

Tiny, itty bitty portraits drawn with one of those stupidly fine Micron pens, ones I would inevitably end up throwing away because I pushed too hard ONE time and the tip was toast.  Face after face of fleeting, careful moments in the day-to-day existence of a 22-year-old college student whose life just seemed so. Hard. Always…

Microscopic doodlings of J so delicately exacting the most perfect mark with a razor blade on a sixty pound chunk of stone.

The wiry outline of a Volkswagon sitting across the street from the bus stop I grew to love and loathe.

A crisp rendition of a bottle of Crystal Geyser water perched on the edge of my workstation, embodying the soul of those moments when I realized I had no idea what the hell I was doing.  Wanting to crawl away and sleep.

Haiku after ridiculous haiku about nothing at all, like I am a small child first discovering he has legs, and deeply understanding the power such knowledge wields.

And writing, too.  Poetry, sense impressions, thoughts... I will post a few here, as I'd like to continue enjoying them over and over again, and maybe you will too.

XOXO

Upon My Return

September 23, 2012

• soft, oversized t-shirts
• black leather motorcycle purse - super bitchy
• brown or pink leather moto jacket - Target?
• sneakers in a fun color

September 25, 2012

I've never been very good at that kind of thing.  "Self promotion."

ERMAGURD!  I can't stop saying ERMAGURD!

I wore the bear shirt again today.  People are coming up to me and growling at will, as if it is somehow socially acceptable.

Bear shirt................... Check
Hot jeans................... Check
Ass-kickin' boots....... Check
Hot hair..................... Check
Killer 'tude................. Check

Is ink my true love?

Notes

*Must find hammer

• couch
• curtain rod for bay windows
• curtains - white and black flowers, beige panels [tabbed], beige panels
• dishwasher
• sanity

How to sell paintings:

1. make good paintings
2. get business cards
3. get a website
4. get digital images of all work - archiving + future prints
5. CDs of work? [is this archaic?]
6. pricing
7. go places and convince them to hang your stuff
8. wait

Steve Sable died.
Who's Steve Sable?
Nevermind.

HR Director commented on my differing food choices.  Sometimes healthy, sometimes NOT.
Turns out, my current mental state can be determined by whatever I'm eating.
Is Pea in a good mood?  
I don't know -- What's she having for lunch?

Tuna salad - Happy and busy, but not frantic
Milky Way - Busy and almost stressed, but not quite there yet
Bernie's $5 Teriyaki - Fairly chipper and trying to get a free lunch - don't ask her for favors
Subway sandwich, toasted - Quietly stressed and doesn't want to talk about it - leave her alone
String cheese - Very stressed out, approach with caution
Burger King cheeseburgers - REALLY stressed out, probably cried at least once today - BEWARE
Javier's - She has already decided F*** THIS DAY and may or may not respond violently - DO NOT APPROACH
Anything sit-down - The day has been proclaimed "OVER" and she is no longer at work - reactions may vary, approach first with large stick and then with ice cream sundae

Notes of Cedar

June 16, 2012

Of late --
getting reacquainted with my books and pretty things I forgot I owned
getting to know Will's books
feeling enchanted by the newness
learning the tricky, creaky spots on the wood floors

Beautiful things await you.
-Panda Express


June 29, 2012

Radical Face Ghost - Welcome Home
Fell in love with this song, just now, not knowing what the title was.
How apt!

Drove out to Wal-Mart on 82nd to pick up some things.  Drove past all my old places, shops, restaurants I'd frequent and it made me feel sad.  Feel lots of things at once... again.  Feel a wash of memories and thoughts.  It's weird how we can have many memories at once.
They come in floods.

We never think that the first or second time 

we go somewhere or do something, 

it may be the last.

I dropped off keys and my forwarding address.  Kept myself from crying.  Very tricky, at that moment.

Will used to smudge with sage (smudge sage? I don't know the proper usage) in our old apartment.  He did it almost every night.  He did it once here in the new place and then switched to cedar.

If you've never smelled, cedar is the most wonderful, calming, soothing smell I've ever filled my nose with.  It makes me feel like I've been alive for a thousand years, some kind of ancient wisdom, an old historic sense.  Seriously.

Get some cedar.

Moleskine Cachet: 2 of 3 Part II

May 31, 2012
En route to Long Beach

Brainstorm

risk
potential for loss
chance
fate
potential for success
potential for greater success
make a bet

spontaneity
potential for loss
without premeditation
whimsy
potential for satisfaction
randomness
ideas
children


Delight in discovering some overlap.
Still working on this and do so enjoy the spider web of thought.

We are taught what to learn but we are not taught how to learn.

The power and value of brainstorming, freewriting, "brain dumping," and even

sitting in silence and just thinking 

is not emphasized in traditional public education.

Ideas need space.

Ideas need air.

Ideas need other ideas.

We need not get things right the first time.

We need to write and throw things around a few times 

before we can begin to form anything solid.

And this is where creativity happens.

Moleskine Cachet: 2 of 3

May 31, 2012
En route to Long Beach

Epiphany:
     Home is where the coffee is.

All day today, everywhere, it's damp, muggy, and smells like fart.

I'm not a huge fan of eau de fart.

Begin Haiku Rampage:

The floor laughs under

tickling toes of flyer's feet,

kajillions per day.

Walls chatter away

infinite stories to tell

where planes intersect.

I sincerely wish

my luggage didn't smell like

mildewy closet.

Tomorrow will be

sunny, warm, eighty degrees

when I'm far from here.

Please rain for me, Oh

sweet, damp City of Roses --

I'm on vacation.

Dear Starbucks: Please stop

burning the coffee every

time I'm here. It's gross.

Dear Starbucks: I might

consider drinking here, if

it was good at all.

Dear Starbucks: Your mom

is ashamed of you. Please stop

burning the coffee.

Dear Random White Guy,

We're at the airport. Please stop

staring at me Thanks.

Dear People from Wales,

Can you please talk forever?

I heart your accents.

Dear Skinny Blonde Girl,

Please eat something. Your rib bones

make my stomach hurt.

Dear Moldy Suitcase,

I'm still really mad at you.

Stop being smelly.

Dear My Aching Neck,

Don't give up on me now -- we're

not on the plane yet.

Dear August Michael,

You are the love of my life.

Period. The End.

Dear New Apartment,

Can you fast forward Time, please?

I am ready now.

End Haiku Rampage.

Breath is Music Enough: Saturday Morning at Fat Straw

Breath is music enough 

One day my dear friend KT texted me a list of things "I believe" -- If you type your name and then the word "believes" into the Google Machine in quotes, you find snippets from the interwebs of things that you, or She With Same Name, "believe."  It is quite fun and I was delighted to get blasted with a bunch of messages that was a compiled list of these believes. They are rather surprising and, often, uncannily accurate.

Paige believes:

• godless heathens should stop ripping Tim Tebow

• in a higher standard of service

• that being beautiful can turn a bad day into a good one 

• we are all born with the ability to tell stories

All of these are ridiculously true.  Especially the 3rd and 4th ones.  

So, I couldn't NOT reciprocate.

KT believes:

• in what the members call “karmic-synergy”

• that packaging and presentation is everything

• that movement is one of the great joys of life, however we choose to experience it

• that breath is music enough 

• prenatal yoga will encourage women to be more present with their pregnancy

And that one -- breath is music enough -- struck me so poignantly I haven't been able to shake it since.  And I don't think I should.  I don't know where it came from or who wrote it, and I am by no means saying it belongs to me, but simply a wonderful phrase I feel compelled to spread around.

The ambient grooves at Fat Straw have me lost in a buzzy trance.

The cup of Stumptown helps, too. 

Going through my sketchbook and finding fun tidbits I'd long forgotten.

...

     Does art happen spontaneously?
     Or is it calculated?
     Or both?


I miss Matthew.
As a friend, as an artist, as a bearer of ideas and brainstorming.
Something tells me he’d appreciate my left-handed adventures.
…
And then he called me a few days later, when we haven’t spoken in months.
I told him of my left-handed adventures and he liked them.
He also wants pictures.
Eek . . .



     Does your own reflection ever startle you?
     Even if you know it’s there?

 

The only thing that is reliably permanent is impermanency.

     You can’t help when you feel creative.  Just like you can’t help gravity.

No fat
No preservatives
No cholesterol
No fun


A:  You like Rob Thomas?
B:  So?
A:  Nothin’.  I just didn’t know anyone liked him anymore.
B:  I have a Rob Thomas shaped hole in my music heart.


The Ultimate Death Match:

     Sagittarius Male vs. Cancer Female GO.

Things to Attain Awesomeness:
leather handbag …..................... pending
skin tight jeans …......................... check 

brown boots ….......................... pending
leather bomber jacket …............ pending
rockin’ ass ….............................. check 

bespoke; verb
a simple past tense and past participle of bespeak  

bespeak; verb
1. to ask for in advance; to bespeak the reader’s patience
2. to reserve beforehand, engage in advance, make arrangement for; to bespeak a seat in a theatre
3. to show, indicate; this bespeaks a kindly heart

 

Oh hello, MOST STUPIDLY PERFECT LATE SUMMER DAY

A Nice Meander

 

 

 Crotch shot

Sunday Flow

Reminder:
       Carrot cake is not part of your "eat less sugar" diet.

Why don't I just stop buying clothing 

   that's not black 

       and be done with it?

.
I get these urges,
these impulses
to just be different,
feel different,
to be and feel
like someone completely different
and absolutely, truly me
at the very same time.
.

              >hand-drawn feel?  >irregular + sketchy?

              >mustaches

              >beards

              >bears

              >cars

              >DeLoreans?

              >antique modern + clouds + sky

              >machinery  >guns

              >mustaches on guns?

Poppy, Polka Dots & an Array of Wedge-Tables

New Favorite Color: Poppy
  (not-so-incoincidentally the color of my new cardigan)

New Favorite Day: Thursday (because it often feels like
   Friday but without the hype)

New Favorite Color to go with my New Favorite Color: Taupe



           Happy Administrative Professionals Day?
           Wish I'd known beforehand.
           I might've asked for something.




                                Like a raise.


Just hearing the word "deli" makes me feel excited.
                                                       


     Get Lost
     .in a book.
     .in a moment.
     .in a day.
     .in time.
     .in a feeling.
     .in a gaze.
     .in an embrace.

Why is it so sad when a grocery store closes down?  A gift shop, clothing store, restaurant -- When these places close it is very sad indeed, but something about a grocery store feels much worse, cuts far deeper in an intimate way.  Is it because they symbolize health, life, vitality?

Grazing 101

1. Assortment of vegetables (any and all varieties)

2. One delicious dip (no, that's not what I call the Boy)

3. Something surprising on the side (in this case, a nice stuffed olive and a crossword puzzle)

4. Rinse, chop, dip, eat (say that ten times fast!)
5. Repeat as necessary (Voila.)

     WOAH. Watch where you're pointing

                                                         that thing.

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.