Friday, February 26

The Metal Tiger

Getting ready to head up to S.F. for the treasure hunt. i want to be so excited i could burst, but last night was a real humdinger for my psyche. Will talk more about that later.

Until then, here is a self-portrait by Egon Schiele, which always reminds me of Nat, handsome devil that he is:

...if you have a few minutes, Schiele's life is worth reading about. Art, love, tragedy– all that good, heartbreaking stuff.

Non-sequitur alert: here is a link to an NPR piece on cover songs, which as we all know by now are a weakness of mine. My faves on this page were the Marianne Faithfull/Nick Cave version of a Decemberists song, and the Flaming Lips' rendition of Madonna's "Borderline".

Which is funny, because i sort of can't stand the Flaming Lips most of the time, and can't even be bothered about the Decemberists. Anyway, listen on.

Talk to you all on Monday: hopefully my severe case of the melancholies will be gone by then? (Unlikely.)

Tuesday, February 23

pretty pretty.

...Is it just me, or do you also see the word "bliss" on that fabulous little pram?

This girl's art is blowing my mind right now. Amber Albrecht. Amazing.


time to return.

For some reason i feel like laying out on top of a large, warm rock slab today and just basking in the sun. (For those that know me: i understand that this seems like a strange inclination.)
Saw a shaft of light hitting a bit of rock somewhere today, and instantly my inner self became a lizard; wishing for rough skin against rough stone, seeping in and soaking up the warmth, the stillness.

i'm sick of the shoes that keep our feet from the earth. i'm sick of the gloves and manners that keep our hands and fingers from trees, from food. i'm sick of the sunglasses that shade our eyes from the light. i'm sick of living in a cave. i'm sick of feeling hermetically sealed. i want my skin to touch bark, to dip into streams, to caress a stone: aching to grab a tree dusty trunk, retrieve a cold, slick river rock from the glassy current, run my fingers through the dry grasses, and lay supine on one of the rocks bursting out everywhere from beneath the crust of this great orb.

i'm tired of chairs, tired of wires, tired of vertical blinds and mirrors. Weary of telephones, plastic bags, remote controls, and all-in-one printer/copier/scanners. Sick of batteries, vacuums, and junk mail flyers for cable tv.

Wishing i could devolve, or reincarnate; a return to something more primitive.


In other news: there's finally a new Joanna Newsom album! Determined to find the CD, i only allowed myself to listen to the first two tracks, but they sounded wonderful. Very Kate Bushian; fuckin' solid, as the kids are saying these days.

Wondering when the hell i'm figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Studying etymology? Fighting against honor killings? Decorating cakes? For fuck's sake, what gives with the decision-making section of my brain? Permanently stagnated?

Here's a somewhat fitting song for y'alls. Can't get it out of my head today.

...Well, i'm off to darn some socks and eat sugar snap peas. Remember: i waste time better than you. Deal with it.

Sunday, February 21

all things go


i have a wicked stomachache. ('achach' = amazing)

We are finally getting some rain down here.

i went to the zoo. Saw this guy. And this guy. And some swaying elephants. Listened to a keeper tell us all about how 'normal' that behavior was. And still, my heart cringed along with my face. Also, we walked up on one of these things. Truly frightening.

What else? i found a big, silver metal "V" on the sidewalk the day after Valentine's Day, along with some x and o heart glitter. Seemed fitting.

Here is a nice, yet horrible video that you should watch. Toodles for now. Will post more when i actually have something to say.

Out Of A Forest from Tobias Gundorff Boesen on Vimeo.

Wednesday, February 10


Back to work tomorrow. i will sorely (no pun intended, as the 'sore' is still around, and not going anywhere soon) miss lying in bed and watching movies on Netflix.

(On The Edge: sweet, sad, Irish, suicide-rehab flick featuring Cillian Murphy, rowr. i cried. It Could Happen To You: perfect movie to watch when you're sitting around all ouchy and feeling sorry for yourself. Bridget Fonda and Nicolas Cage get all kismet-y while Rosie Perez screeches around the periphery. A fun, simple love story.)

But the roses are calling me. Thankfully i'm getting a ride to work, and i'll probably just stand around making dozen roses all day. (Guys, you ready to drop seventy bucks? Just a warning.) Apparently we've hired some cute Guy-On-A-Bike that my co-worker is smoldering for. . . should be interesting! i would kill for a little impromptu romance, especially this time of year, when everything 'love' is so pre-packaged and overpriced i could gag.

Also, i've got Nat doing dishes and laundry tonight, which, i've gotta say, feels downright luxurious. As much as i loathe validating things like 'gender roles', i am usually the one who ends up doing the domestic stuff around here: cooking, cleaning, and so on. It's because i'm only working part time, and as well know grad students are never not working (well, except when they're totally fucking off and playing computer games). So it's nice to have a small reprieve. As far as i'm concerned, this is my Valentine's Day.

Now, off to reheat some of the tamales i bought the other day, which are delicious, by the way. Hope y'all are paragons of health. And in case i don't emerge from the depths of the V-Day kerfuffle that is the flower shop at present, have a happy heart day. You are loved.

p.s.) here's something pretty. i love his rainbowy tones, and that subject matter: toys, condiments, firecrackers– i'm in love! And a kid again. Not that i ever wasn't one. . .

p.p.s.) Nat has informed me that i must also share Robot Unicorn Attack. Hope you like Erasure.

Tuesday, February 9


i fell off my bike today. Fell off my bike bad.

Flew, tangled, slammed, thudded, scraped.

There was an empty moment there, in midair: why is this happening? What did i hit? i've made that turn hundreds of times.

Limped to my feet: vision, hearing were present, both good signs. Grabbed Pierre (he's a mint green Motobecane who i love dearly) and shuffled to the curb. Laid him down gingerly, set myself down somewhat less gingerly.

Self-inspection! Removed (now torn) gloves. Left palm looks disgusting. There are... flaps of skin. And red, blood. Right elbow appears to be one giant area of severe over-exfoliation. It is on fire, and oh yes! There is more red blood here. And grit. Pull up pants (right knee of which is now in tatters) to discover a stiff, throbbing mound, and not in a nice way. My knee is a monster: flayed skin, what appear to be Insta-Bruises, and oh yes!! More of my precious life fluid out on display for the world to see. In a daze, i glance over to the intersection i was turning through. And that's when i notice the hose.

It ran quietly from one corner to another, this dark blueish snake, with a circumference of about five or so inches (coincidentally, the perfect size to fell a bike-riding girl on her way to work!). Woulda been really special for me if i'd seen it a few minutes ago, before i attempted to cross it at a shallow angle with extremely thin bicycle tires. However, it was a similar shade to the asphalt, so i don't even think i would have noticed it had i been going or slower or not wearing the world's crappiest pair of sunglasses. Perhaps if i'd hit it straight on, there would have been a chance. But nope, not today.

None of the 5 city workers who saw my diabolical dismount even came over to see if i was okay. Actually, i sort of resented them for that. For fuck's sake, this wouldn't have even happened if they hadn't been there in the first place. (disclaimer: yes, i know that i'm the stupid idiot who didn't see the obstacle and bit it, but still. but still.) My head was actually hurting a little at this point so i squinted into the screen of my iPod but didn't see any blood on my face or anything, so i tried to steady my shaking hands and rose to my feet. Pierre's chain had come loose from the gears, so with careful, bloody, disgusting hands i made the adjustment. Now covered in black grease as well, i hobbled the last 2 blocks to work.

Patched myself up with antiseptic spray and gauze (this turned out to be a huge mistake later), plus some strategically-placed band-aids. (And FYI: floral tape works pretty well as stand-in for first-aid tape, in a pinch.) This couldn't have happened at a worse time: This is one of the busiest weeks of the year for us at the shop, and even though i have a special kind of loathing for Valentine's Day in general, it can be fun to work a holiday. We got our first huge shipment of flowers today and i was anything but helpful. Managed to slowly prep for almost 5 hours and then mercifully caught a ride with the a.m. girl heading home after her shift. Pierre stayed behind; there's no way i'm gonna be able to ride him to work in my state anyway.

At home i iced the knee (worst impact site, i have surmised) and then whimpered my way through a tepid bath, taking stock of it all. Everything but the f*&#ing gauze came off easy peasy; after i pulled the last disgusting strands of fibrous cotton from my elbow, i valiantly tried to rub some of the grit off. Bad mistake. After two mind-numbingly painful attempts i just sort of swirled and swished my arm around in the water and hoped for cleanliness.

So, my left hand looks like a slice of cheese pizza, my right elbow has sort of a sand-blasted, rustic look, and my right knee, well– let's just say it's doubled in size so far. i can hardly bend it. Been hobbling around the apartment like Igor. i am simultaneously wishing for and dreading sleep. Hope it comes quickly.

Tomorrow should be... interesting! i need to be at work this week, so they've given me the day off to recuperate. Suppose i'll lay around and rock the old ice pack again. I'll also need some Knee De-Stiffener... anybody got any they could spare?

Friday, February 5

[ < 3 ]

Things that happened since last we spoke:

We've hired a guy named Valentín to help us out at the shop for Valentine's Day. He's ace.

Bought a dozen homemade tamales (chile-cheese) from a really nice-looking guy outside of Von's one night. He just looked so. . . quietly optimistic– earnest, even, with the one little blue-and-white cooler at his feet. The tamales were wrapped in foil within a greasy plastic bag; they were still quite hot. And, of course, i haven't had one yet.

Had some laffs working through a Rotten Tomatoes list of wonderfully atrocious films.

Saw The Residents perform (and how) live at a theater. Certainly a night i will never forget. i blame it on the Wolf Moon.

. . .Been kinda numb this week. Distant. Not there. Staring at walls and the like. Not really very like me, to be perfectly honest. Wish there was a way i could crack open the old noggin, blow the cobwebs away, and holler Helooooooooo! [because in there, sounds would echo] Everything alright in there, then?

But i bet nobody would answer. i think they've all left the building.

In other news, Frances Bean (Cobain) is singing on a track with the Dresden Dolls side project Evelyn Evelyn. Is it strange that this makes me tear up a little? i almost can't bear to check it out, for fear of what i might (or mightn't) see.

Love y'all. Hope you're all busy checking things out from different perspectives: lying on the floor and checking out the legs of your coffee table, standing on the kitchen counter to ogle the top of the fridge, whatever. Keep your eyes everywhere. You never know what you might miss.