visual poems
2008-09-13 - 10:49 p.m.
i make little half meaningless films. imperfect as a quasi virtue/bad excuse. i want to take my video camera with me everywhere. i want to make a one man film starring me and most of it is just me looking at things and thinking about things. watching leaves rustle in wind and cobwebbed dusty corners turn rusty nails. i want to read all my journals aloud. i want to make things that i never share just unleash. someday i'll upload everything but for now i will go on carving sloppily as if i spun around and around til i got seasick first, then hand me a pistol and tell me to shoot the apple off your head. maybe my eyes are going because i scowl more. there's a sour look. that age thing. that happiness blankness of unwritten youth. anxieties like wide open kansas. no codes for this one. though i should code entry four times a day. i love lenses. i spoke to nicole about how there will never be a lens that can do what the human eye can. she countered, but the human eye can only focus on one thing at once whereas a hard lens can focus on everything within a frame. touche plus food for thought. the nature of photography, the nature of lost focus. those flashes that seared my consciousness. yes, this shooting star is what life is. this art is what the purest existence is. it is not convoluted or esoteric. it is pure, direct, emotionally available, real, true.
i have one hour to return the movies. i'm going to gear up and motorcycle it, cuz we're almost empty with the car. we used up a tank in roughly two weeks. i admit i liked driving to yoga class straight from drop a few times this week, not having to change into my jeans and boots and wear my ridiculous motorcycle jacket. it was nice to wear flip flops. today at yoga class someone tried to steal a bicycle out front while class was in session.. the adroit yoga instructor, a sub, travis, ran out and after him. 'bring that bike back here.' he called. and the power and purity of his calling compelled the thief, to get off of the bike and walk or run away. he returned to class to a round of applause. it was an exciting dramatic beautiful thing. i do not align myself with thievery.

sarah palin is a worm in my brain. spoke with brother clyde tonight on the phone for an hour. he was at work, late at night, doing finance reports for this school. he was tired and not voluble early on in the conversation, but he warmed up later and made speeches about mccain/palin and their total lack of vision. the cynical choice that she was. he attempted to soothe my worried mind, speaking on the adaptability of obama. a learning leader in the making. i read the nytimes and the wall street journal. when i was younger my dad would send me the play reviews from the wsj and i have some affection for the dpi style portraits that render the scions of finance and business somewhat greek.. the mini, colorless busts. but to read the op pages there. peggy noonan declaring that we learned at saddleback that mccain is normal and that obama is odd. odd in that he thinks things through.. that he educated himself. that he's not falling over himself declaring what he believes but rather always listening, analyzing, learning. realizing that to govern to be an agent of action. to work toward the positive solution that will be most effective. my nerves about the election are raw right now. the vindictive, lookin' out for number 1, repubs need this defeat. clyde told me that if mccain wins it's effectively the end of the democratic party. i don't know what that means or if it is even symbolically correct. i get so emotional i don't know what i think anymore. i posit many many of the nation's constituents feel similarly.. the arguments and tit and tats are just there to inflame the emotions and the decision who to vote for is an emotional one. the truth ultimately doesn't matter except to a few intelligent analytical calculating people who value the the accuracy of their calculations over emotions. but to me, it seems that even those people are wrapped up emotionally in the analysis. i'm ending this paragraph and dropping it.

i should saddle up and go.

btw, our mattress is so lame that it leaves lesley and i waking up with a backs sore top to bottom and we're attempting to pull off a craigslist economy upgrade. picking up a lightly used ikea foam thingee. even if it's a disaster, we have to do something. and the something simply cannot be spending a g we don't have.

martha is at a slumber party.

i'm taking a sabbatical from work in january for yoga training. i'll be gone from the cafe for 10 weeks. why do i already miss it? stockhomie syndrome.