I love my facebook feed.
Everything from a Sally Mann photo I've never seen,
(i love her work)
to a concisely composed photo
of a consumate photo
by someone
I've never heard of.
from savaged drawings to beloved
pets and relatives and selves.
From riots to newborns to status updates
about care-giving for Granny.
Everything something
I have agreed to implicitly.
Making Positive Claims. Mine. Yes.
Good, wonderful.
"Invent. There is no lost feast
at the bottom of memory."
-Robert Ganzo, L'oeuvre poetique, Grasset, p. 46
"In their psychic primitiveness, Imagination and Memory appear in a dissoluble complex. If they are attached to reason, they are being badly analyzed."
-Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, Beacon, p. 105
Good, wonderful.
"Invent. There is no lost feast
at the bottom of memory."
-Robert Ganzo, L'oeuvre poetique, Grasset, p. 46
"In their psychic primitiveness, Imagination and Memory appear in a dissoluble complex. If they are attached to reason, they are being badly analyzed."
-Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, Beacon, p. 105
marcus tanner click
The best sexy hipster-matic photo I've seen lately.
Loss precedes preciousness,
not the other way around.
"But once all reference to physical polarities has been pushed aside, the problem of psychological polarity which preoccupied the Romantics so much remains. The human being...is a divided being, a being which divides again, having permitted herself the illusion of unity for barely an instant. She divides and then reunites. On the theme of animus and anima, if she were to go to the extremes of division, she would become a grimace of the woman...Nature in it's goodness tends to eliminate these excesses to the benefit of an intimate commerce of the forces of animus and anima in one and the same soul."
- Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Reverie, p. 90
All the "he (s)" became "she(s) in that otherwise perfectly transcribed paragraph.
The best sexy hipster-matic photo I've seen lately.
Loss precedes preciousness,
not the other way around.
"But once all reference to physical polarities has been pushed aside, the problem of psychological polarity which preoccupied the Romantics so much remains. The human being...is a divided being, a being which divides again, having permitted herself the illusion of unity for barely an instant. She divides and then reunites. On the theme of animus and anima, if she were to go to the extremes of division, she would become a grimace of the woman...Nature in it's goodness tends to eliminate these excesses to the benefit of an intimate commerce of the forces of animus and anima in one and the same soul."
- Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Reverie, p. 90
All the "he (s)" became "she(s) in that otherwise perfectly transcribed paragraph.
Micah Stansell, local artist/video producer's vimeo link.
Early next month gloATL will be collaborating with Stansell for the "Search for the Exceptional" project. I'll be covering it for ArtsATL.com.
I interned at MOCA GA while his project The Water and the Blood was showing, watched it, listened to it numerous times. Loved it.
Early next month gloATL will be collaborating with Stansell for the "Search for the Exceptional" project. I'll be covering it for ArtsATL.com.
I interned at MOCA GA while his project The Water and the Blood was showing, watched it, listened to it numerous times. Loved it.
Tarot today: Family and Future.
1. Self/Heart of the Matter: Magician
2. Opposing Factor: Queen of Pentacles
3. Root Cause: Fool
4. Receding Influence: Knight of Cups
5. Alternate Future/Purpose: 2 of Swords
6. Approaching Influence/Quality to Embrace: 8 of Swords
7. As I am: Queen of Cups
8. As I am seen: The Empress
9. Guidance: The Wheel of Fortune
10. Outcome: The Devil
1. Self/Heart of the Matter: Magician
2. Opposing Factor: Queen of Pentacles
3. Root Cause: Fool
4. Receding Influence: Knight of Cups
5. Alternate Future/Purpose: 2 of Swords
6. Approaching Influence/Quality to Embrace: 8 of Swords
7. As I am: Queen of Cups
8. As I am seen: The Empress
9. Guidance: The Wheel of Fortune
10. Outcome: The Devil
-12-
To be small means there is no inside; to be large means there is no outside. The phenomenal expressions of increase and reduction, rejection and acceptance, opposition and reversion, are all controlled by yin and yang. Yang is mobile and active, yin is still and unobtrusive. When yang emerges in activity, yin accordingly goes into concealment. When yang comes to an end, it returns to the beginning, yin; and when yin reaches a climax, it reverts to yang. --The Master of Demon Valley. pg. 7
A parting word.
The melting snow
is odorless.
-Japanese Haiku
My cat, Prince Cuss, died last night, at 2:37 am on Friday the 13th of April. His spleen ruptured and he bled from his mouth and anus. He was anemic (thin blood). His blood was like water and it only took about an hour after the initial cry for him to pass away. He collapsed into whatever is next, his legs splayed and out of control. He only cried out a total of three times.
He was a ferociously wonderful animal; snuggly, appreciative, intelligent. We got him out of a basement apt. when an old friend/pr -actical cousin went to prison. The tiny creature's tail was already broken in two places and his inner eyelid on the right side, his palpebra tertia, his third eyelid or haw was torn. He and his sister, who we called Gray Dragon, hadn't been fed since Willy had been arrested, about 6 days prior. Both kitties were like wild animals, even after being recuperated. They were saved by a friend of mine who I call Karmadillo, though her name is Melissa Cardillo. After living with Tom and I for a couple years the Little Gray disappeared a couple weeks after we moved to the country/suburbs in Georgia. I think she was carried off my a hawk or a large raven. She was very small, although quite puffy and fierce. So, actually, I'm not sure what happened to her. I hope she's in one of the nearby horse farm barns, fat and sassy and mousing fabulously.
To the conclusion on the Prince. His grave is covered in roses.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He is off to a better place.
The melting snow
is odorless.
-Japanese Haiku
My cat, Prince Cuss, died last night, at 2:37 am on Friday the 13th of April. His spleen ruptured and he bled from his mouth and anus. He was anemic (thin blood). His blood was like water and it only took about an hour after the initial cry for him to pass away. He collapsed into whatever is next, his legs splayed and out of control. He only cried out a total of three times.
He was a ferociously wonderful animal; snuggly, appreciative, intelligent. We got him out of a basement apt. when an old friend/pr -actical cousin went to prison. The tiny creature's tail was already broken in two places and his inner eyelid on the right side, his palpebra tertia, his third eyelid or haw was torn. He and his sister, who we called Gray Dragon, hadn't been fed since Willy had been arrested, about 6 days prior. Both kitties were like wild animals, even after being recuperated. They were saved by a friend of mine who I call Karmadillo, though her name is Melissa Cardillo. After living with Tom and I for a couple years the Little Gray disappeared a couple weeks after we moved to the country/suburbs in Georgia. I think she was carried off my a hawk or a large raven. She was very small, although quite puffy and fierce. So, actually, I'm not sure what happened to her. I hope she's in one of the nearby horse farm barns, fat and sassy and mousing fabulously.
To the conclusion on the Prince. His grave is covered in roses.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He is off to a better place.
-2.jpg) |
| Sister, Easter 2012 |
So, I like to take photos of people, and they like the photos.
I also really must get a job. One that pays the bills and allows me the time to continue making things.
I'm gunning for Starbucks. Part-time, flexible, they have the NY Times to read and coffee to drink. Perfect!
Thank Heavens I don't have kids and do have a stable partner who knows how to live frugally.
I could begin to advertise as a photographer and find paying customers.
In my late teens, it was a dream of mine to have my own photo studio, to do portraits and studio set-ups. I even worked at JCPenney portraits as a photographer for 3 years and got a technical photographic certification from Pellissippi State Community College.
But, then I changed my mind. I still don't know what I want to do.
Hyperallergic's "Why There are Great Artists"
Plimack-Mangold's perfect floors and quiet epics among others.
Plimack-Mangold's perfect floors and quiet epics among others.
Reading Robert Bly/Suburban Conversations
had he time to read it before the tumor
had hustled his efficient, booming chemistry down to
frightened unexpected tears and bedrailings,
his wife waiting in the wings, praying.
Robert Bly, blond veteran of great wars,
replaced Nordic farmer,
imagined visionary of all
those things with kitchens attached.
The purchase had made the
cropped close curating cashier
wince in retaining her salesface, keeping
her attraction to complex
beauties while fumbling with apple's ring up app.
I want to tell her that
I already know men in flannels
don't share or fake their fixes,
not with us, not with our rites of passage.
Noticing this, but touching nothing.
Look at me,
I'll pretend to know your mind too.
Months later I'm reading soberly,
in the land of tasteless milks,
distinguishing another border
where fresh simplicity crosses into pine-knocking
territories of corn and man and christ
where again I have no place,
nor patience for their dismissive dodderings.
Fingering the mythic fuck,
still bored, bruised, but smiling.
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