Tuesday, March 20, 2018

In the Air.

Dear Equinox,

There have been a lot of signs, and I've meant to tell you all about them:  The geese flew North just on Saturday, and the ravens are choosing very carefully sticks for the rebuilding.  The nectarine is going from pink to green, and the very last of the almond blossom petals are dropping to the ground.  There is green too, aplenty, and the daffodils are just running out of buds to open.

There's a kind of rush, too, and so I haven't had the time to describe it all in detail.  There is also this song, for today, that I have been meaning to play for you.

I hope I am ready for the new season! 

To Clarify.


Dear Unsure,

Be thee of good cheer.  You do get it; don't believe for a minute that you don't.  If you still want convincing, though, that art is best when it is unspecified, ambiguous, and open to your own experience, then read this guy:  He's a Guy, a Published Guy, and I hope you will take all the powerful consensus and proof inherent in his Position As Such and believe this Man.  He pretty much explains everything in detail, and leaves no doubt.

I just confirmed these facts myself yesterday with a young woman artist of my acquaintance and I almost kissed her for acknowledging the intuitive, non-linear, and unconscious aspects of her own art-making, or what could be called her 'creative process.'  I am a bit fed up with the term 'creative process,' because it has too much airplay for my tastes, but it serves in a pinch.

You see, we wander around, more or less in the darkened gloom, and once in a rare while, we bump into someone or something who confirms that yes, we are wandering in the dark here, and the contact is a genuine cause for celebration, because isn't it a kind of miracle that people who cannot see where and why they are going should agree on something?  Here's to agreement on un-knowing, then, I hope?


It's nothing against guys, you know, per se, it's just a teensy bit niggling that I am still unable to persuade by methods of brute force and 'gender superiority' alone and if you think I am being a bit too flip, check the most recent stats:  https://www.aauw.org/research/the-simple-truth-about-the-gender-pay-gap/

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Maybe he's crying just for me.

Dear All,

Here it is- this is surely the most poignant and pretty song ever- your song for the day on Radio Dodo.  Do you hear that weeping willow?  Play it all night long.  Again & again.

Once more.

Friday, March 16, 2018

Sewer, Tailor, Sewist, Seamtress.

Dear Sewists & Shoppists, and Whathaveyou-ists,

Will you look at these two beautiful people talking about making things and seeing and awareness!  It fills me to the brim with optimism.  Also, with desire, because the fabrics that they carry at Merchant and Mills are absolutely fabulous.  They are exactly what you want.  I have my shopping basket filled and my finger on what my dear friend calls the 'trigger:'  Meaning, the 'buy' button.  Yes, I am a click away from spending, spending, spending, but the film here and the window shopping are free and unfettered by shipping charges, reality, or seams that need to be ripped out.  So here's to potential!

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Here's why.

Dear You,

I finally have the answer for you- I missed it before, but it was right in front of my face.  You ask, why roller skate?  And the answer:  Because you might fall.  The thrill is in the possibility of falling.  I offer this glorious snippet of 16 mm film as proof:

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Under the Gun.

Dear Beloved,

These are the days of our disintegration.  Everything is broken, gone, or rusted through.  The people who shaped my thoughts, my being, are dying daily.  Who knows, now, what it means to 'hang up the phone.'  What we have now is 'call ended.'  The lack of individual will is well-noted.

The streets are sinking, the dust is piling up.  Little expressions like singing Happy Birthday feel like tiny squawks and puny gesture.  Minute bolsters against decay like invitations to tea and secret societies are too little, too late.  We are all of us living in the shadow of imminent loss- every morning I wake up and turn on the radio: when I hear Bob Dylan being played, I think, "oh hell, he's gone...."

Don't bother to check the news, it's true, because it always has been, we are only still yet dying and not dead, and so we will need to fill the time as usual.  Today I will make drawings and a little noise, wash some clothes, and maybe read again some of Seeing is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees.

Thursday, March 8, 2018

Part Two?!

Dear H.,

Get a load of this!  El Paso has a part two!  Right here, on Radio Dodo.  It's Faleena's side of the story... who knew?  My DJ just played it for me, and I send it on to you!