a coast of toast

m and i went to take pictures of the neighborhood and i found a toaster and a lamp hooked up to a streetlight. and i found a no yoga parking sign.

arrival

my new mustache picture came!

at the beginning

at the beginning of the road into the swamp they put up a sign that said macondo and another one on the main street that said god exists. in all the houses keys to memorizing objects and feelings had been written. but the system demanded so much vigilance and moral strength that many succumbed to the spell of an imaginary reality, one invented by themselves, which was less practical for them but more comforting.

ggm, one hundred years of solitude

kafka talks to joseph k

last night, we went to a play at the bindery called joseph k. the set was sparse: a large metal hamster wheel and a magician's box, which, at the top, sat a chair, desk with a typewriter and kafka with large black circles under his eyes. throughout the play, kafka reassures joseph k that he loves him and admits that some of the things that are happening he didn't intend. joseph k finds himself awake and accused and the build up to the trial is cluttered with interruptions from the landlord, the slutty tenant, court officials, a musical act, and kafka, who at one point trades places with jk:

"The story plays out in necessarily inevitable and murky fashion. Everyone disappoints Joseph, including, ultimately, his own author. Joseph pleads with Kafka to save him, but Kafka wonders if his characters are ever truly in his control — a point viscerally demonstrated when Kafka's fictional lawyer seizes him and, finding him as guilty as Joseph, slices Kafka's tongue out."

the set was industrial and shadowy. the props, which included a full, and later, a fully eaten apple, were proficient. the dialogue was lustful and quick. the play was stunningly imagined, cast, and performed. and it was written by a local playwright: martin mcgovern.

mustaches and strings

i just bought this:

http://shop.marcjohns.com/collections/prints/products/mustaches-on-strings-signed-print

which makes me think of this shadowbox, seen above, i put things in a long time ago.

i don't know why hanging mustaches are so pleasurable. i guess they just are.

to: denver

these are some pictures from in front of my house. this is what it looks like in front of my house when tornado sirens go on and on.

i'm pretty sure the best thing i've read today goes like this:










i called out for you twice & a boy
with your name showed up
with all the animals from the road
at the end of the storybook.

jmw, the book of whispering in the projection booth

or, maybe it was this:

the loud stuffing of people into corners with other people
and then the beautiful special people with skin kissing
each other. why does the morning seem all draggy and alive?

jb, take it

goldie hawn

since mg is visiting, goldie hawn and kate hudson are here as well. they spend most of their time on the couch, however, goldie sleeps underneath mg's pillow in nighttime. with them here, i can't get anything done, what's more, we talk so much about them being here that that's all i think about now. mg will say, who's that? and i will say, it's stinks (what we call goldie because apparently she has a foot odor problem, or so mg tells me). when we leave the house, we have to prepare them for our departure. he sits them up right in the seat i usually sit in. when we're gone, he asks what they're doing, to which the response is varied, but usually, stinking up the house. this morning, we had a photo shoot.

some new things

i just got done putting a picture of birds (a lot of starlings) on a telephone wire into a frame that is silver.

and i finished my first year here.

and i went to see neko case.

and i was going to see leonard cohen, but the rain kept him away.

now, it's summer. z.schomburg's chapbook, the pond, came with a black and white kodak of a small girl with her arms by a window. the picture also has two women with watches in chairs looking out the same window. it's from july, 1958.

yesterday at a mall, some children were being mannequins in a shop window. when i passed, they forgot to be mannequins and smiled at me with their eyes going in a different direction.

now m is playing the new clem snide and i am watching the rain.