"a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle"

That tea towel broke my heart years ago as I walked down the street and saw it in a gallery in the Short North.
I had to have it.
Today I stopped worrying about what I was going to do with it and let it out of it's paper prison.
It is perfect in Finnian's colorful room.




title post- Reality Bites 1994

"I like the night life. I like to boogie."

Gorillas CAN be graceful., originally uploaded by Olivia Bee.

When I was in college my most lucrative job was that of a singing telegram/flower & balloon delivery girl at Milo's balloons.
I would dress in either a giant chicken or gorilla suit and bring joy to kids, convalescents and rowdy men in bars.
I was thinking about it the other day because there was an ad in the paper about balloon deliveries for valentines and I wondered if high school kids still send flowers and balloons to each other. I'm sure they do. When I was in school it was hot shit to get something delivered to the school. I was thinking I could reprise my role in this bleak economy and be the local chicken or gorilla lady during the major holidays of teenage loins (Valentines and Sweetest Day- which by the way I have never understood...just another bad day for poor men.) I could advertise and have some local pals drive me around in a rented van for a cut of the profits. Kids will spend money on proving love and coolness. I am sure that has not changed. Anyhoo. This could be a real idea for a part time job for me. I have no shame.

Valentines day was my best day ever back then when I worked for Milo's. I would ditch my real job and all classes to be driven around all over Southeastern Ohio in a seatless van that was stuffed to the gills with balloons and 10-dollar cheap rose vases. I made a lot of money that day and it was all paid to me in cash. My favorite.
The parts that sucked were the nursing homes and the so very old and listless. It was almost ridiculous to keep singing or holding out a gorilla hand as they just stared up at me with cloudy cataracts and blue veiny skin, most likely- terrified. I also hated the mean girls at the sorority houses. I wanted to punch them in their perfect faces as they feigned embarrassment or pretended they didn't like the attention.
But the real bad always happened at bars. Like the one day in particular my friend Meg was driving me around on a Saturday for deliveries and I had to deliver a dozen balloons to the owner of the Smiling Skull Saloon. The bar is about as charming as it’s name. It was dark inside the place at 2pm and as soon as I walked in I knew I was in trouble. From the inside of my itchy stiff gorilla suit I could smell the bourbon and beer and smokes hanging heavy in the air. Bob Seger was playing on the jukebox and a bunch of men in assorted leather looked ready to rumble. I started getting knocked around a bit as soon I walked to the bar and my paw holding the balloons was shaking and at times it just wasn’t worth keeping in character. Around the third slightly hard punch to the shoulder I ripped my Gorilla head off, and shook out my long golden hair. I screamed, “I’m a girl you asshole!”
I stomped my feet and shook my fist.
And just like that I shocked a bunch of men nearly sober.
The bartender fell right in love and for the next year my waitress friends and me would go to the Skull every sat night after our late shift and get a free drink before we headed up to our bar.
The bartender wore wranglers and never had a chance with me.
I was uninterested in things that were not foreign or artsy.
I was only interested in weird men who treated me badly and so I used the bartender for free drinks and I think he was OK with that really.
Just like I would like to start that local business of balloon delivery to high schools so that kids could give me money to send sentiments of love to other kids. So I could deliver small heartaches and drop off tiny tears. So I could make some money while they all start to learn what love is not.

title post- So I Married an Ax Murderer 1993

"Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again."

memories that for no good reason stick around:
Standing in the heat with my mother to see Conway Twitty in Nashville at Fan Fair in the 80's.
It was some sort of record store that had been partitioned off for the lines of women with big hair to come and stand.
I don't know what I was expecting at age 10, but a sorta puffy and sweaty man wearing a jeweled western shirt was not it. He had crunchy puffy hair, like the kind that was achieved with Salon Selectives or other such scrunching spray of the era.
He had a fat gold marker and someone kept placing the color photographs in front of him and he would smile and scribble and say darling and thanks a lot and it was so freaky.
My mom sang his songs in the car as we drove back to Ohio.
I think I sang along too.
He was kinda pervy that one.

title post- The English Patient 1996

"We're all going through this. It's our time at the edge."

There is just stuff floating around.
Pinky swear the mood will lift soon over here at Casa all deep and dark and shit.
I thought about Travis today and how me and Joe and our friends J&D (who were our very good friends about ten years ago for a short time before they broke up and we all lost each other to the world) would listen to Travis and go skinny dipping at Stroud's Run in Athens, Ohio. That was a long time ago, but I can still hear the crickets. And I can still remember slightly the awareness of being safe as we floated.
There was not much out there to hurt us.
Not much really.





title post-St Elmo's Fire 1985

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"Great, or maybe we could go somewhere and just eat a bunch of caramels."

My dear friend and I had dinner last night and the conversation drifted towards her study of Gestalt therapy as it often does lately.
It happens because she is surrounded by it and because I am seduced by it.
I like the word. Gestalt.
I like saying it and jutting my chin and placing hands on hips and being very German sexy.I just like it.
And like other fantastic foreign words it cannot be translated into a single equivalent English thought. It means many things like pattern and shape and figure and whole form. I like that. My friend talks to me about the holistic approach to therapy and life. I like that. I never want my whole to be necessarily the sum of my parts.
I like that I am special and you cannot carve me up and serve me crazy or sane.

I like that my friend is working on all of this and giving it to me in small slices over beers and nachos. I should be in therapy- I am an artist. But I never have been and I don't think I ever will be. Much like religion I tend to really do most of my work right there in my noble frontal lobes. I really am rarely without thoughts and work in my mind. I know it sounds stupid, but it is true. But if I did buy into some sort of mode I might like this Gestalt thing. I don't know much more than what she gives me, but I am sorta thinking that at the crux of this philosophy is this little bitch called awareness.
I think it flows throughout the whole shebang and means that one can try and realize what they are doing psychologically and change the path. Their path. Or something like that. But awareness is frightening. It is raw and transparent like onion skin. It is what can perhaps hold us back forever. Our paths get so worn and traveled down don't they? We know them by heart and we don't even have to walk anymore or open our eyes- we kinda fly. But I think if we go outside of our comfortable zone and harness our inner Ferdinand Magellan then we can plow new paths and even invite others to walk down them with us. Right?

So anyways my thing I am working on is me. And it is hard work.
I want to believe those older ladies about ten years ago at weddings or other social functions. They would look at me and my unlined perfect skin and tell me things like "yr thirties are the best!" "Yr thirties is where you really know yrself"
You know shit like that...
Well, I am smack dab in the middle of mine now and fairly certain that there is a whole bunch more about me to learn.
What do you think? When do we ever know ourselves all the way?
When do we stop working it all out?


title post- Good Will Hunting 1997

"Isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more? "

A Thousand Words from Ted Chung on Vimeo.


title post- Before Sunrise 1995

"Nobody takes a picture of something they want to forget."

Sorta Teal

I would like to define it
When it comes creeping around
Give it a name
Or a reason
Explain it like a bad Rachael Ray recipe
Like a argument unresolved at midnight
Like the way carob tastes
But all I do is sling it over my shoulder and carry it around
Keenly aware of the way it feels
But unsure where it comes from
All I know is my mojo left town yesterday
Hitched a ride to some other lucky bastards house
Where he floats around the room telling stories
And making them all laugh
Heads thrown back
Where he takes the lady into a back bedroom and shows her
Most of Copernicus's truth
And then later makes art
Out of nothing at all


title post- One Hour Photo 2002

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"Hey now, don't you tell me you don't remember me 'cause I sure as heckfire remember you."

pacifier tree, originally uploaded by harald_kirr.

This is the month I had originally thought I would start
Operation Nightmare(take away pacifier fro Blaise)
and it is perfect that I was able to reflect about it over on AlphaMom.
I am still scared to death. It is hard times. I was way more relaxed with Finn and he gave his "diddies" away to the Diddy Fairy on his 3rd birthday and never looked back, but Blaise doesn't talk very much. Blaise says a few words and is smart as hell- but I think his pacifier dependency is really making him talk much less. SO- I will let you know how it goes. Feel free to leave some of yr own hints and tips over at Alphamom and here. People need help! We all need help when dealing with hard core addictions! :)

My mom said they had to bribe me off the pacis with a "bed with a top" (Canopy Bed) that I saw in a department store- What good taste I had back then! Rock!

And how cool is that pacifier tree?

title post- Groundhog Day 1993

"You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie."

The lovely Head over Heels tagged me for a fun little thing.
The rules go something like this:
pick the fourth photo in your fourth picture folder.
Then tag some pals.
I was scared as I rarely clean up- you should see the state of my desktop.
When I worked I once left my planner open in a big meeting and my employees later told me my agenda looked like that of a schizophrenic artist.
There is method in my madness though.
Here in this 4th picture I found-Finnian looking out a window.
He is stunning here I think and it reminds me of moving here.
It reminds me of change and growth and soft summer days.

OK- just bc I rarely do these- I TAG:
Arts and Dafts
KAY
SimpleSong
MayaMade
Redheadedlefty





title post- Sleepless in Seatle 1993

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"Would you like to listen to my records Caroline?... Caroline."

Even though I am sick today (stage left- fever delirium) and my camera died (gasp) I can still think about my Grace in Small Things Sundays...

-cracking the spine of a new book
-the way Joe smells in the crook of his neck
-The corner of Joe's smile (where I wish I could crawl inside of)
-homemade pizza recipes
-Finn having tea with us now
-telling someone how I talk to my grandmother each and ever day. It must be odd or something bc most people look shocked.
-Nars Orgasm (a gift from my friend and I look alive again!!!! merci.)

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title post- Untamed Heart 1993(um like I so forgot about that movie until yesterday)