November 2011
29 posts
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Day 32: Lilith & Her Brother
I speak to you in the language of snake and crow. You reply in poetic verse and song. I tell you music is the language of the dead and you agree. This is why we can eat mulberries off the ground in July. You bite my fingers for a photograph as two large dogs scour the area.
I tell you I’m part wolf and you say he is too but that my eyes are like that of a tiger. I tell you they...
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Day 31: The Secret Room In The Basement
I recently became incredibly obsessed with a secret room in the basement. The door is kept shut by a little hook that holds it close. Upon entering the temperature drops to at least twenty degrees below the cellar temp. The floors are dirt, the walls are stone. There is a part of a birch tree leaning against the wall, no lights or sockets can be found and to the left there is a cement...
Day 30: Talking to Empty Skies
Kiss me and you will see how important I am. Sylvia Plath
On October 27th this blog began, Sylvia Plath’s birthday. I found a picture of her the other day. In my head it was in front of the gate at Smith College. In my head, she was holding a cup of coffee. It turns out the actual picture was nothing like what was in my head. I took my version anyway.
You and I have a few...
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Day 29: The Swipe
“I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.”
-Jack Kerouac quote
It’s Holly’s 10 year anniversary. Not to the exact day, that would be the 22nd but it’s Thanksgiving and it’s her anniversary and I just found this picture of Brian on the floor that Fiona Helmsley...
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Day 28: Spiders Across The Stars
One half hour of sleep and I picked up my bag and jumped on the train to Massachusetts. I had been thinking of the cellar a lot, of the old creek in the house at night and the way farmhouses look. I thought I’d journal or read but instead I stared out the window listening to music. Two and a half hours later I was in the car and on the way to the house.
Down in the basement the spiders...
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Day 27: The Ghost of Jack Kerouac
*Lack of internet has me updating for a few days.
“I think the ghost of Jack Kerouac has a crush on me.” I say to Melissa as she walks in the door. She’s drenched from the rainstorm.
“That makes sense.” She says slipping out her clothes.
“No I mean really, everywhere I go, On the Road has been falling off the shelf, in a pile at a thrift store, sitting on...
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Day 26: Impermanence
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” ― Marilyn Monroe
Can you tell I’m soft today? The lurking eclipse is bringing out insecurities. I tried on a skirt today that a month ago was so loose it practically fell off of me. Now it’s snug around the hips. This does not bode well for my...
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Day 25: Dance of the Dead
The walk from Astoria to Williamsburg is an ugly one. I took it because it got me there faster than taking the train. I also took it because I have such a bad sense of direction that I wanted to have an idea of how everything is related.
I took an ugly walk to see a beautiful person.
This was actually taken on the way back after I vowed I would never walk back that way again. See the lies...
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Day 24: A Book of You
“I would like to write a Book which would drive men mad, which would be like an open door leading them where they would never have consented to go, in short, a door that opens onto reality.”-Antonin Artaud
Act 3: Scene 1
Katelan is in the bedroom preparing to draw. She has not been feeling good and looks tired.
KATELAN: Tonight is your last night. Tomorrow I’m dancing for Jeniviva....
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Day 23: Like the Chatter of a Beggar's Teeth.
the reproduction on
the paper
of a magical action
that I have performed
in true space
with the breath of my
lungs
with my hands
with my head
and my 2 feet
with my torso and my
arteries, etc. — excerpt from 50 Drawings to Murder Magic
Act 2: Scene 1
Katelan sits in front of the altar gripping the paintbrush. Her other hand dips into water sloshing it onto the page. The paint...
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Day 22: Theater of Cruelty
The initiate in the Tibetan Chöd ritual is required to undergo a visionary experience in which the physical body is dismembered and devoured by demons while the “higher self” watches, unmoved by the gruesome destruction of its flesh. This type of experience, common to the shamanic tradition, demonstrates the sometimes violent and uncompromising nature of “spiritual” or...
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Day 21: Resuscitation
I’m listening to audio files from Veronika von Volkova and reading your emails. I’m eating figs and cheddar cheese and drinking toffee flavored coffee. I caught up with the blog, with the days, and the images.
I’m listening to Veronika’s voice. It’s smooth and sexy and sounds like a soft melody. She’s telling me about a dream she had. She says I ...
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Day 20: The Halfway Point - Part 2
I don’t think most people understand what it’s like to lose your memory, to have things slowly blur until you have months turn into days. Worse yet you have memories of people, places, and events that don’t even exist.
With the white pill and the blue pill and my old friend Jack D I started my memory loss although I didn’t know it at the time. It was 1997, things...
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Day 20: The Halfway Point - Part 1
I broke myself yesterday. I was stressed out, overstimulated, malnourished, and dehydrated. How’s that for a dangerous combination? I went for a walk at midnight to clear my head and ended up at the secret spot for me and him. I bring him there a lot even though he’s not physically in this country.
We have this thing. I tell him, “I brought the imaginary you to the park...
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Day 19: Breaking
I’m just going to stand here wearing weird makeup pretending I don’t look crazy.
My writing and paintings are opposites. I can only paint well when doing my own projects. My writing however doesn’t come unless it has a purpose.
Duality
I think of duality a lot. I think of who I am and who I want to be. Not many people can figure me out. Am I mysterious or confusing? I...
Day 18: The Baron's Wife
The test of a true possession is to rub rum laced with hot peppers on your genitals.
Maman Brigitte drinks rum laced with 21 hot peppers. The drink is so hot anyone not possessed by the Lwa could not drink it. She passes hot Haitian peppers on the skin of her genitals, and this is the test to which women are subjected when they are suspected of “faking” possession. Her dances...
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Day 17: Nerdface Blah
Growing up the worst thing you could call someone was either a großen Schweinehund (big pig dog) or a nerdface blah. Day 17 brought the day of the nerdface blah.
I don’t want to give you a good picture. I don’t want to because today I don’t care. Tomorrow I may care but today I don’t. I just don’t. I don’t care that it’s grainy. I don’t care...
Day 16: Please Hang Up & Try Again
Hangup | Upload Music
I found a tag that said 38 on the ground walking from Prince to Canal street. This paired with the keyhole plate from Kim Boekbinder made me think that day 38 would be a big one. I’m always finding keys but never the keyholes to put them in. I did however find 1/3 of a door and lugged it home.
Thoughts:
I want more typewriters.
I want more rotary phones.
I...
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Day 15: Fire Muse
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. T. S. Eliot
The fire muse stopped by and taught me how to out-create the anger. You see anger is a tricky bitch and she’ll prey on you like nobodies business but, if you out-create her predators she can become you greatest ally, your biggest asset, your greatest warrior.
A few years back I asked a...
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Day 14: The Slow Ache
You had sent me a message about your addictions and how they were holding you back. I acknowledged this and told you that we must both be the Hermit right now. Meanwhile I’m looking back on emails and find this from another friend.
5 days ago:
I had a dream about you last night— many of the details are fading, but I feel like it was important. It’s about us both changing ...
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Day 13: Life, Death, & Keys
This photo was not taken by me. It was taken by Veronika von Volkova in the summertime in a secret garden. I wasn’t going to post any photos not taken by my own hand but this one is different as I believe it truly captures me, my essence, my passion.
Day 13 brought the death of my computer. In tarot it is the death card, the significance being the death of something that no longer...
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Day 12: Good Morning Joan Vollmer
This morning I awoke in Soho and snapped this photo. I awoke with Joan Vollmer on my mind. A few days ago a friend’s Mom had said, “Are you sure there’s a French woman? Are you sure it’s not Joan?” But I insisted they were two separate deities.
“Good morning Joan Vollmer.” I said making coffee. It seemed like a Thelonious Monk and poetry kind of...
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Day 11: War Paint
This morning I was called to go to Occupy Wall Street. I usually stay away from revolutions unless I’m specifically called and until this day it hadn’t called my name. I appreciated the movement and everyone involved but I also knew the time wasn’t right for me to go.
Being in Soho, I walked over to the park to check it out. I had forgotten my camera but chalked it up to...
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Day 10: Martyrs & Confessors
Martyr: A person who sacrifices something of great value and especially life itself for the sake of principle.
Confessor: One who gives heroic evidence of faith but does not suffer martyrdom.
For days I’ve been trying to take a photo of myself with a thorned crown. I had no idea why. I realized I would find no photo that I could secretly slip into another, that I would have to...
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Day 9: Etymology
If I were a word this would be my etymology.
Native to Western Ma, the spelling was created by using a letter from each persons name in the family.
“But I like crayons in my nose, raisins & m&m’s too. I like them.” Katelan age 3
“There was always something different about you. We always marveled how even as a very young child, you had so many friends yet ...
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Day 8: Drowned World
A bit on the spirits that were mentioned in earlier posts.
Email from Sheryl:
Her name is Raymone and I have no idea what she is doing hanging out in your apartment! lol She has a bobbed haircut like a sort of flapper girl haircut and is dressed smartly but from that kind of era. She has dark hair like yours and a string of pearls. She has quite the ego! She likes to think of herself as...
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Day 7: Voodoo Child
Music: Voodoo Chile - Angelique Kidjo
This morning everything failed. Work I had depended on broke down and faded away. If anything can make you mad in one moment it’s the thought of not making enough to survive. I cried. And then in true warrior fashion I wiped myself off and got up again. This is going to sound weird but my spirit has gotten prettier. You can tell in the photographs...
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Day 6: Resistance & Release
Those who do not move, do not notice their chains ~ Rosa Luxemburg via Munir Katul
In order to develop we must out generate our past paths. The person we were when we were five is not the same person we are now, they are a path of us, our old lives. We out create the five year old by turning six. The cycle continues on as we get older, each year we learn something new; each year we...
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Day 5: The Enigma
You and I are cut from the same cloth. It’s why I understand when you send me the message that you almost lost your life. I send you a message back saying that you should be sleeping curled up next to me, not lying in a hospital bed.
And at the same time I’m terrified, that I might lose you too. Because you’ve given me life and I don’t want to be the grieving widow...
