Archive for August, 2006

from liesl

1. What is in your left pocket?

2. How much alcohol did you have this weekend?

3. Do you eat gas station food?
God no.

4. What is one musician/group that could disappear right now and make the world a better place?
Mariah Carey.

5. Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?

6. Do people that scream into their cell phones annoy you?
oh yeah.

8. Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?

9. Do you sit or stand in the shower?

10. Could you live with roommates?
probably not.

11. How many pair of flip flops do you own?
None. I think they’re icky.

12. Where were you born?
Lowville, N.Y.

13. What is your drug of choice?
Diet Coke

14. Ever been to rehab/jail?

15. Highest level of school completed?
high school

16.) Last time you had a run in with the cops?
don’t remember.

17.) Where do you work? Or go to school? Or are you a
I work at home.

18.) What do you want to be when you grow up?

19. How cool are you?
Uncool and geeky.

20.) Who is number 1 on your top 8?

21.) What cell phone service do you have?
i broke down and bought a tracfone the other day.

22.) How often do you get on myspace?
every day.

23.) How many people are on your friends list? How many do you actually know?
12. I’d say I know about half. Maybe more.

24.) When did you join MySpace?
I don’t remember.

25.) What kind of car do you drive?
a Chevy Blazer

26.) What is your dream car?
I want a motorcycle. Failing that, a hybrid would be great.

27.) What is your favorite pets name?

28.) If you could have sex with one celebrity, who would it be?
Gael Garcia Bernal (motorcycle diaries).

29.) Last time you broke the law?
the last time i was speeding.

30.) How long have you been in the state that you live in?
7 years.



The usual random Wednesday thoughts, this time on words, in all their forms….

1. When I’d finished reading  Hannibal, the sequel to The Silence of the Lambs, I threw it across the room, then made it into a book sculpture the next day. It was an awful book, but the hardback’s  insides had a great pattern going on that went well with my folded paper sculpture. I am very mean to art that doesn’t meet my standards. Bad.

2. I have four different copies of the Tao Te King. No particular favorite though.

3. I still get the shivers when I think of some of the bad poetry I had to endure in creative writing class. “Death comes riding astride a white horse…”, for example. Hello, Jim Morrisson called. He wants his angst back.

4. I’ve never finished any of the russian novels I’ve started. The names confuse me. Too many. Or maybe I choose bad translations.

5. Since I’ve had Emm, I can count on one hand, and still have leftover fingers, the number of novels I have read. That has to change.

6. I wish I loved Anne Sexton’s recordings as much as I love reading her poetry. Her delivery is too dramatic for me. It was pretty cool, listening to Dylan Thomas’s voice for the first time though. It’s true that poetry is best heard aloud.

7. Magical realism is my favorite genre of fiction. Think  Rushdie, Garcia-Marquez, Allende, et al.

8. My most cherished and missed memory is reading the newspaper together with my father as a child and discussing the news like two adults. Never patronized me or watered things down.  Later, we would fight over the sports section. He made me love newspapers…I would read five or six a day at one point.

9. That said, I agree with my pal Erica that the newspapers are all going to hell. And that makes me very sad.

10. By the time I was ten, I’d finished reading The Book. I don’t consider myself a christian anymore, but I still think the Old Testament has some fabulous stories , Jonah and the Whale and all the prophet stories among them.

ittle things and strange dreams

This dream is too wierd not to share. Last night I dreamt that I was back in my hometown with my brothers and sisters and we were trick or treating. But all the candy we got was….Easter candy. In pink and purple foil, or in pastel plastic eggs. And sometimes, we had to go find the candy in people’s yards. Strange. Gotta love a dream with candy in it though.

I blame it on the weather. It’s so chilly here and wet that I feel in my bones that I should be at the pumpkin patch or out on the soccer field slogging around, though I haven’t played in over twenty years. Every year in the fall I feel that way.

This is the time of the year when I amp my yarnwork up. I have this hankering to make….socks. Cabled ones. Though I’ve never knit on four needles or in the round. Hmm. I used to do alot of cabled sweaters when I had the time. I like the sculptural feel. Since I’ve had Emm, every project I do these days is small. Things I can carry around.

I miss small baby Emm and carrying her around. I wish she could have stayed that way forever. Or for a few years more, anyway. *sigh*. Perhaps I need a kitty.

books, poetry, trust

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.

I first met Rumi on a day when I was feeling depressed, distressed and utterly hopeless. I think it was on a day when I’d learned that my sister’s cancer had taken a turn for  the worse and I knew intuitively that there would be no healing that could save her.

I sat down to catalogue some books for listing. I used to sell used books on the internet. The first book I’d picked up was The Essential Rumi. Beautiful cover, like an oriental carpet. I cracked it open to check its condition, and was greeted with a flutter of rose petals falling gently to my lap. Someone had loved this book. I had to investigate why. I started reading the page I’d opened. And wouldn’t you know, what I was reading applied directly to what I was feeling, like an invisible cord between me and the page. I didn’t catalogue any books that day. I spent the day with Rumi instead. And placed him on my bookshelf when I was done.

I always read poetry by randomly opening a page. This method never disappoints. I love randomness. Just finding things, not neccessarily seeking out. It’s why I do collage. It takes alot of trust to believe that you will find exactly what the situation dictates, like some secret voice is directing somewhere, ommniscient and all knowing. You give up the folly of control and preconceived notions and find out your own truths instead of letting so called rules dicate them for you.

Which is why I chose that particular Rumi verse at the top.


Is it fall, already? Yeah, I think so. Not that I mind. Just give me some sunny and crispy days. And some pumpkin muffins.


Love it when C. brings me French…er, Belgian Fries from
here. Best fries ever.

I am in love with this site. The owl tees in particular. She’s got a great list of links, too.


I didn’t think of this, it was on a forum I like to peruse, but I’ll let you snoop into my fridge, my closet, and my purse:

 # 5 items in your refrigerator right now:
lots of various cheeses
whole milk

# 5 items in your closet right now
vintage stuff for my shrines and assemblages
boxes of papers and photos for my collages

# 5 items in your car right now

 # 5 items in your purse right now
library card

# 5 items on your to do list right now
read to emm
straighten the living room
put the dishes away
work on swap piece
make cookies

# 5 items on your wish list right now
new camera
new scanner
for emm to stop whining all morning
a bottle of yellow chartreuse
an email from felix

a humument

I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this site yet. It’s one of my favorites. It’s the site that houses the project by British artist Tom Phillips, which began in the mid ’60’s and which is still “eternally evolving”. What he’s done is take a copy of the victorian novel A Human Document,  by W.H. Mallock and essentially altered and redesigned it and rewrote it into an epic of experimental poetry and prose, with accompanying illustration in all sorts of formats. Check it out, especially the gallery. Even better, get your hands on a copy of the book. This is a book like no other.


First let me assure my readers that the mouth that kisses my daughter does not spew forth words commonly found in the gutter. I’m more of a literary curser. But this is all I had to say this morning when I; me, and not the three year old did this: I turned on the faucet in the bathtub to soak a blanket and went out for a walk with Emm to return to a nice flood in the bathroom and kitchen. After figuring out how I was going to get rid of this water…thanks to my handy little rag mop and pail with the squeezie thing…and after Emm spent the entire time sloshing around the floor in her little green crocs exclaiming “too many water, mommy!”, I’m here, a good thirty minutes later, lamenting the thread of recurrent absentmindness that trickles through my existence. Yeah, this isn’t really all that unusual in my little life. I can handle the big stuff, but day to day stuff, well, my mind takes a wander off to some new brilliant idea and something like the bathtub incident usually happens in the mean time.

Which is why I didn’t drive for a good ten years. And this is why, when I turned 40, it was a cause celebre of ecstatic welcoming instead of the day in the dark that was C.’s birthday when he turned 40 almost exactly six months after me. I’d always figured that one of these days, some booboo of mine was going to cost me more than a ruined rug or a scorched pot.


Speaking of birthdays, it is dear Mom’s birthday this week. We will celebrate when she comes to visit Pentyne Labor day weekend. I never know what to get her. I mean, there is little better that I could do in life for her than present her with a brown eyed grandchild. I usually get her something baseball related. We both love baseball. Though she likes to whoop and holler at the tv while I sit zen-like and plot strategy. Unless I’m at the stadium with my binoculars checking out the player’s hot bods.  We  also both like old things, and she’s very generous with the booty she collects at all of the auctions and tag sales she frequents. There’s always a goody bag full of nifties, usually vintage, when she comes to visit. She likes to see what i come up with using the stuff she presents me with.

I look the most like her. We used to share the same hot temper, until I settled down somewhere along the way. Unlike me, she is outgoing and friendly, where I am reserved and polite until I decide I’m comfortable with you, if I am. Once, when I was late as usual to school during my senior year, we were walking down main street. Her shoe was untied, and as she had a very bad back, I tied it for her. Well, a nice woman came along and struck up a conversation with my mom as I was tying her shoe. And though she’d never met this woman before in her life, five minutes later, my mom invited her to breakfast, where they went while I snuck into the art room to hang out until I’d officially sign in at around lunchtime. Her daughter will never invite strangers to breakfast with her, though she most likely will buy them a coffee and a bagel if they look hungry and without a home.


Trying to get more accomplished during this quiet week. You know, like finish my website, my swap project, tinker with the sewing machine, and tidy up my work area. As much as I bitch about cleaning, I really can’t function in disorder and untidiness after a certain point.


If you like pretty patterns, and papergoods and things like that, check
Print & Pattern out. Pretty. Great colors.

August 2006
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