46 minutes ago I became officially finished with the Spring 2006 semester at LTU. Last night I stayed up late finishing a collage self portrait showing my agony and nerves a-raging across a landscape of fear and worry. The class did indeed enjoy it. And now I'm done.
And it is sunny. If I wanted to, I could sit completely still for the rest of the day and not worry about homework or building systems or the names of impressionist painters. It feels so good I could cry.
15 days.
I would like for you to contact me, if you are reading this and enjoy my company, to hang out soon and often. All I have is work. And rock performances. I want to spend as much time around a vast multitude of folk as is allowed by state law.
Also, as I lay in half sleep this morning, listening to the Wise cry to be let out onto the porch, in between thinking of throwing him against the wall, I also thought of some strange things. Like, being rid of all oral languages. Instead replacing communication through food....for instance....a half eaten icecream sandwhich could signify that I need a ride to the grocery store. Or a withered apple to signify that I am late getting my taxes done. A pile of seven grapes, three green and four purple (one of which has been peeled of it's skin) could mean that my favorite show, Knight Rider, is on in twelve minutes so please go get the potato chips.
Or what about squirt guns? We could all carry around squirt guns and squirt eachother to communicate....maybe in morse code?
Basically, I'm tired of hearing everyone's voice. Grab a granola bar or a Super-Soaker and let's chat.
Actually, I love your voice. My favorite voices are those of Mollie, The Wise, my dad and of course Tom Waits.
I'm going to go read a book in the sun now. I'm free all summer now. Let us get together and create moments.
Tuesday, May 9, 2006
Tuesday, May 2, 2006
A Treatise on the Science of Arms
This weekend was a murderous one. I barely survived. Overnight shifts at old coffee shops, Canada concerts inside of Blind Pigs (afloat in a sea of drunkeness, bachelorettes and ashtray noses). Late nights. But good nights. But also nights that put me further behind schedule with my semester project. The problem = design an urban studio for Tulane University in New Orleans. The solution = panic, wasted time, a full and violent loathing for my instructors which directly leads to a complete lack of desire to attend studio. If I can somehow manage to pull it off by 2pm on Wednesday I will be treated to a lovely concert in Ann Arbor with the incredible Chris Bathgate and Annie Palmer as well as Canada's friends The Dardenelles. Booze will exist inside of me. I will exist in a system of strings and wires that moves my elbows and knees as an audience member admiring the terribly wonderful tremors of live and lovely music. Mouthfulls.
In a few weeks I hit the road with Page France. Every time I think about it I shake and shiver. The record will be out by then. In hands, in ears. I'll be in a tree. I am most nervous and excited about playing at The Mercury Lounge in New York City. I'm currently downloading a Joanna Newsom concert from June of 2004 which took place at The Mercury Lounge. I became even more anxious and excited knowing that I'll be performing my songs upon the very stage where less than two years ago Joanna did the same. I want to drink lemonade with her and hug her in between gulps. I want to watch her fingers flip between stretched strings. Though our bones break and our souls seperate, though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil, with her songs in my head I shall never have a long face.
Today I received the final/mastered copy of This Cursed House. I've heard this record so many times now I don't even know what to think anymore. I need to not listen to it for a while. I need to think about new songs. I need to finish the next 48 hours as quickly and as skillfully as possible so that I can sit in the yard and balance new thoughts between my open ears.
That's all I want right now. To lay the entire day in the grass with a book and a headphones. To not have to worry about sketching and explaining, cutting and pasting, drafting and diagramming, typing and sighing.
To simply feel the sun shave my face with it's millions of tiny blades. To watch the grass wave. To watch geese gather wind under wings. To watch ants climbing the mountains of sidewalks.
And once that is all taken care of, I want to play as many rock shows as is allowed. These things I wish in the name of all that breathes and stretches it's knees, that shakes it's sleeves at the gathering breeze.
Send me your pillow and your favorite blanket so that I may rest easy.
In a few weeks I hit the road with Page France. Every time I think about it I shake and shiver. The record will be out by then. In hands, in ears. I'll be in a tree. I am most nervous and excited about playing at The Mercury Lounge in New York City. I'm currently downloading a Joanna Newsom concert from June of 2004 which took place at The Mercury Lounge. I became even more anxious and excited knowing that I'll be performing my songs upon the very stage where less than two years ago Joanna did the same. I want to drink lemonade with her and hug her in between gulps. I want to watch her fingers flip between stretched strings. Though our bones break and our souls seperate, though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil, with her songs in my head I shall never have a long face.
Today I received the final/mastered copy of This Cursed House. I've heard this record so many times now I don't even know what to think anymore. I need to not listen to it for a while. I need to think about new songs. I need to finish the next 48 hours as quickly and as skillfully as possible so that I can sit in the yard and balance new thoughts between my open ears.
That's all I want right now. To lay the entire day in the grass with a book and a headphones. To not have to worry about sketching and explaining, cutting and pasting, drafting and diagramming, typing and sighing.
To simply feel the sun shave my face with it's millions of tiny blades. To watch the grass wave. To watch geese gather wind under wings. To watch ants climbing the mountains of sidewalks.
And once that is all taken care of, I want to play as many rock shows as is allowed. These things I wish in the name of all that breathes and stretches it's knees, that shakes it's sleeves at the gathering breeze.
Send me your pillow and your favorite blanket so that I may rest easy.
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