A Random Image

Archive for May, 2007

 
|| May 18, 2007 || 11:23 pm || Comments (0) ||

hella, hella

B WL

Things that I have an odd fixation with/for/on:

signs

doorways

trees

decaying structures

bass players

far aways

bath products

men’s hands

words

lipsticks*

muscle cars

nighttime

…I’m sure there are more, but these are all the relevant ones tonight.

*to include glosses

 
|| May 13, 2007 || 2:24 am || Comments (2) ||

Uplifted

it sustains yet

Driving down the block, something caught my eye.

“We have to go there. We have to.”

I do this when I travel; while most people are lulled by the sound of the rubber against asphalt, I am watching, waiting. There is always something ready to find me if I’ll only be alert to it.

There was a large sign hanging in the window, “THE PRAYER GALLERY”; my insides pulled up the way they do when I have a hum of connection to and a sense of overall rightness about something.

I noted with disappointment that we had missed the doors being open by less than an hour. As a group of twentysomethings stood in the adjacent parking lot shouting and swearing, I stood quietly and read what someone had written on the plate glass window

for now we see dimly through a mirror

but soon we shall see

FACE TO FACE

in a black, hastily-penned thick hand. So final, so assured, written in such a way as to convey a certain breathlessness. Excitement, maybe? Urgency mingled in?

I pulled out my camera and shot photos with a near-reverence. I wanted in there so badly. Something beckoned me inside, and I was indeed sad that I couldn’t get to whatever it was in those walls that was calling out for me. Turns out I was lucky to have even seen the place. It’s only supposed to have been open for the month of May; that’s okay, though. I’ve been thinking a whole lot lately on how to marry further my love of the arts and my passion for The Maker. This has stirred up a whole new perspective in me. Perhaps that’s all it was ever supposed to do for me, personally.

Hopefully, though, I’ll get to go back. Maybe, just maybe, this place will still be there and the doors will be unlocked.

 
|| May 11, 2007 || 12:12 pm || Comments (3) ||

Today I am counting my breaths.

“If something comes to life in others because of you, then you have made an approach to immortality.”

~Norman Cousins

It’s difficult to be divided cleanly into three parts: The one that is flat-footed, enraged, fists clenched and screaming, “STAY THE FUCK AWAY.”; the one that is confused, but adult and reasonable, saying, “I miss you. I don’t understand.”; and the one, knees to chest, who just wants a whisper of breath, an assurance, and cries quietly into the cave created by arms and lap. “Please come back, please come back,” is her mantra.

My punctuation surely is a sweet hot mess.

 
|| May 9, 2007 || 4:59 pm || Comments (0) ||

It’s official.

Five out of seven Superior Dorks give Spider-Man 3 (v. ‘Emo Pete’) an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

 
|| May 8, 2007 || 10:53 pm || Comments (0) ||

La Movida

mexican dance hall
:: stage right view ::

Driving in the middle of nowhere one evening, something shiny caught my eye. It was a service entrance at the back of an ugly cinderblock building; just inside it silver streamers flew everywhere. Their presence was given away by rows and rows of clear Christmas lights tacked to the ceilings, making the streamers wink and holler into the night.

Come on, you can’t ignore loud, glittery things on an otherwise unassuming evening in the middle of what would usually be Just Another Field on County Road Somethingorother.

Turned out to be a Mexican dance hall, and after making the acquaintence of the rough-voiced older blonde (she is pretty and angular in that hard-planed way that many Appalachian women –at least in these parts– are) that owned it, I was allowed free-wander of the place with my camera. There was a family setting up one half for the evening’s festivities; there was another family setting up for the next day’s.

“Yeah, you should come back tomorra night,” said Peggy, the proprietress, “There’s a christening. They have this whole ceremony. They do this thing with a turkey.”

This thing with a turkey: I didn’t bother to ask what, preferring to leave questions in the air between us as I thanked her and went back down the hill to my car.

 
|| May 7, 2007 || 3:15 pm || Comments (0) ||

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KRISTIN TRAAAACE-AYYYYY!

I’m totally gonna leave “My Heart Will Go On” in your voice mail, so DON’T ANSWER THE PHONE when I call you tonight. HOOKER!

 
|| May 4, 2007 || 10:08 pm || Comments (4) ||

And lest I forget:

Boys who have only just met you and refer to your breasts as ‘ta-tas’ should be shot in the face with a potato gun. Like, fifty-eight or a hundred times.

Stacy Keach is on television. Stacy Keach sure is creepy. I’m turning the teevee off.

WAY TO RUIN MY LIFE, STACY KEEEEEAAAAAACH!!

UPDATE, eleven-thirty-five cee ess tee: Apparently The Spudgun Technology Center is up for grabs. Why the hell don’t I ever have a quarter of a million dollars when I need it??