smoke signals - flashing mirrors - messages in bottles - carrier pigeons - flags in the air - hoofbeats on the ground

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Friday, August 26, 2011

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

Dear Melissa

It is the hour of the wolf. A Nordic tale that speaks of a wolf that stalks outside people's doors between the hour it is darkest just before dawn. It is the time when the greatest of nightmares seem the most real and life clings to itself for fear of losing grip. You can't sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the ways that your life should've gone but didn't. All you can hear is the sound of your own heart. I've often been awake through this time. I've practiced methods of trying to scare the wolf off or hide from the wolf. Were I to come from a family who drank, this would probably be the time to do so. So I take suggestions from other lore. One large glass of vodka before bed and three very small sips of vodka, just in case the wolf had babies. I'll curl up on my bed, no breeze coming through the window, city soundscapes and the absence of chirping. If I had a cigarette I would smoke it. Instead, with no blanket to cover me I will clutch my book and take deep breaths and let the vodka help me along.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Friday, April 22, 2011

dear melissa


this should be known:

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

dear melissa


fucking hell have you seen any of Leah Brown's hair installation work?

Friday, April 08, 2011

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

dear melissa



today I am sad and I miss you

Monday, March 28, 2011

dear melissa


I would like you to start wearing purple please

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

dear melissa

"You know art is why I get up in the morning, but my definition ends there, you know it doesn't seem fair."

Listening to any Ani DiFranco will always remind me of driving around in your death car around cornfields while you repeat all of the spoken parts with perfect rhythm and inflection and tone.

"The butter melts out of habit, you know the toast isn't even warm."

Sunday, January 23, 2011

dear melissa

potential future gifts

Friday, January 21, 2011

Monday, January 17, 2011

dear melissa

So It Begins from Joseph R Varisco on Vimeo.



it takes so long to get from here to there

Dear Joe

The Original, for me, is this

As he dresses Piero's corpse, he pauses to look up. He tells the corpse, and us, "It's going well. We are winning."

After 10+ years of watching this movie, I maintain that it is my favorite. It's silly and awkward and over-stylized and I adore every last minute of it. It will explain many things.

Also,

your tumblrgays have fucking nothing on Walken.

I suggest you screen this flick at your next party.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

dear melissa

"There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning."
- Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson

dear melissa

I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought, there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.
Frida Kahlo

Monday, January 10, 2011

Friday, January 07, 2011

Monday, January 03, 2011

dear melissa

Melissa worry not for me. All of this has happened before and will happen again and if it doesnt than that is ok too.

It is not all one blue-eyeshadow mess. I know it is fleeting. I know it is passing and is gone as fast as it took to type this sentence. What becomes lasting is the work that survives for whatever reason, mostly the work with meaning. Much of that is yet to be unveiled or has not yet made it to post.

I carry sapphires in my shoes, rubies in my eyes and the emeralds you gave me in my pockets. Quite the nonassembled invisible crown.