Monday, October 24, 2011
To the woman who helped raise me. The reason my favorite color is blue. The reason I'm obsessed with miniature versions of things. The woman who taught me what a lie is, who taught me the meaning of the word "why," who celebrated my quirks always. Who let me be the crazy art project doing, grasshopper catching, run around the neighborhood like the hooligan girl I was [and still am today]. Who was with me always, even when she wasn't. Who never EVER forgot my birthday. Who collected cattails and spray painted dandelions with me. Who took me on small adventures to places like 7-Eleven or the grassy fields off the side of the road. Who, over the years, became one of the few people I could confide in without fear of punishment or judgement. Who taught me to record memories through photographs, to be patient and compassionate, and to love life no matter how awful it gets. Who was my sister when I didn't have one, who was my parent when she needed to be, who was my friend always no matter the drastic difference in our ages and life experiences. Rest in Peace. ♥
Friday, October 21, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
"He got better but remained possessed by the strangest madness anybody had ever seen. The poor wretch imagined that he was all made of glass, and under this delusion, when someone came up to him, he would scream out in the most frightening manner, and using the most convincing arguments would beg them not to come near him, or they would break him." [El licenciado vidriera, Cervantes]
Sunday, October 16, 2011
&Now San Diego: Tomorrowland Forever!
Quick late night visit to the beach. Drinks at Rock Bottom Brewery. Sheraton Hotel.
Bits & pieces
Lunch @ The Loft
Our panel! In which we were rockstars. Everything was flawless.
Post-panel lunch celebration @ The Loft
My adventure to the beach in which I headed West and then kept walking for miles until I finally found the ocean.
Party @ The Loft [with free cake AND free kombucha]
Dinner @ the hotel restaurant with the Utah crew
Pool & sunshine
Tomasula & Olsen Panel
"Oh, like from the future" Steve Tomasula and Robert being avant-garde
Fish tacos, margaritas, and shenanigans in downtown La Jolla
Amazing time in San Diego. Between the beach, the pool, the beautiful California weather, the hotel bar, the crazy awesome people, the weird, surprising panels, and my amazing, talented, wonderful Utah cohorts, it was everything I could have asked for. Getting excited for AWP Chicago in March!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
What I want to be for Halloween [FUTURISM]:
A combination of Luigi Russolo's "Dynamism of an Automobile,"
Wyndham Lewis' cover of BLAST [I know, technically a Vorticist, whatever],
Brâncuşi's “Golden Bird.”
It's really hard to put these three things together into a wearable costume. And I have a feeling more than a few people won't be too happy with my interpretation [I've tried to... feminize things a little to counteract the violent sexism of the Futurist movement]. If only I were going as Rococo again like last year...
Rococo is always safe, even if slightly out of the ordinary.
[And yes, I know there is a trash can in the background. Sometimes people own trash cans but forget that they're there.]
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Today the sky got dusty.
And then it exploded.
And I decided that winter can go fuck itself and that I didn't work this hard to be happy just to be defeated by a goddamn season with crappy temperatures and painful reminders and stupid dead plants. Nothing about the life that I've built for myself has changed. And winter can't hurt me anymore. [But also, I will now buy a light box just to, you know, help fight the winter for me when I'm feeling sleepy.]
Saturday, October 8, 2011
How can I not revel in the horror of such reckless inclinations?
MANIFESTO OF FUTURISM
- We want to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and rashness.
- The essential elements of our poetry will be courage, audacity and revolt.
- Literature has up to now magnified pensive immobility, ecstasy and slumber. We want to exalt movements of aggression, feverish sleeplessness, the double march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist.
- We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing automobile with its bonnet adorned with great tubes like serpents with explosive breath ... a roaring motor car which seems to run on machine-gun fire, is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
- We want to sing the man at the wheel, the ideal axis of which crosses the earth, itself hurled along its orbit.
- The poet must spend himself with warmth, glamour and prodigality to increase the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.
- Beauty exists only in struggle. There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character. Poetry must be a violent assault on the forces of the unknown, to force them to bow before man.
- We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries! What is the use of looking behind at the moment when we must open the mysterious shutters of the impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We are already living in the absolute, since we have already created eternal, omnipresent speed.
- We want to glorify war — the only cure for the world — militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of the anarchists, the beautiful ideas which kill, and contempt for woman.
- We want to demolish museums and libraries, fight morality, feminism and all opportunist and utilitarian cowardice.
- We will sing of the great crowds agitated by work, pleasure and revolt; the multi-colored and polyphonic surf of revolutions in modern capitals: the nocturnal vibration of the arsenals and the workshops beneath their violent electric moons: the gluttonous railway stations devouring smoking serpents; factories suspended from the clouds by the thread of their smoke; bridges with the leap of gymnasts flung across the diabolic cutlery of sunny rivers: adventurous steamers sniffing the horizon; great-breasted locomotives, puffing on the rails like enormous steel horses with long tubes for bridle, and the gliding flight of aeroplanes whose propeller sounds like the flapping of a flag and the applause of enthusiastic crowds.
Halloween costume: Futurism. American Apparel, here I come.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Because I haven't really geeked out about music on here for a little while...
The following are songs I've seen played live that I remember distinctly and most fondly for their epicness/mindblowingness/loveliness:
16 Military Wives. The Decemberists. The Fillmore. CO.
Fate of the Underachieved. Born in the Flood. UMS '08 outdoor stage. CO.
Everlong. Foo Fighters. Red Rocks. CO.
Jezebel. Iron & Wine. The Paramount. CO.
Skinny Love. Bon Iver. Fox Theater. CO.
Pensacola. Hello Kavita. DNC '08 tiny outdoor stage at Virgin Records. CO.
Evil Urges. My Morning Jacket. Red Rocks. CO.
Chicago. Sufjan Stevens. Kingsbury Hall. UT.
Washington Square. Counting Crows. Apple Store SoHo. NY.
The Denial Twist. The White Stripes. Red Rocks. CO.
Sæglepour. Sigur Rós. Red Rocks. CO.
Anna Begins. Counting Crows. Red Rocks. CO.
Fruit Fly. Nada Surf. The Gothic. CO.
Another night, another place. Born in the Flood. The Ogden. CO.
Oh, and this. Ohhhh this. Even though the sound quality is so abysmally awful and I hesitate to post something that doesn't come close to doing this song justice, it's the only recording I can get ahold of since they never actually released that second LP. And anyway, it's not just the song, it's the performance, that night, the electricity. A Break in the Silence. Born in the Flood. Fox Theater. CO.
Ok back to grading papers.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
I can feel it already. That heaviness that comes this time every year that feels like a warning or a threat or something I always fail to run away from. That burden of the cold, of dead trees, of driving with the windows up, of never having a warm enough jacket. That season that makes me long for a kind of comfort that I don't usually like to admit that I need.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Mid-semester return to Colorado for the weekend.
Lots of reading in the sunshine and stargazing from the porch.
the new Wilco.
I can't help it if I fall
in love with you again I'm calling
in love with you again I'm calling
just to let you know
it dawned on me
it dawned on me