what are you doing on new year's day?

i know!  you all will want to come on down to the cleaners at the ace hotel(11th and sw stark) to see lots of great arts, and watch me and brett superstar make sweet sweet paintings right in front of your very eyes while sipping whiskey and ginger ale!  oh for the love of god could it get any better?  yup!  before you make your way down to the cleaners(action starts at 5pm, ends at 10pm), stop by the ol' extracto coffee joint on 30th and ne killingsworth and check out the stuff that my friends meredith and tripper and me made.  go and get it..............

how good is good....

as each day pushes into being, what was thought to be growth actually appears to be regression or stagnation, upon further looking, where i was once materializes three lines farther down the page, and rereading becomes a necessity not necessarily a luxury....................

year of the rat.....

i would kill for some color, being snowed in with an eight week old redefines everything........

surprise!

the assumed infallability of the tried and true ways, they got us this far, so why the closed doors and blank stares, self pity, fear of becoming a cliche, realization that i already was..........

icecapades

encased in no escape, immaturity is forced into decision making situations for which it is ill-suited, pushing out in all directions for that which is impossible, it is amazing what i miss when pressed. when i can see the bottom i am less afraid............

slash and burn

concerted effort applied to questions inconsequential, the result is unsustainable and ridiculous, the everyday pressure is applied, growth is halted or at least slowed, frustration follows, so on and so forth the rotation goes, not so much a circle, but the trail of dog chasing tail.............

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow?

i would love to be excited for the forecasted to snow, but there is a snag, it could interfere with the most super-dooper, extra juicy, fantastically colossal holiday crafty wonderland this sunday.  so in short i am not so enthusiastic about said icy precipitation, however i am excited about the SUPER-DOOPER, EXTRA JUICY, FANTASTICALLY COLOSSAL, HOLIDAY CRAFTY WONDERLAND THIS SUNDAY AT THE CONVENTION CENTER, 11am-7pm, come and get the goodness......................

anticipation.........

after weeks of apprehension, hours of confusion, the pot boils over filling the surrounding area with smiles and an effortfilled coo.  the joy is unimaginable, the wait for another is murderous, but quite rewarding in and of itself.  the bear forages then sleeps and even the elk have learned to stay next to the road this time of year................

full and fast..........

the hours fill, the minutes pass, maybe one or the other, if and when it matters the misinformation which rules popular opinion will shatter and fall away, littering the ground with tiny shards waiting to be picked up and glued together to form yet another guiding principle to assessed against the standard of wisdom or knowledge.  in the flurry of righting oneself, it is easy to assimilate one and let go of the other................

the absence of gratititude......

appropriately abrupt end to an evening, the clash of will he or won't he, the show of wills and gnashing of fingers, the give and take of give, selfless i am not and evidently i need to be shown over and over............and over and over.........

empezar....

all things considered and by all accounts, this could be the end or the beginning, today i will lean toward the start and brush the dust off of a lazy posture, cheeks burn with the promise of the first frost, hands grasp the cold metal and turn to the right, i can hear the creaking now.......

time will tell..........

intent  is overidden by angst, therefore giving way to action, leading to reaction.  there seems to be no way to read the waves of the day, a fluctuation of pressure and consumption in between  sets of differing agendas.  the journey, a road of varying difficulties, is paved with delicate violence for it seems we know no other way.

obscurity is not a style...................

in the interest of......

an outpouring of the past, passed, revolves tightly around the path of least resistance.  these roads are paved with images "good" and "bad", a drably colored pop-up book with educational undertones, the likes of which can only be felt in retrospection, the earth moving too fast to keep up in real time.  the last few weeks have seen a resurgence of home and the ideal of such, they have been a roller-coaster of productivity on all fronts, including the pasttimes of my life B.C..  this week i will be participating in numerous group shows.  the list is as follows:

urban art network winter extravaganza of wonder-filled arts  thursday 12-4, the cleaners at the ace hotel, 11th and sw stark.

woodpushers skateboarding art extravaganza, thursday 12-4, hecklewood gallery, nw third between davis and couch.  WESTSIDE!

destroy clothing holiday funtimes, friday 12-5, destroy store, 18th and e burnside

breeze block grand re-opening holiday art blowout, friday 12-5, right across from destroy on e burnside and 19th. EASTSIDE!

come one. come all.  one might be able to catch a glimpse of the seedling bear, if you have not seen him already, at the friday shows, although the surf is looking pretty epic that day so who knows.....................

awake in the shadows of dawn........

the ambiguity of morning is enchanting, no exact beginning or ending, it is in this area that i can become better acquainted with clarity, we are much like an infant nursing for comfort, not recognizing the limitations, we take in too much, use what we can, cry, and then leave the rest for someone else to clean up, this is be no means meant to be a reflection of a newborn's shortcomings, for they know nothing else................

what it is.....

the absence of, noticed but unrecognized in the misty days, only highlighted by the warm windows of neighbors, hard to keep up, hard to fall behind, there is a constant drive of need that overrides the senses of selves that once resided here, identity is a hard drug to kick, created out of nothing, nurtured into being, given the reins, becomes, so ingrained as to appear as background noise, easy to sleep to, all an idea, it all sounds so familiar.  comfort is destructive.........................

fore and aft........

the sultry swaying of night air, soft focus lights with halos bending in the south wind of a coming winter, absentminded absent with one foot in front of another in front of another, the illusion of gaining ground or once in awhile the ground moving underneath, the process speaks volumes to the product at hand, a vain attempt at imparting wisdom or at the very least encouragement, pacification will have to do for the time being, a silencing of thoughts in order to develop dreams in order to start over, the past should be left in the story, but as the mercury falls and footsteps gently sog, the allure of "what did we do?" becomes enticing, this story is yet to be written....................

little too late.......

to georgie:  it has been almost twenty years, and although you would disagree, and it would make these words irrelevant, i am not sure there is a heaven or hell, but i do know that lately  when fear erupts, i think of you.  thank you for creating that safe place that i can revisit........

ever and ever...........

the self crawls up to the bar, attempting to assert itself in the dance, addictive as ever, beautifully destructive, building expectations to be given weight where there is no substance, given the value of the known, this is where roots are planted and find a home..................

on and on.............

at no time in recent memory have i felt so vulnerable, if left to my own i can be overcome by fear very quickly, high stakes, lasting impressions, snap decisions become a way of life and coping mechanism, for better or worse my intuition drives and friends sometimes grab the wheel and help steer clear of the wall..............

downward inward............

there is a magic in the connection, the mix of spiraling hormones and tired eyes makes for highs and lows never felt, a soaring escapade into the roots of ourselves where the ticks and tocks reside, the nurture of nature never came so close to becoming clear...............

the what of...........

what happened?  i walked to the door to give out some candy and came back four days later with this...........

analysis................

the politics of nothing, rapid fire words of little to no worth except for those which speak directly  to the emotions of desperation, betray themselves for what they are, nothing more than another pitch, slow and clumsy, not easy to miss, hard not to give up, think that there is an easy answer elsewhere, somewhere with dreamy carefree trust growing on our shoulders, little babies not wrapped in ideologies but blankets of care and love, perhaps we are not simply tools for our manufactured desires, but this political process does nothing but reinforce this, to me, of course.  christmas carols will sing out for the faithful to come and behold, that one, the other, the one with back turned to everyone else but the few faith filled participants in the consequenceless game all are watching.  to what do we owe this pleasure, i think i have an idea, but there are no mirrors in our house..............

at last........

closure comes swiftly but in long strokes of time, i suppose that to call it training would be accurate, the process of living in slower motion becomes necessary and instant gratification could become a liability.  by all accounts we could be halfway there, but by what clock..............

ground.....

what was once a punishment now seems like a long lost life skill, looking ahead is directly inconsistent with the goal, however it is the state that inhabits days and nights.  with what and where is the pressing questions to be followed closely by who and when.  no more questions, doubt only follows truth into the shadows.............

face the wall.......

seconds elapse as minutes progress, the ups and downs grow more dynamic.  words escape as the moment, the screen stares patiently, knowing the full extent of no tomorrowness.  the satire of living as if someone is watching, a product of too much time, not enough, but then again, no one knows.  watch the sky, watch the market, watch, a passive progressive privilege  but i don't have anything better to do either...........