I’m up formatting. Insomnia has had me slept through the last few days, up all night at the computer, typing, correcting. I am lucky to have an editor friend who has ripped the thing apart enough for me to repair it to a better standard.
I’ll be working like this until it’s done and sent on, then packing for the road. Wish me luck with both.
I’ve been writing hard to catch up, the book is about a week behind my optimistic schedule but still well ahead of my promised dates.
I did take a few minutes today to update some things around the site here, including adding the imaginarium page, and sorting the format on another page or two.
I should be back to regular posts once the book is licked into shape.
blinky the cuppycake owl
My times in Salem are pretty much full, except for a few hours here and there for tiny things.
I still have some days open in Seattle, but get hold of me fast as they’re getting filled quickly.
I have april 23, 24, 25 and 27 open now, in Seattle.
I have very short sessions open may 4 from noon til 3, and on may 6 from noon til 3, in Salem.
After this trip I will be back on sabbatical again until June, when I will be available in Phoenix for a few days.
I’ll be in Seattle from April 24-30, tattooing at laughing buddha. contact me by email to make a date!
I’ll be in Salem Oregon from may 3-7, I only have one or two slots open still, so reach me fast of you want to get tattooed while I am there!
resonanteye @ gmail . com
I’ll be back in a few days, I had some testing done and it knocked me flat for a bit!
book is still in the process, with a few days’ delay because of this.
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The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather.
Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
Today I had a couple sips of coffee, which was incredible. I have missed coffee so much since I’ve been sick.
I had pancakes and sushi too!
I go to the belly doctor tomorrow and am somewhat nervous. But it’s also great because they moved my appointment up by a whole month!
I have been listening to fantomas and napping…hawkins has cleared my artists’s garrett out for me, so now I have a room for paint and draw.
The house is warm. I had a great birthday.
I’ll probably post gross doctor pictures tomorrow, and maybe some of the new studio/painting space.
I can hear his footsteps approaching. he will get closer until August, the worst month for me- then recede.
the black dog will follow your scent with no pause. I have outrun him many times, used the proper talismans and pills to stave him off-but once you’ve been marked by him, he’s persistent and indefatigable.
my current work is staving him off, my next works may also help. but I know he’s there, and eventually I’ll have to do exhausting battle with him again.
if you have depression, use anything you can to keep the black dog from your door. those of us who know him well will understand. reach out to those who know his shadow in the path, and never feel it’s too much to ask- you would help others, just as others will help you.
those of us who know are all in this battle together. I’ve fought the black dog since I was a child and I know many of you have too. if you can find someone else who has been depressed, talk to them as soon as you know it’s coming on. it will help. you won’t be a burden.
(image not actually the real black dog)(just a derp hound not sure about the snow)
Ten sheets, archival pigment prints on smooth acid-free 90lb paper. $150 includes shipping worldwide. Prints are standard 11×14″size horizontal.
I have three sets left, get em while they’re hot!
from tar and gravel
bus to CA
There’s something beautiful and comforting about grey vomit stains barely scrubbed from velveteen seat backs and
something about the dense air and useless frustrated wanderlust of the greyhound station and the greyhound itself, this universe of breakdowns
in Pierre North Dakota and Weed, CA that makes me calm. Patience. It makes my mind shut tight and arrange itself compulsively. checking
repeatedly for wallet, keys, ticket, the automatic functions of the reptile brain fully involved;
Making sure nothing is lost, nobody touches me, children don’t climb and I
in the meantime have killed the upper brain.
Feet automatically avoiding the sprawl of wild loud children with sticky fingers and dirty pink too-tight shirts where they sit on the floor at the entrance
to the terminal; thirteen slightly torn and stretched garbage bags full of towels, clothes, toys, no books but I can see the handle of
a cast-iron fry pan
clearly outlined in the plastic, spilling around the children is the detritus of people who don’t
realize that frying pans are available at thrift stores in duluth as well as southern california.
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