transitorio

2010-01-28T09:41:00.000-05:00

just a warning:

we shall not be liable to any persons for failure to supply fufillment, happiness, joy in full or any part thereof, by reason of any acts of God, any action(s), regulation(s), order(s) or request(s) by any governmental or quasi-governmental entity (whether or not the action(s), regulation(s), order(s) or request(s) prove(s) to be invalid), equipment failure, terrorist acts, earthquake, war, fire, flood, explosion, unusually severe weather, hurricane, embargo, labor dispute or strike (whether legal or illegal), labor or material shortage, transportation interruption of any kind, work slow-down, civil disturbance, insurrection, riot, or any other cause beyond our sole control.

2010-01-15T16:49:00.002-05:00

Hours go by
And I watch you
As you diligently apply
A series of audible frequencies
To tiny receptors
Located inside my cranium
Resulting in much pleasure for someone
Who looks like me
Although he is seated about two inches to my left
And the both of us
Are listening to your every word
With a weird misapprehension
Radio, by Tom Clark

2009-12-25T04:01:00.000-05:00

Texas Window, 2005

still one of my favorites.

Miss You, Love You Tejas & Familia.

Merry Everything

Xmas Eve Eve

2009-12-23T07:06:00.001-05:00

Texas, 2007

2009-12-22T04:31:00.001-05:00

As simple an act
as opening the eyes. Merely
coming into things by degrees.

2009-12-21T07:30:00.000-05:00

mappish?

2009-12-20T02:35:00.000-05:00

May this bitch and her sisters, all of them,
receive my words
in all their orifices like lye mixed with
cocola and alaga syrup

feel this shit, bitches, feel it, now laugh your
hysterectic laughs
while your flesh burns
and your eyes peel to red mud

2009-12-19T18:40:00.001-05:00

stuck inside, waiting.

waiting, waiting, waiting.

love is less always than to win

less never than alive

less bigger than the least begin

less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly

and more it cannot die

than all the sky which only

is higher than the sky

ee cummings

2009-12-16T06:50:00.001-05:00

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is more mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
ee cummings

2009-12-02T17:59:00.003-05:00

midweek puppy-pickmeup.

2009-11-30T19:46:00.000-05:00

goodnight moon.

2009-11-27T06:20:00.004-05:00

Five for Friday,

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

Still, the beloved may stay bitter as an ear
the tongue pressed
into, unwanted.
And the word end: spiney, finally-formed,
indents them and is
understood.
Alice Fulton, Babies

four

2009-11-26T06:12:00.005-05:00

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

The city had such pretty clotheslines.
Women aired their intimate apparel

in the emery haze:
membranes of lingerie—
pearl, ruby, copper slips—
their somehow intestinal quivering in the wind.
Alice Fulton, Industrial Lace

three

2009-11-25T06:01:00.006-05:00

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009.

Where are the stars, pristine
as great ideas? Behind clouds
the heavens saturate
with luminous dust, shuttles wearing halos
of earthdirt, light pollution
from jets fired to keep things
Alice Fulton, Where Are The Stars Pristine
on course.

two

2009-11-24T06:07:00.005-05:00

from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

Where inside, anglers ease lines through floor-
holes and the river underneath
is gauntleted with hooks to snag tomcod.
By day's end, window ledges bubble

Alice Fulton, Aviation

one

2009-11-23T06:00:00.005-05:00

one from savannah to start off,

and one from my sojourn in killeen, 2009

up North where windows ignite early,
hanging the dark
with inner lives like tiny drive-in screens
showing underrated grade B stars,
Alice Fulton, Aviation

2009-11-22T02:55:00.001-05:00

looking onto Pine Island Sound.

monday will start the showing of the first new window works-- 2 a day until 5-for-Friday.

lots of time sorting through too, too many files; but now something to show for it.

2009-11-22T02:52:00.003-05:00

uhm, Hi-Pass without hi-pass.

2009-11-19T13:47:00.000-05:00

spinach leaf.

2009-11-16T20:37:00.003-05:00

insides for the in-between time.

2009-10-27T14:09:00.002-04:00

was.

2009-10-25T12:12:00.000-04:00

2009-10-24T20:16:00.000-04:00

modern life.

2009-10-22T05:01:00.000-04:00

topography.

2009-10-21T02:06:00.001-04:00

map.

2009-10-20T09:03:00.002-04:00

map.

2009-10-12T04:54:00.000-04:00

thyme.

2009-10-10T06:57:00.000-04:00

2009-08-20T20:31:00.000-04:00

staycation.

2009-08-20T12:57:00.002-04:00

Until wolf-light I will count my sheep,
Adumbrated, uncomedic, as they are.
One is perdu, two, qualm, three
Is sprawl, four, too late,

Night is already a thirsty county in Texas,
Salt ﬂat and unremitting
Blacktop dry as my mouth,
And your elastic vowels
-Averill Curdy

hard work

2009-08-13T20:48:00.001-04:00

2009-08-12T18:30:00.000-04:00

2009-08-11T22:54:00.000-04:00

2009-08-11T20:51:00.000-04:00

gecko.

2009-08-10T08:52:00.002-04:00

falling apart.

Extreme exertion
isolates a person
from help,
discovered Atlas.
Once a certain
shoulder-to-burden
ratio collapses,
there is so little
others can do:
they can’t
lend a hand
with Brazil
and not stand
on Peru.
Kay Ryan, Atlas

2009-07-22T11:26:00.002-04:00

Yet we keep a hungry eye on old schoolmates
and everyone born in the year of our own birth,
and spend the nights in ranting over them,
their money, fashionable companions, pliant critics.

To live just a little longer than they do:
that would be triumph. Hence exercise and diets,
and the squabble over who will write the history
of this paradise of demons casting each other out.
A.F. Moritz, On Distinction

2009-07-21T07:27:00.001-04:00

We won’t pretend we’re not hungry for distinction
but what can ever distinguish us enough?
This country, this language won’t last long, the race
will die, later the cockroach, earth itself,

and last this beer bottle: silicon fused by man,
almost indestructible, like a soul:
it will go spinning ever farther from the nearest thing
until space, continually deepening, drowns in itself.
A.F. Moritz, On Distinction

2009-07-14T14:07:00.000-04:00

2009-07-11T18:37:00.000-04:00

2009-07-09T01:00:00.000-04:00

2009-07-08T07:21:00.000-04:00

2009-07-08T00:16:00.000-04:00

storm.

2009-07-08T00:14:00.001-04:00

2009-07-06T07:38:00.003-04:00

I wish we could control this revolting
want of control: these people
with their spongy eyes, their mouths
of trembling shoehorns, billhooks for penises
and bear traps for vulvas.
A.F.Moritz, Addiction

2009-07-04T19:43:00.000-04:00

fourth of.

2009-07-02T15:24:00.001-04:00

2009-07-01T02:26:00.001-04:00

2009-06-29T03:40:00.002-04:00

monday.

2009-06-27T00:36:00.000-04:00

2009-06-25T00:31:00.004-04:00

2009-06-21T00:39:00.000-04:00

2009-06-07T05:47:00.001-04:00

2009-06-03T11:46:00.002-04:00

2009-05-29T02:20:00.000-04:00

working lunch.

2009-04-29T01:27:00.000-04:00

2009-04-12T13:49:00.000-04:00

new,

mostly new.

2008-11-04T20:55:00.001-05:00

pins and needles for real.

you all may get calls at 1am, either in tears or screamin in joy.

watch out.

hope we all got the vote out.

2008-09-20T19:27:00.000-04:00

gotta quit chewin on hearts, matt. gotta try.

2008-09-20T07:22:00.001-04:00

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcolm fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing
Etheridge Knight, Feelin Fucked Up

2008-09-19T17:26:00.001-04:00

Lord she’s gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs—
Etheridge Knight, Feelin Fucked Up

2008-09-19T07:25:00.000-04:00

There's Something Fishy in my Refrigerator

2008-09-18T19:27:00.004-04:00

oh my

2008-09-18T04:10:00.002-04:00

I end in beginning, in ending I find
that beginning is the first thing to do.
I stop when I start, but my heart keeps on beating,
so I must go on starting in spite of the stopping.

I must stop my stopping and start to start—
I can end at the beginning or begin at the end.
I feel older, younger, both at once.
Joyce Supthen, Older, Younger, Both

2008-09-15T20:03:00.004-04:00

dog and lamp say hello to new york city.

Is it only when you’re little
you know tigers live in your closet—
one with your shoes on his two ears,
another with your umbrella tied to his tail;
the rest wearing your red coat
and blue trousers with the red buttons?
Is it only when you’re little
the dustballs have mountainous shadows
in the crack of light under the door?
Or is it also NOW you fear that tigers will eat you—
when you wake in the middle of the night
and don’t know where you are,
nor remember how far you’ve come.
Your nose hurts like a plowed field,
your fingers stiff—
Then somehow, you remember what you’ve accomplished.

-Diane Glancy, Tiger Butter

2008-09-11T20:09:00.001-04:00

play with makeup. beret hair, and hooker lips.

2008-09-11T16:39:00.004-04:00

cabbage & bean soup

anyone want some jalepenos? we have tons.

unexpected hiatus, man down. we're rebuilding.

back soon!

2008-08-22T16:33:00.002-04:00

oh wow. nine days. or eight, depends on how you look at it.

august is the end of all things.

joy in the day's being done, however
clumsily, and in the ticked-off lists,
the packages nestling together,
no one home waiting for dinner, for
you, no one impatient for your touch
or kind words to salve what nightly
rises like heartburn, the ghost-lump feeling
that one is really as alone as one had feared.
One isn't, not really. Not really.

J. Allyn Rosser, "Then too there is this"

2008-08-08T16:44:00.008-04:00

was recently in atlanta for work, now know why its called Hot-lanta.
basically, this first picture sums up my experience there: driving, driving, driving, more driving & chain-smoking from stress. too much time behind the wheel.
but at least my friend/assistant and i made it to the aquarium! (amazing)

and there's been question lately as to how i put up with so much "so well"...
i'll let you in on a little secret that helped make me who & how i am:

I will do my best to be
honest and fair,
friendly and helpful,
considerate and caring,
courageous and strong, and
responsible for what I say and do,
And to
respect myself and others,
respect authority,
use resources wisely,
make the world a better place, and
be a sister to every Girl Scout.

atl

2008-07-27T13:18:00.002-04:00

In one pocket I have hidden chocolates from you
And knives.

Speaking my real thoughts to no one

In bars and at lecterns I have told the truth
Fairly often, but hardly ever to myself.

Patricia Goedicke

2008-07-25T08:00:00.000-04:00

I didn’t see you, tall, dark, intense,

with three bouquets of flowers in your hand.

On Walnut and Broad, between the Union League

and the Indian Campsite, you stopped me,

shoving flowers toward my arm.

“At least, I’m not begging,” you cried.

The desperation in your voice

spiraled through my feet while I fumbled the few bucks

you asked for. I wanted those flowers—

iris, ageratum, goldenrod and lilies—

because in desperation

you thought of beauty. I recognized

the truth and human love you acted on,

your despair echoing my own.

Roberta Whiteman, Philadelphia Flowers

2008-07-24T13:00:00.000-04:00

Every fifteen minutes

a patrol car cruises by. I jolt awake

at four a.m. to sirens screeching

and choppers lugging to the hospital heliport

someone who wants to breathe.

The sultry heat leads me

to the window. What matters? This small

square of night sky and two trees

bound by a wide brick wall.

Roberta Whiteman, Philadelphia Flowers

2008-07-23T17:00:00.000-04:00

I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,

All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,

Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of dark green,

And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there without its friend near, for I knew I could not

Walt Whitman

2008-06-23T17:11:00.002-04:00

The rules are posted: only the toughest
habiliments, the superego
of raiment can take such agitation.
And only the poor are invited to endure
the sneezy powders and clean resentment.

2008-06-22T08:35:00.000-04:00

digital nikon still broken,

at least it gives me time to update from the past.

silver linings and all that.

but progress is being made, today the l.c.d. screen flickered at me. woo.

2008-06-21T22:16:00.001-04:00

oh the heat, oh the rain, wait- does savannah have a monsoon season?

2008-06-18T09:09:00.003-04:00

a garden grows in the hood.

2008-06-18T04:08:00.001-04:00

2008-06-17T22:46:00.004-04:00

burritos again, bestiality, upwords.

my dig camera short circuited today.

fuck.

seriously? this shit really happens?

and last week my 35 lens decided to stop staying attached.

(oh, and the economy is failing and i can't find a job.)

fuck.

man,

fuck it.

2008-06-17T17:50:00.007-04:00

playing art, eating burritos, and brainstorming pizza toppings...

2008-06-09T08:52:00.000-04:00

With both hands snap the fetters you made with your own heart chords;
Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near.
Today is the festival of phantoms that know not when they die.
Let your laughter flush in meaningless mirth like twinkles of light on the ripples;
Let your life lightly dance on the verge of Time like a dew on the tip of a leaf.
Strike in the chords of your harp the fitful murmurs of moments.

savannah on fire

2008-06-08T23:44:00.002-04:00

Sing the song of the moment in careless carols, in the transient light of the day;
Sing of the fleeting smiles that vanish and never look back;
Sing of the flowers that bloom and fade without regret.
Weave not in memory’s thread the days that would glide into nights.
To the guests that must go bid God-speed, and wipe away all traces of their steps.
Let the moments end in moments with their cargo of fugitive songs.

2008-06-08T17:10:00.000-04:00

so, i'm grateful for the 4 hours a day it's dangerous to be outside,

it gives me much time to read and read and read.

i take books as lovers and cannot inhabit the real world until our affairs are over.

just finished divisadero by michael ondaatje; a quiet but forceful book, it tore me open and

sewed me back up by the end; a supremely satisfying read if you're into good books.

now an excerpt from a rainy day past, its def not any close to this weather now- but it's nice to remember

2008-05-24T10:44:00.004-04:00

beautiful day to be at the beach here in savannah,

but where am i going the spend the next 12 hours?

oh yeah, in the inkjet printing lab staring at a computer.

not quite the same as being outside...

I should have begun with this: the sky.
A window minus sill, frame, and panes.
An aperture, nothing more,
but wide open.

2008-05-19T13:42:00.002-04:00

california

2008-05-15T02:52:00.003-04:00

i dreamed i drank an arrow shirt
and stole a broken
pail

2008-05-12T20:42:00.005-04:00

...but we live by the grace of the simple fact that our bodies take good care of us. It's in this sense that I tell students that they have to be able to trust themselves. What we all have to do is to use this bodily wisdom, staying close to the kinds of processes and ideas and emotional anchors that are most appropriate to our feelings, to ourselves. You can't evade your ideas, which are precious to us, but micromanaging our ideas can be as much of a hinderance as they are a great help.
... When we are young we are self conscious, we think about what people think about us. As artists, the more we think about our audience and what we are trying to present, the less, perhaps, we are in touch with the physicality of the experience, the particulars, the minute details of our experience.
Emmet Gowin, talking to John Paul Caponigro

2008-05-08T07:00:00.000-04:00

You wanted happiness, I can't blame you for that,
and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy
but tell me
you love this, tell me you're not miserable.

2008-05-07T21:03:00.005-04:00

P.S.

I close my eyes and see
a seagull in the desert,
high, against an unbearably blue sky.

There is hope in the past.

I'm writing to you
all the time, I am writing

with both hands,
day and night.

2008-04-29T19:09:00.003-04:00

What made me cover that which I could not have?

I’ve felt undeserving. In this bright land

that changes from yellow to green and back to yellow,

I remember seasons, things I bring with me from far away

and things that hold their breath as if for shame.

Carol Frost, from Matins

2008-04-29T19:01:00.004-04:00

2008-04-28T14:14:00.003-04:00

ps: look what i found through the magic of the internet. nothing ever goes away it just floats around forever in the goo of the web... uhm, 2006? maybe?

2008-04-28T14:04:00.003-04:00

Sackdresses dyed the sun

as sun passed through, making a brash stained glass

against the leading of the tenements,

the warehouse holding medical supplies.

I waited for my bus by that window of trusses

in Caucasian beige, trying to forget

the pathological inside.

I was thinking of being alive.

Alice Fulton, from Industrial Lace

2008-04-27T15:13:00.003-04:00

In this, your future, waves rechristen the sea
after its tiny jeweled lives
that hiss “Us Us” to the shore all day.
Where’s the kid called Kateydid? the moonfaced
Kewpiedoll? The excitable pouting
Zookie? The somber O-Be-Joyful?

Lost girl, playing hopscotch, I will do what you could.
Name of father, son, ghost. Cross my heart and hope.
While the sea’s jewels build shells and shells
change to chalk and chalk to loam and gold
wheat grows where oceans teetered.
Alice Fulton, from Fierce Girl Playing Hopscotch

2008-04-22T18:22:00.011-04:00

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Jack Gilbert, from Failing and Falling

2008-04-21T18:39:00.003-04:00

small update from an already busy week,
next little sneak peek, related to this

2008-04-20T00:17:00.004-04:00

oh walls in savannah, you amaze me in your decrepitude.

Quiet now, sorrow; relax. Calm down, fear ...
You wanted the night? It’s falling, here,
Like a black glove onto the city,
Giving a few some peace ... but not me.
David St John, from Meditation

2008-04-17T16:58:00.006-04:00

Happy Weekend to Savannah, and Almost Weekend to all of the non-student population!
A couple of less serious pages from my journal, some friend snapshots from this summer past and a Geertz quote that's been haunting me. Enjoy!

The drive to make sense out of experiance, to give it form and order, is evidently as real and as pressing as the more familiar biological needs. And, this being so, it seems unnecessary to continue to interpret symbolic activities -- religion, art, ideology-- as nothing but thinly disguised expressions of something other than what tey seem to be: attempts to provide orientation for an organism which cannot live in a world it is unable to understand.
George Geertz, anthropologist

2008-04-16T11:34:00.003-04:00

While subjectivity will continue to reign supreme when it comes to our individual preferences for one type of photographic print process over another, the subjective nature of those personal choices will thankfully remain the very source from which art derives one of its most beneficial pleasures.
-Huntington Witherill, on why he stopped printing silver gelatin in 2006

2008-04-15T15:56:00.000-04:00

Just keep on

like I do and pay no attention. You’ll

find that people always will complain

about the atmosphere, either too hot

or too cold too bright or too dark, days

too short or too long.

If you don’t appear

at all one day they think you’re lazy

or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.

Frank O'Hara, from A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island

2008-04-14T15:03:00.002-04:00

words from Written On the Body, Jeanette Winterson