365: The month of June

365: 2012/06/15 - ferret foster 365: 2012/06/28 - transparency 365: 2012/06/09 - my better half 365: 2012/06/05 - I miss my chair
365: 2012/06/06 - sing to the memory of light 365: 2012/06/08 - wrecked and broken bridges
365: 2012/06/07 - googly eyed for you 365: 2012/06/02 - the emerald city 365: 2012/06/29 - "now you take one"

365: 2012/06/23 - punk rock princess 365: 2012/06/13 - basin cat 365: 2012/06/16 - expect us
365: 2012/06/22 - I go with the house 365: 2012/06/20 - his father's knife (I know the answer, but not the question)

Near the end of the private wake for friends and family of Joe “Vito” Albanese, 52, (aka Dexter Mantooth or Meshugana Joe) murdered along with best friend and bandmate, Drew Keriakedes, 45, (aka Schmootzi the Clod) at the Cafe Racer killings in Seattle. Both men performed with Circus Contraption and founded the band God’s Favorite Beefcake. This video is my only 365 shot that I am not specifically in. I believe, however, that I am reflected in everyone there. I am that moment as they were that moment. It is still a self-portrait. The best kind there is.

365: 2012/06/11 - innocent when you dream 365: 2012/06/12 - washing out 365: 2012/06/14 - the second child

365: 2012/06/17 - Flower Power 365: 2012/06/25 - here comes science
365: 2012/06/18 - the bath
365: 2012/06/10 - we fight crime

365: 2012/06/27 - if you were here now, what would you see?
365: 2012/06/24 - "as big as my head!"
365: 2012/06/01 - switching hats with sammy 365: 2012/06/03 - late nights 365: 2012/06/19 - familiar
365: 2012/06/21 - solitary 365: 2012/06/26 - politics of desire

assembling the artillery

356:2010/01/31 - aeroship hers
356:2010/01/31 – aeroship hers

My eyes burn when they blink from staring too long at a screen. Today has been a day of creating and back aches and forgetting to stretch or to eat or to move. It is good, as now I can sit back and see what I have accomplished, which is not insignificant, and feel less like I am wasting my life, using my hours and minutes up, moment by moment, until the day I suddenly wake, years too late, and realize, all through my life, that nothing’s been done.

Today’s accomplishments are all small things, though cumulative, as I’m in the midst of readying essential files for a laser cutter and readying them for thread, hacking out approximations of finished forms, sourcing where I should go for prints, and other various sundries. My computer, through all of this, acting as teacher, toolbox, and friend. I’ve also managed to finish a rough draft for my new website, nothing spectacular, but functional, and hopefully not too impossible to build.

where are you to say goodnight?

365: 91 - 02.04.09
365: 91 – 02.04.09

wake up, love

wake up, love
undress yourself from my skin
put on the sun and let our dreaming rest
come watch the world rise

wake up, love
and be unbalance on the edge with me
of our sagging, remembering bed
come slip on your shoes

wake up, love
and help me sort this tangle of belongings
our thoughts half in day, half still in night
come kiss me full of sustenance

wake up, love
and meet me at the opened door
before the scent of you leaves my hands and hair
come walk with me into this life

by Tobin James Mueller

work just handed me business cards to schmooze with, telling me to “slip them in my bra”

365: 77 - 18.03.09
365: 77 – 18.03.09

Looking up from my book to step onto a crowded bus, I slipped through everyone to the very back to find an unexpected puddle of empty seats around a very young, equally unexpected boy. No more than sixteen, maybe seventeen, eyes fixed out the window, obviously aware of everyone staring, he would not have been exceptional except that he was dressed as if he was only five minutes out of the Arab Emirates, all flowing, air thin white robes and leather string sandals, except for a light blue, very out of style denim jacket, a bare, acid wash nod to the weather as torn out of place and time as his traditional Saudi white and black ghutra and ougal. In the morning commuter gloom of black and gray and raincoats, his shining white looked completely bizarre, like a theater costume at a funeral, setting him completely apart.

So I sat next to him. We’re all strangers somewhere.