frustration. fear. fun.

needing some advice, thought I would turn to all of you lovely ladies (with the right dash of boys). I am frustrated with my artistic process. With the artistic process. I feel as though I was a better writer at 18 than I am at 23. Writing, unfortunately, does not follow a linear progression - more like chaos theory. 

What do you do when you feel as though you are slipping back, instead of charging forward? 

You are:

Welcome back to me! It's been awhile since I've posted, but I was in Palm Springs for the weekend, and the internet cost $1mil per minute.

Today I am posting pictures of myself and my family. I don't LIKE these photos, but when I look at them I feel a knot - and as fellow Canadian Margaret Atwood says: "Good writing begins where there is a knot."

So let the kneading (needing?)begin:

You are Katherine Hepburn, you are Marilyn Monroe, you are Meg Ryan and Cindy Crawford. You perch in a windowsill, awaiting your cue. You watch Cassie recite her line, and bow to the audience (your mom, your dad, and your aunt sandy). A bug lamp sways from a stray branch, and you wonder if it’s working.

You are readying yourself for high school and all that it entails.

You watch Cassie drag her paintbrush across the page, and with her lip held between her teeth she creates something beautiful, something stunning. Amanda paints like she thinks, and makes a watercolor resembling a photograph.

But then there’s you, attempting the impossible, trying to paint abstract notions of love and justice, sorrow and magic – and you are 16, what do you know?

Runny patches of primary colors bloom on your page, and the whole image cries long, sodden, lachrymose tears.


The person taking the picture is about to leave, and with your squinting eyes you press them through the door. Your sister sits beside you, pushed up in her chair, happy to be playing cards.

You want to laugh with out thinking: am I too young for this, am I too old for this?

You smile BIG for the camera. Your sister poses with her spoon as a prop.

Behind you Lake Simcoe’s surface shakes, dips and peaks like a shaken out blanket.

The day is fading, leaving only memories and farmer's tans testifying to its isness.

You are leaving for a foreign country, and your friends are there to see you off. You are only seventeen, (echo: only seventeen? sevenTEEN? SEVENTEEN?)

You will your heart to stop frenzily beating, you will your pulse to slow down - because if it doesn’t stop soon you know the courage will leak from you like air escaping from a balloon.

“See you in a year!”

To everyone: where are your knots? What memories make you cringe (with a smile)?

Faults are thin when love is thick.

A+ + + + +

that's me, on the right. rocking the big blue glasses. what a BABE i was! :)

C+ student.

I tutor a third grader in the craft of writing. I teach him how to describe (use all your senses), I teach him how to persuade (Please and Thank You), I teach him how to narrate (word-movie). 

But today, for the first time, I had him teach me. 

I wrote an essay about an evil LegoMan named Bob. Bob found a digging machine and accidentally dug himself to China. He ate some rice and drove a ford. Then he dug himself home. The end. 

My third grader gave me a C+. 

Shh.

a photo from last night

Today, for the first time, I bit my tongue in an argument. 

My sisters and I are notorious for our sharp tongues. I constantly, and consistently, say cruel things I don't mean - but only in relationships. Not with my girl friends, but with the boys? Watch out. 

Today Oms and I were about to have one of our earth shattering, explosive fights... and instead of verbally castrating him, I kicked him out of the car. Then I went to a meeting. Then I picked him up and apologized, and he said: "Why? You didn't say anything mean." I was so surprised I didn't talk for a minute and a half. 

Progress not perfection, right? 

Dancing queen(s).

I have never gone to karaoke and dancing on a Sunday night before. 

I have never had friends like this. 

I tried to sing the Touch Myself song.

Oh! So that's the Getty!

August Sander, from "Man of the Twentieth Century"

Bernd & Hilla Becher

9 views of framework house, Germany, 1961.

Today I went to the Getty Center for the very first time. 

I saw the August Sander exhibit, as well as Bernd & Hilla Becher. If any of you live in LA, and want an incredible day trip, and haven't been, take the time! GO! I beg of you. 

More about it later, right now I have to seduce my main squeeze Barry into spending more time with me. I'm about to be replaced as a spiritual groupie. 

Hope you all are having lovely weekends : )

Jackie's Birthday!!

My little sister is 20. 20 years old. 2 decades. 20 rides around the sun. Wow.

Jackie is my best friend, my sister, and my rock.  

She is a bundle of paradoxes: silently strong, painfully kind, steadily brilliant, artistic and rational. Athletic and graceful. Softspoken but a loud yeller. Bold and gentle. Surprising. 

Today I will celebrate her for her - Jackie and all her exquisite Jackie-ness.

 

I love you, little J! Photos from the last weekend in May.

pet peeves.

I ate rabbit. Tasted like chicken. Reminded me of Blinky. 

Mr. Blinks belonged to Cassie, Jackie and I. He died of a heart attack. In my arms. I pitched him back in the cage, ran to my room, and waited for the sky to fall. Two hours later my Dad knocked on the door. "Yes?" I asked, nonchalantly. "Robin, what happened to Blinky?" I shrugged.

After Blinky we got a couple of turtles, one of which we named "undecided." 

Undecided & co were followed by a long line of parakeets: Purdy, Lemonade, Colors, Bluebird, Budgie, Damn Bird - Mom, Jack, Cass, can you guys remember any more? 

I consider Sir Sampson my first real pet. 

What was - or is - your first pet? 

just between you, me, and the fencepost.

The older the violin, the sweeter the music.

Barry scribbled this, after Omar, him and I went to lunch yesterday. 

TIME WARP

My body is aging but my heart lies helplessly in an eternal time warp.
When I close my eyes I see Walt Disney’s Tinker Bell, flying across the
ebony black night sky.
Her sparkling wand spews brilliant stars in every direction.
I am young forever, it’s magic!

My body is aging but my heart swims in the warm Gulf Stream.
It lives on an island in the Gulf with a beautiful young girl.
At night sweet trade winds blow from the south, the moon is always full and star dust falls from the night sky.

Clear azure blue waters lap gently on the shore as we walk hand and
hand on moon lit nights.
Soft romantic music floats gently on the moist night air from the patio
of a restaurant on the beach.
Later, her hair falls and I feel her body rise to meet mine!

Impossible you say?

I think not!
For deep in my heart it knows a place like this outside of time.
A place where I no longer love, for I am one with who I love.
Where love is a thousand lovely dawnings’ and never dies.
Where the waters of the Gulf are always warm and the trade winds always sweet!

Barry W.

::::

before: like mother like puppy!

off to lunch.

a new day for new things

June will be my month to try new things... today's event: I have never before broken my tooth, my phone, and my heart (all by myself) in the span of 24 hours. Tomorrow's event will be premeditated, but for today? I think I'm done.

* Technically the phone is not reparable. I'm calling in my 3rd warranty.

resolved

i refuse to die
i choose to defy
prognosis (poor)
i will see
daughters
graduate
marry
grandchildren
i refuse to die
i choose to defy
prognosis (guarded)
i must
love
help
work
dream
eat chocolate every day
i refuse to die
i choose to survive
prognosis (good)

does anyone know the author of this poem?