one of the final

not immoral but amoral,
cdm gathering,
hangover (good),
zoo,
long beach,
newport,
jackie,
tea,
jackie,
headshots,
sarah,
work,
bed.

matt dorfman's wedding invitation design (amazing).

a better view at matt dorfman's site

it's not me, it's you.

Three cancellations have cleared my Thursday. Two excuses and a reason.

two told me: “Robin, I don’t want to get attached, it’s not you, it’s me.”

So here I sit, at the ocean’s edge, watching families pack baskets and fold beach towels by the corners. How odd I must seem: my slacks, my sunglasses, my book.

I am the leper longing for colony. I am the leper priests whisper at through walls. Is this what disappearing is? Watching those I love turn inward, turn away, heads lowered and eyes cast down? Have I become memory? I’m here! I want to scream, shaking shoulders, spitting on shoes. But I vanish. Miserably, in an ugly way - first my skin, then my nerves - my limbs, my toes, and my eyes.

I root my foot in the sand, I inurn my toes in a sandy crypt.

So here I sit: Franz Wright, me, and the California light: burning itself from the edges, in.

::::

still on the marriage kick:

Tim Melideo posted these of him & his fiance.

thursday afternoon could use some romance.

am.

source

wednesday perk.

from (where else?) the keep calm gallery

wedding + travel + back home again.

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last night: dreams of marriage & lava rocks & kids &the southern tip of chile.

and I realized, I want a yearlong honeymoon.

For the year after our wedding we will backpack around, choosing two continents – South America and - _(his choice)_. Instead of gifts we will ask our guests for plane tickets/ dinners/ outings/ rail passes, etc. All travel related. No stifling blenders, espresso machines, – experience, not things.

last two photos from a cup of jo.

monday night, family night.

sarah.

the beginning of the end. i want to remember it all, but i can't, and i won't - but i will try.

fall 2009 schedule.

venn diagram, happiness in business.

photostream link.

::::

mondays aren't so bad.

source.

blue skies.

first favorite image from summer.

finally, sun!

today: supine

my mother would have seen this:

Robin is smacking her gums at a hand mirror. She hunches over, back to us, in the middle of her room. Her smurf sized body curves like the shell of a snail. The popping is loud, quick, and jarring.

“La, la, la, la,” smack, “la.”

Beside her my overturned purse spills tape, lipstick, pennies and an orange across the carpet.

I look at Robert. "What is she doing?" I mouth.

"I don’t know," he mouths back, hoisting his eyebrows to the middle of his forehead.

“Yes madame cheri, yes! I WILL take the black sood pumps.” She rams her small fists together. “I won’t pay what you ask!”

I cover my mouth with my left hand, Robert’s with my right.

“And no, no I will not have any- what’s that? I need to do that? If I must.”

She seizes the tape and wrenches a clear strand from its reel. “If I must,” she repeats. She smoothes the tape over her upper lip, using her finger to flatten the air bubbles.

“Sho be it,” she mutters, and with a valiant stroke she rips it off.

Her shriek makes us duck and grab each other's arms.

random excerpt from a story of mine, about the price beauty exacts.

my sister's 21st birthday on sunday!