Caillebotte, Gustave
Interior
1880
Oil on canvas

v-day

valentines day. what a waste. if i have said it once, well... this is not a new rant - i think it happens every february... but it is one of those damn holidays that is a marketing holiday - not that they all aren't - but a holiday that makes people who are not "in love" - whatever the hell that means - feel bad. if i see another comercial for match.com, eharmony.com, or comegetmebigboyiwantyounow.com - for valentine cards - for little heart-shaped candies - if i hear on the radio one more commerial for some jewelry store... well frankly, i just don't know what i'll do. actually - i do. i will do nothing as usual - and wait until the 14th goes by. maybe i just need a thicker fucking skin - i will soon be a reptile... oh yeah. hm.

somewhere beyond the sea...

somewhere, waiting for me... my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing...

monday night, macaroni shells stuffed with meat. a relaxing, time consuming process. beer in hand, bobby darin on the stereo, critters rough housing...

we'll meet beyond the shore... and never again I'll go sailing...

the hive...

Today henry and I are going to clean this joint up, go to the grocery store, do laundry that is long over due - it is actually marching itself to the washing machine right now... yes, and tomorrow - I think I will paint the remaining "raw" walls of the kitchen. I'm leaning towards a cream -- I think it was called Winston Churchill something-er-other. Yes, but in the morning I will be sober - you will still be ugly.

we little bees buzzing around the hive... bzzzz.....bzzzzz...bzzzzz....

Happy New Years!

Melissa's Pad

And the day after...

...our dear "O.L.M."

Christmas Day...

Mele Kalikimaka

found not my card reader but a cord that does the trick...

my pumpkin


me in kindergarten - the one with the pigtails...


my grade school - st. salomes - which is now being torn down...


my christmas tree

it's funny

i was reading back on my rants - starting from the beginning... i've really tames shit down from then. but i realized that i really have not written anything thing -- like serously written something... i read this:

it's funny how you lose sight of the earth - well, nature i guess. i was sitting outside and looked at the clouds and watched the sun light the edges. and i listened. an alarm was methodically beeping, a car alarm went off, a paper blew off the table, the birds started chirping, and the wind rustled through the leaves. you forget that kinda of shit when the phone is ringing, people are whining, keyboards are clicking. i though of walking in the Upper Basin and the wind blowing through those trees and those birds flying what seemed to be inches above me head. i thought about peaceful and lonley the land was. how beautiful it was and how, if everything came to an end, i might feel safe there. in part it was the company too, but what if the electric stopped in the city, the water stopped. people would be fucked. i would be fucked, but i think, if everything was to be flattened, that is when people would truly rise to be real humans. conveniences just makes you forget how small you really are and makes you forget how truely beautiful everything is that you are not seeing because you are too busy.

i remember writing that... i don't think my thoughts have changed - but i wonder if i have -- i wonder if i have become more comfortable in things -- when i should not be -- or i let myself slide - or my personality slide - when i should not have - or just because i have become lazy. i feel lazy- well, less disciplined... that is not good... and i don't like that. but then things blow up in my brain - and i feel like everything is out of control - and is as messy as my bedroom - and i cannot see the forest through the trees. new year's resolution -- starts tomorrow... discipline.

i don't really have much to say today. i'm not caught up with my sleep. i did a bunch of yard work -- which i enjoyed. really enjoyed. and the mini got a bath. i filled up an entire garbage bag of shit from the car... not good. now, i need a bath. oh - and my britsh shows are on tonight... i can't wait for them. quiet. stressless. zzzzzzzz........

Harold died. He's in the garden now.

Actually - I think the damn dog just dug him up.

...only the strong shall survive...

i was listening to a collective soul song "she said" as i was driving home today... it's a nice song.

it's been another relatively rough week. nothing new in the land of our heroin. but as she was sitting in the cave, buckets under the dripping stalactites... she thought - what is it to be strong...

strength i guess is a frame of mind. but idiots can think they are strong. it is not a psychical thing. it is about knowledge. but idiots often think they are right... but i don't think it is about how much - or what you know. maybe it is about how much you emotionally know. how much you know about yourself, about people you come in contact with... about the situation you are presented with, and how you deal with it. i guess being strong is knowing yourself and what your limits are. when someone says "act like an adult" - that could be one of the stupidest things to say. for one - what adult acts like an adult? is strength stoicism? i dunno, actually - stoicism, although honorable - is not what i would want - because it is done- i think- for the benifit of others... i might be wrong here... but strength i think encorporats everything --- especially you - what you think, believe, want... in any event - i'm really not sure what it is. but i want some...

GO HOME YOU BLITHERING BAG OF SEAWEED! THE GREAT OZ HAS SPOKEN!

another saturday

the "patio" i made last saturday - a rake, 8 bags of pea gravel, and some bricks.




my romas...


and their friends.


my night garden, which i have yet to see any night flowers - but this is the most morning flowers I have had.

quiet on a saturday morning

i just saw a robin and his girl hopping from branch to branch, quietly chasing eachother. henry, laying here besides me, just watching the world. today is going to be a quiet day. i'm going to bury myself in my backyard and clean it up - listen to the birds and the traffic.

my head has been anything but quiet. i wish it was, though. i've been mean. i'm frustrated. i'm very tired. i'm tired of trying not to be tired. i'm tired of talking and smiling.

i had a dream last night that i was at a show and delia was there. we were having a quiz on the prices of things. there was this giant blanket of some sort - i had no idea what it was, or what it was worth. and everyone, including her, looked at me and laughed. i felt like i had learned nothing on my desert trip and i was a dissapointment. i had no idea what anything was. and at the same time, i somehow made a fool of myself, i think i drank too much or something, and someone told me to go home early, because there was no point in me being there and i was embarrassing everyone.

danica in the desert

and so i drove... drove until the road ended...










and yes, i know this picture is sideways... it's the desert heat.

gone. but not forgotton.

and the critters packed their bags and left. just left. did not say goodbye, no note. just took their babies, their luggage and vanished. crazy.

and as in all great stories, the evil seeps through the walls, oozes through the cracks, penetrates the soul... and when there appears to be no chance of the light of day, there is a glimmer of hope...

there are 50-60 bats living and breeding in my attic... at least. but - i know where they are - they are sealed up with the handyman's secret weapon -- and a trap will be set soon...

strangly enough i do crave the taste of raw meat...

yes - i guess this day was bound to come... the purple villita, 122 years young, is infested with bats. at the moment (with garlic tied around my neck and wooden stake at my side) there have been no sightings tonight. that is, inside. however, over the past three days, five bats have lost their lives and a sixth has gone missing within these lilac walls. i am starting to think that death befell these creatures because of ben and his stealth. had i not inturrupted, ben would have killed the sixth and missing bat. at least i would have known where it rested. and in death, these flying creatures emit the most putrid smell, as if hell itself has opened its gates to welcome them back home.

all i ask is that they stay outside.