tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24669903540982127082024-02-19T06:31:57.251-08:00little things add upto reveal (the glories of) life and artTraingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-15136037256325618462010-11-22T20:44:00.000-08:002010-11-22T21:09:50.926-08:0040 Gracias: 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeOkyQR0k40NXgj6GLzfDes4auWurGTteoBIPsFOUDFYe_1KJ52IKKnr9qrrt0ATTmai0ffEOewPJwy-qqQRBSan9GgnGfRwq5ylV4fSvBxZOQaLbk5hAXRCCDeULAiWGrL_Sr8glDEaI/s1600/IMG_3322_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeOkyQR0k40NXgj6GLzfDes4auWurGTteoBIPsFOUDFYe_1KJ52IKKnr9qrrt0ATTmai0ffEOewPJwy-qqQRBSan9GgnGfRwq5ylV4fSvBxZOQaLbk5hAXRCCDeULAiWGrL_Sr8glDEaI/s400/IMG_3322_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542607930271908706" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8w_XG_3q93Q9PXfOFlk4Hdk4QfIv35keznXrzZzm69o-gRNgjQ7PrkaX4DemyrsEfM77DPpcI4vmFJtd_yi6qjkds6qwE07-HOTLptqiiit4KLxkWD5yAp8-qAmJzbePiflnVneJjJ9Rv/s1600/IMG_3322_2.JPG"><br /></a>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-80992147090312164202010-11-22T20:38:00.000-08:002010-11-22T21:13:48.338-08:0040 Gracias<span id="profile_status"><span id="status_text">There are 40 days left til 2011.<br /><br />Lisa Bowden posed a question on Facebook: "what you gonna do with them?"<br /></span></span><span id="profile_status"><span id="status_text"><br />Lots of things. And one main thing. Say thank you. Show my appreciation. I'm going to find one thing to appreciate everyday. Not hard, no. There are usually hundreds of things to appreciate in a day. But one will do to cultivate a steady practice of gratitude.<br /><br />Write it, draw it, photograph it, name it. On an index card. Artsy fartsy or simple dimple. I'm not a super duper fabulous painter or illustrator, but I'd like to practice and play.<br /><br />I'm postomg my "graces" and "thank yous" in the doorway leading into my bedroom. An archway of appreciation. I begin today.<br /><br />Won't you too?<br /></span></span>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-71446194280121600722009-10-08T08:58:00.000-07:002009-10-08T09:03:19.533-07:00Mastering Tucson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpweDkplqhhCEi3lpm8ndFOSbPJr3-HTqsBw-ZxRUc4SkXVPV-r9J5nNEmrVF6SwDBLtgtXXzWc3S4EZkS1zIr62mpD6vgSQilFoedq7NQH4vi9Hs-4ivLyPtno00h5oHe5b8M0kklNu25/s1600-h/apparatchik1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpweDkplqhhCEi3lpm8ndFOSbPJr3-HTqsBw-ZxRUc4SkXVPV-r9J5nNEmrVF6SwDBLtgtXXzWc3S4EZkS1zIr62mpD6vgSQilFoedq7NQH4vi9Hs-4ivLyPtno00h5oHe5b8M0kklNu25/s400/apparatchik1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390260074548409730" border="0" /></a><br /><p>Apparatchiks processing surveys on Oct. 3, 2009. Photo by Tony Novelli.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Come check out this exhibit. If you're lucky, you'll get to share your ideas in a public input survey, which will be processed (heavily) by yours truly.<br /></p> <h1><em><strong></strong></em></h1><h1><em><strong>±92</strong></em><em><strong>: Downtown Master<br />Plans, 1932-2009 </strong></em></h1> <h2>Exhibit Hours: October 10, 17 and 24, 6-8pm<br />McLellan Building, <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?q=63%20E.%20Congress%20Tucson%20AZ&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wl" target="_blank">63 E. Congress</a> (NW corner of Scott Ave. and Congress)</h2> <p>Tucson artists <a href="http://www.workerincorporated.com/" target="_blank">Bill Mackey</a>, <a href="http://www.julieraycreative.com/" target="_blank">Julie Ray</a>, <a href="http://www.artdivastudios.com/">Rachelle Díaz</a> and <a href="http://www.traingrrl.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kimi Eisele</a>, representing several collectives and entities including Worker, Inc., Pop-Up Spaces and Design Co*op, present “±92: Downtown Master Plans, 1932-2009,” a compilation of over 100 Downtown Tucson master plans, comprehensive plans, studies and projects. The exhibition will include realized and unrealized plans authored from the early 20th century to 2009. An interactive timeline will help viewers track world events, economic and social trends, and Tucson’s history in relationship to the plans’ origins, realization, or death. This is a rare opportunity to see ALL of the planning for downtown Tucson in one space at one time.</p> <p>Also included in the exhibition will be 92 images (by photographers including Josh Schachter) of spaces and places that make our downtown unique—some of these are a direct result of planning, some of which are not. A crew of official performing “apparatchiks” (i.e. officials in a large organization, usually a political one), will be on site to collect public input for current and future downtown master planning, for which there are no funds, of course. A small booklet entitled “A Guide to the Master Plans of Downtown Tucson” will be available for purchase.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-48755528451572297732009-09-11T22:09:00.000-07:002009-09-11T22:33:31.640-07:00Bee BikeMy gift to Burning Man 09 was inspired by the honeybees, those sweet and glorious pollinators. I gave out hand-harvested, hand-processed honey from Brad's backyard in the Sonoran Desert. I turned my bike (and myself) into a honeybee and made a fancy-dancy spoon rack with the help of <a href="http://www.bicas.org/">BICAS</a> art corner and Eric. My friend Janet K. Miller engraved about 100 spoons from St. Vincent's Thrift store (and I did a few, too) and we hung them from the spoon rack. Then we went bee-ing, giving out honey spoons to the fearless wanderers in Black Rock City's farthest reaches.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeS2JMhSBqnTL9kfx1gLDv0JtfXtWjeJStwlidbstDJRwwx6V1UTFXRMGBScmQIxfAyKJlf5U4V0PVk0LdbokkY4CMJr_mHKl519ng0UZHdhHPpf4i5FeQTq5ydGZdMaXPX2E1duWMH2kS/s1600-h/IMG_1220.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeS2JMhSBqnTL9kfx1gLDv0JtfXtWjeJStwlidbstDJRwwx6V1UTFXRMGBScmQIxfAyKJlf5U4V0PVk0LdbokkY4CMJr_mHKl519ng0UZHdhHPpf4i5FeQTq5ydGZdMaXPX2E1duWMH2kS/s400/IMG_1220.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380444695643010914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh98Yy_4ClcC2UqdWeNTviK8KeRqgLHaO36WJ7OZNJN8LrEzoBQMv-_0AswngybPwjZL2JrEKvKmAAhk9nVDFR3-FpYn8vvTSfX1kDl9dFy8KwEbnaEidZVfLb6PoNz4Gh-ZS4Oq5yQKtR/s1600-h/IMG_1241.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh98Yy_4ClcC2UqdWeNTviK8KeRqgLHaO36WJ7OZNJN8LrEzoBQMv-_0AswngybPwjZL2JrEKvKmAAhk9nVDFR3-FpYn8vvTSfX1kDl9dFy8KwEbnaEidZVfLb6PoNz4Gh-ZS4Oq5yQKtR/s400/IMG_1241.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380445800825473842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNDJIuaE8rJbXXmG1Bc_UF0vaCqN_WLy4DXRokLPgGPDjmzbXv8itVGp42grV6gB-UxJ6rpBivg4tja39FSW-qz2cYU4f-FB8myPzxv0Lm9o3LGTePZ43E9fN4ntndm5KU29n4-fmqYRn/s1600-h/IMG_1236.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLNDJIuaE8rJbXXmG1Bc_UF0vaCqN_WLy4DXRokLPgGPDjmzbXv8itVGp42grV6gB-UxJ6rpBivg4tja39FSW-qz2cYU4f-FB8myPzxv0Lm9o3LGTePZ43E9fN4ntndm5KU29n4-fmqYRn/s400/IMG_1236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380445187403297666" border="0" /></a><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='286' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdxulkHixL0UARxshWCQ2J3EmXM5OEclVu_s0p1ig0caYiss_u5eK8wEW-z0Cn-bz1h9XZHltH0LTRYGaXeA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-38702569556930575312009-08-20T10:55:00.000-07:002009-09-11T22:39:33.471-07:00I ♥ Downtown Tucson<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"><span style="font-weight: normal;font-size:85%;" >Here are the I ♥ Downtown Tucson posters that youth from the VOICES, Inc. Freelance Program created with guidance from Josh Schachter and me. They hung in the windows of Hotel Congress on August 20, 2009 and then in other downtown locations (TBA).</span><br /></h3><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UDZIaeipydEUuUIKdjMrzGpBwRsB0HwX3ubX3CGLPIxW1LIE94k9dsCR9dikasmdTVrhoBAxiOmzOVSSM5IyEdMDF8LuXP8s04CCW8AgOIg1E97VhyDmRqlr1taTokp92A1x3eSt-HUg/s1600-h/Tito.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UDZIaeipydEUuUIKdjMrzGpBwRsB0HwX3ubX3CGLPIxW1LIE94k9dsCR9dikasmdTVrhoBAxiOmzOVSSM5IyEdMDF8LuXP8s04CCW8AgOIg1E97VhyDmRqlr1taTokp92A1x3eSt-HUg/s400/Tito.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372113733214360130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZlmkKFye_lGtfyjYonSHMgtWal4l09On_n7pbHJrjV79KcXL2HgkCkEeEwf2bIbJZSHWpESPjuEThvj_84y6mEh7drrNqwDGmwi8ja-X8-nibFQydLYiTYf_-yzn5cNtr596ddM_JWrq/s1600-h/ShawnHelen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwZlmkKFye_lGtfyjYonSHMgtWal4l09On_n7pbHJrjV79KcXL2HgkCkEeEwf2bIbJZSHWpESPjuEThvj_84y6mEh7drrNqwDGmwi8ja-X8-nibFQydLYiTYf_-yzn5cNtr596ddM_JWrq/s400/ShawnHelen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372112594450425906" border="0" /></a><br /><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names"> </span><br /></h3></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityNAuuf4XhxvMnnB-iT3EFE-3hUjeRtrup9V079E1Y24IaqPbLlbziZQH03CiXU3ktWTNE5_khREcEoVfrAIf88MCNNIiMC0AgMJbIt3ts6-8g55vIkly36DflnfcN7kcT-qGtXn3yJOl/s1600-h/Richard.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityNAuuf4XhxvMnnB-iT3EFE-3hUjeRtrup9V079E1Y24IaqPbLlbziZQH03CiXU3ktWTNE5_khREcEoVfrAIf88MCNNIiMC0AgMJbIt3ts6-8g55vIkly36DflnfcN7kcT-qGtXn3yJOl/s400/Richard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372112304785766306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ_ehyUgfE9Z9D1gh_3rYUxjBBZ8TJCE1A3MoweI40Jq1Aha4AiCUFKuloUr0n0RCZOxCeIVGP9KFKQORNgWLVOCcXynQ3PevL_AgeT2TgH7jhhBtnwOr_HmNJ1PABCFpK50VaLoQ4VMp/s1600-h/Karen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQ_ehyUgfE9Z9D1gh_3rYUxjBBZ8TJCE1A3MoweI40Jq1Aha4AiCUFKuloUr0n0RCZOxCeIVGP9KFKQORNgWLVOCcXynQ3PevL_AgeT2TgH7jhhBtnwOr_HmNJ1PABCFpK50VaLoQ4VMp/s400/Karen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372110865295215858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdSbFznLuR7kZ5Nw4RTxtY0h_qZ_6pyRitzltPkk4QTcYQrYQnNEEnL3lMld85WXuJR2WnqPBNtEHEqg_qWW3nIp5jxEMEqWiQEbQNR4naQJe8Jv2nvAdnVKT-BCAY4CIAwFCG2p6kB5E/s1600-h/Julieta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdSbFznLuR7kZ5Nw4RTxtY0h_qZ_6pyRitzltPkk4QTcYQrYQnNEEnL3lMld85WXuJR2WnqPBNtEHEqg_qWW3nIp5jxEMEqWiQEbQNR4naQJe8Jv2nvAdnVKT-BCAY4CIAwFCG2p6kB5E/s400/Julieta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372110497936413714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYx1Md8NRhpLCAI9D4WpaH8S2mLg_l97QWV6-b9C42-aRSrQOQ4jJhVzitW4zTTHvGb-R8Xmk7weI71F-N1igvN1SCh3uaknTg0rSTozmAGSavlbM4wQUcSurEC3vwFGgviDl29_RKA0K/s1600-h/Geraldine.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYx1Md8NRhpLCAI9D4WpaH8S2mLg_l97QWV6-b9C42-aRSrQOQ4jJhVzitW4zTTHvGb-R8Xmk7weI71F-N1igvN1SCh3uaknTg0rSTozmAGSavlbM4wQUcSurEC3vwFGgviDl29_RKA0K/s400/Geraldine.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372110366683116946" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Ac2Im6T0NXQUrc-ioXS0Q-t89qSfiJl-TBC9LwUSFFvfLms6mN-frYPaEF1BlC53kiJjmgu1tnT329IgxHFDShYqgyfuHqg-KzbZHrNC_7eXxVQKulsgF-uKYSLbEm4_MdEoTCDgQdQg/s1600-h/DavidDanayra.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Ac2Im6T0NXQUrc-ioXS0Q-t89qSfiJl-TBC9LwUSFFvfLms6mN-frYPaEF1BlC53kiJjmgu1tnT329IgxHFDShYqgyfuHqg-KzbZHrNC_7eXxVQKulsgF-uKYSLbEm4_MdEoTCDgQdQg/s400/DavidDanayra.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372110149897565026" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message"><br /></h3><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0iuR9IBnxAyILO5apzo0S9WOqrdvDrrE07kWzTyBX-SerZ3vA7rsN2PbNZ4V46_hOqbPWcsfwCkPHdzozIlEgoLhWLlwyr-C5zKdsciGTG6VATn-meK07H8aojzd3WF3SiY5doPVjzTU/s1600-h/Belle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD0iuR9IBnxAyILO5apzo0S9WOqrdvDrrE07kWzTyBX-SerZ3vA7rsN2PbNZ4V46_hOqbPWcsfwCkPHdzozIlEgoLhWLlwyr-C5zKdsciGTG6VATn-meK07H8aojzd3WF3SiY5doPVjzTU/s400/Belle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372107992232308530" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy7M0ZRvHsMhyphenhyphenUfO7vx5xX0pWxv-gmjDDJISP7Rnu0PvhnT92_QZBSzkZyXNuq6TVnXZqkIxHDACIwnsJomyPgf-WalWeyOVExARPx-NL8fwvhkm9eGCRr2JGOsc_doieFnoPhq-J6NUu/s1600-h/Bertha.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy7M0ZRvHsMhyphenhyphenUfO7vx5xX0pWxv-gmjDDJISP7Rnu0PvhnT92_QZBSzkZyXNuq6TVnXZqkIxHDACIwnsJomyPgf-WalWeyOVExARPx-NL8fwvhkm9eGCRr2JGOsc_doieFnoPhq-J6NUu/s400/Bertha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372109435583599906" border="0" /></a>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-22311427858953904362009-03-04T13:55:00.000-08:002009-03-04T14:20:17.988-08:00Body TruismsA la <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jenny_Holzer">Jenny Holzer</a>. But with a focus on the body, since that's what I was thinking about when I wrote them. Like with <a href="http://mfx.dasburo.com/art/truisms.html">Holzer's Truisms</a>, some of these I believe, some I think are bullshit.<br /><br />Some appeared in chalk on the bricks in front of <a href="http://www.casalibre.org/">Casa Libre</a> with chalk with the teenage grrls writing class I teach. They wrote their own. Pretty kick ass: <a href="http://www.grrlsactivism.blogspot.com/">http://www.grrlsactivism.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />Here are mine:<br /><br />A simple breath contains all we need to know and remember.<br /><br />Breasts are either useful, erotic, or a nuisance.<br /><br />Creating an alternate strategy in the presence of an obstacle is a sign of brilliance.<br /><br />Dancing is good for one's mental health.<br /><br />Evenness and symmetry are boring and undesirable.<br /><br />Fingers are utensils worth washing.<br /><br />Giving-in can yield pleasant sensations.<br /><br />Hamstrings are the elevators of our daily lives.<br /><br />Inspiration begins at the base of the spine.<br /><br />Jumping will redefine your concept of gravity.<br /><br />Kinesthetic travel expands one's range and reduces one's carbon footprint.<br /><br />Laughter is more effective than sit-ups for toning one's abdominal muscles.<br /><br />Memories are like back flips--you can land wrong and break something.<br /><br />Never breaking a bone means you didn't try hard enough.<br /><br />Old-age means nothing.<br /><br />Pain is an opportunity to try something else.<br /><br />Quivering muscles indicate the need to relax or pay more attention.<br /><br />Rotating frequently ensures new perspectives, or a stomach ache.<br /><br />Skeletons need not come out of the closet if they are carefully hung and preserved there.<br /><br />Tongues are the see-saws of the soul.<br /><br />Undulation reminds us that we are mostly water.<br /><br />Vaginas are fists without fingers.<br /><br />Walking is also dancing.<br /><br />the Xiphoid process shouts the body's secrets.<br /><br />You cannot successfully dwell outside of your body.<br /><br />Zealousness can strain the scalenes.Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-51055431015218381912009-01-12T12:26:00.001-08:002009-01-12T12:27:40.494-08:00Me reading from the post-apocalypse<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg1kr69W78Sl4-WO2Vzxpwf8xyKBCMz3wHEpHkrfMH7b3p9ABZ4VCW09LaE84jRQZ4CP3rFQjD2Lndm84aEUY9BYr8o39h0OnEF5c4xpzTHlVdqlfly-zlNjycWN95rNaXElDox9W0pS0/s1600-h/cover.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglg1kr69W78Sl4-WO2Vzxpwf8xyKBCMz3wHEpHkrfMH7b3p9ABZ4VCW09LaE84jRQZ4CP3rFQjD2Lndm84aEUY9BYr8o39h0OnEF5c4xpzTHlVdqlfly-zlNjycWN95rNaXElDox9W0pS0/s400/cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290506454641901714" border="0" /></a>Just letting y'all know I'll be reading from my not-yet-finished novel next Wednesday evening, Jan. 21 at Casa Libre, 228 N. 4th Avenue, 7:30 pm.<br /><br />Two other readers as well--not sure where I am in the line up.<br /><br />Here are more details: <a href="http://www.casalibre.org/programs/edge/jan09/jan09.html">http://www.casalibre.org/programs/edge/jan09/jan09.html</a><br /><br />Not sure what the selection will be just yet (a sprinkle of activism, a shake of chickens, a dash of compost toilet, a smidgen from the resurrected landfill, a little sex, a little longing, a little hope?), but if you feel like a little post-apocalyptic stew, come on down.Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-33819854757736739202008-10-20T11:59:00.001-07:002008-10-20T12:02:52.001-07:00Why I WriteI contributed to Persephone Speaks, the online blog of <a href="http://www.korepress.org">Kore Press</a>. The piece was for an application for a fellowship that I did not receive (boo). But it was an important exercise--to really think about and articulate why I write. Every writer should write an essay like that. Multiple times.<br /><br />See the entry <a href="http://www.korepress.blogspot.com">here</a> (www.korepress.blogspot.com). It's the October 2008 listing.Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-88654434456775007772008-06-23T17:46:00.000-07:002008-06-23T18:25:41.955-07:00Bear Meadows Bog6-23-08<br />Mountain laurel in bloom and the bog!<br />Near State College, PA<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwll9hl4a0EhmIv70-K0dYmLhQdTzXyATPqm5rrIT7dDAI3DfPPl511fQY5CrT2HCsMdzjfYhDfpoJnbVfmxg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy0wBaK5UtcHNZ4v0pO1_PUjT_pC4Z_bmuG9fiH7RjtmVkpEFvMWPFAE8E4fMm-RxpPOsLJcHK0dPzNIt1t_g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-65671783332783880242008-05-21T22:19:00.000-07:002010-09-22T20:01:26.186-07:00Rib FishSome people get punched<br />knuckle slap, bonecrack<br />richochets form bloodlakes<br />behind organs<br /><br />A viscous waterfall, red,<br />makes eddies at its landing<br />I wait for fish to wiggle out<br />from underneath<br /><br />A dazzling one would be nice<br />yellow, yes, and wandering<br />the kind that feeds, oblivious,<br />on painweed<br /><br />The yellow happy rib fish<br />leaving joy wakes<br />pinballing the edges<br />of heartbeat<br /><br />(5-21-08)Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-49837299561770329502008-05-19T07:44:00.001-07:002010-09-22T20:01:06.696-07:00St. AmbroseSt. Ambrose<br /><br />crawl into my mouth<br />sting my tongue<br />this is the origin of language<br />this is the origin of desire<br />this is original<br />before the apple was the flower<br />before the flower was the bee<br />taste this<br />land here<br />swell here<br />leave here<br />honey<br /><br />(5-15-08)Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-35662155626295266542008-05-19T07:12:00.001-07:002010-09-22T20:00:51.960-07:00StreamsThey come and hold out their fingers<br />nearly begging for sting<br />they bathe and drink<br />feel fluttered and purified, chosen<br />Meanwhile there are no special acts<br />the bees simply wake with dew<br />with uncelebrated purpose<br />to collect and deposit,<br />to protect and churn<br />These transformations so inscrutable<br />while we develop theorems for resurrection<br />try to explain the thick golden initiations<br />inside our peculiar biochemistries,<br />and theirs<br /><br />But yes<br />here are my fingers<br />Who does not want the pouring over?<br />the lively murmuring?<br />the puncture of possibility?<br />Who does not want streams meandering<br />heartside?<br /><br />(5-17-08)Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-90512146479880984632008-05-19T07:11:00.001-07:002008-05-19T07:11:55.100-07:00Colony Collapselet x equal e<br />doubled and long, extending<br />lightless swarms heaped<br />wide pools of limp wings<br />this skyline of loss<br />how bloomless<br />how hoverless<br />how goldless<br />barely a tickle of breeze<br />through the fallen flowers<br />and silence<br /><br />bitter bitter silence<br /><br />(5-17-09)Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-51909808626689641062008-05-19T07:08:00.000-07:002008-05-19T07:09:03.930-07:00toforwith (the bees)(for Bz, looking up...)<br /><p><br />to the yellow cling and the drip, the waiting<br />for hexagons, pinnacles, an overflow<br />with want of rising<br /><br />to lift, then replace "t" with silent "e," longing<br />for early May<br />with its plumpness and sting (sometimes without "t")<br /><br />to reach in<br />for evidence: life slides easily<br />with bridges and breaths<br /><br />to break is to gain something<br />for now a substance, substantial and sweet<br />with glow</p><br /><p>(5-9-08)<br /></p>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-89221148174650855082008-05-19T07:02:00.000-07:002008-05-19T07:06:55.987-07:00HumHum<br /><br />This is the way<br />inside<br />this beating and this hum<br />these 6-sided chambers<br />these hands on wood<br />these hands on ache<br />this knife to cut<br />this scraper to clean<br />this city inside<br />here, an infancy<br />this infant inside<br />this brood comb<br />this lifting<br />this pouring<br />this bare hand<br />these netted eyes<br />this hovering<br />that lifts us over<br />this is the way<br />these bodies and these wings<br />this wet edge of knife<br />this dripping<br />this coming home yellow<br />this poppy pollen<br />this dipping<br />these tongue-fulls<br />this being birthed<br />this linger between sweet<br />this sting risk<br />this squeezing<br />this smoke<br />here, hold here<br />these gifts and recompenses<br />this heart swarm<br />this hum and this beating<br />this hovering<br />is the way<br />in<br /><br />(5-9-08)Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-59653732501469591792008-02-06T13:39:00.001-08:002008-02-06T14:10:17.377-08:00FREE happinessFeb. 6, 2008<br />Today the grrls gathered for their public literary action. Carrie made delicious cookies from the heart, Miki passed out free valentines, Morgen did a few stencil sprays, Hannah videotaped, and Ashley recruited passersby to the table with "free hugs." Some City High friends helped out with the act. A fine success! Congrats, grrls.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dlH8VziLtsgckrec6bKwra7EQd9RaBXAHXNdZ1jO_1_CrW6pFWLDuqmCMUjLuJ13dfnbrzxgEsU8dtzoGj782QtIB-PXLmbv3uAaGNJRLekutoAZYFacYCxI__sjBTzA38rUZCBO9eFT/s1600-h/happiness.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dlH8VziLtsgckrec6bKwra7EQd9RaBXAHXNdZ1jO_1_CrW6pFWLDuqmCMUjLuJ13dfnbrzxgEsU8dtzoGj782QtIB-PXLmbv3uAaGNJRLekutoAZYFacYCxI__sjBTzA38rUZCBO9eFT/s400/happiness.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163991225870203906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Hannah advertises the goods.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDMs3GgY4vPPWEurVxNaPVHemoXFJfqX35eskqvvi2i5a0C_B3dd6ida4_UJvjGAvGb8K0ikQQY_vsktR9eID5C1YVbpIniAiu5I-dktq0pb_Ak8r9UtINmvMAJKbw4Zbu_mNYO2usVte/s1600-h/cookies2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDMs3GgY4vPPWEurVxNaPVHemoXFJfqX35eskqvvi2i5a0C_B3dd6ida4_UJvjGAvGb8K0ikQQY_vsktR9eID5C1YVbpIniAiu5I-dktq0pb_Ak8r9UtINmvMAJKbw4Zbu_mNYO2usVte/s400/cookies2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163992260957322322" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The cookies and the valentines!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAMMWbYa7QTdQbkidSyl4CxievpiaBGkwvV57tcUMHUjJAqyrlN0RCmRpYwk_Nw1BR4dIJJTKO1XEwhyphenhyphenY6trn4xvNaYJ9G2_Dg1ixHznBprrLrXUcaYBUpdQkEjPr74aQ1jJf4j7E7ALi/s1600-h/action.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAMMWbYa7QTdQbkidSyl4CxievpiaBGkwvV57tcUMHUjJAqyrlN0RCmRpYwk_Nw1BR4dIJJTKO1XEwhyphenhyphenY6trn4xvNaYJ9G2_Dg1ixHznBprrLrXUcaYBUpdQkEjPr74aQ1jJf4j7E7ALi/s400/action.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163991582352489506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Random acts of kindness....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_gqNjvHr_7YIli2yW_ACJhyphenhyphenGLvblY8jE21QDvj9T5psWIuiqZue6FWCUqqBR3BzSXV9nWqRchr-xnqQf98LMMFTDMGD-NE3djuiaQHwVRo2cCJrt4dXcHZRKm37yridU9sPQJwbQsR-/s1600-h/group.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb_gqNjvHr_7YIli2yW_ACJhyphenhyphenGLvblY8jE21QDvj9T5psWIuiqZue6FWCUqqBR3BzSXV9nWqRchr-xnqQf98LMMFTDMGD-NE3djuiaQHwVRo2cCJrt4dXcHZRKm37yridU9sPQJwbQsR-/s400/group.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163991852935429170" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Happy women with cookies!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqGj-RfSGUqcmb5mq3UQoOBX0cy6LcocBOw9VnO8nuF7xs5qoBr-scb7WFys1x9UemLmdtw0ZjVyPK4nbZUmFAO9rltkM1U36z_vV_7cq4pnVhectbrwgINtkXEhtG-yXpJkcGW-zIhp8/s1600-h/happywomen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqGj-RfSGUqcmb5mq3UQoOBX0cy6LcocBOw9VnO8nuF7xs5qoBr-scb7WFys1x9UemLmdtw0ZjVyPK4nbZUmFAO9rltkM1U36z_vV_7cq4pnVhectbrwgINtkXEhtG-yXpJkcGW-zIhp8/s400/happywomen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163992029029088322" border="0" /></a>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-60677816871339554652008-01-11T06:55:00.001-08:002008-01-11T07:02:49.755-08:00Writing on the BodyOn Jan. 9, henna artist Lila Sideras visited the Grrls class. We wrote on our bodies with this magical paste...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwrX-sbN-L06wizTUX4DWgI1dcklLVaJOtXG5fWDgJGtculmEQeHpzLXCCQZgV_1HY8_xT6HKtAM6z8Oq2D05NPPjlJCKrQi87Yg-f3OImH0L9wyGuOvQ_X8a2pEOYuyZV_5XEdBt2qbN/s1600-h/Image033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwrX-sbN-L06wizTUX4DWgI1dcklLVaJOtXG5fWDgJGtculmEQeHpzLXCCQZgV_1HY8_xT6HKtAM6z8Oq2D05NPPjlJCKrQi87Yg-f3OImH0L9wyGuOvQ_X8a2pEOYuyZV_5XEdBt2qbN/s200/Image033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154232951770981570" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-geGDURiKIE-HXA6XOXqRypiXJWwe0vYESCOiRp_3srQ6fQ0RVdf9Qs9_d85EyhmhnrKBY3VPPb0SH9t33y3mOlB1j8PvPQrKP0U29WURFqN6F_ATpiXCTn_kxhwUQBSPGpiFieat9tVV/s1600-h/Image039.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-geGDURiKIE-HXA6XOXqRypiXJWwe0vYESCOiRp_3srQ6fQ0RVdf9Qs9_d85EyhmhnrKBY3VPPb0SH9t33y3mOlB1j8PvPQrKP0U29WURFqN6F_ATpiXCTn_kxhwUQBSPGpiFieat9tVV/s200/Image039.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154233540181501186" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOoPjhWZWpe1Kx4MbLWPU25ULSzGB_mOU5JLu_cSUgNrbSmhAUfoyHJZ5BJT7p7VlH6AvMFUoCBP9Blc7mF-O8UysUaYIwzOeDGf-nFXRXMg1jDPkM1Lai7jKjaQKuDKdcjyN95IqQljl/s1600-h/Image040.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOoPjhWZWpe1Kx4MbLWPU25ULSzGB_mOU5JLu_cSUgNrbSmhAUfoyHJZ5BJT7p7VlH6AvMFUoCBP9Blc7mF-O8UysUaYIwzOeDGf-nFXRXMg1jDPkM1Lai7jKjaQKuDKdcjyN95IqQljl/s200/Image040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154233376972743922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOC9JkTcPR7ak32dwgBMg8bR4O5LzWrA198U50KZ19yzIkOKTO-tjXdGYBqS9f9mHS9v59Widgc8QyUtZhAkI7kjNu3PWKUYu0YRS3BERcyy4DZx91vGpAxL7z9vTYh9b9mVH72eEuwqlK/s1600-h/Image034.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOC9JkTcPR7ak32dwgBMg8bR4O5LzWrA198U50KZ19yzIkOKTO-tjXdGYBqS9f9mHS9v59Widgc8QyUtZhAkI7kjNu3PWKUYu0YRS3BERcyy4DZx91vGpAxL7z9vTYh9b9mVH72eEuwqlK/s200/Image034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154233067735098578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcH5zQ3KSPS6F7ugV0AGpdqT6anIwLNzrxKo94HfgJGLIPwasUVPBraBjPfDWBv69eC779jmJTED2eE5wAi_ofA1YY5wADikgCEpi7H5yTOBPtC7UL5hQM7FUCR6LubNAyXdcKAwB7CYX/s1600-h/Image042.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwcH5zQ3KSPS6F7ugV0AGpdqT6anIwLNzrxKo94HfgJGLIPwasUVPBraBjPfDWBv69eC779jmJTED2eE5wAi_ofA1YY5wADikgCEpi7H5yTOBPtC7UL5hQM7FUCR6LubNAyXdcKAwB7CYX/s200/Image042.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154233810764440850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsVuDEwtr3j5j4_KA69CY5lyaBAUglJ4yjRHUKtQ8yOUc9Ndx7sXxQgIshbPlSI_vV6xMgGtlKIULuWqhYI3w2FjYm304AV92qrwuOV-SbTOQgukNcl72v2Pl1yDvlh2An760-L6uUddi/s1600-h/Image041.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsVuDEwtr3j5j4_KA69CY5lyaBAUglJ4yjRHUKtQ8yOUc9Ndx7sXxQgIshbPlSI_vV6xMgGtlKIULuWqhYI3w2FjYm304AV92qrwuOV-SbTOQgukNcl72v2Pl1yDvlh2An760-L6uUddi/s200/Image041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154234403469927714" border="0" /></a>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-51737367504396782812008-01-09T11:33:00.000-08:002008-01-09T11:34:43.073-08:00Body Languagethe stories on the skin and hair<br />the organs shifting and beating within<br />who says what?Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-91461328197501673262008-01-09T11:27:00.000-08:002008-01-09T11:33:32.394-08:00Kimi Shimmy, A HeroineShe can hover above the ground. She's light. She laughs. But she doesn't look the other way. You can hear her coming. The slight buzz of her wings...and then her whisper, building, the crescendo, the clarity of a song. There's inspiration here. This isn't a sermon. She holds up mirrors--hundreds and thousands of them. Twinkling. "Look at yourselves." Arrows on the mirrors point to the heart. All the hearts. Your heart. "Do no harm." There are dogs on chains. She frees them and lays a soft hand behind their ears. They roll to their backs, full of tongues. There are men staggering between the rows of traffic. She leads them to shelter, waits while they clean up, helps them fill out job applications. Those mirrors. She stops traffic. She pushes out the bicycles. Soon the whole city is riding, the air is grateful, the skies go to blue. She stands in front of the shopping malls, dancing. People watch, fall in love with the mirrors, which show them at home, around the table, making food, conversing, communing, reading, singing, making. The people spin on their heels, forget about shopping, and go home to replicate the scenes they viewed in the mirrors. She does the same. She makes clothing from recycled fabrics, tends her garden, sips tea, writes letters, walks the dogs, reads poetry, makes and takes the love. She throws parties. She leaves love notes. She pushes wheelchairs. She remembers and reminds. She smiles. She's light. She laughs.Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-75909132494150459792007-12-17T12:38:00.000-08:002007-12-17T14:08:34.874-08:00Exactly from The Body(Footnotes by Jenny Boully, The Body)<br /><br />You come at me like the wind. You chap my lips. You leave me gasping. I can lean into you and not fall over. This is not exactly comforting. Exact-o-knife, you. <span style="font-size:78%;">19</span> Wither, please. Dissolve into a breeze. An inaudible exhale. There is comfort in this softness. I can get things done inside of it. I can wear lip gloss. I can go about my business. I can find cracks in the pavement. La-di-da. I can watch the woodpeckers peck at indelibly hard surfaces. It takes years to bore through metal with a beak. Or so I’ve heard. But maybe it's worth it. After all, microscopic creatures live everywhere. As in: food is everywhere. It’s not geography, but the governments that dictate otherwise. Why else would they stockpile mounds of corn to ship across oceans? No wind is strong enough to push that freight. These decisions feel too heavy for the likes of us. We’re dusty. We just flutter. That is the goal, at least. To flutter of our own accord. Not that I don't want to take responsibility. I just want to take less. Of everything.<br /><br />My independence has waned. I look for the gust. I look for you. Is this my fate? You? <span style="font-size:78%;">20</span> You mess up my part. I forget my lines. I sit stewing. This is not a successful recipe. For stew or cornbread or even the perfect <span style="font-style: italic;">quesadilla</span>.<br /><br />I am looking now for a metal shed with lots of glass to let in light. I could glow in there and flutter of my own accord.<br /><br />Next door could be Jack <span style="font-size:78%;">21</span>, just down from his busy-body beanstalk. I could listen to his typewriter and imagine the poems. He’d be punching in something about gold, I’m guessing. Or seeds. When in doubt write a poem that contains the word “seeds.” It’s hopeful, at least. And then you can invite the wind. And it won’t have to be exact. It can whisper or burst and the little seeds can dart around like gnats. The sky becomes soil. The birds are grounded. Their beaks pecking and pecking in their prescribed search. It’s not unpleasant. It’s not frantic. No one is breathing down their thin-boned feather necks. Not you, certainly. You leave the birds alone. You leave me alone. I’m here in my metal shack, Jack next door. We’re making things up. It’s working. We’ll be doing this until midnight, at least. Or until the clouds come to make it seem so.<br /><br /><br />________<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">19</span> Cf. Delmore Schwartz:<br /><br />Disturb me, compel me. It is not true<br />That “no man is happy,” but that is not<br />The sense which guides you. If we are<br />Unfinished (we are, unless hope is a bad dream),<br />You are exact. You tug my sleeve<br />Before I speak, with a shadow’s friendship,<br />And I remember that we who move<br />Are moved by clouds that darken midnight.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">20</span> Obviously action on a tidbit from Nietzsche: The Danger in Happiness. — “Everything now turns out best for me. I now love every fate: —“who would like to be my fate?” (Apophthegms and Interludes, No. 103).<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">21</span> Most likely an allusion to an actual person, as during this phase, it was common practice to place fantastical persons in actual situations or actual persons in fantastical situations.<br /></span>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-53541872179176437782007-12-12T06:52:00.000-08:002007-12-12T07:20:42.055-08:00fine lines?_____<br />_____<br />_____ <span style="font-size:78%;">fine lines erase them</span> empty your head it's all just the <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">mind </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">just the artistic process nothing clairvoyant. Don't all artists record what they see?</span><span style="font-size:78%;"> Turkey neck inner eybrow sinus pain <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Are you going to be around? </span>DOOR LATCH FLIP FLOPS </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You could be more. What will you do to fix that character? </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Massage the <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >text</span>.</span> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">tattoo your miscarriage: a lima bean because there are no initials. </span><span style="font-style: italic;">WORDS. PAGE SCRIBBLES. </span>The in and on through all in white against black, glowing prepositions. <span style="font-size:100%;">Look hard enough and the word will appear. <span style="font-size:78%;">you could work harder and be less attached to your narrative of sorrow. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">& </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">but and but C U don't want off the train Tie yourself to the ++++++++++ tracks. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:180%;">TICK TOCK</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;">pen marks. </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">If I go back I really like it.<span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">It's those lines around the eyes. </span></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"> <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And you can't do anything about them. </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Excellent. Heartbroken today. Great dress.<span style="font-size:78%;"> </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;">STRAIGHTEN YOUR SPINE. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I baked a pie forgot </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">good lines from <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Frances</span> CROSS LEGS UNTILT PELVIS BREATH WAIT WITHOUT WAITING <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">see the words see them coming</span> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">Get off the train</span> there is a horizon to be had. fried eggs this exit. you're going to see <span style="font-size:78%;">SKIN SAG <span style="font-size:85%;">heavy <span style="font-size:100%;">Look up </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Traingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-13564250242410057592007-11-20T12:11:00.000-08:002007-11-20T12:18:35.555-08:00a medical conditionsomething in a jar<br />in a room full of chemicals<br />it could have been<br />a brew of tendrils, tails,<br />bone-eating acids<br />i could run my fingers along these jars<br />quarts of beans, then peaches<br />sack of stomach resurfacing<br />handfuls of almonds<br />eaten into pulp<br />each announcement a burn mark<br />to last a long time<br />etched into metal <br />salt thin baby<br />rebuiltTraingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-56303426243100972772007-11-20T12:03:00.000-08:002007-11-20T12:11:48.179-08:005 sensesHEAR<br />scratching ink<br />tecla tecla tecla<br />keys jingle, dog collars, dog tags<br />cat power: colors and the kids<br />words that don't stop<br />words that start first<br />anxiety and ideas<br />something knocking inside<br />reverberations<br />a strangling<br />the stem is being crushed<br />petals don't know how to unfurl<br />but jesus this thing wants to come to life<br />silent singing<br /><br /><br />TASTE<br />chocolate chip cookies, too blond<br />ambition: breeze, sea spray, clean sweat<br />green tea, smooth jitters<br />landing, the thread through a needle<br />words come together<br />loomed paragraphs<br />sweetness<br /><br /><br />SMELL<br />black fig underarm paste<br />something called joy:<br />she told me to put it over my heart,<br />behind my ears, around my wrists<br />happy handcuffs<br />linseed oil in the corners<br />purple easter eggs, if this sense evokes the past<br />baby skin: a desired smell,<br />an amalgam of us on<br />something yet inconceivable<br />bitter fig, lodged in the chest<br />there's just no picking it<br />I wait for the birds to come and peck<br /><br /><br />SEE<br />new yellow walls<br />envy<br />honey wood<br />horizons<br />blue eyes<br />streaks in the hair<br />a floor like a sea, black rubber<br />white screens with little letters<br />words words words<br />women with good ideas and motivation<br />competent man with wounds<br />blue merle<br /><br /><br /><br />TOUCH & FEEL<br />lines around my eyes: something's coming<br />a hole in my core, a hollow<br />cracked heels and callouses<br />wood floors<br />the weight of a body upside down<br />dusty fur<br />pages of a book, smooth covers<br />curls<br />mug handle, silver leaf plunge<br />longing<br />oval egg, warm or cool<br />keys on the pad, buttons<br />something dripping: hope, change, bloodTraingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2466990354098212708.post-33077194180304975772007-11-05T14:41:00.000-08:002007-11-12T07:14:42.280-08:00Fleckles(a 2 x ? of 6 "blemishes")<br /><br /><br />Cheek divets<br />unsightly crumbs?<br />breakfast smear?<br />I’ll go<br />wash it<br />off my<br />face I<br />said with<br />small voice<br />nervous and<br />quivering flaws<br />slack-jawed<br />nothing looking<br />back mirrored<br />only this<br />blue eyes<br />ooooooh my<br />sea skies<br />far-away children<br />covet, crave<br />privilege packets<br />shame pools<br />unrequested doorway<br />over arching<br />thick crows<br />in flight<br />brooke shields<br />grandpa kind<br />pluck not<br />or become<br />drag queenish<br />bird pecked<br />pock marks<br />pebble-sized<br />bikini line<br />scratch signs<br />and another<br />off color<br />un-announced<br />third nipple<br />amidst the<br />beet juice<br />splatter stain<br />of angiomasTraingirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09012584716432116256noreply@blogger.com4