She stared out the window minute by minute, hour to hour, day by day and watched the sun rise, traveling up out of the window for an entire life time. Never questioning where it had gone when it was temporarily out of sight.
She must have known.

“Working without the right tool and what-ever-you-need is bad timing in a black hole....”
-Acquaintance (who only worked with the correct toy for any given chore.)

It wasn't until late in life that I discovered how easy it is to say
"I don't know." -Somerset Maugham

5
I remember being late to class again.
Running into the room I hear an announcement of the ‘pillow test’.
“Today you will either sleep or take the test. But sooner or later you will have to take the test.”
Presently, the bell rings and everyone leaves as a new group of students queue up to file in - some wanting the test, others wanting pillows.

Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do. -Jean-Paul Sartre

Repartee is something we think of twenty-four hours too late.
-Mark Twain

Happy TT!

random miscellaneous
My advise is...no longer insult the feelings of an exasperated people. -Samuel Adams

Admit something and there’s nowhere a critic can go. If you run and hide, they will follow.

Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more. -Mark Twain

We were all ready, everything was set for the big install the day before opening night. When I went onto the site in the morning there was a note in the green room. A note saying everyone had signed up for a group trip to Hawaii.

If this be treason, then make the most of it! -Patrick Henry. Puppet are happy to be puppets if the puppeteer is a good puppeteer. -Fellini

It has been said, many times, by me, that the future isn’t what it use to be, and furthermore it never was. -Lee Hayes.

Swatting the shadow of a moving fan above my head.
There is a disease for every profession.

... She stepped from the cab onto the pavement, adjusted her muffler under her chin, threw her stub cigarette onto the pavement and viciously stomped it out. She proceeded toward the bright blue awning where the dandy held the open door.
Those who say something cannot be done should never interrupt the person doing it.

Leading a charmed life, being everywhere and everything to everyone at the turning point of their lives. She had launched a thousand careers, some of them her own. She had been the one with the right label, correct recipe, or spot of money to get things rolling. This left most of the world in her debt in some quiet, desperate, blackmailing way.
Do you remember a time when payoff was not rampant?
She imagined some real, some imaginary faults.
Is it raining in here or is that my energy field?
It was apparent she loved RED.
I want this place to look like a garden, but a garden in hell.

This was a woman whom could simplify most abstract and hard to cotton ideas. For instance, she believed the only Deadly Sin was the 8th, which was bringing to list the other 7.

When spotted on the street, fellow New Yorkers wondered what dynasty she was from. Preserved, or, conserved. Which adjective to use. The consistency of her appearance over the decades helped make her an instantly recognized figure, and hid her age. ...

I went blind from looking at so many beautiful things. -Diana Vreeland


from THE PAPER DOLL STORIES: life profiles & confessions
A peek into Cabinet of Curiosities, current installation at MOA Denver.

TTsters, Yes, I posted on Monday. A coinkie-dink, actually.
3
The tide had just gone out. Walking down to the shore I noticed a gorgeous, colossal sand castle someone was obviously living in. I took a self guided tour and found it had been designed and outfitted by sculpting sand from the overhead lights down to the tile and fixtures in the bathroom. The designer was dashing about rearranging sand that had drooped and shifted from the ocean seeping in. I asked her why the place was so heavily decorated, when the tide moves and removes things daily. She explained that the owners wanted to learn the art of letting go, only slowly.
I hiked under a full moon along the beach, and lay down for a nap near the sandy villa at dawn. The sun was awhile above the horizon when the tide awoke me by sloshing my toes. I looked over in time to see the great mound of sand crumble nobly into the sea. A moment later the face of the woman appeared behind the huge pile, as she raised a shovel and prepared to rebuild.
You’d have to know me better, but this dream seems appropriate just now.

Retreating Angel -painting from many 30 minutes works of Hanzon / Harnett over the years.

from: The Truth is Still Being Made Up

She had done horrible things to every pet she had ever owned.
And she would do horrible things to you, too.

Some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity... -Gilda Radner

When fear steps in, there are no boundaries.

NEVER trust a talking bug. -Chloe Mae

Happy TT.

a few Random / Thoughts
We need to release all of the marginally insane.

four kinds of adults
-the kind that were teased as kids.
-the kind that were not teased as kids.
-the kind that teased.
-the kind that did not tease.

BEing EFFORTLESS I've been reading articles about Zen to Houdini, all of them emphasizing the need to be effortless in your work. Regardless of the hard work you put into your writing, the reader must sense it's easy for you. Is this idea important?

Star Wars: There is a war going on for chrisake, why doesn't anyone lock up the flight machines? Everyone seems to be taking off in whatever vehicle is the most convenient.

Never wear your Bulgari or Prada to a charity meeting.

When in a museum, when you know from the map that around the next corner you will be seeing a Rembrant... does your head trumpet,
Ta Ta Ta Tahhh.

lood i palms... ? -I reckon I write to get down ideas, not to be able to read it later.

Traffic conditions.
Conditions for traffic.
You need a lot of cars.
You need too little road.
You need loss of time.
You need a driver fishing for a cd on the floor of the truck, some one opening a pack of Fig Nutons, someone who can‘t put down a book, etc...
You need at least three thoughts, not on driving, for each behind the wheeler.

21
Driving to me is about watching things go by, not necessarily about watching where I’m going.
Chloe notices that,
“The blue mountains are closest to the sky.”
As we do because we can, on another level I was thinking of how painterly the clouds seem. But if painted this haphazard on canvas it would look contrived.
...And thinking about when to paint the return. What if the return is already painted another color and thus the returns begin to argue over which is the real return? Return to forever? Return from where? This implies that we got there safely. After tagging the wall do we turn and head back?
...And, also regretting not being able to write something down, since I was already reading while I was driving.
‘Drew’s voice wafts into the front seat. He heralds seriously to Chloe how it is going to be.
“Well, I have some bad news and some good news. The bad news is that the Earth is going to blow up. The good news is that we’re all going to be gone.”
Always eager to up the wager, Chloe responds,
“Yea, well, I learned how to speak Spanish today. I can say corn! Cornalito!”
“I am so over you, Chloe!” ‘Drew blasted, frustrated at her lack of obeisance.

19/20
from the unfinished book image, above: Chance Neglected
She hailed a cab by using obscure hand gestures.
The cabbie zooms by a costume shop named Just Decide. A restaurant called Food. A leather place run by Hell’s Angels that touted a teetering lineup of hogs on the front sidewalk. Tiny, the tallest Angel, wore boots covered with retablos, buckles and buttons. Scraps scavenged from the shoes he repaired. This layer, in turn, was covered with the dust of his exploits. She saw memories in every shop, on every corner, every greasy spoon offered a fleeting tease of an image, color, or conversation, until the collective experiences blurred and flew by as a giddy roller coaster in suspended animation.
A painted tin votive rested on her kitchen altar. It was her attempt at visual gratitude to those who have interceded on her behalf. When she half prayed, she also half wondered if this ex-votos stuff was effective.

This was indeed a traffic meander, but it’s what I do. Happy TTsters.

Heroes do not mistake apparent changlessness in time for the permanence of being. Nor is he fearful of the next moment, as destroying the permanence with it's change. -Joey C.

“You write like you just got out of prison.”
(The most interesting compliment of opening night.)

Inner drafts and outer climates.
...Food went in, art came out.
Usually austere in the face of her Saturnine humors, when she felt them creeping up she could be bitterly sarcastic, giving way to a melancholy that left her wondering if the black bile came from one’s mind, not gut.

The images in the corners of the intellect remain.
I never flinch at what is produced in the cryptic dissolve of my mind.

In isolation she met with psychosis, from time to time, which led to intense hallucinations.
Complex, intricate and intense. The deranged mind is sitting inside a howling cyclone. Turn the music up to calm thoughts and focus.
They say very articulate things, very strangely.

Apparent horror vacui. A suffocating atmosphere and clutter are shown by filling every space with drawn imagery. Yet, every sheet contained an empty hole known to her as eggs. Open for spirit’s escape. She entered into the art through the same device. Ghost signing her name with a 8H pencil. Progressing herself by transforming from a child to Knight to Emperor and finally to Saint.
Life planned as escape. I can’t die yet, I haven’t painted my Danaë.
She had been busy for years backing into a corner nest. Hatching escape plans and not getting caught, yet. Nor freed.
The stress of not moving only exaggerated her minds eye flying out over the fabric of the earth.

Purely decorative images held deep iconoclastic and idiosyncratic meaning.
Of course she was usually the only one looking.
Go ahead, ignore me...

From THE PAPER DOLL STORIES: life profiles & confessions.
A peek into part of the current installation, Cabinet of Curiosities, at MOA Denver.

Happy TT, I think.

from Book of Days

I flew out here to Denver yesterday. No stickie notes!
Will be installing art work in Cabinet of Curiosities at
The Museum of Outdoor Arts.
The site will give you a taste of what it's about... until the photos are up after it's up.
The opening is this Saturday evening, with a six month run.

I was looking forward to some time blog visiting and commenting in a leisurely and thoughtful way...
But time is short, even though one can seem to get a lifetime of work done in an afternoon. Funny how that time thingy expands and contracts.

So, a simple note in my apologetic way...
I'll be reading TTs belatedly. So those of you who know, Happy TT!
All others have a grand weekend! -J

174
Glancing back to photos from this time I looked poetic.
It has always helped me to leave the country. There isn’t a better remedy than seeing my puny life on the other side of the world to put things into perspective. Long distance vision will anchor on what is amuck.
I broke the bit this time by going to Central America. First leg of the trip included a white knuckle flight from San Francisco to New Orleans. The pilot announced that we were in the eye of the storm and would turn around and have another try at heading it off. The pilgrims were getting drunk in their seats with the complimented hospitality that says give ’em free booze and they won’t realize what's happening. Every time the plane pitched and hawed the clients whooped ‘yah-hoo’ as though they were riding the most exciting roller coaster ever. In sober distraught my silent mantra went on uninterrupted. We are all going to die.
For me, air travel is too close to astral flight. I spin out easily, so I ground myself at the first feeling of deliverance. When sentenced to a mandatory air transit I usually end up thinking,
“The pilot is going extremely too fast!”
No dare devil me in the sky at this time or ever.
I have thought, though, being a trapeze artist would be a real kick. It would be fun to wake up one morning and be on a flying team. But I’m certainly not willing to train for years and years to be able to do it.
175
Lay over in the Nicaraguan wilderness.
We were waiting for the six seater to drift over the hills and collect the next group to be flown into Costa Rica. Fuselage lined both sides of the rough short rural landing strip. I remember looking hard and imagining that THAT piece was still smoking! We were several people with diverse accents. Someone casually mentioned the most beautiful beach in the world. Then each in turn told of their sanctuary. Very specific places, on the other side of the world, on the fifty-five degree parallel, south of Bombay, second sand arch on the left. People pulled out paper pads and took down obscure directions to hideaways as though they were going to travel there next week. The scene had the flavor of a group of Dead Heads taking down concert notes.
Travel is a bug that, once bitten, becomes an addiction.

One Head, Two Necks and Three Hands

I reject your reality and substitute my own. -Adam Savage

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. -Lao Tzu

Surrealism had a great effect on me because then I realised that the imagery in my mind wasn't insanity. Surrealism to me is reality. -John Lennon

Reality is a sliding door. -R. Waldo Emerson

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. -Albert Einstein