%***

Wrapped in the Weekend at Unicorn Bunny. What else is new. Reading WASTED voraciously and investigating the School for Designing Society, Dr. Carl Hammerschlagger at the Patch Adams conference last night made my brain juices spurt in a way thats been a while.

Left to the SanFran Bakery. Love the glittery punk kids that slosh out coffee, saturated sugar things. The girl with the half-shaved red hair with a flower on it, let my ogle her cat flower tat, kid-art-esque line work. Lovin it.
I read the New York Times Travel Section.
Portugal.

There was a girl with straight brown hair and glasses, reminded me of my mother. She snapped at my Friday. My father called this morning to say someone my brother knows killed themselves. I think of them, my mom quiet, compassionate. My father, the bipolar biker. Me, the perfect synthesis, AlcoholicArtistic.

I hate the word artistic. The Corwin in my head. ITS TOO EASY. These sort of things remain. I hate when people say they are artists. EASY. As Easy as the Pretension of Wagner. AHA.

All this Hornbacher has gone to my head. Perfectly obsessed. This stream of babble narrating my every move. This analysis of emotional pack-rat-ism that is far too overwhelming. Can't I just watch the True Life marathon. Must the world crash down on me Getting in the Way.

I swear there is always a different amount of cream cheese on these bagels, I am wondering, do they size you up, decide oh you do not need anymore sister friend, or do they think, oh I'm sure YOUU want a TON.


Plotting, Planning, so the thoughts stop racing.
This I know is true.
So much plotting.

Canceled my interview for the arts organization in St. Paul I had for Tuesday. I am going to the island whether they will have me or not. Mostly, it is the thick gray air I imagine on the tide break. The pink polka dot rain boots I will tromp in through the forest. The purple sea stars I will perch on my palms and knee caps as I smile into the gauzy cloud lightness.

Northern Show

Sunday June 6th; Ghost Town Revistited. Come and help us show the northern that art shows can be super exciting and encouraging for all! We want to start up a new little thing and keep the fire alive even though we got fired from our olde spot. Keep it real, keep it steady! fuck yeah!

sample pic of unfinished piece for the show:

Artists: Casey Jones, Jonah Trople, Alex Johnson, Scott Young

Violation

So i got violated by my employer today. I found the job on the evergreen job data base and everything seemed cool. The guy even gave me a haircut. I got to work outside on beautiful property by the beach and mow lawn and cut down trees. But then the old guy started giving me a massage. I had the willies to begin with, I should have just trusted my gut instincts and not shown up in the first place. But money seemed like money until it got to weird for words. To make things simple I am never going to work at someone's house that I don't know. Especially if they are kind of old. Because I have this problem with old people where I feel like I have to respect them even if they are doing things that go completly against the things i find to be important to me in this world. No more trusting oldies just cause they are oldies. Trust the people that are actually trustable. I'm still all shaken up!

Update

BIG BUZZARD


So I have a head ache. I made some gluten freedom vegan tacos for dinner, cause I am back on that tripppxxx. went to seattle today and met up with dave and selena, my parents. walked around ballard area. the market there was a boom city. Tons of vegtables and people wanting you to sign weed freedom rights. This lady feel down infront of us cause her boy friend stepped on the heel of her shoes and she feel into a sidewalk sign and knocked it clean over. Gnarliest fall I've seen up close in a while. I ran like 7 miles today, to the old brewery and around tumwater and back but I still feel restless. I'm in the pitted studio trying to get art done for the show but there is internets here and to many instruments that make you feel like a pop star. I want an imperial red ale. watching a skate video of mark gonzalas from 91 with jazz music, it's weird man! Feel a little empty.

Revisited

It was probably the magic of my life in the last week or so,
this clappingTappingDRUMMING that just doesn't quit,
That reminded me.

Probably the conglomeration of long-lost acquaintance, lust, and curtailed camaraderie.
Probably why I started to remember this place.
Somewhere out there.

A place that is heavy at night in the summer, sticky with mosquitoes
Skin that is dried with lake water, and things that smell like fish, beer, BBQ, etc.
Don't bother driving, there is nothing to see. The same level of flat and the same color of yellow. Even the trees don't really know what green is. Coming from Minnesota is nothing like the great P N W.

This week is the taking of the MSP which is Washington state Standardized Testing, the WASL in disguise. Longer and more degrading. I am proctoring individually for students with IEPs, I sit there stupidly
They struggle with inane multiple choice questions, and I am silent as they deflate by the minute.

Staring into space as the child before me grew to hate themselves,
I caught sight of the map of the States adorning the opposite of the rooms wall.

It hit me, Yearning,
The Mighty Mississippi chugging south, framing all states border clear to Louisiana
and O! I could hear Swanee River spiking up all around me-
The Heartland!

My ancestors, transplant Viking farmers growing up into machinist Proud Americans,
Every relative I have lives within miles of every other relative.
I have been to far too many cousins' birthdays weddings and backyard cook-outs.

I think of my teenage summers
of crying making out and waiting for something to HAPPEN.
Beaches board up at night and carpools to nowhere...
4th of July Tom Waits deep in the night
Slow Groggy DRUNK
campfire on my face.

Somewhere out there.

I am startled by the last MSP question 5th Grade Science, which I am reading out loud to my proctoree without taking note of what I am saying.
"Meg wants to take a walk in the evening during a full moon. Which day should she take her walk?"

Mmmmm.
Even the Science of Washington State is intrigued.

I want to lie at the island in a neon muscle shirt,
hear the Loons call and smoke a Marlboro 27,
listen to the giggles of couples wrongly matched.

Stretching out between the grass and sand, the deep scar on my left knee sparkles with the fireflies. I want it all.
There is a rumble of a Toyota with too many bumper stickers, a Twins game has been won(!) and a radio cackles happy(#). Scratchy face. Flannel. Closer and sooner. Beeping of an automated lock. Thudding of secret kind of secret, a song only you and I know the words to. PLANNING. By the light of the full moon,


My love threatens to drown me in the lake.

Now that I am an award winning artist, and a Missed Connection meriting hottie,
theres really not much else out there for me.
EXCEPT
of course
My project Musique with Scoot
thats going to probably go under development as soon as the great Mexican-American return,
Don't you think?!

This morning we had the hostel breakfast of eggs and tortillas again (nothing as gormet as this). Pretty good, but I rarely can finish my food due to the hot temps. I put some super spicy habinaro sauce on mine. I cant seem to get enough hot sauce, good on everything.

Lastnight one of the dudes that kind of (but not really) works at the hostel made some very good BBQed beef. It was super fatty so I stuck to the salad mainly, nice to get some veggies. The only dressing was this salty watery stuff that was actually pretty good.

This morning I got up early and biked to the beach and went for a run on the section where the water is just hitting the sand. Wouldnt you have this song stuck in your head to? I passed by another runner going the other direction and by the look on her face I am pretty sure that she had the same tune in mind. It was very beautiful. After about a mile and a half I went for an early morning swim. Back to the hostel in time for coffee! I have been really enjoying going to bed by about 10. Its a nice schedual to have so I can really get down to some work (drawing, reading, writing, and plotting for the future). Im sure logan is kind of annoyed as a few times he has still been awake for the night when I get up for the morning. Whatevers cleaver.

Well, another day on the beach in Tulum and then on to the next town.

cheers.

pizza dog days