RUNNING

i appreciate that scooter recounts tales of jogging, for i am about to share one, too.

i've been running a lot lately, my rule of thumb is to run until i get too tired to run anymore, and then i stop. i live right beside the wetlands of the eastside, where salmonberries and lemonbalm and nettles grow like it's going out of style. thankfully the skunk cabbage went out of style; those enormous armpit-smelling, poisonous green leaves finally sunk beneath the overgrowth of the meadow that seemed to have replace what wetland i thought was

anyway, i was jogging the other day, round 3 pm and a huge snowy-gray owl flew right through the trees in front of me. i couldn't believe it was real, don't snowy-gray owls only come out at night? there she was, big as a kite, flying gracefully from one tree to the next. didn't think too much more of it after that.

a few days later i'm walking to the trail entrance and there's a buck standing right at the entrance, staring at me. he is still, not moving even as i get about 20 or 30 feet away. a biker rolls by me and asks if i know where the entrance to the wetland trail is. i point ahead and smile. he says thank you. he gets off his bike and heads towards it. the buck has not moved or stopped staring at me. i ask do you see that? he says no. i ask are you kidding? he looks confused. we walk closer to until we are literally 10 feet away and he says, oh, yeah, it's mating season. the buck looks through me as though he's on fire and turns around and disappears. i start running down the path because i don't want to trip out on bike bro anymore

these lasts weeks in olympia are filled with all this detached and heavy animal spirit shit, i don't really know what to make of any of it except my head is pretty clear and i'm going to miss those stinky wetlands a lot

Friendly Grove

Went to a great summer BBQ at Friendly Grove on the eastside lastnight. All the friends were there grilling and skating. It was a great way to round of the day spent working at SUBWAY. But making sandwiches has it's perks as well. Today I have to work again and I am feeling like I spend to much time eating bad meat. Will summer ever really get here? I keep pushing it and it just won't happen!

Fun Run

So I was on a run today and I had to go poop really bad and it sucked. I was almost done when I pooped my pants. True story. Free GrossOut hot dogs as art tokens is a bad idea when your the cook. they make you poop and not be able to control it.

Reflections

Vita; it's almost empty on a monday morning. It feels so right sitting here and admiring the plants that rest on the little ceiling stoop. Yesterday Sarah and I walked down to the market and selected some herb starts to add to our little collection. It was all misty out and I felt a strong connection to this region.  A while ago I got it in my head that appreciating things like plants and  weather wasn't allowed. I fight with the undeniable urge of letting other peoples opinions and actions effect my perception of what I like and dislike in this world.  Someone told me a neat word for what that process is called last night. Unfortunately I forgot. The pitted youth show went well, it's a blessing to see so many friends at once. But the overall effect of the night left me feeling a bit frantic. I'm glad I don't feel the need to go to shows that often right now. I'm still working on settling into my own. I guess 22 is the most stressful age. Because you don't yet know how to properly incorporate stress into your life. The art show at the northern didn't stress me out that much at all, a big surprise. I am so thankful to have friends and friends of friends that come through so often and strong and show support for the silly things I want to do. Thank you! I love you all. Today I am going to plant some seeds and hopefully go on a run. Talk to you all in blog life soon!

xoxoxoxox

Scoot

formulating intent by putting two words together

my flannel is begrudgingly seeing another day

feeling like i need to immediately go to school to become a musician, or better yet, a composer. maybe if i learn how to compose i can better articulate my thoughts on what's happening in the sea outside of gaza right now

can't help but think what my grandmother would say about all of this, i wish i had known her better to be able to remember a tone of her voice, for then i could invent what i'd want her to say and push it through my brain in her voice,

the words fuck and israel are going back and forth like this:

i s r a e l f u c k

far is luck
ick, flares
if ear suck
fuck, israel

i don't know how to say it differently and i don't really even know how i'm jewish, anymore, anyway, if these words weren't playing themselves over and over and the letters stamping themselves behind my eyes then what is going on, is what i am asking.

why can't i just like fashion or something and blog about that, instead of having all of these feelings that i can't change or do anything about

or focus on flannel

%***

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