The Moving Towards

It's going to happen. The acquiescence of deliberate non-partisan contracts that neither infiltrate or ignore the process of self-containment in this belljar, simply because the realization of instinction is just around the bend. Like it or not, this is inevitablility. It's the cyclical course of nature. There are laws after all.

On bowling and the dark muse

Last night was our friend Joe's Bowling Birthday Party. That's J.B.B.P...? Bowling is fun and should be practiced more regularly by my limbs for it enables one to make a fool of themself. It's strange the contorted movements I found myself making after a strike or misguided roll, both manifested instictive, primitive gestures out of me. Gestures I wouldn't normally make. Hence the fun.

Before the party me and Puma decorated cakes:


Carl the video guy:






















Joe the Birthday Boy:
Mauro, the only bowler who
beat me. Go ahead, laugh it up.





















Friends blow out their friends birthday cake candles.

















Girlfriends cut their boyfriends cake.






















So sometime last week as I was walking to get my morning caffeinated beverage I past a window with a interesting old Religious woodcut that grabbed my attention and made me step back to look at it. On the flyer were the words 'The Psychospiritual Journey's of Abraham and Rebecca, Jacob and his brothers, ....'. This was enough for me to say, 'Ok. I'm listening.' I took note of the date and time in which this presentation was going to occur disregarding that it was a Baptist Church. That was this morning. Thankfully my friend Chris, who I told about this event and who also shares a curiousity towards Religious themes, text messaged reminding me for I was disenabled or disemboweled, either one, in bed, recovering from a slight hangover. Oops, I did it again. Thank goodness I drank all that water before going to bed!! Lessening the brain swell.
Feeling slightly ackward, as I usually do venturing into church's, I had the same discomfort and lack of ease sitting in this one. This had nothing to do with the greeter's or other worshipper's, it's strictly something in my own head that doesn't allow me complete relaxation in 'House's of God'. Context? Memories of nuns with sticks? Smelley breathe priests dictating dictum's? The talk dealt somewhat with this very notion in fact, the feeling lack of ease in a setting part. As the pastor read from Genesis stating a passage about Abraham, God said to him, along the lines off, Go away from your home, your people, and I will put a new one on you..' The statement resonated with me for it is something I have felt before, the sense that one should periodically zoom out from one's environment and circumstance to see where one is and where one is standing, questioning if this is where they want to be and/or if there is something they feel should change. A good way to evoke a change in one's circumstance to welcome new things is to step out of one's 'home', into the feared unknown, the bardo realm that acknowledges no guaranteed comforts but is essentially necessary for personal development.
Something I've been pondering lately lead from this idea is the notion of longing. Wanting something that we do not have, causing forms of suffering to overtake our mood. For me however the longing has been aimed towards a hopefully more productive end. I have been focusing, or attempting to focus my energies to the creative process aligning myself with the special interior female that I harbor in me. I think of her symbollically as the source from which all my creative efforts rise. With concentration and time dedicated to her maturation and fruitful givings I am able to feel this longing for the physical ,that I lack, dissipate and mean less or be of less concern than my art making endeavors. One because the rewards I reap are so much more substantial to me on a holistic level. The evidence I create by drawing worlds with people and imagined landscapes remain much more vital than any passing relationship I may seek out in tangible reality. This of course will need to be intergrated further down the road to avoid complete insanity perhaps or extreme isolation and/or unwanted Hermetism. But having heard the Reverend's lecture re-iterate to me what I had/have been thinking about extensively within the past two weeks ,struck me as serendiptious and synchronous. Fading then into a awakened, knowing certainty that it all makes sense, that of course he is talking about this, it goes beyond me. I'm not the only one feeling these feeling's. I may be giving it a different name, giving it a body, a gender, a symbolic archetype, but world wide I think there is some longing for something deeper, more meaningful and gratifying.

I will never cheat on you.

a moment with fortune

..I grabbed the cookie so fast from my reclined position the trails of my movement immediately echoed in my brain, making me realize how abruptly I had just made that move. Not really thinking about anything, well, not true, more like what if I knew a magician or a witch and thinking that'd be cool and then thinking that would re-lead me too my investigation of Sacred Geometry, then began seeing geometric shapes everywhere in my surrounding environment even finding the styrofoam container I just ate the beansprouts with tofu and seaweed lunch from beautiful and fascinating. Noticing the subtle pinks and metallic blues imbedded into its superficial surface. The crumpled napkins organic and chaotic perplexity. I can see them making a wonderful relationship together, say in a still life painting. I never paint still life's, haven't in a while. Then I hold my mind blank, for a couple seconds, that's when I manuevered the abrupt lunge for the fortune cookie, making me realize it and leading me to write about it....let's see what the fortune says?

'The laws sometimes sleep, but never die.'

Right. A dog is only a dog when somebody see's it.

It's not always greener on the other side. Sometimes it's not green at all but more like a deep red or purpleish hue, and there are bones lying in the thickets mingled in with rotting meat and sworms of scavenging flies, and the smells makes you nauseous. Sometimes the grass is five hundred feet of drop-off plummeting to a rocky bottom where ogres and beastily mongrols dwell, now that wouldn't be so pleasant would it? The point is that perhaps it's best if you find grace and enjoyment in what you do have control over, with what is immediately at your disposal for you to use and meddle with instead of wishing you had that 'other' thing, the item which you do not possess. Because truthfully it might not be all what you hoped and expected it would be even if you did have it. Not that she'd want to be possessed and had by you anyway. Wisen up old boy.

I Miss You

Friday September 8th 2006

Had free sushi at work today! Good name for a band? FREE SUSHI. Ended the day strong, finished off five large posters of reknowned sport's heroes: Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Vince Lombardi, Lance Armstrong, some runner who ran the mile under four minutes? Large prints four by seven feet, packaged, shipped out fed ex overnight. Ran out the door to meet Chris and Rebecca for a opening at the ICA. Ended up being a great unexpected evening. First the work was interesting, all over the place. Arranged high on the walls, drawings of all assortments, and some in glass cases, bound, very delicate, rich assortments. Gave some good ideas for my own work. Remember. First drink was a merlot purchased graciously by Rebecca. Enjoyed it outside and met Sarah McKeaney without knowing who I was talking with. Very nice lady. She gave us free drink tickets which we never got to use because right then the director of the museum offered everyone huddled outside free dinner, we gladly took the offer. It felt like we we were on a cruise ship. Outside the breeze was there but very pleasant and the festivities lended itself to the aura of 'simply enjoy yourself, you are being catered too' feeling. Wine was provided on the tables and the best beef tenderloin I've had in a while was eaten. Drank a really simple great drink: Welsh's white grape juice with Vodka and grape or two. Good I guess when you're serving in the hundred's. Met a couple nice people who had just recently started at PAFA. One from North Carolina, we talked about Anselm Keifer and books and being in graduate school. Talked with Rebecca a little about Wind-Up Bird because she'd just re read it herself. I'm still very fascinated by this book. I just finished it a couple days ago and started Kafka on the Shore today but Wind Up still lingers with me. I'm thinking about the tangibility of dreams and translating those in my waking reality and vis a versa. More often I'm remembering, questioning moments as if they are dreams or reality? What is the difference? Something about sensory depth, the richness of the experience. The complexity and illogical nature of scenario's that manifest? Sometimes I'll notice that I'm realizing if I'm dreaming in reality and focus on the current situation to try and pinpoint was is happening, viscerally, mentally, to try and use that information as memory in my dreams. What makes them different? What relates them? The sense's are the main focus right now, trying to recognize the physical sensations being experienced in both along with the mental interpretations of those sensations. Remember the hands, look at your hands. Use those perhaps as remembering points.
After we decided to leave the dinner we ran back into Asher and Alana, who we met at the dinner. I suggested White Dog but ended up at some other tavern. Just one drink and me and Chris and Rebecca left for the night. Tommorrow we're planning on meeting for Mauro's opening at Serraphin Gallery.

Wind-Up Bird Book Review and Running thoughts

In this place I just left and arrived simulatenously. The strangest thing. I saw myself come in through the front door while I was walking away from the counter. Another time, at a cafe, I was paying for my mocha drink and spilled a little on the book I was reading, page 343. The next day on my lunch break I went to get a drink and there on page 343 was a brown stain. 'Huh', I think I mumbled. 'What's going on with this time delay thing?', I said to myself, in my mind. The page was about how annoying those bike's are that ride around without muffler's, the real loud one's that demand you listen to them when they roar bye....they're so ridiculous and over the top. Sure I can understand maybe getting something out of the physical vibration from them riding - I assume that's why they ride those things? - but ride those on your own time, people are trying to concentrate here.

I had a dream I was at a beach, sitting down in a lazy chair reading. (picture here) The ocean foam kissing my feet periodically, languidly hobnobbing. (picture here) Receding....reacquainting....going back....'how you been? Kind of like a perfect relationship. Who needs attachment? (picture here) 'Not I' said the writer writing away, or did they not even acknowledge the question?
'Yeah, I don't think they even said anything?'
'Must be deep in thought?'
'Must be? So you wanna go kick over bike's?'


This book I'm reading, actually just finished, called 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle' by Haruki Murakami was one of the most enjoyable book's I've ever read, and the longest coming in at just over 600 pages. I gave myself two weeks to read it and that's how long it took me. I've never read anything that long so for me it's kind of an accomplishment. Shut up all those who've read 1,000 page epic's over a night, I have nothing to say to you accept 'go read'. It read more like a book half that size, I guess because of how it was written? The author describes very well little details, sensorally, so it encapsulates you in the world being created. This really allows my mind to forget about time and just melt into the words unfolding a scene, a story, before me, leading me through its labrynth. The character's were easily identifiable too. I mean easy to picture their personality as if you knew them personally, conversing with them.

The main thing I'm taking from it is a concept that suggest's, (although is never blatantly brought up in the book), that 'dream' (timeless) reality affects waking, sequential time reality. To the extent that things happening in the dream time can manifest into the waking time. And this is something that meander's around and through the novel constantly, at times purposefully alienating the reader from differentiating what is actually 'reality'. Surely I've felt this before? Do I have to ask myself? Who am I asking? Our main character seems to exist in a world where nothing much happens and he slowly begins meeting strange people who play roles in his life. These character's interweave from his dream life to his waking life and swirl back again. The order of things gets jumbled and it becomes increasingly difficult to decipher what happened when. Things inexplicably occur. He seems to be following a story he has no control over. He seems to know little and you are him while reading he novel.
Juicy like watermelon on a parched summer day this one is.