Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Octavia Butler died Sunday. She was 58. How do you say thank you to someone you've never met? To someone who has inspired and amazed you?

There are many great art moments in my life. Images, moving pictures and words. Along with Kathy Acker, Octavia Butler paused me at the right moment in life. I read The Morning and The Evening and The Night and was left speechless. I discovered her late but it was better late than never. My friend Shari before she was my friend once sat me down and said very matter-of-factly, "You can get by. You could easily get by with no effort. Don't do that." That's what it feels like.

(Shari, I'm paraphrasing...)

Thank you.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

I caught the Great Sandini's magic show at his and Lunas' condo on Sunday and I wanted to say congratulations on moving forward. I eagerly anticipate bringing Gabrielle next time to see the wonder on her face.

New art in progress

Monday, February 20, 2006

The Undergrad will screen Thurs., March 2, 4:30pm
The Eye & Ear Clinic @ SAIC
The screening location is:
112 S. Michigan Ave, 13th floor screening room (rm. 1307)
Please pass the word. No admission fee.

Visit the Official Site

Thursday, February 16, 2006

two best quotes of the day:

big dreams require big work


i fall as often as raindrops it doesn't phase me anymore

There's this great moment in the movie Contact where Ellie's "father" is talking to her amidst the panic and overwhelming mental state that she is in. He picks up her hands and says, "You have your mother's hands."

It makes me cry. Everytime I see it. It should be remembered, however - as a disclaimer, that after chemo I cry at everything: commercials, people on the street, the smallest gesture. I am told that chemicals have a way of moving like waves in the body after treatment. It's the way Jodie Foster looks down at her hands. I could swear she says, "Really?" It so disarming and I guess that was the point, to disarm her, to calm and quiet her. It also reminds me of a video documentary I saw years ago on Jack Kerouac, his later years when he was an alcoholic and his daughter was talking about before he died she was sitting next to him and picked up his hands and realized she had his hands, his big blocky hands.

It makes me think of friends and loved ones who have lost their parents. Recently, through holidays, anniversaries and memories it's been in their minds. At some point every parent makes a promise to their children they can never keep.

Every parent is given at the beginning the power, the ability to heal. Not everyone uses it. Not everyone respects it or even holds on to it, it can fade. But no other person can look at you and with all effort and compassion wrap their fingers around your heart and squeeze every so slightly. Not that I am getting all Oprah on everyone but it's a bit like those angels in Wings of Desire where they put their hand on your shoulder sight unseen. You have that gift. It's not just delineated by birth and blood. It's everything that the words maternal and paternal encompass. Later it can become fraternal. Long before paternal becomes a tank and plows through buildings and history as patriarchy or some other such metal, it starts off with hope. What follows is up to you.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Never thought I'd start off the day with Bruce Willis, but if anyone is a fan of Sam Shepard then you should see the televised version of True West with Bruce as Lee and Chad Smith as Austin. I got to love Sam Shepard when someone close to me introduced his work years ago.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

My wings are buried underneath the clutter right now. I am trying to find them. These things are under my breath in my head as I am under the radar....

I like Lazlo's photos.

And David Choe.

I went to a wake on Friday. I sent her granddaughters this poem.

I loved Thumbsucker.

And Murderball.

I exist part time here now.

I called the past and made a mistake.

I told my sister that to get burned and scarred is not always a bad thing.

I tried to make a food blog and failed after a few days. Have to try again. I failed because I started eating bad and was embarrased.

Atticus had a birthday. He turned one. 1. Gretchen painted this and made me cry.

I told everyone at his party that This is his family. You all. You are his community and it keeps growing and growing. That's why you were invited.

I didn't invite everyone I wanted to. Our space isn't that big.

This artist is getting ready. I see him in my head as I peek around a corner in a lowlit room sitting in daylight dark holding a deck and meditating. In reality, he's probably eating cheese fries or something.

More always more.

Atticus was sick. As was Gabrielle. As was Irene. Everyone is getting better.

Today, February 14 is Seria's birthday. She is 11. And a beautiful Siamese.