Is the first day of Fall here (!)


But the Carpet is so soft

Such a large amount of happiness contained in such a small space.

(A sliding glass door, a window, a door, a closet, four walls; the sunshine streaming through the curtain, the bookcases full of words that I sometimes understand, sometimes not, the bed where I sleep peacefully and dream imaginatively, and in the corner, an abundance of canvas, paint and wood where I express and create pieces of myself and my views on the world. )

I often wonder how it is that I came to be who I am, and not someone else in a less fortunate situation. Sometimes I feel that unavoidable white middle class Americana guilt, but more often than not I know that it is slightly irrelevant, that there are many far better off than I, loads far worse and just as many on par. It simply is and has always been the state of things. This was a tangent from what I was trying to say, hah - that I don't really think it's the location of your life, or the amount of goods you posess, but rather the outlook you have and the connections you create with people. I think this is stemming from the visit my family paid me yesterday - I was and still am reberverating with this happiness from seeing them, because it is such a rare occurance.

Oh, oh!

I'm a smitten kitten, listenin' to Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grapelli :}




Winning You with Words

On the porch, the box of a bookcase built creates a shadow that falls on the window, to the blinds inside, vertical stripes of shadow, divided by the twelve square panes. Irrelevant observation on an irrelevant Tuesday morning. I'm not a cynic, just a realistic wee ant.



Last night was the UNF Faculty show at MOCA. What a great turn out, and what interesting work. I was especially impressed by Anna McLellan's delicate graphite drawings, they were so tiny and beautiful. Everyone looked lovely all dolled up, and, I must admit, it's always entertaining seeing one's professors sloshed. It was also my friend Emily's twenty third birthday, and we had a night BBQ and pool party, even though it rained. Our friend Trish is back in town for the weekend, for her own birthday, and it was wonderful to see her. I miss her imminent sass and sardonic humor echoing off the walls of the photo lab. Lots of fabulous things happening within such a short amount of time! How happy I am!


Camp Out

This is a song for the one that I love
I haven’t met them yet
But I’m quietly confident

Although what if like you said
All I’m looking for
It doesn’t exist
Oh I have to believe it does.



Christine's comment in regards to necrophilia: "Don't hate the player, hate the game". I'm dying laughing right now. Oh, dying? Also, Arthur responds to the names 'Crack Pipe', 'Antonio Banderas', and 'Snow Pile Atop Bank of Dirt'. This we discovered while theorizing what his name was before we adopted his furry little self (the last is his Native American name, that's my favorite, as I coined it). Christine really wanted it to be Dale Earnhart... oh well.