A fine day, one which sieves out the best in us; cool air, mild winter skies, warming sunshine in the afternoon, no feelings of rush. When all seems to possible, let's leave it this way. Let's explore the new and feel awake. This morning, a longer ride than it seemed - but, with two sweet-hearted boys and a lot of easy talk. Now I wait for a party tonight sitting with my contest chili in the crock pot stewing. Yep, contest chili, what better than a chili cook off in December?

Right now, there's totally strange & unusual international disco sounds a bit skewed with mixes of American big band on dublab.com. I've got a side 450ml of La Fin Du Monde next to me - almost a meal in itself, and 5 pine candles burning around the apartment... I have a huge weakness for pine candles. Sometimes I think I would spend my last dollar on a nice piny candle.

Tomorrow I'll prep and cook all day and we'll throw everything in a cooler and head out for a long trip road trip to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Mountain bike, single speed, winter boots, bomber hats, and big sunglasses. All of it to see a big frigid lake, and lots of snow, lots of family. Can't wait to feel our frozen breath and warm pubs on Brady Street.

I'm happy to report that as of yesterday my step dad, Larry, is showing signs of improvement. This last week has been scary, I hope we can all get back on our feet again. It's one of those lessons that teaches you to be grateful for good health. I haven't talked to my mom today but I hope he continues to do a little better every day. I was terribly depressed in my last post, part of me thinks I shouldn't post feelings like that, maybe a little too dark. Maybe I should try to remain happy-go-lucky on these online forums/blogs/etc. They've been a source of anxiety at times and I need to back off facebook right now, it really creeps me out sometimes. I think I tend to worry enough in general, without adding stress from silly social networks. Too much some days, just toooo much. I did want to get back to this blog though because A. I don't think anyone reads it anyway! plus it feels like a private corner of existence to which I can let my fingers go. B. My last post was so depressing I wanted to bring some good news on a new day. C. I've been wasting so much time today, it's a new personal record for me and definitely worth noting!

Yes, I can hardly believe it's 2pm and all I've done is email my professor about how I can't turn in a paper that's due tomorrow because his directions on the syllabus are completely different than current APA formatting. By the way, APA is psychotic and definitely a candidate of induced neurosis. It makes me crazy. So now I can't begin my next research paper until I finish this one and I can't finish this one until the prof tells me how to trick-up some half breed APA formatting.

Since I woke up today I've considered lifting weights, writing a new paper, doing all the productive things I should - but I then decided to update my iPod on my iPhone which consisted of me going through several thousands of tracks on my PC's music library for just the right blend. It took me 2+ hours to create a playlist. Meanwhile I'm not at the gym, I'm not doing my paper, I'm not doing anything. I didn't even want to get up to pee because I'm zoning out so hard on the playlist that my bladder suddenly ceased to exist. This isn't even procrastination, it's spacing out on an astral level. Hahaha, I will eventually get to work. Or will I???

...one thing is for sure. I t will only be when my music has finished uploading.

Matzo & Poached White Fish...

This rainy morning I put my books aside and decided the rest of the day can wait for a little while, so I prepared fresh food instead... my favorite procrastination technique. I had a craving for steamed matzo balls, which are kosher dumplings, and crispy cast iron turkey bacon on the side. What? I said turkey bacon. אױ װײ!Last night I wanted poached cod so I decided to steam the fish in white wine, pepper corns, crushed garlic, and bay leaves; with some whole carrot matchsticks to poach as well. The flavors were so delicate. I usually go for bold and super pronounced styles of cooking but I love the refinement and these, kind of like, whispers of flavor. Especially the poached cod, it offered a completely different feel. It was a ballet rather than a tango.

So what's with all this Kosher cooking you ask? Should I find a synagogue tomorrow and go to Shabbat? Although, I don't think there are any Jews in Wichita Falls. I'm secular anyway... not overtly or specifically religious...or maybe a little bit of everything, which feels peaceful to me.

Shalom

שָׁלוֹם

The cold dust from this windy city leaves heads heavy with coarse beards, faces red breathing whiskey frost, icy fingers, watering eyes from wind tears. Its bathtubs fill with sand.

My hair grows more quickly here, it wraps around my neck. I let it fall around my shoulders, old friends. The blueberry

stains under my fingernails came from picking them last night before bed. I wondered how many bites until I find the perfect one? What will blueberry dreams look like? This morning, I awoke giggling.

I

The graybright sky smells emphatically of nothing. Cold humid prickles, the ghosts of raindrops, rise on the backs of my hands.

Today, I want to cleave myself in two, that I may be more exposed to the world. I want to tape my eyes open until they fill with tears and everything turns into a blur of colors. I want to be the off-key tuning fork for pianos in the trees.

Even when you see, you can not know if it's real.

II

Sit under the warm sky, doll. You won't be able to see the sun anyway. Your sweat smells like two-day-old flowers and your eyes are the color of raisons. Let's make dinner out of something in the neighbors trash can. Let's find the tallest hill in the city and pin a love note to the tallest tree at the top. Let's sit face to face and I'll inhale the breath out of your mouth. Let's fill a dish with old tomatoes and drop it out of the window. The cracks in the street are the shape of rain as it trickles down your slicker, but not the same, love, they're not the same.

I've been waiting to do this. Wanting to be alone and free of time and willing to write again. I wonder if the full moon has been influential. I can list the ways the moon has done its mysterious deeds today. It was an unusual day. On my bike on the way to school, I noticed a brilliant sun and the sky was creme-fraiche, it was a perfect day. The kind that make you want to have damp feet from the garden floor, and hear music in your pockets. The days that make it easier to imagine being in a different city and in another decade. To play make-believe. I still play that game. It's not as easy as when I was seventeen. It makes me sad because when I was seventeen, I didn't know it and never enjoyed it. But today, I enjoyed as much as I could. I rounded a bend in the road curving around a park while I was riding but instead of going to school, I went to the park instead.

Today I took some pictures of a tree that was lining up with the sun. It reminded me of an eclipse and the camera obscuras I saw on tv last week. While I was lying there I bullied mini hybrid bees swarming around my ears, the little bees that confuse themselves with flies. I watched a cricket squeaking, and tried to study, I felt guilty that I wasn't working in a hospital but I stayed there in the grass and with my computer and books and duck food for lunch for 3 or 4 hours. I wanted to avoid the library that was waiting for me but decided to go instead and do something productive. When I was there I found a spot for myself that was very private. Libraries are sexy, they're appealing to people who are happiest alone.

The most poignant moment in recent past was my cat and his dying in my arms. Heavy like a swollen funny shaped pear he lay next to me in a bed. Heart beat short, moaning, human like. I saw death and slept next to it like an old friend until its fuzzy and gray beaming life was gone. It hurt intensely. My little lovely. I am missing him a lot.

I also started school and I realize I have to pull the reigns in on my mind. I have fears of 'can't'... and 'what if I just couldn't?' It's hard to learn how to study again, after my funny self has been running ramped over the last 2 years. I haven't been a complete waste-monger, I've read a good bit and have been writing and working hard, and have been keeping social and I try my best to be well versed and witty and savvy and organized, and yet unrefined, but, the thought of school overwhelms and I'm alone amongst all of these online classes to face my own successes and shortcomings, left to study alone, make my own deadlines, assign my time. I have no one to study with or call when something is confusing. Internet classes are a lot to keep spinning together and separate. I hope to do them well, I have to - I quit my job for them! I did it, I quit! No more shrilling call pager in the middle of the night! No more work depression. I registered to race for 3 days in Austin this weekend and am making plans to race in Las Vegas in 3 weeks. In 2 weeks I'll be in Dallas racing around the American Airlines center with a crowd of friends and a field of comrades. 4 weeks ago I was in Illinois racing the national championships, 6 weeks ago I was with Colavita at Superweek. Wow. This season will be missed greatly. Seems far away but, when it's finally come to an end, I won't know what to do with myself. I can't imagine that next year could be any better but I hope to be surprised. I love surprises.

It's late, I'm so tired. I need to sleep, but no work tomorrow. I can't get over that. It's scary and wonderful at the same time... I love a paradox. I love to be frightened and thrilled. They say it's the worst time to quit a job and here am I, voluntarily unemployed in a recession - and I wanted it that way?!

Forget the recession, before I go I have to share the really great news: I made my first apple gastric tonight! A glazed base kicked off with a chicken stock, ginger, mustard, black sesame seeds, hoisin, chili peppers, tamari, and 1 chopped apple. I then seared the onions & garlic in sherry vinegar, added the sauce and reduced. Served over pork with wild rice and hard lettuce for wrapping. I ate it with pale ale served in a mason jar. From here forward, I'll always want a pale ale in a mason jar.

Yours in spades.

'Motorman' excerpt meets bedtime story...

She would say, "Play the Buxtehude, Moldenke. I enjoy the chills it gives me." She would close the door behind herself and leave him alone in the piano room with its pots of ivy and ant-traps.

He would begin the Buxtehude on the cold keyboard. In the bedroom she would listen through a wall.

He would play the Buxtehude until ants crawled along his fingers and assembled on his sleeves.

He would then walk into the kitchen, carrying his hands like packages, and scrape the ants into a teaboil. Roberta would emerge from the bedroom, stand in the doorway in her flannel. Moldenke would turn from the teaboil and smile, his old silver tooth throwing out a beam of light.

Roberta would say, "Tea?"

Moldenke would add mock sugar. "Yes, would you like a cup?"

She would always have a cup. She would say, "As always."

Moldenke would have his with potato milk, she without.

David Ohle 1971

I've gotta big big big big heart beat,

yeah I think you are the sweetest thing

I wear a coat of feelings

and they are loud

I've been having good days

Think we are the right age

To start our own peculiar ways

With good friendly homes

You get me freaked freaked freaked on Preakness

Never met a girl that

likes to drink with horses

Knows her chinese ballet

Must admit you smell like

fruity nuts and good grains

When you show my purple gaze

A thing or two at night

Make me sick sick sick to kiss you

and I think that i woud vomit

But I'll do that on mondays

I dont have a work way

I like it when I bump you

an accident's a truth gate

I'm humbled in your pretty lense

I'll hold you dont you go

Sometimes you're quiet and sometimes I'm quiet.

Hallelujah!

Sometimes I'm talkative and sometimes you're not talkative,

I know....

Well i'd like to spread your perfume around the old apartment

Could we live together and agree on the same wares?

A trapeze is a bird cage

even if its empty and defintintely fits the room

And we would toooo

And my dear dear dear khalana

I talk too much about you

Their ears are getting tired of me singing all the night through

Lets just talk together

You and me and me and you

And if theres nothing much to say

Well, silence is a bore

I've gotta big big big big heart beat,

yeah I think you are the sweetest thing

I wear a coat of feelings

and they are loud

I've been having good days

Think we are the right age

To start out own peculiar ways

With good friendly homes?

Sometimes you're quiet and sometimes I'm quiet

hallelujah

Sometimes I'm talkative and sometimes you're not talkative

i know....

Sometimes you hear me when others they can't hear me.

Hallelujah!

Sometimes I'm naked and thank god Sometimes you're naked.

Well, hello.....

Can I tell you that you are the purple in me?

Can I call you just to hear you,

would you care?

When I saw you put your purple finger on me

There's a feelin' in your bottle

Found your bottle, found your heart

Gives a feeling from your bottled little part

Gotta crush high

Thought I crushed all I could

Crushed all I can

then I touched your hand

Crush high

Don't want it to stop

Cause stories of your brother make my crush high pop

And you couldnt really know cause its in my toes

And sometimes i wonder whered that crush high go

Crush high

then i go and take some pills

Cause i cant do all of my dos and still feel ill

You get that whooooooo

Today I raced for the first time in 3 weeks. My head hurt toward the end and I sat up but it's ok because I still made $300 and a new pair of Pearl Izumi shorts. I lost my motivation in the men's race, I needed to see 5 laps to go in order to pull something out of my wattage cottage, also known as ass, but the lap cards, they weren't coming, the lap cards, where were they? Then I sat up and: LAP CARDS. My life needs lap cards. I shouldn't have given up. I was sitting in about middle of the field when I quit. Why'd I do it? I didn't care anymore, apathy... ugly.

Tonight I lost a nice speaker that I just bought for my computer. How does anyone lose a speaker? Tonight I also window shopped at Highland Park Village, the oldest shopping mall in the country. I decided if I were to buy a gun, I'd get a Beretta. Instead, I got a Beretta baseball cap. I also lust for a Chanel suit in much the same way people lust for dirty affairs. I decided my next hair cut will be a short black bob with heavy bangs. But first I need a long neck like a gazelle. I also want Chanel shoes and a gaudy Chanel chain with Chanel coins and pearls clanging all over my chest. Chanel, Chanel, Chanel.

When I'm done bike racing I think I'm going to turn into a long distance runner and grow freakishly thin. I'd like to try it. I'd like to be emaciated at least for a year or two before I get too old and it doesn't matter anymore if you're fat or skinny. I'm also going to start writing more, I will. I love to write because it's one of the only things I can do while being completely alone with myself and I love it because it makes every bone in my body pop. I'll be taking classes full time at Midwestern next year to finish the next degree in Radiology so I don't think I'll have much time to write as much as I hope. I've also committed to the cycling program at MSU on top of 15 hours. Look, anything to not have to take mobile x-rays anymore. The money is unbelievable but I can no longer endure the call. I spend all my money because I am bored. I need to live for something I am passionate about. So, I'm going to live small again. The ways of the small. Less is more and no, that doesn't pair well with Chanel but I think expensive clothes look best in my imagination anyway.

I've got nothing tonight except the lingerings of a concussion and a really sore shoulder that is missing its skin. I have a heavy heart and am sad that Gato, Ross' family cat, was pronounced dead today. Devastating. Our cat Leopold is getting really sick from drinking dirty water.

Today I remembered a favorite teacher of mine from high school. He used to say that giving flowers was nothing more than giving someone plant privates and that every time we smell a flower, we are pushing our noses into a little plant's genitalia.

I'm going to read my book now. Lunar Park is aces, gold, diamonds, and plant privates. I can not get enough of Bret Easton Ellis. Who am I going to bathe my mind with after he's all finished? Who? ...WHO???

I can't stop thinking about a line in The Gambler by Kenny Rogers. "And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep." This has been resonating with me all day today. Can't shake it.

There's some kind of groovy kraut rock on Dublab.com right now. It makes me want to write or cook, it makes me feel soft all over. It makes me want to lie in bed and watch the mobile turning with the air gusting from the dusty vents on the ceiling. Tonight I spent the evening cooking a warm spinach salad with fresh ground nutmeg, roasted tomatoes and soft boiled eggs. I wilted the spinach in rendered bacon fat. I sharpened the knives. I'm having a hard time feeling like an athlete this week. I'm torn between being die hard or being the bohemian that I inevitably am, the side that fantasizes about a glamorous life when the mind's adrift and has nothing better to do. The great thing about being in my nonathletic mode is I create more and spend better time with my family and friends. Although it takes time away from living the dream and being true to a passion for cycling. I'm torn in both directions. Why is this life so great?

That's all for now. I still need time to read and wake up early. I decided tomorrow I'll start doing some stretching and maybe a little core work in the mornings. I need to do more of these things, too many extremes in my life. Either too hard or too soft. I need a bit of middle ground for balance, some early morning time to stretch and open up to the hot sun. I am amazed at the effort it takes to constantly seek balance. I think I like dramatic ups and downs, or at least I am very accustomed to them.

Yours,

Dim Sum

A Bit Of Heart

American Apparel 2012 Catalog & My Vertically Integrated Farm

This is pretty accurate, especially since owner and CEO Dov Whatever-His-Name was under fire yesterday - yet again. Haha, this time not for sleeping with his models but for violation of labor laws. Apparently something like half of his factory workers were without benefits and were illegal aliens & employed illegally.  But he claims to be sweat-shop free. Yes, I feel bad because 2/3rd of my wardrobe is AA... I guess I like it for its controversy! I don't know why I feel the allure, I thought originally it was a good thing to be "buying local". There is really very little difference between LA or China. It's all bleeding together, and what is so wrong with that?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

One day after I've catapulted beyond the many chapters yet to come and I come to a time when my hair is turning gray and the lines on my face begin to tell their stories, I'll live in a home on a small working farm. There'll be cows and chickens and a huge garden used in every season. We'll make most of our own clothes, work a compost, set up a solar powered rooftop. There'll be a big porch with a wooden swing and a small stable for cows, goats, and pigs; and maybe a horse, if I can afford one. Perhaps I'll board a horse for someone else... hmmm, ideas... 

One thing is for sure, we'll eat fresh food picked from the ground and off the vines, we'll bake desserts from the small orchards, pick fresh sunflowers in the mornings, make our own cheeses, brew our own beers, build our own greenhouse. I'll play the piano before bed and fall asleep in the living room in a place that smells alive and like cherry wood, barefoot most of the time. There will be short walks on the moss next to the cold gray stones along the creek.  We'll have parties with bonfires and live music, we'll sing. We'll all have dirt under our nails, getting old and away from it all. No one will be aware of  "Vertically Integrated Fashion".

Time to start saving... Who wants to live on this farm with me?! It doesn't matter where... all we need is land. We'll be pioneers!

Exploration/Examination

I'm destined to never have more than 7 hours of sleep. It's my life's quest. Soon it will begin to happen. Soon! I was on the right path tonight... a nice, solid tempo ride, a delicious dinner dancing through all the food groups and back again, no alcohol, lots of water, a hot shower, a facial, a clean room, a prepped coffee machine, and then... then, I found out about Raymond Scott. And now - I'm completely and senselessly enamored with this new discovery. 'Manhattan Research, Inc.' is officially a lullaby. Thank you Petter. 

My mind is aglow, I'm giddy. It's as though someone has let me in on a playful secret. I feel like holding my hands up to my mouth and giggling. I'm happy to find new treasures! I want to explore more and more, retrospectively, introspectively, prospectively... Self exploration, artistic exploration, musical exploration, academic exploration, human exploration. No stone unturned. So much to hunt, so much to find, so much to discover.  

It's funny how we can come out of weeks of feeling down and then one day it's over. I realized this as the sun was setting tonight and I was sensing something imminently. Watching the glittering lights of a construction caravan, watching the colors bleed from the dusky stretch of road blown around with pinks and taupes and everything is going to be ok. 

Lately I've been having a lot of dreams about driving cars that have failing breaks. It's the most out of control feeling, I remember my second car had its breaks go out while I was driving and it's a feeling that, apparently, one never forgets and lately I've been feeling that same sense of panic in my sleep. And even still, in these dreams I'll keep driving the car and experiencing the break failure over and over again. They're usually other people's cars too. The one earlier last week was in my grandma's car, I was steering from the back seat and someone else was controlling the foot pedals, from the front seat. We couldn't coordinate our steering and acceleration. I didn't know if or when the car was going to stop or go and then the brakes were shot on top of it. Last night I was driving the parent's car of someone I know. I kept crashing it, I wasn't leaving a good impression on them! I wanted to impress them. 

Wow, Viva Radio would be great it it would actually stream. I listen to it while I read or write, it makes me want to lay out and tan and I'm not the lay-out-and-tan-type, which is why it's so funny to listen to it. 

Ok, time to snap out of it and get to work. Lot's of constipated old people to do abdominal series x-rays on this morning... and I wonder why I dream all day...

What happened? The young summer has matured overnight into a wrath of blistering, heavy heat. We're at its mercy, standing under the waves of dissipating solar power, falling over us in particles. Smouldering blankets of hot winds and crazy energy.

I'm lying around on my bed while glimpsing out the window. I can see the heat rise in gassy little bits of curling waves off the streets and rooftops. I realize ironically that I have a summer cold. It makes me feel hot have to fight off the urge to sneeze every time I roll over. I knew something was off last month, something was wrong. Then I went straight into a few weeks out of town to race hard, driving me into the ground. I've been so tired since I've been home, so down. Now it's been a week, working with the sick, and I'm sick again. The same thing happened when I returned from racing in California... I push my immune system into overload racing and pick up some sort of little microbe on a mission at work. Well I'm home now, ready to relax and recover my legs from racing. I guess the recovery has now moved into other areas as well; as long as it stays out of my lungs, that's all I ask.

///Tonight I've had time to think, in my bed, where the best thinking occurs. I've realized my mind has been running around playing with new colors, stirring forgotten emotions.
My eyes are parched, they've been looking in a distant direction, looking at the sun, blinding them. Now it's difficult to discern anything familiar or unrecognizable, perhaps instead rediscovery through touch. It feels like being outside on a sunny day, then running indoors and everything is dark while all the little rods and cones adjust to the state of things. I feel my way around reaching out for the wall that I know is safe and there.

/////I had a dream that I was in an arid landscape without cover and the heat was emitting itself in waves off of all the plants and stones around me. There was a huge mirrored billboard sign. I didn't know I was lost, but engraved in cursive onto its glass it said, Apocalypse: This Way. Everything beyond the mirrored billboard was badlands and I was almost there.

I'd been wrapping myself up, in a spell that ended being only caused by myself and a figment of my imagination. It was unfamiliar and exciting and fun and odd and WONDERFUL! But now reeling and lying here in bed, alone, thinking. My head hurts and I know all I need is sleep but I cannot.

//////He's found a doll. It's small and seemingly resilient and stuffed with wool and wrapped in a pinkish felt. It's a not much of a doll but it amuses him. It has pearls for eyes and pink lips, her hair is drab and brown like boots. He places a small wreath around the top of the dolls head and it stings because it is made of barbs that attach roughly to her woolen skull. It's like purple thistles but it's not, it's made of needles from the sea. They glow an indescribable color that exists outside of the spectrum. Their color makes up the ink that pulses inside these otherwise invisible creatures that dwell in caverns at the bottoms of the deepest oceans. They can only be found by those who are lost. He's collected these needles all his life. They're shaped like barbs and he weaves delicate wreaths and sometimes necklaces with them.

He finds the old scissors he used in grammar school to cut Valentine's cards. His fingers are too thick now, but he pushes the tips inside the holes. He begins to cut through the smallish ruffled neckline of her pale & yellow dress that looks like a tulip. He runs the blade along the lines of her torso, following possible nerves and imaginary bones. Its blade is so cold, but it feels like heat. Burning her, he misses and cuts the flesh a little bit. He sews it up with pink staples.

On land and when he was a young at heart, he found rusted pins in an old jewelry box in the attic while his grandmother was sleeping. He's always held onto them for protection, but now, he pushes them along the doll's spine and combs her hair with their sharp edges, running the points across her head and along the bridge of her nose.

He uses rusted carpenter's nails from a tin box that he dug up one evening while the sun was setting. He pushes the nails into the doll's chest, peppering her dreams with anxiety, awakening her with paranoia, and restlessness & unease.

Before bed he opens a box of moths. They're hungry. They feast on the wool that makes up her belly.

Lastly, he pierces her heart with and old feather pen and watches it bleed with blue ink. It stains all of his fingers.

Videoclip from Gabo Gesualdi on Vimeo

Letters From L.A.

Oct 22, 1983

Dear Sean,

I'm sitting in the penthouse apartment of some friends in Century City. It's kind of late in the afternoon and I'm very relaxed. Someone gave me a Dalmane (I think I've spelled it right) because I had a headache and they told me it would help it. I feel very comfortable and relaxed right now. This is the first time I can remember since I was a kid that I am glad and content to be where I am. I don't know if you have ever felt like this, but I've always felt very uncomfortable and impatient with wherever I happen to be after a certain point. I get bored and irritated and everything I think is in the future tense (maybe like the way you got up suddenly that night we were all sitting in the Cafe and you looked at me and abruptly left). I've always felt jumpy, like I couldn't stay in one place for any length of time. But something's changing. Totally rad (short for "radical"), as we say around here.


This is not going to be much of a letter because we're about to go out to dinner soon because someone made reservations at Spago and we're leaving in an hour to and hour and a half, someone says. What I want to tell you mostly is that I'm thinking about you and hope you are all right. Are you? Will you write me? I want to hear fromyou. Please?

Love,
Anne


The Informers, Bret Easton Ellis, (pg 139) Vintage Contemporaries, New York, 1994

"I Know Where The Summer Goes' By Ryan McGinley

 

I'm up to my neck uploading music for sleeping/vegging purposes. My little gray cat Leopold likes to sleep with music too. Hehe,  what a cutie. 

So I'm uploading my run-of-the-mill old stuff, the ebb and flow of my musical past. Greats like Stereolab, Ladybug Transistor, Love, Modest Mouse, Radiohead, Brian Eno, Yo La T, My Bloody Valentine, Kaki King, The Sea & Cake, Tortoise, etc, etc, etc. Melodies that I've heard hundreds of times but still want to keep near and dear.

On the drive up to Wichita Falls last night (aka weekend extravaganza). I got to thinking about images of sound. I was listening to Deerhunter on the drive, no surprise there as I seem to not be able to listen to much of anything else these days, and when I thought about what their music would look like set to color I thought of Ryan McGinley, the photographer/wizard. I checked today for any new work of his and of course he has a new show. And of course! I am enamored. Even though the solstice isn't for another hour (hey, cool!) I already know that I'll remember this summer as the one when I was completely absorbed in crushed-out music and, in particular, Deerhunter & Atlas Sound. I think if Ryan McGinley's photos made music they would sound like Bradford Cox and his band mates' magic.

So here are a few of my favorites from Ryan's newest show titled 

"I Know Where The Summer Goes" 

Apropos title, me thinks...

I'm off to bed, the dust from piles and piles of discs is putting me under. Histamines & popcorn and I grow so sleepy.

Happy Solstice to all sun lovers and the like. 

I'm packing to get away for the weekend and am already feeling much better. I haven't run off to a relaxing getaway since January. Everything has been race-race-race. It's definitely time. I'll finally get to see my little cat Leopold, cook something delicious on the old gas stove, lay around under the wall of books and records, burn some nag champa, listen to my Moody Blues records, take a dip in the huge tub... etc, etc, etc! I love the way the apartment feels. It's been so long. I can't wait to be in my niche. I'm actually grateful for the quiet town of Wichita Falls where rush hour doesn't exist.

I was wondering this afternoon why I've been so gloomy and sad and it reminded me of Superweek my first year racing, it was 9 days of crits and road races. When I returned home I remember feeling pretty depressed for about a week. Mina my good friend and mentor, told me way back then that it's totally normal to feel depressed after coming out of a long stage race and months of racing on end. Nature Valley last week was a beast. There was 2 more stages than the last time I went. Also, I've only been doing 60 minute crits for the last 2 years. Yeah, the occasional road race but nothing more than 40-50 miles with a pack of regional riders. Aside from Redlands, but that was a season opener. Last week was 1. a crazy hard time trial, 2. a crit averaging 28.8 mph, 3. a 70 mile road race where I contested all 3 QOM sprints (Queen of the Mountain - hey, I even got one! and to think, I was 2 points away from wearing the climbers jersey! ...wtf?!) After that 4. another crit averaging 27 mph, then 5. a 92 mile road race with a 4 lap circuit and a 1 K 18% climb, and FINALLY 6. a small circuit including a 250 meter climb averaging 20%.

No wonder I'm totally bugging out this week. The last time I did a road race more than 70 miles was in 2004!

So my apologies for being so melancholy. I definitely have my bouts, but I do tend to feel happy most of the time. Ahh, mania, it does make for better writing.

And hey, I'm already on the up & up. I found an absolutely stunning pair of pink and purple faux snake skin 4 inch quasi modest stilettos for 75% off. Nice... nice...

Last night I rode my bike around for a couple hours, completely mindless, spaced out riding. Paying attention only enough to avoid a catastrophe. Seeing other riders pass in the opposite direction but paying no mind to them except that they had just gone along. I didn't want to talk to anyone, if someone I knew happened to sneak into periphery, I would have acted as though I didn't notice, even though I didn't notice. I don't know what sets me into these moods. I think I spend too much time alone and that leads me into wanting to be alone more and more. I think I'm unhappy and all I want to do is submerge myself in music and books that take me away from the reality that I am, at times, so unsatisfied with. I think that's why I want to write again, I want to escape. I want to create something that sounds better. Like the way books sound better, no matter what the circumstances... a good story always excludes the frustrating nuances of the everyday. It captures only what's noteworthy in some way, even if it's not part of the story, it just sounds better than to experience it. Maybe it includes the facts that, 'Sheryl had really bad breath' or, 'Mike has this annoying habit of snorting his nose all day' but these things are better on paper than experiencing them! They are only for a moment, read the sentence and it's over. Unlike some assholes in a movie theater who won't stop talking. Life is better on paper. Good art excludes so much of the uncontrollable ugly reality that spills out before our eyes. Or if it does bring it into question, it does so in meaningful, thought provoking ways. At the moment, I'm thinking less about the profound and more about all the shitty strip malls, chain stores, bad food, traffic, info commercials, crime, or just cultural rudeness and laziness in general. The types of things that sink in like pollution, or just pollution in general.

I think I'm just really, really bored. Totally under stimulated. I fear feeling plain, ordinary, bland, old, stale. I wait and wait and wait and wait for Ross to finish school missing out of years of my life that could have been filled with something more... not living in the burbs with my parents while he finishes year after year. Sure I've made the most of it, but I can't shake the feeling of what I'm missing out on. I'll be almost 32 by the time he's done. Aging scares me. I feel so anxious. I'm so tired of The South, just can't shake the feeling of disappointment.


I'll try to try be a little more positive for the remainder of the weekend. I'm going north, to almost Oklahoma and it will be a really nice change, long country roads and fresh air. I haven't been there in months, it's going to be great. I'm leaving tonight.

Today felt like one of those days when you hold your breath until the point of panic or pain and then (pshoooooooshhhhh) a long waking gasp of air sets everything straight again. I felt that way this afternoon. I felt that great sense of OK in the sky in big letters created just for me in a little airplane with a little elephant in a yellow scarf piloting and promising nothing but eternal ok-ness. That was my inclination this afternoon, for an evening of everything is ok, everything is cool, everything is as it should be. The last few weeks I've felt like hiding, unsure of anything, today I have certainty and it's a breath of yes.

Sometimes I want to write letters to people who don't really exist. Well maybe they exist but not in a completely recognizable form. Most of the time they are bits and pieces of everyone else in my life, and creating them out of everyone who has been inspiring. Anyone who I've ever respected or loved. I'd like to have the time to write hand written letters to everyone and no one at all. It's a lost art, letter writing, something very romantic has been disassembled. Then I'd like to leave them places to be found. Left here and there, on bikes, on tables, on chairs, on doors, on pillows, in drawers and cupboards. Left for those who feel forgotten. If only to remove them for their dismay and place them into a moment of the unreal. A moment they will long for and think about while driving to the post office or video store, and wish upon. I want to bring wishes to others, to all that have been something important. To all who have been unrequited.

Sometimes I collect leaves and keep them so that they don't return to dust.

Sometimes I write poems on them and pin them to trees. Sometimes I watch the nape of your neck and touch a drop of sweat with the tip of my finger. A perfect bead rounding the tip of my finger before I flick the tip of my nail and watch in explode into the atmosphere like a poof of dandelion seeds. One by one each holding a code, holding life and your answers. 

More waiting, I'm good at waiting, particularly in a Victorian house, on a balcony, overlooking the final stretch on today's race course. The parked cars are slowly dwindling in number off their place on the streets of Uptown Minneapolis. The air is crisp and chilly with cloud coverage. In 1 hour I'll begin my warm up but for now I'm meditating with my computer, some ambient writings, photographs, and my feet are up! I'm finding a place of my own to clear my thoughts and fill them with words and images that correspond in no particular direction other than that they exist together and this brings me peace of mind. I'm holding on to these serendipitous notions because in 2 hours I'll be sucking air through my ears at speeds of 30 miles an hour with the best women's field in the western hemisphere. It's going to be fast and relentless, yet I find it fun because where else can I go to ride my bike as fast as humanly possible with nothing to hold me back except myself? No stop lights, cars, people... just a hundred other girls who are really, really strong. I'm beginning to feel charged, my tummy is starting to turn, the hairs on my neck are starting to stand. My endorphins are alerting me to danger and they'll make me go fast, those wicked little buzzbots. The adrenaline rushes through me like a warm wash, just under my sternum spinning though my chest. Time to push the body to the limit and see what it can do. Time to push, push, push. 

Star Date: Walk Me Into the Unknown

The guy sitting beside me talks about landing in Bali while I concentrate on not throwing up my lunch. I landed in Chicago a few moments ago and I'm waiting here at the next gate to board for

 Minneapolis. Uncrossing my legs, shifting my seat, crossing them again, taking a deep meaningless breath. I feel sad. There's a wave of heat warming my shoulders and neck, then a cool draft sways around my feet and arms. 

On the head phones Michael Jackson's 'Billie Jean' is playing and I notice an Asian guy playing on a baby pink electronic device, it looks pretty sweet. I'm intrigued for a second, then looking down I try not to stare at the toes of the people sitting around me wearing sandals. I think about x-raying feet, at which point a flutter of tension pangs through my already queasy stomach. 

I wonder if I'll loose my job over bike racing, I wonder if I'll have a good week in Minnesota. I wonder if I'll ever be completely happy, or if I'll ever stop wanting it all. Maybe I need something really profound to happen in my life to make me reevaluate my depth and proportion of importance. I would stop thinking so deeply about things that are insignificant. Maybe I need to have more fun, maybe I seek happiness in all the wrong places. Maybe the coming weeks of racing will help me sort it all out, I'd like to stop thinking about myself so much. That would be nice, it would be like a vacation, a really lovely time.