May 2006 Archives

Like when Long Duck Dong goes, "Married?"

Six years.

And the obligatory breakdown: that's 2,190 days. Or 52,560 hours. Or 3,153,600 minutes.

I tried to do the seconds but my little ghetto calculator just ran out of space. It gave me a big "E". I'll take that as E for Excellent.

So I was talking about it with Raf this morning, still in a partially dreamy state, and I realized there are very few things I've done for six years - excluding things my body does all by itself, like, breathing and stuff. They included smoking, drinking, and being a mortgage broker. All inherently toxic things in some form or another.

I'm turning over a new leaf. This year will be different. Somehow, it feels more important than my birthday even...

There's stuff I'm learning from books I haven't picked up in a while, like when you're telling The Universe that "I need ________ " or "I want ________ " that The Universe makes you just that. Needing. Wanting. Even when it's good stuff - like wanting to be less self absorbed or needing more awareness. The Universe goes, "Okay. Then you can have it. Needing. Wanting. Go right ahead." So then I'm trying to pay attention to the statements I make about my self, about what I'm putting Out There. Apparently it's more about "I am"s. "I am open to change." "I am ready for a new job." And so on and so forth. I've gotten enough super obvious signals that I'm ready to listen.

Sock it to me, Universe.

So I get home yesterday to this office-taped bubble envelope from Kristin. Kristin, with whom I am emailing earlier that day. "Oh, is that tomorrow? What is it, seven years? Six?" All faux-forgetting and everything. And I open it up at the kitchen table with Raf, who at this point must think we're both certifiable. Love notes. Sparkly frog stickers. A Sub Pop random book of something that I haven't managed to figure out yet. Static window stickers of fish and blowfish and starfish. Flyers for Latin Night. A Tarkio poster. A magazine with a Tom Brosseau article. And a bunch of other random stuff that has nothing to do with anything and everything to do with everything.

Just like today.

I guess on my new shiny dewy turned over leaf of a day that I should do what I'm here for - Work.

Bon courage,

~V.

sleep. blog. sleep. blog. sleep. sleep.

okay, blog:

"dear friend of the willoughby wallace memorial library: while we appreciate your donation, as well as your submission to our jury, we regret that at this time we are unable to offer you placement in our 06-07 season. you were one of many fine artists we were forced to decline as a result of numerous entries. we do, however, have a non-juried show running every august, to celebrate the friends of stony creek and the thimble islands. as a member, you will be receiving information as this event nears. thank you."

right. how about, dear victoria - spare me the form letter, fuckers - thanks for spending eighty bucks on prints, mats, and frames, and you and all the other people we solicited (because we really knew who we wanted to give shows to already) gave us fifteen dollars to enter, so we really made out. seriously. do you think we were going to pay to send you this letter? right. so, now we've got more money than we did before last weekend, and if you want to take a bunch of generic boring sunrise pictures like every other shmuck that lives on the water, feel free. you can put your picture up with theirs in august. we'll use another dollar of your fifteen bucks to send you more mail about that. but actually, we don't give a fuck about you, or the guy with the weird paintings you brought to see us, because we're sending him this same letter too. aren't we awesome? great.

I mean, okay, so I like, didn't get into the first jury selection show I've been in. honestly, part of me didn't expect to, and another part of me thought I just might make it in. you should have seen the stuff people were submitting - watercolors of cats and huge-ass paintings that were just all one color with a dot in the corner - I mean, there were two other good photographers that I noticed, but I got there at the end and I was #33, and they do like, twenty two-week shows plus a few special events over the year. and some of those shows are shared, you get two walls, the other guy gets two walls. so, in my mind, there were like, ten people who didn't get picked. I was one of them.

if I go in there and see those goddamn wannabe jackson pollock bullshit non-art paintings, I'm going to have to hurt somebody.

no, I'm not bitter about it... not at all.

so all that being said, the money shot of the whole process was me seeing my pictures blown up, cleaning out these huge frames with 8x10 pictures inside these great big clean off-white mats, and lining them up on the floor. I just sat there and looked at them. one of the guys came in from the other office and said, wow, those are great. I was like, yeah, I'm a photographer. he laughed - didn't I know that already?

I do now.

I know that, and that I like cooked spinach, and that I won't be broke forever, and that I want to go back to school. I know that if I take some chances, I'll learn about myself, and that if I don't take chances, I'll regret everything. I know that there's a gift somewhere in a perpetual state of crisis. I know that I'm in love.

so there was (is) this great line in a live song,

for the flowers in the corner
by the room, in the window
and the sun
said it all...

and it always really slayed me, you know? and I've got a 4x5 postcard shoved in a 5x7 frame, it's a black and white of a flower in a vase on a table, casting a shadow (because it's in the sun) and just past it the last few steps of the stairs, and presumed window beyond it (where the light is coming from). and, incidentally, I have it next to a vase of flowers, in the corner of my windowsill, where it sits in the sun. heh. and I just noticed the other day, in the shadows on the other side of the table and the vase (where the sun isn't) that there's a hat hanging on the wall. nothing special, like an older men's hat. it's barely there. but I just noticed it, and I've had this postcard for a while. and that line from that song has been in my head forever, so I actually feel like I've had this picture forever.

and randomly, I notice this hat.

that's what things feel like right about now.

I think that's all I want to say.

artist (check)

~vvb