for the frustrated mind

"When I say beauty, I mean just the reality and openness to everything."

~Jeff Koons

"... like walking through the forest in the evening, and then the sun finally sets completely, and your relying on the light that was there to navigate through it. It's the moment when your aware of the absence of light."

~Mark Bradford

"It starts with a postcard. I put two of them together and try to connect them. It's fun to imagine what might lie just beyond the edge, but them you work yourself into a no-exit situation where you have to make up something. You might say I make settings for these found objects."

~William Wegman

"We're so used to finding anything in abstraction. If your mind wants to find something, you can find it in almost anything. It's like people finding Jesus in a slice of toast."

~Julian Lethbridge

Can you guess what all these words are speaking to? Now, as the sun finally steals through the thin, crimson leaves during the last few moments of an afternoon like any other? But it saves, somehow, the sun. It saves and it draws a person out of a multi-walled house, out of a multi-dimensional mind rife with frustration and words coming from every which way.

They all apply to a theme present in the everyday, the mundane and the extraordinary. They

apply to something that might or might not necessitate the human consciousness.

The answer might be found in November's Vogue, as well as the accompanying tableaus.

But perhaps it is more fun not to look, not to go looking.

Rather to just feel it for yourself and make it be what it needs to be

for you

in this moment

before the sun draws you back out

or in

.

This is October, After Twelve Steps

Legs feel like walking sticks with those exposed, knobby joints. Nights fall swiftly without much warning. Lists grow longer and more obtuse as I grow languid in the listing process of writing one line down, then another, and another... Nine is the morning's desired hour to stir me from darkened, cavernous dreams. I read somewhere that people don't look forward to dreaming anymore. Dreaming is all I look forward to. Well, not really. There are others, too.

Like.

Letter writing.

I was struck last night as I lay in bed, gazing absentmindedly across the open room which lies past the foot of my bed {a queendom, kingdom without a king, as I also recently read}, my eyes lighted upon the letter, folded into three rectangular portions, two kinds of stationary, one plastered atop the other, pale pink under the other's eggy watercolor. Pen just dry, papers yet to be stuffed into envelope, address yet to be scrawled, I realized I had forgotten these words had not reached the eyes meant to read them. I sat there, doggedly, assuming she who would had already... read and received. Ha! So much for unconscious conditioning at the gaping, grasping, invisible tendrils of technology. And the finite action of handwriting, delivering a psychological push to those words, stronger yet less definite than the mail carrier's easy abandonment when releasing said letter from the grasp of red-cold fingertips in a few fine October days.

Like.

Filling Burners.

Stirring the contents of multiple frying pans and brews, letting one sizzle and another simmer, going for a walk and coming home to the smell of each single endeavor, noticing their points of intersection, letting the steam cloud together... In short, many new ideas on the horizon, soon to be making the shift to physical form.

Like.

Peering into Corners and Retrieving

ways to fill the front of an envelope, so that the letters fall across the page in a sweeping fashion, like ribbons fall accidentally out of the hair or slip noiselessly off the waist, settling in greeting on the ground used by the lively and the adventurous for day-long endeavors unhurried by the grinning approach of night.

neither snow... via oh joy.

oh my.

heartbreak

Well, career aspirations suddenly modified, I suppose I'll just have to create something as exemplary in terms of photography, food and the presence of Ruth Reichl myself. Help greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, nothing will replace the historical significance.

popopopop

Oh the merits of being awake to that realm called reality, and that little subcatagory called...

oh yes.

Culture.

Pop culture, to be exact, for pop is precisley what I must exude in produced material, personality and presence in my new office environment. Cracking jokes, casting puns, wryly observing our surrounding environment... All great fun. I sat at lunch today, observing and listening. I felt like nothing short of a sponge. Adapting to new energies and perspectives is no easy task, yet a healthy one.

Image via Nerd Boyfriend.