Wednesday, October 26, 2011

adventure clothes.

i don't usually comment on fashion.
but for me, it's more about an entire mood or feeling.
clothes help me get into character or discover specific parts of myself.
and since i tend to get a little obsessive (a song, a color, a poet), i'm feeling a little obsessive about my "costumes." especially when it affects my mood so significantly.

so, lately i've been drawn to the following: mixed patterns, oversized sweaters (along with the idea of just being comfortable; tossing out the high waisted pants) and what i've been calling "adventure clothes." or, travel clothes if you will. denim, cotton, faux fur, distressed leather, layers. mix matched. durable. pioneer man. vagabond traveler. gypsy wayfarer. chipewa chief.

maybe it just happens to be the season.
everytime the first rains begin to come, i think about le marais.
i'm remembering the yaounde floods. and sore feet. and my UK ripped jeans.














happy travels.

hope

i like to think of red balloons as my own secret little sign of hope.
you could do the same.

i hope you find hope in the most unexpected of places.

el centro

driving up western at 6 o'clock in
october the sun is sideways to my
left and up el centro i see the purple
moon large and harvest with
orange salt and sky rings,
fingernail wishes
and coke dreams.
the twenty-somethings head
to acting class in 99 seat theaters,
santa monica boulevard and tiny
caves of black boxes and hollywood
agents.
palm tree sunsets and notecards,
aspect ratios with numbers of
birthdays.
late nights getting darker
and say hello to the wet gutters,
the skip to the beat, the boys in the
street.
poor choices but holding hands, head
falling on ever gracious pillow,
hardwood floors to bare feet and
spinning records on an unemployed
tuesday. same routine.
meditating on timothy leary, feng
shui furniture, cross legged yoga pose,
and sketches in the morning.
dark wood on four walls,
cave-like statues and tableau's
spread out length-wise on the bed.
goodbye.
goodbye bed.
goodbye in the mornin' with sketches
and dark wood floor and rolling over
on stiff joints.
goodbye you'll drive away in your
car and i in mine.
to santa monica blvd.
to el centro.
where my dark cave waits for me.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

sunday evenin'

MUSIC & BOOK PAIRINGS:

jane austen's persuasion with tchaikovsky's quartet no. 1 in d.
happy reading to you and yours.
panic. panic.

don't panic.

or definition

i think that we are always looking to label everything. to define words with more words.
i also think
that without labels or definition, we can (maybe) be free to really live in the moment.
and (maybe) love can happen even when you don't say it.



facebook wants me to label all the people in my life but
i'm sorry,
i just can't do that.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

the haves and the have nots

"it's a hard country on man; it's hard. eight miles of the sweat of his body washed up outen the lord's earth, where the lord himself told him to put it. nowhere in this sinful world can a honest, hardworking man profit. it takes them that runs the stores in the towns, doing no sweating, living off of them that sweats. it aint the hardworking man, the farmer. sometimes i wonder why we keep at it. it's because there is a reward for us above, where they cant take their autos and such. every man will be equal there and it will be taken from them that have and give to them that have not by the lord."

-william faulkner, as i lay dying

modigliani

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

dance

throughout my miserable existence
i haplessly stumbled over
my own big feet.
the demanding daily
issues of life crippled my psyche
and dragged me to the floor.
with cautious optimism
out the door,
this insane wave of focus
and questionable synapse
narrowly escaped
this bleek moment of time.
what, for god's sake, is next?
as i sat waiting for the next
napalm bomb to drop,
i found shelter....assurant shelter,
refuge from the storm.
i sat unscathed,
with his loving arms
around me all along,
as he taught me
to dance in the rain.

-roger criss