Archive for the ‘wandering mind’ Category

Bad dog

I saw a lawyer picking his wedgie on his way to court.

I drove behind a NY car with a big placard in the back window that said “bad dog” and had a picture of a pit bull. And then the driver made an illegal U-turn in the middle of main street. And I honked and said “bad dog.”

When I went to buy doughnuts the woman behind the counter kept calling me “hon” which people do around here – even if you are older than them – I wasn’t older than her this time, but she kept calling me “hon” and I sort of hated it. I ain’t your “hon” sprinkles or no.


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I’m trying to revise a new poem, but my mind keeps wandering off and I can’t concentrate and my computer is staring at me telling me to check all the portals, the internet portals, to distract myself further. I know you’re supposed to sit with things when you are stuck, but I’m feeling this one out, I’m chewing it around in myself right now and I’m not sure how it’s supposed to taste or what form its going to take and so we need space from each other. We need to dip in and then dip out of each other.

I’m wearily putting my hand out and she’s wearily putting her hand out and when we touch it much too uncomfortable. And not she’s awkwardly sitting there with arrows and scratches and notes like I’ve just defaced her, done a really stand-up (not) makeover job like the women at the counter do. I’ve heard sometimes that those women only do half of your face – that’s just mean. And then they make you pay for the other half or if you don’t I suppose you’re walking around the mall like Two-Face.

Pat and I watched a documentary last night about street art. Exit Through The Gift Shop. It was pretty cool for the first part – all these artists going out in the dark and “defacing” buildings and bridges and streets. It was a whole underground art revolution thing and then they sort of started getting famous. They kept putting up more and more images all over Los Angeles, all over the world and the more people saw them, the more they got curious, the more the idea spread.

Shepard Fairey

Like “Obey,” by Shepard Fairey. It’s Andre the Giant’s face. Why he did it – who knows – he liked the face. Now of course, Fairey is being sued by the Associated Press for his Obama Hope poster. They say he stole the image of Obama.

But the most famous street artist in the movie was Banksy. He’s very ellusive and secretive and before this weird French guy started looking for him to film him, he never had his work or his process or anything about him filmed. The whole movie his voice was distorted and his image black-out. He was the real one with something to say about the world. His art was social commentary.

In 2005, he created nine pieces on the Israeli West Bank Barrier. These are only two, but pretty incredible.

It’s unclear by the end of the documentary if the actual movie is a parody of the higher art world – the media involvement, what becomes popular art and how. There are rumors that Banksy himself made the movie to show how easily pop culture can be manipulated. Perhaps
he had the last laugh after all.

But I respect what Banksy has done – gotten his self-image out of the way for his art. He lets the art speak for itself. And that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Now, maybe, I can go back to my poem…

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Cat litter
Motor Oil
75% off Wrapping paper
Flannel Sheets
‘Thank You’ Cards

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I’m looking to buy some great shoes today. To finish a poem I’ve been working on, to replace my Miz Mooz Amelia Button Boots that I’ve worn to death over the past three years, and to finish
a poem. 

Here’s to new things like a new year and new boots and a new poem.

I’m thinking of turning the old boots into flower pots or umbrella holders or something useful. I just can’t bare to throw them away despite the fact that they DON’T look like they should anymore. Hole in the toe, bent over like wilted flowers, chips, scuffs, holed soles. But they were grand once, weren’t they? HAPPY NEW YEAR! Drink lots of chamPAGne. It’s good to feel bubbly inside.

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Gray hairs are much easier to pull out than normal hairs. And they don’t even hurt.

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I went around to about 5 bazillion stores today trying to find a nice jacket for a little boy. You’d think in the middle of winter, in a wintry place where the frost laces the roof tops every morning, finding a jacket wouldn’t be such an endeavor. I went to the mall, weaved in and out of slow moving people, passed a woman wearing cookie monster’s feet – I’m not kidding, huge, fluffy blue shoes that were double the size of her and up to her knees. I’m not sure who told her those were OK. While I was driving to the mall I also passed a man (or a woman who knows) dressed as a Taco Bell taco. It’s 30 degrees out. Times must be tight.
If you are thinking about going out shopping right now – don’t. People stop in the middle of the street, don’t use their blinkers, park in handicapped spaces or spaces not at all. Children are screaming around the perfume aisles playing marco polo in Spanish while their mother’s don’t care to tell them about inside voices. And there are no winter coats. I know if I asked, the sales people would say – we are clearing inventory out for Spring. Jackets aren’t in season anymore. And I’d tell them – if we lived in California or Florida or someplace that grows oranges or citrus or surfers or beach bodies, I might believe you. But look outside. It’s 30 degrees and the tacos are freezing their shells off and women are running around in furry feet boots and all I want is a jacket that’s not puffy and vinyl with giant Spiderman webs on it. What happen to the nice peacoats of the world?

On a happy note, I went to our fancy grocery store with the fancy organic section (not that I can afford organic), but I like to imagine I could, but I only went to find loose leaf tea for my boyfriend’s mom. And I lingered there for a half hour, going over the big tins, the ground leaves and peppermint, dried flowers and herbs daydreaming about how lovely it would be to enjoy the small things in the world. To sit down with a cup of tea, not prepackaged, but to actually sit and smell and drink something that takes time to steep.

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Oh Joni

It’s official. I’m convinced. My mom was playing Joni Mitchell while I was tucked away in her belly. Even as a girl, I loved her and now, well she’s a light to follow, a truth, a standard, a freedom. “She was still drawing the map while she was on the road.” If you haven’t seen “Joni Mitchell: Woman of heart and mind” do it do it do it do it. Netflix makes it so easy, I don’t even have to leave my cozy warm house.


A  satisfied  netflix customer

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