Soon I will embark on yet another cross country drive to Oregon. Different "cross," different drive, same destination, same purpose, but not for me this time. A new "anew". I wish I had super powers.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Saturday, July 6, 2013
The Art of Robert Edward Sullivan in July
The first year of my Life began last year. July 12th, actually. July of this year has swooped in and I keep taking steps forward. And it's the good kind of forward. Not the false forward. Not the forward that ends up being backwards. Sometime during the very early hours of July 5th of this year, I said to myself--I look at myself in the mirror, and said words directed to myself as if myself was some other self, and I asked--no, I didn't ask, I stated to myself...this is my life. This is my Life. Capital "L" Life. Fun times.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Interpolation vs Extrapolation: A Study of Data Sets For a Modern Portrait of the Artist as a Young-ish Man
Brand new repeats in my day, my life. Repeats I have never had before (thus the new part) that warm me, brighten me, etc me. Insert bounce into step. Repeat. Bright warm me, bouncing through my day, my life.
It has been a while since I have barfed out words onto the page. It has been a while since I've used the word "barf" or any form of the word "barf." (Incidentally, it has been a while since I've barfed.) But this metaphor, this usage and repetition of "barf" suggests that words are just spilling, or erupting, without intent (though, barfing does not inherently suggest there is no intention, as there are times when you intend to barf) without consent. It suggests the page is a gutter, a toilet (ideally one that flushes down, not a urinal in a shady, shitty bar at 1:50 a.m.), a sink, or a waste basket. Or at worst, one's self. It also suggests that there was something (ideally, food and/or massive amounts of fruit punch and vodka) ingested, mixed, in the process of being broken down that has been rejected from the body. Maybe not rejected, just sent back, unnecessary, or just too much of something ingested, mixed, not needing to be broken down. Is this metaphor, this idea, this repeat, this comma talk, apt? Perhaps.
Regardless, I am barfing words up right now. Good ones. Here. Also there. I find myself writing things like "I find myself smiling a lot, lots of bounce in my steps" and such. I find myself hyper-aware of all my "and such"'s and that's okay. Regardless, I've had repeats in my life that I would not care to repeat. But in this current mode, this current tense, my repeats are new. Brand new. And awesome.
It has been a while since I have barfed out words onto the page. It has been a while since I've used the word "barf" or any form of the word "barf." (Incidentally, it has been a while since I've barfed.) But this metaphor, this usage and repetition of "barf" suggests that words are just spilling, or erupting, without intent (though, barfing does not inherently suggest there is no intention, as there are times when you intend to barf) without consent. It suggests the page is a gutter, a toilet (ideally one that flushes down, not a urinal in a shady, shitty bar at 1:50 a.m.), a sink, or a waste basket. Or at worst, one's self. It also suggests that there was something (ideally, food and/or massive amounts of fruit punch and vodka) ingested, mixed, in the process of being broken down that has been rejected from the body. Maybe not rejected, just sent back, unnecessary, or just too much of something ingested, mixed, not needing to be broken down. Is this metaphor, this idea, this repeat, this comma talk, apt? Perhaps.
Regardless, I am barfing words up right now. Good ones. Here. Also there. I find myself writing things like "I find myself smiling a lot, lots of bounce in my steps" and such. I find myself hyper-aware of all my "and such"'s and that's okay. Regardless, I've had repeats in my life that I would not care to repeat. But in this current mode, this current tense, my repeats are new. Brand new. And awesome.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
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