no reckoning allowed

i have been very, very neglectful of this blog. a lot of real...

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 16:50:00 -0600

i have been very, very neglectful of this blog. a lot of real life has been happening. i mean, a lot of real life is always happening, of course, but i feel like i have been living much more externally lately. that is, less in my head & more with my hands. i also have been slowly learning how to be more fully present & honest with myself. this has led to all sorts of amazing & terrifying discoveries; breathless panic & gigantic joy-fits. everything has been very much at the surface & i have finally been not-afraid of it. i get to be whatever the fuck i am. if i feel mad, or sad, or afraid, or happy, i am just this bigger thing fully experiencing those waves without guilt or judgment. stay with it, know it, let it pass.

this video is from a hear nebraska show called “take cover” that happened in january. for the show, all of the artists played one original song, then covered one song by another nebraska artist. i settled on the song “visiting lights” by the ever-wonderful outlaw con bandana. i remember sitting in my very first apartment smoking too many cigarettes & feeling adrift in the big existential angst that swallows you up when you are nineteen-years-old; this song would bring me back. bullshit quit your crying & dig this here mystery. yes, yes i will, thank you.
i started working on the song, which has two vocal parts, and it just felt off. i mentioned this to one of my roommates, teal gardner (who is wicked talented & plays in the band UUVVWWZ — check out their new album that just came out on saddle creek), and she told me excitedly that she had been asked to play the show & had wanted to do an outlaw con bandana song, but was too busy to commit to learning and performing an entire song. i said, “well, how about half a song?” and she said, “fuck yes.”
here it is.

la fin d’été manique // catching one’s breath // a short, short story & a...

Thu, 13 Sep 2012 16:48:56 -0500

la fin d’été manique // catching one’s breath // a short, short story & a poem

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

STORY:

you lean slowly toward the exit, “i have no idea what i am doing here, actually.”

“are you afraid?”

“no.”

“then i’m not either.”

“i know you are. you always are.”

“how is it even possible that we’ve come to know each other so well?”

you pause to shift and contemplate, “it defies all reason, really. doesn’t it?”

“probably. yes.”

i take a sharp breath in and look away from you. i look at the ugly interior wall and wish so badly that it was a lake, or a line of trees, or some sort of formation of rocks that i was looking at instead. i wish that my knees were scraped and that my skin tasted of salt and that i felt tired, holy, and warm instead of this nothing. this non-thing; this not knowing that crept into my bones & kept me trapped within my body like a prison. occasionally i could escape, like a burst of ephemeral light, but i did not know my terrain enough to understand how to make that happen. it was always by magic accident, so i remained mostly stuck.

“my fingers feel like they might burst.” i heaved awkwardly into the silence, like some kind of impossible life preserver.

“how come?”

“because they have been still for so long.”

“what do you mean? you are twitching and fidgeting with them constantly.”

“i meant that figuratively. like, not literally still.”

“oh. i see.”

“do you?”

“no, not really.”

“look, if you wanna’ go, just go.”

“no. i said that i was done escaping. remember?”

“no. i think that you said that to yourself, like silently, not to me.”

“oh. well, i meant to say it out loud.”

“okay.”

“okay, what?”

“okay you meant to say it out loud.”

“what about the not running part? you don’t have anything to say about that?”

“did you say not running? i thought you said escaping.”

“whatever. running, escaping: po-ta-to, po-tah-to. anyway, you’re just being evasive.”

“i am not. linguistic precision is very important to me. there are no such things as synonyms. everything means something different. something unto itself.”

“you are so infuriating.”

“then why are you still here?”

“i told you. i am not running-slash-escaping anymore.”

“i’ll believe that when i see it.”

“ah ha! so, you don’t trust me?!”

“of course not. you don’t trust me either. we’ve both fucked this up too many times already for some sort of precious, simple trust situation.”

“it’s not too late though.”

“i didn’t say it was too late in general, necessarily, i just said that it was too late to be simple.”

“but when is it ever simple?”

“look, there are three entities here: there’s you, there’s me, and then there is our relationship, which resembles a mangled, helpless animal laying by the side of the road.”

“i know, i know. but it’s still there, isn’t it? it’s still laying there. And us here, us talking right now is like we’re bending over it and inspecting the nature of its injuries.”

“it’s not that easy.”

“why can’t it be? i can’t believe that you’re this defeated. are you really this defeated?”

“look, i will probably always love you, but —”

“i’ll probably always love you too. i do! i do love you. i love you and i’m tired of just theoretically loving you. i want to do something about it.”

“i want to too. i’m tired of just theoretically loving you also, but i’m more tired of theoretically loving myself. i don’t know what i want, or even how i feel half of the time because i’ve been too scared of myself for so long. too scared just to listen! i don’t know how to hear myself around other people. how do people learn how to do that? i don’t even know what the fuck i’m doing! how the fuck do they do it?!”

“slowly. slowly, & with practice probably.”

“probably.”

“are you afraid?”

“yes.”

“well, i’m still not.”

“good for you.”

“i’m still here, too.”

“so am i.”

“so let’s just be here.”

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

POEM:

i have been

growing up and

into a certain kind

of stillness,

like a tree rooted

firmly in the dark earth

below.

i am not waiting

for a magic wholeness

to christen some moment

in the void, unknown;

i move into each

now

(and now! and now!)

whole and sufficiently

scathed to recognize

the vast beauty,

the immense frailty

that is this living —

that becomes strength,

that seizes our

eyes open

(and open! and open!),

that brings us into

this peace of not-knowing,

of not closing,

but of moving

forward, of exploring

our solitary territory

with a joyful curiosity.

of being excavator;

of being tied solemnly

to the present moment;

of going to the

dark place

and bringing

something

back.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

how i spent my time last week.each of the past two years that...

Sun, 05 Aug 2012 17:04:00 -0500

how i spent my time last week.

each of the past two years that omaha girls rock camp has existed & i have had the enervating, yet incredible & inspiring honor to be a part of it, there’s been one sentiment spoken by a camper that stands out to me & that i find myself repeating over & over when asked about the camp & my experience with it.
last year it was: “i am not nervous. i am not excited. i’m just ready.” when questioned whether or not she was feeling nervous to step on stage at the slowdown & play the song her band had written in just five days’ time.
this year: “i would say thank you for calling me a girl, & yes i can.” when asked how would she respond to someone who said she could not do something because she was a girl.

so much hell yes.

p.s. my friend lindsay trapnell is very generous with both her time & her incredible talents & put together this video highlighting some of the week’s shenanigans.

the messy world citizen an adventure to besançon, france //...

Sat, 14 Jul 2012 17:09:00 -0500

packing procedures. omaha, nebraska.

kitchen window view. becançon, france.

blue hotel/grey sky. paris, france.

l'escalier. paris, france.

karma/colors. berlin, germamy.

clotheslines/blossoms. berlin, germany.

immaculate doorway. berlin, germany.

berlinische gallery. berlin germany.

chasing oscar. paris, france.

channeling simone. paris, france.

the messy world citizen

an adventure to besançon, france // paris, france // berlin, germany with a 35mm camera & a moleskine.

… … …

june eleventh: flight to paris, france.

to have one’s fate/happiness/will rest primarily with the self. (obviously not solely with the self, which would represent a selfishness & a detachment from the rest of humanity that would ultimately hinder satisfaction by denying the connectivity of our condition.)

rilke: “i want to know my own will & move to it.”
de beauvoir: “‘you’re very lucky!’ paula said. ‘to do work that interests me?’ ‘to hold your fate in your own hands.’”

on a different note, there is something so incredibly liberating about shutting off one’s cell phone & computer & leaving them behind. there is nothing to check, nothing to owe. just you, & your life, & your thoughts. freedom.

… … …

june sixteenth: paris, france.

i had a mental image of an older version of myself leading a child version of myself by the hand, lovingly, like a wise, old caretaker, through the maze of my inner world. not so much is at stake now.

… … …

june seventeenth. berlin, germany.

we learn the same things over, & over, & over again. i realized quite some time ago that we as humans are absolutely & terrifyingly responsible for our own happiness, but i think that i just now came to recognize that presently, at this point in my life, i am totally responsible for my own imprisonment — for making my life smaller out of residual guilt, fear, responsibility, etcetera, etcetera.

it is my job. mine! my job to do the things that i want to do when i want to do them. there is never an ideal time, or situation (or person, for that matter). if you spend your life waiting for things to fall into place, to align just so, you are going to be waiting an extremely long time/forever.

act. act. act! be alive! do something! & let go of the guilt &/or the bullshit assumption that you should somehow know. there is no knowing; just asking, learning, & exploring.

p r o c e s s > p r o d u c t

… … …

june twenty-first: flight from paris, france.

it doesn’t have to be noble, it just has to be true.

IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE NOBLE, IT JUST HAS TO BE TRUE.

it doesn’t have to be noble, it just has to be true.

… … …

“One of the pieces of advice I give is: Don’t suffer future pain …

I wanted to save my soul, that timid wind.”

“I took a trip to see the beautiful things. change of scenery.Change of heart. And do you know?

What?

They’re still there.

Ah, but they won’t be for long.

I know. That’s why I went. To say goodbye. Whenever I travel, it’s always to say goodbye.”

-Susan Sontag

garden party after years of good intentions speckled with a few slightly pathetic potted herbs &...

Tue, 29 May 2012 11:23:00 -0500

garden party

after years of good intentions speckled with a few slightly pathetic potted herbs & tiny tomato plants, i finally have a legitimate garden at the community plots near my home. a friend & i decided to join efforts & share duties so we can have more freedom to travel & be occasionally forgetful (let’s be serious — we are both artists), but still have a successful harvest of fresh vegetables & herbs. and we have a very happy little garden, with everything from catnip for the neighborhood stray that likes to linger there (who has been snubbing us lately. i think he overheard us talking about possibly taking him to get neutered & he got really uncomfortable. can’t really blame him, i guess), to okra, beets, chard, greens, tomatoes, peppers, & herbs galore. i have been finding an incredible amount of inspiration from this small, edible patch of fecundity.

humans are meant to dig in the dirt.

there is nothing quite like taking a little stroll & cutting something that you watched & helped grow from a tiny seed, then walking home & cooking it up.

although my stroll & chard harvesting were interrupted by a fidgety, middle-aged man trying to talk me into going on a date with him to burger king & attempting to lure me into his vehicle after i turned down the bk breakfast tryst, but that is a story for another time. (my first thought of a response when he started following me in his car was, while instinctively reaching for my pocket knife, shouting, “when i said no to burger king, i said no to you!” there’s a sentence that an appropriate context for had never occurred to me as a possibility. i really couldn’t make this shit up if i tried. )

chard, sun-dried tomato, onion, dill, & tempeh bacon tofu scramble. yum.

i’ve also been in a bit of a bread baking phase the last week or two.

after two delicious attempts to get the recipe just right, may i present to you:

walnut oat banana bread

it’s gluten-free & vegan, but multiple omnivores with intestines that do not attack them when they consume wheat (lucky fuckers) gobbled it down happily.

makes one loaf

3 very ripe bananas, mashed

1/2 cup of earth balance buttery spread

1/2 cup agave nectar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

3 teaspoons ener-g egg replacer, mixed thoroughly with 4 tablespoons water

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon xanthan gum

1/2 cup gluten-free oat flour

1/2 cup sorghum flour

1/4 cup potato starch

1/2 cup gluten-free rolled oats

1 cup roughly chopped walnuts

preheat the oven to 350 degrees farenheit & lightly grease a standard-sized loaf pan.

mix up your egg replacer & water until frothy (i know, i know. you had almost finally forgotten about the grossness of rick santorum & here i go reminding you — sorry!) & set aside. thoroughly mash your bananas with a fork in a large mixing bowl, then add in the buttery spread, agave nectar, brown sugar, vanilla, egg replacer, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, & salt. stir until well-mixed. there will be some banana lumps; just accept them.

in a separate bowl, stir together your xanthan gum & flours until well integrated. add it into the other bowl. (you know, the one with the banana lumps & the frothy egg replacer. mmm.) add in the oats as well & stir just until combined. don’t over do it. step away.

add in the chopped walnuts, reserving a handful to sprinkle on top for added pizzazz. stir in.

pour into your loaf pan & smooth out the top. sprinkle the remaining walnuts on top & stick it in the motherfuckin’ oven!

bake for 45 to 50 minutes. the bread will be done when you can insert a knife into the top & it comes out clean.

let it cool for a few minutes, then devour a piece (who am i kidding? like three pieces). put some buttery spread on top & have a cup of tea with it while listening to a record. i am including this part in the actual recipe, which means that i am super serious. put on a record & brew some goddamn tea!

when fully cooled, remove from the pan & wrap it up in foil. it keeps well for several days.

open up the window & sit in your favorite corner-nook & think about your day. maybe write about it too. be as honest with yourself as possible. you are ~~going to be~~ okay.

i found this amazing chevron fabric over a year ago for $1.99 a...

Thu, 17 May 2012 11:54:53 -0500

i found this amazing chevron fabric over a year ago for $1.99 a yard. needless to say, i bought up a bunch with the intention of making some sort of garment from it. i’ve used pieces of it for other little projects: screen-printed patches here, one segment of hand-embroidered banner there. i kept thinking it had to be some elaborate & perfect garment to warrant the use of such an incredible textile. then i realized the fabric is really the standout thing here, so why not just use it to make a simple summer shift dress? i mean, this fabric screams carefree, easy, sun-drenched days. so here it is.

AMMUNITION (a little flash fiction re-telling of a night in my...

Tue, 15 May 2012 12:07:16 -0500

AMMUNITION

(a little flash fiction re-telling of a night in my life that i typed up for a zine that is going to be part of a box set for The Mynabirds new album “Generals”.)

_______

“okay. this one night we were all sitting around a table. there were four of us. four women sitting around a table.

honestly, we all kind of felt like shit that night — heavy & anxious for some myriad of both spoken & unsaid reasons.

we had internalized so much of it. so much this shit that we didn’t choose, but regardless just was. was weighing on our scrappy/tired shoulders.

we paid our bill & left. walked to the car.

“so let’s do something about it, eh?”

she unlocked the car & grabbed empty glass bottles from the back seat, passing them down the line of us like ammunition.

we walked a couple of blocks with our heads higher than they’d been held in a while, resonating with a heightened awareness due to our conspicuousness, & a healthy dose of pride.

we stopped underneath a bridge & on the count of three we threw the bottles hard against the concrete wall, while warrior screams erupted from our mouths. from that deep, dark place where we’d kept them locked up, too busy being good or agreeable. but not tonight.

tonight we were wild.

we took off running in the opposite direction from where we came. away from nothing in particular & toward what felt like everything. as our boots pounded on the pavement an enormous mass of relieved & genuine laughter welled up & out, & all i could think was:

we won’t be destroying ourselves anymore.

a new poem to add to my list of favorites; this one has rapidly become an old friend.god yes, mary...

Sat, 14 Apr 2012 12:29:00 -0500

a new poem to add to my list of favorites; this one has rapidly become an old friend.
god yes, mary oliver. and thank you.

WILD GEESE

_____

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∞

Tue, 03 Apr 2012 15:46:00 -0500

∆ ∆ ∆
∞

knitting & new tattoos. monday things.

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 22:30:13 -0500

knitting & new tattoos. monday things.

cassette tape out in a matter of days. it will feel really good...

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 22:22:00 -0500

cassette tape out in a matter of days. it will feel really good to finally set it loose. i’ve been holding myself back for years. no more of that.

you have to risk; live dangerously.

shelter your psychic reality: make things with your hands every day partially finished layout for...

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 15:44:00 -0600

shelter your psychic reality: make things with your hands every day

partially finished layout for miniature horse cassette insert. to be released soon.

the sacred &/in the mundane. embroidery on 120mm prints.

p.s. happy international women’s day! keep loving, keep fighting.

i sigh and rise. i pace the floor, make a cup of coffee and hum. i read and write, sew paper,...

Sat, 03 Mar 2012 22:43:18 -0600

i sigh and rise.

i pace the floor,

make a cup of

coffee and hum.

i read and write,

sew paper, and

dance to spoken

words.

i do these things

for my own edification —

the rise and fall

of my chest.

the smile

curling at the corners

of my mouth.

the gradual release

of spectral things.

[everything out of feeling,

and not of fear.]

the random, bare bones thoughts of what will eventually become some sort of treatise on art, and/or...

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 11:27:25 -0600

the random, bare bones thoughts of what will eventually become some sort of treatise on art, and/or the things that i think about while i am washing dishes:

art is a way of doing things, not a result; a process, not a product.

what is the balance of intentionality and aesthetics? i am not sure. i venture to say that intentionality matters more, but truly great art is a union of the two.

art should honestly and unflinchingly reflect and comment upon the human condition. art should not function simply as another means of escape from our psychic reality—it should bring us more deeply into it. if an item is seeking to simply be entertainment or escape, it is not art. also, in this realm of thought, art should not simply be beautiful, for that is an oversimplification of life.

not every person is an artist per say, but every human being is a creator and could benefit from some sort of creative practice, if only for their own personal edification and oneness of self.

capitalist values are killers or creativity. elitism, competitiveness, and zero-sum games undermine artistic community and genuine artistic expression. we have been raised to protect our own interests, classify and categorize, and believe that other people’s success comes at the expense of our own, or vice versa. this is all bullshit and leads to even more bullshit. encourage others and remain constantly open to inspiration and opportunity. don’t try to judge and scrutinize the value of your own work or others’ work. don’t talk shit. don’t qualify. don’t make excuses. basically just do what you do as best and as bravely as possible, then shut the hell up and listen to everything.

we have to lose our fear of failure and of looking foolish in order to truly express anything with the honesty and momentousness that it deserves. with this in mind, we should never make ourselves or others feel small for hard-fought blunders. there is infinitely more space and possibility in failure than there is in withholding.

so much of art is play. getting an idea and joyfully exploring and running with it. our artistic practices need air and movement, and to not always be taken oh-so-seriously. art is wide open eyes, not a furrowed brow.

one: hidden bottom tabs of a rescued box. will become a book...

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 18:15:51 -0600

one: hidden bottom tabs of a rescued box. will become a book cover.

two: first coptic bound book.

the importance of learning to affirm & explore your...

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 17:24:00 -0600

the importance of learning to affirm & explore your capabilities like a small child. hold your hand as you go, with an innocent reverence for your own work.

(just because you did not have these things when you were small does not mean that they are forever closed off, or tarnished for you.
you can give them to yourself. you have to learn to do this.
hold your head up high & start moving forward into yourself - - into all of it.)

"There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and..."

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 10:43:00 -0600

“

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique.

And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not our business to determine how good it is; nor how valuable it is; nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You just have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open … No artist is pleased.

”

- martha graham - - dancer & choreographer

things that i have been inspired by lately, part two: the poetry of margaret atwood. this one in...

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 12:17:31 -0600

things that i have been inspired by lately, part two:

the poetry of margaret atwood. this one in particular.

A PLACE: FRAGMENTS

_____

There is no center;

the centers

travel with us unseen

like our shadows

on a day when there is no sun.

_____

We must move back:

there are too many foregrounds.

_____

Now, clutter of twigs

across our eyes, tatter

of birds at the eye’s edge; the straggle

of dead treetrunks; patch

of lichen

_____

and in love, tangle

of limbs and fingers, the texture

of pores and lines on the skin.

_____

vii

_____

An other sense tugs at us:

we have lost something,

some key to these things

which must be writings

and are locked against us

or perhaps (like a potential

mine, unknown vein

of metal in the rock)

something not lost or hidden

but just not found yet

_____

that informs, holds together

this confusion, this largeness

and dissolving:

_____

not above or behind

or within it, but one

with it: an

_____

identity:

something too huge and simple

for us to see.

things that i have been inspired by lately, part one: butoh,...

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 10:18:11 -0600

things that i have been inspired by lately, part one:

butoh, which stems from “ankoku-buyou”, meaning “dance of darkness”. the point of butoh is to express & confront human darkness, decay, & other taboo topics through body movement. (what is regarded as the first performance of butoh in the late 1950s actually dealt with the topic of homosexuality - - fun fact.)

it came to be in post-world war II japan, specifically on the heels of the student riots, as a response to the art world as too superficial & too influenced by western ideals.

i think part of what fascinates me so much about butoh is the usage of the body as a device of truth-telling, not simply of entertainment; not necessarily beautiful movements, but imperative movements. it’s dance as a confrontation of elements of life that we find difficult & attempt to avoid, often through the escapism of art as entertainment. i think that is largely why it is so effectively subversive.

plus, let’s face it: i get really fucking excited about almost any art that seeks to act as a mechanism to disrupt/destabilize the status quo.

things that i have noticed lately: my right eye is larger than my left, only slightly. a tiny brown...

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:43:00 -0600

things that i have noticed lately:

my right eye is larger

than my left,

only slightly.

a tiny brown freckle

has appeared on

the border of burnt,

star-shaped skin

on my hand.

the one that acts

as a reference point

every time that

i forget what

i am - -

that i am

brave,

and an artist,

and a near-miraculously

good healer.

i have been mapping

the interior

and exterior

alike.

and i have been

remembering

things like:

i can just do,

and be.

can be connected

to that pure childhood

place outside

all of the shit.

(or maybe inside, or

before,

or in the arms

of the wise old

woman in my

soul who always

knew that i knew

the way,

and told me so.)

oh, and

did i mention

that i am a

dancer?

because i am.