February 16-19, 2008

Non-stop work. Leaves little to the imagination. On the walk from the subway to the center, I created plans in my mind.

Work work. A little bit more work.

I want rest. I want piece of mind. I want happiness.





February 20, 2008

The in between an idea in your mind and the physical product of that idea. What changes and where does what was in the idea and not in the product go.

I sat in the office all day and sewed a little dog. I never realized how hard it is to sew a little dog with wires and speakers and buttons inside of it.

I want perfection.





February 21, 2008

Stress can make a body in pain. Nightmares give you pain. Just a though can cause something physical.

Woke up with blood on my lips. I have started biting them in my sleep. boss brought in bagels and I had one for breakfast and one for lunch. Now I feel fat. Drive drive drive and run into a moving gurney.

I want to not eat so much.




February 24, 2008

I have lost thoughts in the past few days. An abundance of snow and everything gets lost. For better. Or worse.

Snow snow snow. Dig the car out. Drive up a hill. Slide down the hill. Make abstract animals into houses. Feed sick david and wonder and stand under water and sleep. wake up and go to dig out the car. Lock the keys in while the engine is purring. An hour and 140 $ later I am back inside the car and driving to Massachusetts with the psycho killer. Drink wine. Sing songs about hearts eclipsing. Totally. Went dancing and my beautiful coat was stolen. People can be cruel. Mourned my coat. And fell asleep. Spoke to brother in the morning. he is going to become a traveling nurse. Make more money and travel the country. Such fantastic luck! He may come to new york.

I want my coat back.



February 26, 2008

I feel like something is missing. When it snows I want to stand in the street, but these days there is no time. I should make time. Thoughts escape me and I can’t wait until wednesday night when I promised myself I would paint something for myself. I see hot air balloons and walruses breaking through the ice.

Wake up and feel bad for sick david. Had a muffin and tea (no coffee since I feel a beastly cold coming on). Go to work and look out the window at the trains passing by. Remember when I wanted to be a train hopper. Remember when you wanted to be a train hopper. I miss those dreams. Make toys, draw fairy godmothers. I love my new tights. And I love my new scarf. Make a pot of coffee and drink it because I could not stand the lack of caffeine anymore. Addiction is all fun and games. Remember the needles. Remember your organs being misshaped. Elongated. Organic Cranberry Juice with no sugar added is the most painful and shocking tasting juice there is. But dang if it ain’t good for your health. The tip of my finger that I cut off still has no feeling. Had mango salad and a green apple for lunch. Green apples taste just like a sweat perfume. A rainy night. A rainy drive home. Look at new york city all lit up at night from under the bridge. Stare up at the buildings. Curried sweat potatoes on a patterned table cloth.

I want to find what is missing.

February 13, 2008


No dreams to speak of. It always surprises me when I have an abundance of detailed dreams for days, and then nothing. Nothing for weeks. Does my brain work in waves that get shorted out easily. Or are my dreams as of late….just not worth remembering. Rain is not as enchanting as snow. Watching rain is decidedly more depressing than watching snow. When I see a car still covered from yesterdays snow storm, I wonder why they haven’t gone anywhere. The boots are melting back to green. Never try to change the nature of things.

I lost my mind and lost my car this morning. walked up and down the street in the rain trying to retrieve it. When we reunited we drove to work, but the bridge was flooded. So we drove to work through water. Underwater. Usually it’s over water. I do not like new jersey, because they won’t let me pump my own gas. Put airplanes in a box and turn a giraffe into a telephone. Travel to fedex to pick up the crocodile walls. The manholes were so full of water the looked like little geysers, shooting up sewage water. I have to fix that scanning machine and still need to write my grandmother a letter. And maybe a wired call to my actual mother. Little office smells like chicken noodle soup. Curious-er and curious-er. Nailed a bunch of hooks into the walls. Hung wigs and captain hats and chains with anchors from them. My jar of hooks and screws that my grandfather gave me is amazing.

I want a new spine.




February 14, 2008

Do i really need to celebrate valentines day. I thought about baking cupcakes or something, but I just don’t have much of a taste for sweets anymore and I just don’t want to bake. I am so bad at it. That is why I want to move more south on manhatten. So I can walk down the street to a new york bakery and buy a cupcake. ‘here is your fucking cupcake’. what are you supposed to do on valentintes day it feels just like everyother day yet I fee obligated to do something. I don’t think I will. perhaps anti-valentine is the correct route to take. I though about last February 14th. Here are some words I wrote that day:

“today:

sit on a bed with no sheets and paint my nails black. stare at the ceiling and out the window and at the floor. sit on a bed with no sheets with a cat with two fleas. yesterday it was only one. count the number of cuts and bruises on my legs. listen to the rat in the walls. re-open the knife cut on my palm. watch that bleed. sit in the bath tub and let it rain hot water on me. now the cat and its fleas are sitting on my shoulders while i sit on a bed with no sheets. just me, the cat, and the fleas. happy valentines day.

ps- that porcelain cat statue might belong to an old sea-town brothel.”

Then as I recall me and a friend finished a bottle of alcoholic egg nog. This year I foresee me just laying on the floor and drink red wine, because as joelle would say, ‘it looks like blood’ .

so many dreams escaped me last night and I even repeated them three times so I would not forget.

Horrible, horrible traffic in the morning. the bridge was not my friend. put crocodiles and turtles and a sun into boxes. Made coffee. Strong coffee. the sun shines in the windows and I drink the strong coffee. It is 1:22 already. It seems like I jut typed in 1:02 into the coffee machines built-in clock. Spent over 1000 dollars on the company credit card at Staples. Bought some nice pens. Coffee Shop and the sun is setting. Thought about the fact that the most unique thing a person has is their voice. What if you hate your voice? I kind of hate my voice, but then… I may not hear what others hear. I think I might drink too much coffee. It may be my only vice….for today.
Got stuck in a pot hole. The night peaked there.

I want to live in a room above a liquor store. Not for the drinking purposes, just for the classiness of it all.





February 15, 2008

Every once and a while I wake up feeling like a fool. There is not much more to think about.

Make a pot of coffee and drink it. Get nervous about the fact that I have no nice clothes to wear to the fancy meetings next week. Get sad that I have to spend money on nice looking clothes. Or at least more black clothes, but without all the holes in them. The hot pole is leaking water. The toys have not been delivered yet. Write out directions, draw out a map. Fret fret fret. To be constantly or visibly worried or anxious. [with clause] I fretted that my fingers where so skinny.
Took boxes to 39th street. Accidentally drove underneath the river. Wine now; and out to dinner in an hour or so.

I want to make more art. I want to live more art-like.

Experiment or Future Layout

Here is what i am trying out. I have been keeping a record of each day and what i think, do and want during that day. I have only recorded 3 days so far. lets see if i keep it up. if i do i will keep on posting and one day i will have my life recorded and a self portrait completed.

the only thing is i don't know how to use italics on the internets.



The Daily Accounts of What I Think, What I Do, and What I Want
all dreams are italicized


February 10, 2008

What happens when you wake from a dream unfinished. Where does that world go, where do you in the context of that world go. The songs you sing and the coats you wear all disappear.
David said that dreams last a ‘dream’ week in one ‘real life’ night. How many lives do we live in our absence from the waking life.

The events of the night I finally spent with you. broken birthday hats and umbrellas on the wall. Umbrellas as upside down decorations. Umbrellas as swords and beating sticks. The most beautiful introduction and the sweetest wine. Or was it orange juice. Or was it both. 3 different versions of the same cake. Naming the spider little street after david and kissing goodbye in the subway.
Then a glass of sangria and a plate of peppercino peppers three stories above Times Square staring at the stocks fly by in bright yellow lights. At one in the morning.

I want wallpaper with architectural drawings on it.




February 11, 2008

What would it be like to be on the other side of the road. It always looks so crowded over there. At 4 in the morning, when the cats are trying to climb up the walls. That’s when I remember dreams. Trying to hide out in the woods, escaping a psycho killer with psycho killer. In a small wooden bunker surrounded by dead leaves. And no matter what I had to save my sweaters. Someone always dies in my dreams.
When you stand in line at an elevator with someone who has only one leg. Is it rude to take the stairs when the elevator is taking too long to open?

When I woke up it was 16 degrees outside.

I drew multiple hot air balloons and created giant banners. 8 feet tall walls of color and crocodiles. The fed ex man knows me by name now. I should really start wearing socks in the winter months and I learned how to open up heating vents. Delighted the man at the coffee shop because I keep my credit cards in a cigarette case…yes, I pay for coffee with credit cards. Listening to the same song on loop for a few days. Obsessive. will probably listen to it on loop for another few days. Compulsive. It is strange/exciting that your face can be stolen through the internet. I realized that there is something very charming about songs you love coming out of very poor speakers. 4 pm the sun comes through the windows so bright I get to wear my sunglasses at work.

I want that new tattoo.



February 12, 2008

Should I spend 150 dollars on a banjo. I have wanted one for the longest time. Since I left the south. I want to pretend to play it and be the southern girl with blood on her clothes and dirt in her hair that I used to be.
Horrifying dreams. My ribs are still holding them. But my mind forgot them. I feel like I am losing time. How many years can I do this.
I miss yesterday and all those drawing of hot air balloons I did. Things seemed so simple then.

Spent 2 hours inside the internet. There are too many numbers and codes and rules and it made my brain feel awful. 00:1e:5442:7002:23:d56l:00:1e:52:7r2:28m773:d5 and 1982.168.31.1. and all over again and again. Again. Looked at pictures of banjos. Felt bad about bothering david at work and wrote a few emails. Watch the little snowflakes fall down, float down, dance down to the asphalt were the will die or melt or make traffic terrible. I need to write a letter to my grandmother. Drank peach-mango vitamin water, which is the best vitamin water flavor. Watched the snow fall some more and recorded the lighting effects of snow against orange. it makes skin look blue and/or white. example below.

I do want that banjo.