*exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale exhale
very frustrating morning
meeting was very aggravating, email from boss about timeliness
if the phones would just go off of night automatically, and I had a flex morning schedule, since the rest of it flexes uncontrollably also, depending on what needs to be done... that would solve these problems as I see them. it's ridiculous to me that people get paid so much more for doing what? things that the rest of us could do quite well if just given the opportunity
NO MORE this is at least my lunch hour so I'm going to try to make the most of it. have to vent at least a little. i'm going to have to cut down phone time with friends because otherwise I don't know how I'm going to manage. full time school, full time work. fun classes, but still demanding of time, energy, practice time.
yesterday i was very inspired to start learning about audio recording/mixing/editing software. I'd really like to get into that more, at least to be able to create art in that medium as well as in the visual. and combine them etc. great to see angie after yoga. funny that we're taking the same class at different times. i'm actually taking 2 yoga classes. going to call backs or what not for the play i tried out for tonite. don't know how that's going to go, it's at least at 6 so i can take a little bit of time to shower etc. as in bathe, since i don't have a showerhead, which really I don't mind hardly at all. it's nice to just take some time and look out the window. more out the window and less at this screen. i need to work on my professional freelance skills, whatever that may entail. i can't stand bosses and people breathing down my neck for things. i am self motivated and like to be self organized and self managed. starting a biz is far down the road. at least a few years away. i'm gearing up for it. until then i'm sure i'll have to work for one company or another, and hopefully can stay with this one for a while longer, at least another year or so. i don't know what is going to happen once my thesis hits again, the last part of it. I want to put so much into it, I HAVE to put so much into it. anything less than much work and a well thought out thesis just doesn't cut it. It would be good to get into some sort of co-op gallery after that point at least for a while until the masters is finished. not sure. i plot out my entire life before my eyes but you can't always do that - youhave to take one moment at a time and try to deal with things as they come. i'm struggling with that right now, dealing with things as they are trying to iron them out but there is so much left unresolved and unfinished. so many projects from poetry books to paintings to sculptures to relationships that have not quite been closed off but need to be. old journal writings to backdate and compile. so much. the backburner is tilting from its weight . ah here we go at least a bit of the creative spark -
can it continue will i force it to what utter what aaaaugh she screams biting her pork but she can't stand pork for the most part here random words whyu light my space your dreams flicker in my lamplight. flicker in my mind the things you have said to me who is you the girl stands on the corner, alone. she is chewing. chewing what? chewing gum and smiling. blows a bubble, it pops. layers of audio track crackle as her image wavers and fades. the sun blazes on dirty pavement while the man plays his rusty drum in a cage. the monkey laughs at his disobedience, jumping up and down with glee, banana chewed, spits it out
onto you
onto me
on to us
us
the all encompassing we
We
how many pastries must one woman eat
before she slips to the sea
yes n how many shoes must one woman consume
before she's allowed to be free
yes no how many takes does it takes before we know
that the actors have all turned their heads
the answer my friends
is tossed into the breeze
the answer is left to rot unease
-
nice freewrite, it's like trying to scrape the cobwebs out of my uterus verse
it's like clinging to letters on a dingy screen with images barely flickering through
it's like knowing you want naples and settling for ochre
adding white and lemon yellow or cadmium or both
but still it's not naples
still it's not warm
still it's not pure
not untouched or feeling but stale and crusty and forced
forced with dollar bills that don't quite feel like paper and not quite like cloth
stale and dingy like the political system everyone seems to hate
nauseating like the thought of ones we love being pulled away to slaughter
or be slaughtered
or both
by the oil fields on which they walk
by the oil fields by which we live
or not live exactly
because is this living?
can we say in our mad scurry day to day
battling fumes and sitting in front of a box
can we say that this is living?
as we were going to berbati'
s
a man asked us for change
and told me that he was missing some teeth
showed me, in fact
"they don't make the food soft enough"
he said, referring to the rescue mission
or something like that, was what he said
something like how the food was not soft
because he has a difficult time eating it
. and so, giving him not enough change at all
we walked across the road
past Dante's Inferno
that strange guy's bar
that dismal yet festive place
decked with torches and some semblance of black
we walked across and past
away from the man who is losing his teeth
away from that reality that we maybe did not want to face
maybe we did not want to look around us
maybe we just really wanted some falafel.
spending more money on drinks and food
than that man may have to live on
that we really didn't have either
we continued with our "night out"
and so
sitting here
it's becoming more and more obvious:
something has to be done
something has to be changed!
WHAT ARE WE DOING
what do we care about
what do I care about
what am I doing
turning inward is so crucial
I feel exhausted
having hardly exerted myself at all.
meeting was very aggravating, email from boss about timeliness
if the phones would just go off of night automatically, and I had a flex morning schedule, since the rest of it flexes uncontrollably also, depending on what needs to be done... that would solve these problems as I see them. it's ridiculous to me that people get paid so much more for doing what? things that the rest of us could do quite well if just given the opportunity
NO MORE this is at least my lunch hour so I'm going to try to make the most of it. have to vent at least a little. i'm going to have to cut down phone time with friends because otherwise I don't know how I'm going to manage. full time school, full time work. fun classes, but still demanding of time, energy, practice time.
yesterday i was very inspired to start learning about audio recording/mixing/editing software. I'd really like to get into that more, at least to be able to create art in that medium as well as in the visual. and combine them etc. great to see angie after yoga. funny that we're taking the same class at different times. i'm actually taking 2 yoga classes. going to call backs or what not for the play i tried out for tonite. don't know how that's going to go, it's at least at 6 so i can take a little bit of time to shower etc. as in bathe, since i don't have a showerhead, which really I don't mind hardly at all. it's nice to just take some time and look out the window. more out the window and less at this screen. i need to work on my professional freelance skills, whatever that may entail. i can't stand bosses and people breathing down my neck for things. i am self motivated and like to be self organized and self managed. starting a biz is far down the road. at least a few years away. i'm gearing up for it. until then i'm sure i'll have to work for one company or another, and hopefully can stay with this one for a while longer, at least another year or so. i don't know what is going to happen once my thesis hits again, the last part of it. I want to put so much into it, I HAVE to put so much into it. anything less than much work and a well thought out thesis just doesn't cut it. It would be good to get into some sort of co-op gallery after that point at least for a while until the masters is finished. not sure. i plot out my entire life before my eyes but you can't always do that - youhave to take one moment at a time and try to deal with things as they come. i'm struggling with that right now, dealing with things as they are trying to iron them out but there is so much left unresolved and unfinished. so many projects from poetry books to paintings to sculptures to relationships that have not quite been closed off but need to be. old journal writings to backdate and compile. so much. the backburner is tilting from its weight . ah here we go at least a bit of the creative spark -
can it continue will i force it to what utter what aaaaugh she screams biting her pork but she can't stand pork for the most part here random words whyu light my space your dreams flicker in my lamplight. flicker in my mind the things you have said to me who is you the girl stands on the corner, alone. she is chewing. chewing what? chewing gum and smiling. blows a bubble, it pops. layers of audio track crackle as her image wavers and fades. the sun blazes on dirty pavement while the man plays his rusty drum in a cage. the monkey laughs at his disobedience, jumping up and down with glee, banana chewed, spits it out
onto you
onto me
on to us
us
the all encompassing we
We
how many pastries must one woman eat
before she slips to the sea
yes n how many shoes must one woman consume
before she's allowed to be free
yes no how many takes does it takes before we know
that the actors have all turned their heads
the answer my friends
is tossed into the breeze
the answer is left to rot unease
-
nice freewrite, it's like trying to scrape the cobwebs out of my uterus verse
it's like clinging to letters on a dingy screen with images barely flickering through
it's like knowing you want naples and settling for ochre
adding white and lemon yellow or cadmium or both
but still it's not naples
still it's not warm
still it's not pure
not untouched or feeling but stale and crusty and forced
forced with dollar bills that don't quite feel like paper and not quite like cloth
stale and dingy like the political system everyone seems to hate
nauseating like the thought of ones we love being pulled away to slaughter
or be slaughtered
or both
by the oil fields on which they walk
by the oil fields by which we live
or not live exactly
because is this living?
can we say in our mad scurry day to day
battling fumes and sitting in front of a box
can we say that this is living?
as we were going to berbati'
s
a man asked us for change
and told me that he was missing some teeth
showed me, in fact
"they don't make the food soft enough"
he said, referring to the rescue mission
or something like that, was what he said
something like how the food was not soft
because he has a difficult time eating it
. and so, giving him not enough change at all
we walked across the road
past Dante's Inferno
that strange guy's bar
that dismal yet festive place
decked with torches and some semblance of black
we walked across and past
away from the man who is losing his teeth
away from that reality that we maybe did not want to face
maybe we did not want to look around us
maybe we just really wanted some falafel.
spending more money on drinks and food
than that man may have to live on
that we really didn't have either
we continued with our "night out"
and so
sitting here
it's becoming more and more obvious:
something has to be done
something has to be changed!
WHAT ARE WE DOING
what do we care about
what do I care about
what am I doing
turning inward is so crucial
I feel exhausted
having hardly exerted myself at all.