found art
I have a place to live for the winter here in Ashland, and I will not be going back to the east coast, at least, not until next spring when I may be helping my friend Peggy build her house at Earthaven Ecovillage. Or something in that general realm of living. Right now you can (and I really hope you will) send mail to:
Marvin Warren
102 Butler Creek Rd.
Ashland, OR 97520
USA
First the bad, to get it out of the way:
-it's right next to I-5.
-Russ, the guy who lives there and owns the place isn't being totally clear with me about how we'll figure out how much work I'll need to do as "payment" for living there
The good, however, outweighs the bad:
-it is work-trade
-llamas!
-Russ' beautiful paintings
-two miles from town will help me balance between time to myself and a social life
-on the bike trail, which is a pleasant ride
-wood stove
-nice space for community potlucks
Last night was, voluntarily, my first night without someone to cuddle in a while. I wish I'd called it quits after running into Troy instead of going with him and a dozen or so people to Nina's house. I mean, nearly all day at a powwow, followed by two bands with "horse" in the name, lots of dancing, and meeting two people who may be able to set me up with jobs, that's enough right? Oh well, I'll sleep well tonight.
Today, I ran into this:
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always." --Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
That was after finding some more of my winter wardrobe at the free box, a free tango lesson (every Sunday, 2:30 for beginners, at the community center in Lithia Park), and a walk with Laura in the park. Met a mask-maker, a metalsmith, and someone who said she's help me carve a giant spoon. That'll be tomorrow, sometime after I check out the free media exchange.
I'm currently talking with Delilah on gmail's messenger. Wow, been a while; didn't know if it would ever happen, and what a weird conversation it is.
Marvin Warren
102 Butler Creek Rd.
Ashland, OR 97520
USA
First the bad, to get it out of the way:
-it's right next to I-5.
-Russ, the guy who lives there and owns the place isn't being totally clear with me about how we'll figure out how much work I'll need to do as "payment" for living there
The good, however, outweighs the bad:
-it is work-trade
-llamas!
-Russ' beautiful paintings
-two miles from town will help me balance between time to myself and a social life
-on the bike trail, which is a pleasant ride
-wood stove
-nice space for community potlucks
Last night was, voluntarily, my first night without someone to cuddle in a while. I wish I'd called it quits after running into Troy instead of going with him and a dozen or so people to Nina's house. I mean, nearly all day at a powwow, followed by two bands with "horse" in the name, lots of dancing, and meeting two people who may be able to set me up with jobs, that's enough right? Oh well, I'll sleep well tonight.
Today, I ran into this:
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always." --Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit
That was after finding some more of my winter wardrobe at the free box, a free tango lesson (every Sunday, 2:30 for beginners, at the community center in Lithia Park), and a walk with Laura in the park. Met a mask-maker, a metalsmith, and someone who said she's help me carve a giant spoon. That'll be tomorrow, sometime after I check out the free media exchange.
I'm currently talking with Delilah on gmail's messenger. Wow, been a while; didn't know if it would ever happen, and what a weird conversation it is.