Vladdy's Revenge

Where's Vladimir?
today i threw out my car. it was heavy and it didn't fit in te dumpster but i gave the garbageman one hundred dollars that i was just gonna snort things with anyway and he helped me fit it in. it only crunched a little. then we threw out the kitchen sink, and after that we were done!
the house was empty
only, then lokchi came over with the vet in her pocket and said, "ok, guys, where are the cats?"
well, i remembered that my last load of laundry had been more lumpy, also more meowey, so i ran downstairs to rescue gabe from the wash.
only, i had to stop and eat a cheese sandwich.
then i rescued gabe from the wash and said to lokchi: "here they are!"
but lokchi shook her head from side to side, mournfully almost, and i remembered the other one.
HE WAS KNOW WHERE TO BE FOUND...

so we went up stairs and got out the risk board. i was green tmo was yellow. lokchi was blue (!!). nobody won, because we got bored first, but first we played for six hours. Then we were bored. then we heard the soft pitter patter of the soft pitter patter of the soft pitter patter of vladdick's little paws on the dirty, dirty floor.
the end.

move-out week at the bäo (a thought in verbs)

sweeping painting moving smoking hoping poking hugging lugging missing packing sweating readying tracing pacing feeling singing washing reddening confusing checking double-checking dismantling renewing finding dreaming cleaning listening looking waiting waiting wanting wanting wondering

and what am i looking for and will i know when i find it?

here's a little gem i encountered today, though who knows if this is what you´re looking for--

"Life is hard" signifies a certain degree of fatalism, it must be admitted. But as an all-purpose saying, "La vida es dura" soaks up a variety of meanings, a range of nuances. The vagueness and abstraction of "life" is set against the concreteness of "hard." Most certainly, such a phrase is the simplest possible strategy for linking the particular to the general, the personal to the social. But is this equation an assertion that things must necessarily be so? Or does it not carry the possibility, the implication, that things might be otherwise? As a coda set to the rhythm of life's frustrations, this maxim can relate the duress of social and economic crisis experienced as personal conditions. It marks, too, the duration of the crisis that renders life so very hard. Its pessimism, its fatalism, can plainly serve as a sort of alibi, and excuse that relieves the individual speaker of the consequences of his own actions...at the same time, this proverb can bring to light the strength and endurance of the people who survive life's hardships. It marks, by turns, the banality of suffering, the intimacy of power, the comfort of resignation, and the resilience of the oppressed. (from p. xvi of "Life is Hard: Machismo, Danger, and the Intimacy of Power in Nicaragua" by Roger Lancaster)

oh and me, i was stranded on an island yesterday and today i'm back in a town that, given the options in this country, feels pretty familiar--
becoming-familiar like sweaty shoulders and bug bites
becoming-immune to bug bites.
i go in and out of being uncomfortable with being on vacation. so many feelings (always feelings!) about white tourists, whether anything in my pockets would serve a too-skinny begging boy well (chapstick receipts bandanna..?)...
it's probably been good to become reacquainted with boredom, to miss, to commit wholeheartedly or at least mostheartedly to sticking around for the flourishing of a little familial culture, to think and think about projects i want to be working on without a pen to write anything down--
what is traveling for, again? and am i heavier or lighter now, and does it become easier or harder to recross a border once-crossed? and how much am i seeing, and how much do i want to see?
anyway, little bubbles of thoughts and loves have been flourishing in this faraway,
little messages that aren't quite drowned out by the market flies
relearning rethinking pride and humility, probably not through seawater
but i did see a BRAINCORAL and a blue fish. (life is hard, and not so hard.)

anyhows, i'm missing the sticky sweaty communtarian raw-haven of the bao, looking forward to seeing some of you tomorrow evening and most all of you in my dreams.

starring z, j, and me

this song infiltrated the Roost, let it gently worm its way into your ears! I worked furiously on this video for half the merry month of May, then took a couple months to convince my bandmate that we would never rerecord the vocals and he should just let me put it on your tubes already. here you go.

august

i am on a new farm now,
sitting with a heap of pine trees
a handful of rivers live nearby
gushing over us with this beer like water
we all dip our faces in on the day's end
bit boring work, so tired of being people's bitch
doing their labor they'd rather not
that's not learning--sigh gah ill do it, but not again!
id rather be working on my own places projects
evan and bianca sure are nice to have around

going to chase the northern lights in two weeks
the wild nearly impossible peaks of lofoten islands jutting out into the gulf stream
just keep moving-----reindeer plateaus, sami folk lands

norway is kind lately
gently go the days
handing us the tendrils of summer
warm orange light, blueberries, mountains fruits
views of hazy fjords saying:
we're old and deep reaching

wow august soon fall, gotta get the sweet summer marrow
while still able

Q: What are you doing for the revolution?

A: driftbicycling, wanderwalking, gravestonelooping, furnituresquatting, eyeopening

t-rex and I wandered around chicago by bike today 10:00 am to 12:00 am without direction, observing city fabrics and stitches, car lots and cigarette stores, garage sales, vine-covered duplexes and block parties. an august afternoon, not too hot and chicago is celebrating.

my eyes, feet, butt, and thighs are exhausted.

this city is a place that I will miss.

oh oh starlight compost how will we drift through the california foothills? will there be mariachi music? will there be revolution?

i keep wanting

a new post to be here.
i mean
the picture of celery is nice
but i check this blog almost as often as i check my email.
and im a little bored.

i do many things in several days
hey yesterday i made a harness and rhubarb bread and stenciled patches with the breeders

(kind of a lewd-ish shot. sorry. i've taken to wearing that jumpsuit on buggy sunny days.)

(our neighbors james and chelsea. whom i like! I just rarely get to use the term 'breeders', and here I say it with affection)

now i suddenly have a lot of hindi work to do that i havent done. now i suddenly have 10 teenagers bike-tripping across the country crashing on my living room floor, now i suddenly prefer "they", now i suddenly find myself in a waiting room watching the dvd menu for marley and me play on repeat while i slowly fill in my forms.
suddenly i awoke at 6:12 this morning with an eerie terrified feeling of being touched by shakti, which could maybe be described as religious.
suddenly the days happen
&i know what that means
&i dont want to go



p.s. t'mo is the only person to have used the tag 'kissing'!

word from a bird in a puddle...and what is travelling for?

today we're leaving for matagualpa from grenada today...sunday we climbed a volcano (mumbacho) and put our heads in the clouds! yesterday i saw some islands, monkeys and trees, a volcano's rocky vomit that grew trees. (as tmo and i know well, beautiful things can be crafted from vomit.)
generally, it is funny travelling this way--in a little bubble made from cordoba-dollars. good to see people doing things, to feel the fluidity of my place in the world...or at least the millions of tiny worlds that are always just out of view. to brush up against something hard and distant, and to remember what i can and cannot do with my hands; what i can make and transform, and how i still don't know how to build a house or fix electrical wires or give an allergy shot, but i can make necklaces and zines and drawings--
if we all had to rely on what we could create out of nothing...?
funny, this time, maybe like many travels, to feel somewhat displaced, a little homeless except for the home built of fellow souls, soon unlimited by the walls of the bäo...echoing jbird i am wondering what we're waiting for...

mumbling muttering packing a subtle smoke behind the jungle-garden, air like sweat sweat like pools like a night in the mumbai airport six years ago, silence silence and i am so much the sister/a she, reading "wind-up bird chronicles" and confused about reality and dreams--dreaming intensely (my mother is pregnant and z is playing with clowns and a thousand-year old ficus named the thief wife is just around the corner)--

adraft adrift.