November 2015

11.1.2015

Last winter I tried to cling to the snow and cold. Spring came, of course. My thinking was this: good times are over before I know it. Three weeks in Hawaii seem like three days. Instead of hating the cold, I looked at the deep arctic weather in a unique light, appreciating the beauty of the snow, and seeing how much the kids loved to ski. Fake it till you make it, they say. And the truth is, it worked! A long freezing two months seemed to be over in a week. The trouble is that I can't seem to slow time back down. I'm permanently stuck in high gear. Okay, before my dad or anyone in his age group gets all wise and writes me about how time goes even faster when you get to be their age, I knooowww that, not what I'm talking about. If I look at a calendar now and see something coming up in a month, it might as well be tomorrow because that's how it feels. My new strategy is to work the cycle the opposite way for a while and hate doing things, hate the weather, hate my obligations, and really, really wish that work was over. I'll complain bitterly about a few tedious chores and hope that time drags along. Slower will be a relief.

11.2.2015

11.3.2015

	If I get to the end of the day, image scanned and ready to upload, and no writing has happened, I don't force the words out like I used to. My drawings respond well to effort, improving over repeated attempts, meanings multiplying, and ambiguity amplifying, but my words get stuck in banality if I push them too hard.
11.4.2015

11.5.2015

	Enclosures, asymmetrical cellular divisions, formation of seeds, gravity wells, the jewel in the lotus, pockets of potential, twists in the continuum, focus of attention, unknowable connections, and/or semi-permeable membranes.
11.6.2015

11.7.2015

11.8.2015

	In a twist, a portion of continuum can be isolated.
11.9.2015

11.10.2015

	Still toying with a definition of self as 'enclosed consciousness', the twisting off point being our blind spot, a singularity that keeps us from naturally equating inside and outside.
11.11.2015

11.12.2015

11.13.2015

	I write a lot every evening but if my text only amounts to a caption for the drawing then I leave this space blank.
11.14.2015

11.15.2015

11.16.2015

11.17.2015

11.18.2015

11.19.2015

Reciting the lines exactly as they were written in the script, ones repeated countless times over the years by many talented voices but never like this, her micro-inflections impossibly harmonizing, evoking primal memories, compiling layers of character, and the subtle turns of gesture, the cut of the costume, palpable tension with the cast, absorbing the audience, while drinking up my attention and returning more in loving kindness, she flew beyond the character, the play, the theater, the genre, opening the moment with unforeseen richness and establishing in my mind, for the first time, the glimpse, the taste, the undeniability of multi-dimensionality.

11.20.2015

11.21.2015

11.22.2015

	What is 'dark matter' and why doesn't it interact with electro-magnetic radiation? How can a physical 'thing' exist that can't be illuminated and doesn't leave a trace? How is it true light passes right through dark matter and yet dark matter can bend light? I can't accept it because my mind keeps asking, "Isn't dark matter just a patch for impoverished ideas about gravity?"
11.23.2015

11.24.2015

11.25.2015

	The attitude is gratitude.
11.26.2015

11.27.2015

11.28.2015

11.29.2015

	Falling from one thought to another, days evaporate. What arises fills up time.
11.30.2015