foxtongue: (Default)
365: 2012/01/09 - remembering

My father taught me how to tune a six string by ear when I was a very small child. Today I discovered that I can still do it. He might be gone, but the knowledge is not.

Remember kids, a telephone dial tone is an "a".
foxtongue: (femme)
356:2010/01/31 - aeroship hers
356:2010/01/31 - aeroship hers


My eyes burn when they blink from staring too long at a screen. Today has been a day of creating and back aches and forgetting to stretch or to eat or to move. It is good, as now I can sit back and see what I have accomplished, which is not insignificant, and feel less like I am wasting my life, using my hours and minutes up, moment by moment, until the day I suddenly wake, years too late, and realize, all through my life, that nothing's been done.

Today's accomplishments are all small things, though cumulative, as I'm in the midst of readying essential files for a laser cutter and readying them for thread, hacking out approximations of finished forms, sourcing where I should go for prints, and other various sundries. My computer, through all of this, acting as teacher, toolbox, and friend. I've also managed to finish a rough draft for my new website, nothing spectacular, but functional, and hopefully not too impossible to build.
foxtongue: (tripwire)
365: 91 - 02.04.09
365: 91 - 02.04.09



wake up, love

wake up, love
undress yourself from my skin
put on the sun and let our dreaming rest
come watch the world rise

wake up, love
and be unbalance on the edge with me
of our sagging, remembering bed
come slip on your shoes

wake up, love
and help me sort this tangle of belongings
our thoughts half in day, half still in night
come kiss me full of sustenance

wake up, love
and meet me at the opened door
before the scent of you leaves my hands and hair
come walk with me into this life

by Tobin James Mueller
foxtongue: (Default)
365: 77 - 18.03.09
365: 77 - 18.03.09


Looking up from my book to step onto a crowded bus, I slipped through everyone to the very back to find an unexpected puddle of empty seats around a very young, equally unexpected boy. No more than sixteen, maybe seventeen, eyes fixed out the window, obviously aware of everyone staring, he would not have been exceptional except that he was dressed as if he was only five minutes out of the Arab Emirates, all flowing, air thin white robes and leather string sandals, except for a light blue, very out of style denim jacket, a bare, acid wash nod to the weather as torn out of place and time as his traditional Saudi white and black ghutra and ougal. In the morning commuter gloom of black and gray and raincoats, his shining white looked completely bizarre, like a theater costume at a funeral, setting him completely apart.

So I sat next to him. We're all strangers somewhere.
foxtongue: (Default)
365: 67 - 08.03.09
365: 67 - 08.03.09


Reading Vellum, a book mixed in dark Sumerian myths that mentions a childhood spent in Slab City, I feel the world is held together with cellophane, that everything touches a clear film of shared experience; a theory continually upheld by strange synchronicities and fantastical, personal proofs, as I perpetually discover that the people out there I've never met, but read about, turn out to have been next to me all along, living only ever one singular person away.
foxtongue: (canadian)
365: 62 - 03.03.09
365: 62 - 03.03.09

His voice is almost convincing, "We could always try tantric sex." Her mind races for a few seconds, failing to place the non sequitor with any current topics of conversation, before discarding the notion altogether. This is very obviously an entirely new discussion. She thinks about the last time she felt beautiful. Once, before, even in this bed. "Where was that question six months ago?" she asks, instantly wary, "I mean it. Where?" He stumbles, reeling, "I... I don't know."

In one white wooden drawer are her stockings. Fishnets full of torn holes, seamless black nylons with a back seam of flashing white rhinestones, purple velvet thigh highs that stay up without a garter belt, a pair of red and black vertical stripes with the toes danced out. Electric memories of sweat, ghosts as distant as England, as far as away as reaching out three feet and yanking on a bronze pull shaped like a vacant new moon.

She feels as acutely cold as surgery, like she's splitting her arms open and only the bright dust of stars is spilling out. "I don't mean to be insulting, repeating this," she says, with a feeling akin to tearing off limbs, "but that was precisely the problem in the first place. I would tell you I need mental input more than physical attention." She taps his forehead, trying not to walk away behind her eyes, wincing that he never once breathed poetry, "And you'd only try to answer with sex."

Dreampepper this time but before: March 3rd in 2007.
foxtongue: (Default)
365 2009: 28.01.09
365 2009: 28.01.09

My lovely friend Mark, who I hold dear like hardly anyone else, has been standing me up this month. Yes. Month. First we ran into each other on the street and decided that Sunday! We will get together Sunday. He will make me dinner and play me music he wrote and it will be a lovely time. Then Sunday came and when I called, he had to cancel. Cousins unexpectedly in from out of town, he said. Ah! I said, that is unfortunate and completely understandable. Wednesday, he said? And I said yes. Then on Wednesday, I did not hear from him and when I called, it went directly to voice mail. Wednesday passed without him. Thursday night I got a call, "Migraine," he said. Ah! I said, again, that is unfortunate and completely understandable. I hope you are doing better. I am, he said, let me make it up to you on Sunday. Alright, I said. Sunday then. When Sunday rolled around, he called again. Jhayne, he said, you are going to hate me. What has happened now? I asked. Band practice. An accidental double-booking. Ah! I said, again, that is unfortunate and completely understandable. Wednesday? Wednesday. Now it is Wednesday and I still have not heard from him, though I have left two messages on his phone. The latest one was very amused, "Now you owe me dinner without question. I am going to put this on my calendar, The Month I Did Not See Mark. Then I will write a short story called The Month I Did Not See Mark and publish it. I think it will sell. It's a good title."
foxtongue: (misery)
365 2009: 07.01.09
365 2009: 07.01.09


Perhaps I am selfish. I do not want the war to end for ideological reasons only.

I want my friends in Gaza and in Israel to be safe. I want to know they are okay.

By the current count about 1 in every 230 has been injured or killed.
foxtongue: (Default)
flyinghousewife: an etsy shop that sells handmade, handwritten letters in different flavour-genres.

I slept on the couch last night, rumpled as a blanket. Lying in the dark living room, trying to absorb the sounds of the rain, the rabbits, and the cats, despairing at sleep, my memory flashed of when I would wear blood red and midnight black stockings, wear them down the street just to the corner store, as if I might as well. Late at night, how do these things happen? I am exhausted, tired of being intimidating. I know what is coming. This is as predictable as pain. He stands in my way, "I won't let you." as if his resistance will prove something, as if this is somehow the ideal. I think about how I've been trying to make the apartment into somewhere to come back to, a place of colour and grace, looking at him standing in my bedroom doorway, and refuse to simply push past his hands. This is meant to be my home, and so I will make it such, and in this place, I will sleep where I please.
foxtongue: (Default)
365 2009: 04.01.09
365 2009: 04.01.09


I wrote months ago about years ago, "How we’ve moved to hold each other in our sleep."
I took this picture this morning, posted it this afternoon. I did not think to get this reply.

Be careful, you out there, and remember us here. Even in your absence, we remain strong.

unrelated

Jan. 3rd, 2009 07:18 pm
foxtongue: (Default)
365 2009: 03.01.09
365 2009: 03.01.09
tanaquil
tanaquil
foxtongue: (hot in here)
365 days one hundred & seventy: between the lines
365 days one hundred & seventy: between the lines

David is going brown in the sun, his pale becoming tan, becoming sepia, a colour stolen from the ink of squid, then fractured, chemically converting silver into sulphide, toning into something more resistant to breakdown over time. Our bodies contrast, as if we're different genres of the same animal. I wonder what he'll look like the other end of this coming up Folk Fest weekend, where people take off their shirts and get happily dusty walking the Jericho paths. I wonder, too, how he'll get on with Mike, how interesting and odd all the interactions will be. There is an anticipation building inside me, bubbling like water over stone.
foxtongue: (bright spring)
duncan & jhayne - cake fight 2008

365 day one hundred: duncan & jhayne in.. CAKE FIGHT 2008!
foxtongue: (canadian)
365 day thirty-two: I am in love with you
365: thirty-two


Ray and I are going to the 9:30 showing of Persepolis at Tinseltown tomorrow/Tuesday, care to join us?
foxtongue: (femme)
One of my practically-heroes, filmmaker Yahoo Serious, (he had his name legally changed in 1980), has proposed a new flag design for Australia. I hope it takes off. I really appreciate how his brain works and entirely support not only his logic, but the design.

Letters from Johns.

Remember when the news came out that not only was there a re-make of The Day The Earth Stood Still going to be filmed, it was going to star Keanu can't-act Reeves as Klaatu? Well, it turns out they're filming it here in Vancouver. I just got the call, I'm going to be in it too. That they're filming here AND during the writer's strike seems to confirm my suspicions regarding what quality the film will be when it's finished, because even though rationally I understand that the script was likely finished months and months ago, the haughty little film reviewer that lives in my heart just knows it's going to be YouTube-comment-bad. Klaatu barada nikto, indeed.

But opinion aside, work is work and a paycheque is not only a paycheque but rent, food, and bus-fare, and I'm glad for it. Not only will I have fun doing what I'm doing, every day on set is a day I get paid to meet new people and another day farther from dubious Craigslist ads. (Not that I have anything against unique Craiglist postings, like this fellow who wants to play accordion with a metal band. More power to him, I think he's great.) I'm sure that when it comes out, Ray will be one of the first in line to see it and Nicole and I will be standing staunchly by his side, ready to play real-life Mystery Science Theater 3000 from somewhere far too close to the screen.

Letters from Working Girls.
foxtongue: (Default)
365 day twenty-four: calling you
365: twenty-four

Dan Johnson says,

Three weeks from today (Sunday the 27th) is Lewis Carroll's birthday, which means once again it's time for your LiveJournal to fall down a rabbit hole and document a different sort of day from the ones you always have. Get away from the same-old and be someone else, somewhere else, doing something else for a change!

The Rabbit Hole Day community remains http://community.livejournal.com/rabbitholeday/
My previous Rabbithole entries: 2005, 2006, and 2007.

It's only two days until Rabbit Hole Day!!


Korea wins at advertising.
foxtongue: (see the sky)
365 day twenty-three: portrait of a girl
365: day twenty-three

Avant-Garde Dating is a new experimental dating service for artists. Very experimental. Hosted by Wooloo, an artists-run organization based in Berlin, it's not for actually for dating at all, but exists soley to host a competition exploring issues associated with relationships. To apply, artists must explain how they will pry at the sticky conventions of monogamous love, challenge the very idea of artistic collaboration and/or explore one of the other diverse stereotypes of human pairing. Based on the applications, a Dating Board will pair artists off with each other, then later judge the "winners", as three of these couples will be later awarded a one week exhibition during the Art Forum in Berlin to "further explore the concept of human partnering." No, I am not applying.

Anyone up for teaching me to drive, like, yesterday?


edit: yay brian! any other takers? this has shuffled to the urgent pile of my things-to-get-done.

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