Jewel's Family Part 2

A mother, a daughter, a son.
Nothing could come between them
Even when you least expect it
When the weight of sadness is ripping familial seams
When the gossip and the rivalry of the son and daughter (siblings)
Appears to be bleak and disenchanting
When running away feels like a valid resort

She comes
The love of her comes and a smile bears teeth
And all, is all right.

Mrs. Quirk

[source]

I just wanna shake her and say, "What is wrong with you!"  She exudes sadness.  The woman always wears a smile on 'er lips.  Her steps are as heavy as they come.  I see her and think "she is crazy."  But I could never tell her that.  She'd cry.

Wishful Thinking

[source]

Room temperature coffee.  And taking my vitamins.  There's a cigarette burning on the back porch.  Some music is playing in the kitchen.  I think to turn it down.  But I'll just stand here and sway, pretending it's that night we danced.  So accidental.  Untainted.  I wished that would happen again.  I'm wishing. 

The Good Old Days\\Jewel's Family Pt. 1

Before he was old enough to be a pedophile
Before she hit me and I hit her back
Before her fraud conviction and that year on house arrest
Before you tried to steal that $1 K from me and I filed a small claim against you
Before he went to college (or further than that);
Before he discovered sex and thought he was a man and started being a douche bag
Before I sold the car Uncle Ron gave me so I could move to NY and shop at American Apparel
Before you had that baby
Before she had hers
Before you knew you were gay and started dating girls
Before their parents got divorced (and before they got married)
Before Grandma and Aunt Kay died
Before Uncle Jimmy got sick
Before those growing pains and peer pressures of youth
Before we knew what weed was and the power of ass and pussy
Before we even said a word...

Life was good.

Pretty Little Memoirs\\Photos by Jen Gotch

[Self-portrait by Jen Gotch\\Source]

I want to tell my story.  Others want to tell there's.  Because of this, Something Like Memoirs is switching gears and starting a new series (which doesn't have a name) to honor those who find unique ways to document and share their life experiences.  These creative individuals will be artists, writers, and just plain narcissists.  I don't have much else to say on the matter.  The series is pretty self explanatory.  So without further adieu: let's start honoring people.

The first mentioned in this series of posts is Jen Gotch.  Her Flickr set Defaced (rightly named) was actually the first body of work to open my eyes and make me think , "Hey.  I should put other artists on my blog, who have just as interesting stories as I have, with even more unique ways of telling them."  So here is her work.  I'm infinity inspired by her, and have much respect for her honesty and love for Polaroid cameras.  But then again, who doesn't love instant photography?

Ingeniously, Gotch uses permanent marker and a Polaroid to capture what it was she felt, saw, did, and thought at a particular place or time.  Very easily we can sense her mood, complexity, aesthetic, and those traits of her personality that are undeniably feminine.  I feel as though Defaced is the creative pastime's version of the Post-It.  Really well-done Gotch.  Gawd bless ya. 

This Three in the Morning\\Not Rebel Enough

 [American Cinema's favorite revenge driven rebel, in her drop-top about to go kick some ass]

I was one of those people you hate.  Plugged into my iPod, lip-syncing Katy Perry on the train.  Nobody else was in that car, except for those two train dwellers catching their Zz's.  But I don't think they saw me-swishing my shoulders and tapping my toes.  "TGIF" and "Teenage Dream".  My friends give me shit for them.

I ran home in the rain.  Mostly to avoid getting robbed.  I was also wired from that gin; reminiscing on this past summer.  When I'd drive my mom's convertible with the top down, drinking Starbucks Iced Soy Lattes.  And right now you're thinking she's what's wrong with America.  Well maybe you're right.  Sort of.

That Which I Am Hoarding (Revised)

[source]

Those French books I can't read
My dad's jazz and blues records
Rocks from 'round Lake Michigan
Jasmine soap from Seymour

Shoes that are Unwearable
Some jewelry I made in High School
Caps from Red Stripe Bottles
And my Grandma Jewel's old purse

Brooklyn Log: Day 35

 [aj and justharve\\doin' it big]

I'm sitting in my room.  Harvey is here-disoriented from a drug his doctor prescribed him.  Though there's no excuse for me to feel that way too. 

All is well in Brooklyn.  Including the park across the street and the new appliances in our kitchen.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I officially have an apartment here.  You wouldn't believe the struggle it was to find one and move in.  Even though there are still adjustments that need to be made in my roommate's and my new home, the longest part of this long haul is over.  I hope.

Brooklyn Log: Day 3

 [JR piece on Houston//source]

October 5, 2011

Left BK for the first time since I've been here.  When Powell came home from work, we took the train to Pianos-a bar/lounge on Manhattan's Lower East Side.  I ordered  Absolute Mandarin with Sprite from the bartender.  It tastes like spiked Fanta with lemonade.  The spot was cool.  I especially liked the taxidermy/nursery room themed display near the upstairs stairwell.  I wish I'd took pictures.

Apparently "Old School" Hip-Hop is a trend in the bar scene here.  I don't remember it being like that when I lived on St. Marks in '07.  My guess is the people who dance and know all the words to Juvenile and Cash Money these days (mostly trendy business suits) turned their nose up at it in its "hey-day".  Trends, for that reason, can get under my skin.   So being at Pianos was kind of lame.

When we left the lounge, Powell and I walked aimlessly through Lower Manhattan.  He showed me a JR piece on Houston near the train.  His current project is a photo series featuring eyes of Native American tribesman.  It brings a sort of fierceness to the cityscape.  As if New York weren't fierce enough, already.

Brooklyn Log: Day 2

[source]

4 PM October 5 2011

I'm quickly learning that, "What's your nationality?" is the go to pick-up line for men around Brooklyn.  They're also not afraid to follow you.  Last night I went to a bodega to buy cereal, and a man there asked me if he could rub my feet.  He told me he had a foot fetish, then gave me a business card with info about "photo sessions".  The top of it says: "Earn $100 for foot modeling."  I'll pass.

10 PM

Powell knows this guy who's going camping for 4 days.  He'll be there (in some woods) alone.  That makes me feel inspired in a way.  If he can be in "the wild" by himself, then I can definitely make this NY thing work with friends.  I get by with a little from my...

Brooklyn Log: Day 1

 [source]

3 AM  October 4, 2011

I'm in Brooklyn now.  Got in around midnight.  The plane ride to New York was smooth.  For some reason, I qualified for a $4 upgrade to First Class.  The airline rep I had encouraged me to upgrade for the "Unlimited Premium Drinks."  I decide to do it,  since the whole "uprooting my life" thing was making me emotional and anxious.  Before the plane took off, I had already drank some Scotch and fell asleep.

2:30 PM

Over slept today.  Which really means I rolled out of bed at my usual time (1pm).  It wasn't easy to get "up and running."  I'll have to find motivation.

Feeling overwhelmed with things to do.  Don't know how long till I'm settled.  We're not even close to signing a lease yet.

 [still apt scouting in Brooklyn]

8 PM 

Saw the loft my roommates applied for this afternoon.  Almost cried with joy when I saw it.  Quickly came to my senses, though.  I'll let myself be happy about it when I'm actually living there.  Till then, I'm on Powell's couch.

Parting's Sweet Sorrow

[my fair city//source]

There's a place us St. Louisians like to call "South City", where the grass is green, and homes are made of brick.  Most storefronts there close around five, and two out of several bars are open till three.  There's a park nearby and botanical garden, where in the summer you'll picnic and take your family to hear free jazz.  In South City, children and dated cars line the streets.  It boasts the best Thai Food in St. Louis.  And although I realize this small sect of our "most dangerous" city seems to resemble any other row of corners and blocks in the US, those few people who call it home (now or before) know just the distinct feeling it yields.  It's our South City.

About a week ago I was there, in south St. Louis on our famous Cherokee Street-a neighborhood where you can find Antique Row and a host of Artist establishments, coffee shops, and authentic Hispanic fare.  It was there that some friends caught wind of my leaving St. Louis for another metropolis-NYC.  Once they did, one turned to me and asked, "Are you excited?"

"No," I said, sinking my chin in the palm of my hands.  They laughed.  It was right for such an ironic answer to amuse them.  But if they asked me that same question now, at quarter to 1 am-the morning of the day I am scheduled to leave this town, I'm not so sure they'd chuckle at my response.  Because, honestly, my answer would be different.

Now if someone asks me if I'm excited for uprooting my life and moving to New York City I say, "Yes.  I'm nauseated with excitement."  I'm happy and sad and bubbling with anxiousness.

"Am I making the right decision?" I say.  Then I look at them long enough for what I think will stain some part of my memory.  As if to create a photograph with my eyes-imprinting the shadows of their face, the tightness of their skin (stretched across their bones), and the unruliness of their hair.  What I'll remember is that intimate moment of them looking a hot mess, while asking me if I'm excited. And I will cherish it for years. Just like I cherish my hometown, St. Louis.

See you when I return.

On the Side of a Building in a Vacant Lot

 [source]

Ryan: "Is that a Krink?"
 
Guy with a Bandana: "No, it's a homemade."
 
Vadim: "What do you make it with?"
 
GWB:  "Spray paint...Oh!  Did you see that?!" (He laughs, amused) "It just exploded!"


We gawk and laugh together.  Someone thinks they see a cop.  The four of us walk to Billie's.

Drugs and Kaleidoscopes

 [source] 

Xanthous green and banana pepper yellow.  Colored ribbon and swirl bong.  I sat on Jordan's couch taking hits from its mouthpiece.  Both place and item familiar.  For some reason I came to revisit, those stale smells and sticky drink cups.  With Grenadine spiked Corona.  I wanted to impress him, maybe.  Or tell him how I felt.  Be his friend, or just get high to decompress.  But either way I was there, intent on enjoying myself.   We laughed. 

The laughing became unstoppable.  To the point they thought I was deft.  Saying things about me, as if I weren't in their room.  I was and I could hear them.

"She's the happiest person I ever met." J said, talking to Chuck.  "She could be like 'I had the worst day' and still have a smile on her face. I don't know how she does it." 

I continued to laugh, pretending to be distracted. As though to protect him from shame.  As if he'd recoil for being honest.  And I kept laughing, with my arms up.  Thinking to myself, maybe we feel the same.

 [source]

I hoped to get to a place between us-one day he and I; myself and my friends.  Where we can say what's on our mind, without having to dilute speech with substance.  Drinking for courage to speak.  But for now I'll take it for granted, and continue laughing at his jokes and screening silly films.  This time-The Animatrix.  Not that it was meant to be funny, but under the circumstance it was.  

 [source]

Among the rift raft and the cloudiness of my mind, I corkscrewed deep into thought.  Contemplating the value of anime.  I've never thought much of it before, but Animatrix birthed reverence in me for the genre.  Being a creative person myself, I noticed elements in its technicality that simply took my breath.  And yes I was laughing, for its dopeness it tickled me.  Every second I fell more amused.

Amusement lead to assumptions, as I conjured elaborate back-stories of who the creators of Animatrix might be.  I imagined they're from the future.  Galactic wise-men back traveling time.  Delivering cautionary tales disguised as entertainment cerebral in its sway.  But I wasn't entirely certain, since I was watching the film through kaleidoscopes (I had brought them with me), slicing the scene into billionths of degrees.  Patterns endless with angles. Rhythmic intricate things.  Through it I saw a young goddess whose hand released a flame.  Eyes closed, serene face like Buddha.  I know she exists somewhere.  And that's comforting.  I watched her through the kaleidoscope, on mute while the stereo blared Dubstep and Stalley.  Through all this, the world seemed lovelier than ever.
 

 [source]

Round 5 the next morning, we called it a night.  Falling asleep on either side of J's couch.  At some point, he covered me with a blanket.

Leaving his high rise in the bright light of noon, I carried 4 inflated balloons with me.  Three were gold.  One of them black.  (The plan was to release them from Jordan's windows, but we didn't.  So I decided to take them home.)  The rest of the day they floated in the rear seat of my car, deflating while I went to brunch.  I drank the tastiest white mocha.  

My mood was exceptionally pleasant that day-still high but this time on life.  I didn't need kaleidoscopes or J's bong to see that beauty and mystery's just a part of life.  I'm glad I understand that while sober. 

How to Avoid What's Tragic

 [source]

When the track record reeks havoc, run.  Or linger like I do.  In the midst of vibrant sound waves and electronic echoes on the torn snake skin orange and plastic leather couch of the dim-lit venue, where poured cement and shuffled feet make the floor.

Get saturated by the music.

Embrace it.  Practice it.  Love it.

Midwest ✈ Miami

 [Shore of Hilton Resort in Key Largo, FL]

[Revised] When I flew into Miami I wasn't expecting much.  I knew my flight would land at night and that I would drive to Key Largo the next morning.  Or I should say our flight and we would drive, because from August 5 to August 12, 2011 I traveled with my mom and her 63 year old friend, Norene, through the southern tip of Florida.  America's "Sunshine State".  

Our objective was to visit Key Largo and attend my sister's wedding, then drive to Orlando to see Norene's eldest son, Trey.  Why we planned to be there for 7 days is beyond me, but that's what my mom wanted to do and whatever mom says goes.  

Everything we planned to do, Mom Norene and I did.  We arrived at the resort my sister' wedding was on just in time for the ceremony, and the following day

I think trips should be lsss about ageda and more about just enjoying eacothers company.  

The Sunshine State.  I don't know why that was ever Florida's State Motto (changed to "In God We Trust" in 2006). Every time I've been there in the last 10 years, it has rained during all the important days of my trip and was sunny all the non-important days-i.e. the day we leave for the airport.  And in my mind I think-What's the point of going to Florida if it's going to rain the whole time?  Maybe that's looking at my cup half empty but I'm a beach kind of girl.  My glass is only half full if I''m going to the beach.  Not sitt

*i said its a drag being in forida in the rain but abruptly traisiton into talking about the beach. bridge that better

In the midst of the rain, there was a lot of driving.  In the midst of driving there was pure boredom and a well of untapped restlessness.  Beyond that there was dinning at places with lots of fatty food, a wealth of intoxication, a trip to Urgent Care, shopping at Marshall's, and a romantic mini drama desperate to unfold (Trey and his girlfriend argued passive aggressively 90% of the time I interacted with them, and would try to involve me by asking me to take sides).  It was crazy.

On the flip-side, my favorite part of the trip was my subscription to Netflix.  I watched a couple documentaries-One being "Art&Copy" (I highly recommend watching it) and started on the entire catalog of The Office.  It's my new favorite show (added to the list of Dr. Katz, Home Movies, Flight of the Concords, and Sex and the City).

 

[Best Moments of my favorite Office character-Creed]

Moral of the Story:  Make the best of your family trip by ...If you're ever on a family trip that you deem less than desirable, whip out a computer, iPad, or mobile device with web access and subscribe to Netflix.  It's free your first month and and $__ after that fro unlimited streaming of TVs Hollywood Blockbusters and Independent films.  Use your family vacation to catch upon 6 years of cable entertainment you wont regret it.

*the post is midwet to miami buti only talk about miami in the first line of the post...either mention more about miami or sum op the tory of the trip by talking boutmiami. ie. miami was the gate to all things that week. thats where our trip began and thats where our trip ended.

My plan was to separate from the group.  To drive somewhere...to planned to go venture off into a grassy knoll or a woods and set up a camera on a tripod. but due to the outcome of the trip.the way the trip played out. there never seemed to be anytime available to steal for myself. 

Stream of Consciousness

Wedding
Onset
Dinner
Too much food
Anorexia
Snoring
They snore to tunes of riots
They ate their way to snoring
I'm fasting tomorrow.

Are We Flirting?

 [source]

Then he took his shirt off.  He stood over the pond.  I-sat crouching on a firm stone.  Underneath a shrub-ish tree, sounds came of the stream bustling.  He looked at me.  "You can,"  he said.  Then reached towards the ground, grabbing flat rocks for throwing.   He skipped them, each one thumping two or three times.

"I can't do that."

"Why not." 

I shook my head, blushing.  "It'd be indecent."

Without much considering of my excuse, he turned to see me again.  His lean, not yet masculine figure, posed mid pitch-holding rocks.  "No.  It wouldn't," he said.  "Trust me."

Last Night's Party

 [random party. Chicago IL Jan 2009\\source]

Last night we parted ways...

Met back up, danced to Busta Rhymes, did the robot, and drank our dirty milkshakes.  We saw them do "The Monkey," took her to the E.R, road motor carts at Wal*Mart, hated Top 40 music, and watched Kung FU Dunk for the first time.  Last night we shared our thoughts, rewrote our aspirations, solved Overpopulation in China, then decided there were no solutions to the "bad things" in life.  We woke up 'round Twelve.  He hugged me.  

And then I left.

How to Skew the Truth

 
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▼❈❉▲  ❇❖❙ ❏◼  ❖❁❙  ▼❈❅  ❄❅❃❁❅❄  ❙❒♦  ◗❅❒❅ ❂❏❒◼  ❉◼✌ ◼❒▼  ▼❉❅ ❙❅❁❒
❙❒♦  ◗❅❒❅ ❂❑❒◼  ❉◼✏  ✤❑◼ʻ▼ ▲❁❙  ❁ ◗❑❒❄✌ ◗❈❅◼ ❙❑❖❅ ◼❑▽❈❉◼✸  ▼❑ ▲❁✏ ❙ 
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Inspired by David Carson and the film Helvetica (Gary Hustwit 2007)