Even then you were there
as sentinel
essence
unattainable idea

Still, as only the dead can be,
with the world
crashing down around

Dead?
Or, not yet born?
Perhaps neither

Just the idea
pure

Undisturbed by the hard reversal
of fortunes

Needing no ground below
Nor sky with stars above

Idea
Not homeless
without a home

Glowing
Rich

Impossible model

dancing shadow
of origination

life ....

... she is full of surprises!

you don't want to do it
- take a white hot brand to your heart -

different initials
it hardly matters

you know how it will feel
that this won't be the last time either

when you're ready
go for the center
in one movement

press in, hold
cry out

and drag away
to singe-close
as many paths to the heart
as you can bear

different initials
it hardly matters

by Spring
you won't feel a thing

Dreamland Comin On...

Not that I wasn't dreaming, but lately ... Holy moly!  A bit overwhelming.  Too much to write down though I hate to lose them.  Visitations and Lessons.  Empires and Waterways.  Love and Psychological Stresses.  Car Wrecks, Alcohol, Innocence Lost and Fragile Memorabilia Found.  Andrea there more than usual -witnessing Em (on the stairs), our mutual lost weekend, the hotel next to the old house where _____ has been vacationing with various women.  Feelings of jealousy and betrayal.  Fire next to the bed. Ice on the road. That damn guy who is always in front of the studio staring at me, a neighbor in last nights dream. Go aWAY already!  Kirk and his terrible wedge-shaped studio in which he was spray-painting and puncturing flammable cans.  Me telling Andrea she looked like Kate Moss now.  I find beer cans, empty them as she surfaces.  She grabs one and I realize she's not sober as I thought she was. The police are coming again.  I had forgotten they had come just the night before when we were all partying like mad.  Hmm.  A lot of nightmares, I guess.  It's okay.  I'm liking the brain activity but find myself swimming through it much of the day. Just locked my keys in the car after someone asked me for money.  "I don't have any!" slam.  fuck. 

tomorrow will be a better day.
generally all is well.

now night class.

words from a different Emily (and all I've got today)

"To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

well well

Indulging in one last holiday night - this one for myself.  Starting the log too late.  Gotta change my clock back to more regular hours now.  The tree is so pretty.  Might just leave it for the epiphany date.  Dunno.  Anyway, a sweet set.

Now, here with tea, trying to muster a wee review.  Have been off work for 45 days.  Needed it.  

I see though that what overwhelms - all on its own, before the addition of the workweek - is just running the damn household.  Tried to shop and clean and cook and get organized for life ahead today and it's 11 and I just finished.  I am trying to cook (vegetable items) in advance of the week.  I don't know if there is anyway really to minimize the chore of it all, to reclaim the time.

I haven't done shit for art or really even thinking about it since I got back.  All Gary, Em, Christmas, some friends, some attentions.  All nice.  Plus the usual Christmas shoppingcookingeatingcleaning slam.  All nice.  Now though, how to line back up?

I do go back to my title in Banff: "Self-Directed" Artist-in-Residence.  This was the thing there: to direct myself well - as i hope I did - and it must be the same again.  Gotta hop back on the horse before she runs off completely.

I did just do a review of the unpublished Banff Blog.  Was it a mistake to read it backwards?  I dunno.  I know how the inquiry unfolded.  I remember every day a new tendril of questioning.  Some dropped before leading anywhere.  Or some leading nowhere.

Here is one:  The John this was called when I was really thinking of digging into the possible identities of the ghosts.  I don't like it much - too much weirdness at left.  I just recollect it as I'm musing also over last night's movie "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo."
The book apparently had the original Swedish title, "Men Who Hate Women."  ....  The rape scene(s) in the movie were .... Well.  I'll leave that for now.   And the thoughts that I hereby self-direct myself to not explore at this time.  Sexuality and its power plays.  Those men and their shiny shoes.  The good, the bad and the ugly about just having to poke somebody.  A whole nother can o' worms...

uhoh.  getting past me bedtime.  not the least bit sleepy.
okay.  maybe a little bit.

here is another john shot.

and a sarah with a tree of tuberculosis as if there had been a sarah.  poor thing.

I don't want to write about these but I do want to get back to writing about some of the others.  Will try to self-direct myself into a discipline of sorts.

Must remember where I was in my head.  It's not too far off, I don't think.  Nor was it so well-developed then anyway.

Whistling now for that horse, grabbing it by the mane.
Got a little bareback galloping over the dark open landscape thing going on.

Maybe ... sleep.

Goodbye holidays.  Goodbye vacation.  Goodbye Banff.  Goodnight Moon.

a sweetie pie little Christmas

Emily has been a doll.  Really sweet times doin just nothin'.  Rhino and she darling on Christmas Day eve. Like old times, kinda.  The Wellington was not utterly fabulous, the onion soup a bit too cheesy, the moose cookies fragile and fattening and yet it's been great to cook in the new kitchen.  Next up - feeding the ducks.  I feel like I've been on vacation forever.  just nice.

Gary Watkins - a dearest friend of mine

In the hospital, in the last hours.  

Me: "Gary, are we boring you?"

Gary (through his ventilator): "A little bit."

Also: "Gary, they found the God Particle!"

The hand that hadn't moved all day raises and waves in tired joy.

I loved Gary all along but was taken a bit by surprise by the depth of it, by the utterly profound depth of him.  I can't imagine I will ever know a more brave human being.  Just grace and humor, such utter absence of bitterness or self-pity in the wicked progression of ALS (and, of course, losing his husband).  The rooms where they both died in Kaiser were separated by the exact same wall.  And one year.  Theirs - the greatest relationship I've ever known.  I will miss him/ both of them - so.  I will strive all my life to be courageous like Gary was every day.  A huge loss.  A beloved book closes.

Anna Log

My new art name.
My new great desire: unplug from everything.  no.  -- from everything plugged.
Digital is soulless and that's Our Age.

Finding it a bit tough to feel real connections; have to find a way to live differently, connect with what I can, perhaps dial expectations way down.

Can't wait to get back to the studio.



(I will miss Gary so very much.  What a surprise to find him my hero).