Contributing to unsettledness – I have my laptop set up in the front room, downstairs. There’s always a large fly in here. Buzzing. I don’t know if it’s the same fly every day or an multigenerational line of flies.
And contributing to unsettledness – drawing practice. So new, so uneasily familiar. I made some drawings of tomatoes as today’s homework. The drawing doesn’t shout “tomato” at you, but I really like the visual vocabulary.
I’ve been home from India for over a month. Just starting to feel like I know what to do next.
I signed up for a drawing class with Roz Stendhal. Her blog has been a great source of fascination to me for quite awhile: rozwoundup.typepad.com. I couldn’t have a better drawing teacher.
I didn’t really draw these, they came to my page as gifts while sketching birds at the Nature Center. I love this minimal look, just a few strokes of the brush pen.
Feeling like I can’t keep up – displaced. Is there a corresponding word for out of step in time?
Links to savor later:
Dwelling with Place: Lorine Niedecker’s Ecopoetics
The Art of Exploring: Flanerie in an Age of Mass Tourism
10 authors who excel on the internet
Dream: driving up the road to my parents’ house. All the houses approaching my parents’ house were burnt shells. Wondering if my parents’ house was also going to be a burnt shell. Wondering what caused this.
I walked out of the building tonight about 7 pm. The wind was fresh and alive. The air was soft and room temperature. I felt like I was surrounded by air. It was delightful. It’s still windy. The house is stuffy. The temperature has dropped.
Sights of today:
Fat tadpoles in dirty pond behind the office.
Wisteria in full bloom hanging over the arbor.
Car on fire on the side of the highway on the way to work.
the wisdoms of the universes in a single string of letters
A record of the 2013 International Pwoermd Writing Month
I beliving in anthologies.
My sense of home has been challenged these past few days, working on getting my parents’ house ready to sell. I lived there six years from 7th grade through high school, and then summers while in college. And visits for many years thereafter.
After cleaning, it’s a whole new place. I only took photos of these two small outbuildings. The ceiling in the well house is so beautiful. I don’t know what will happen to them.
bird’s nest in pulley, well house
Pea shoot growing in the wrong place – tastes like peas.
Cilantro – self-seeded from last year! A few leaves.
The garlicky tasting stem of a ramp in Woodland Park.