Doll Repair http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/ en Copyright 2008 Wed, 07 May 2008 06:55:05 -0800 http://www.sixapart.com/movabletype/ http://www.rssboard.org/rss-specification But what am I but ocean, fixed? A Hut of One's Own: Life Outside the Circle of Architecture to sight-reading Bach toccatas to thinking about my own discomfort. Sunday, I found my sediment. Felt pebbled. The cheek of the girl in a mirage I see, a barreled fantasy. Lately, the most powerful, most repetitive visual icon in my writing is a woman, standing in an ancient desert. It is always sunset, and the sun is always a stratum of pink and deep orange. Fazing winds and dry stone pull the trance into view. This vision is too large to understand. The scene itself reaches across hundreds of other icons, so many that I can only understand them as knobs tuning an image, swelling it with meaning. Disturbances in wakening, or in pulse. The woman is usually dressed in shreds or planks, or rather, heavily stitched in royal vestments. Many things scattering the tract: funneling winds, wisps and weavers, a crypt that swallows the loom, without weft. An animal emerging. Knitting a brain coral, she sits among the laughing desert. Last night we had to put one of Ben's cats, Sixx, to sleep. A freak blood clot. We found him howling under a blueberry shrub, but by that time, the blood had drained from three of his legs, and he was unable to walk (although he must have known that we were on the way to the vet because he tried to make a run for it, but could only sort of scoot across the sidewalk). We rushed him to the emergency vet, where we discovered that after $1,800 of treatment, he could get another clot within a few days or weeks, and in the meantime, would be in severe pain and suffering. The longest he could live would be up to six months. We decided to euthanize. He died peacefully in our laps around midnight. RIP, sweet Sixx. I enjoyed our brief time together and hope you don't get into too many cat fights in the otherworld. photo.jpg]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/05/but-what-am-i-but-ocean-fixed.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/05/but-what-am-i-but-ocean-fixed.html Wed, 07 May 2008 06:55:05 -0800 It is a double moon to me. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass. Jasper and pearls.

The South is an irreverent leech that bleeds you of all motivation to do anything. So you learn to embrace that pillow of lack, zero space. Your weak will, fuming. 

It's nice to be back in Portland. Flying into this town, scanning across the blanket of sleeping white volcanoes, une ville blanche, is one of the most beautiful experiences. I've been puddling through Simone Weil's biography and two of Virginia Woolf's novels, inspired by SPH's revisitations. I am a slow reader who chews on sentences. 

This weekend, I am off to the anemones. Double moons and slippery speech.
]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/it-is-a-double-moon-to-me.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/it-is-a-double-moon-to-me.html Sun, 27 Apr 2008 09:27:08 -0800 bunny life ]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/bunny-life.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/bunny-life.html Fri, 11 Apr 2008 11:54:26 -0800 falling out of sunset William Holley. Ben and I went to see him at The Know on Friday. His music is truly wonderful, and I encourage you all to pester him for more songs. Resonances of Arthur Russell, but altogether new. Good to sway to. I have spent the weekend in a lazy hobble from bed to cafes, to dinner parties (including a warehouse-warming Italian feast at Pinball last night...the night ended with bowls full of spumoni and gourmet donuts and almond cookies, and bloated bellies). A dreamy barista has soaked up most of my weekend like a sponge, but today I have UDLE business to attend to, a forest to hike, elk tacos and sauna time with Theda, and a drink date with my friend Leif. Uff-da. Oh, and I might be revisiting/rewriting/publishing my Reed thesis. At first, the idea of it sounded positively dreadful, but returning to Jack Spicer's work might be rewarding, an Orphic return in its own right. I'm also finishing up my feature article on Corey Arnold, to be published in this summer's issue of Bear Deluxe Magazine. As of this morning, I am in love with espresso, straight from a tiny cup and a miniature spoon. A more bulbous post, soon. ~ADE]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/falling-out-of-sunset.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/falling-out-of-sunset.html Sun, 06 Apr 2008 09:33:35 -0800 metronomical I am getting my very own piano! My landlord (who is also my "house-mate," although we don't share a living space - I rent a one-bedroom apartment inside the house) said she is excited to hear classical music issuing from the vents! My friend Paul, who is also a classical pianist and Flamenco guitarist, and owns one of the best restaurants in town (Le Pigeon), will be accompanying me to the piano store to spy spinets and tinkle on uprights. I think a little spinet made of cherry or walnut, with a bright resonance, would be just about perfect. A lot of my friends ask, "Why don't you just get a free piano off of Craigslist?" But when you play classical music for 14 years and are accustomed to an instrument that is tuned well, you don't mind sinking a little money into it. And I've been such a cheap-skate lately that I will consider it a long overdue gift to myself. Time to recoup the sheet music left bookmarked and splayed open at Ritchie's house, and other locales. Pencil-marked Bach inventions and thunderous Rachmaninoff concertos, nom nom. http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/metronomical.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/04/metronomical.html Tue, 01 Apr 2008 20:46:29 -0800 a septet of doves (photo by Alicia Rose) Come see a beautiful show with me, this Wednesday (April 2) at the Holocene. Mr. Ritchie Young and his band Loch Lomond will transport you.]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/a-septet-of-doves.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/a-septet-of-doves.html Sun, 30 Mar 2008 19:36:23 -0800 waterwheels weathering As for us, we are like plants that have the one choice of being in or out of the light. - Simone Weil These are drifts of concepts that I think about almost every day. I myself undulate between a circling around the epistemological self: solitude, intense emotional tallying, a census of what being means, evening dasein. And then a wheel that spins among many people and along multiple trajectories, the spokes reaching further the more curious I am about a person, or perhaps the more I love them. There are some people that I love very much, that never see the spinning. Love is locked in a mirage of distance. And there are others I draw closer to because they appeal to my curiosity, they compose a necessary anthropology. I know many people, and they all mean something specific to me, even if they no longer talk to me, or if my feelings go unmatched. It is the bewilderment of this meaning-seeking that is often most interesting in human interaction. The compass of intent, the gesture of silence. As if all life were documentable. Today was very cold. I leapfrogged from my semi-weekly Saturday morning coffee date with Derrick, then onto Bethany, who has an exciting (possible) name change in store (which rekindled my interest in shedding my absentee father's last name for something less dry, English), then over to two hours of sauna and girl talk with lovely Theda, who is a dove, pampering me with Guatemalan hot chocolate and thieved candies and listening, above all. Until the weather turns, I am happy spending my Saturday nights sheathed within my pleasure dome. ~a.]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/waterwheels-weathering.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/waterwheels-weathering.html Sat, 29 Mar 2008 22:55:55 -0800 myrrh busy, and linear time is accelerating, and I am coiled up in my warm room, furs and thin cottons and red velvets and many surfaces softened by the color of pearl. It has been: wake up at 6AM, spend a few minutes whispering to the cats, wind my hair into some sort of nest (a friend said my hair is getting very "Antoinetty"), and work on a loosely tethered stack of poems while listening to music made of bells and hammers and spoons and brushes, that is a morning cyphoned. Speaking of Marie Antoinette, I can't wait until my hair is long enough to wear in a long cone full of feathers, like this: marieantoinette19.jpg I like the black mesh eye-mask she's wearing. The rest I'll do in clumps of associations of actions/thoughts/movements/enjoyments, as I am already starting to fall asleep a little. Kundalini yoga classes. Kundalini means "coiled up" in Sanskrit, and it is about rousing the energy of your consciousness, which sits wrapped around your spine like a sleeping serpent. Sweet foods: vegan cupcakes, dark chocolate, rhubarb pie baked from scratch. The din of gamelan dinging. Scenting the apartment with thieved wildflowers. Brisk walks, smelling/feeling what is crushed underfoot. Large apples: Jazz, Braeburn, Pink Lady, sometimes I eat TWO a day! Dried cherries and ginger, soft Italian cheeses made from raw cow's milk. Little pickles. Whole almonds. New girlfriends, others more lost to me, but there is a grace in the reaching. Sharing manuscripts. The slight powder of the cherry blossoms. Pale surfaces, patterned palettes, and a tumbleweed named Terry. Lv, ADE]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/myrrh.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/myrrh.html Tue, 25 Mar 2008 21:25:35 -0800 the healthiest First result from Google search for "healthiest person."]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/the-healthiest.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/the-healthiest.html Mon, 24 Mar 2008 23:23:05 -0800 the ocean in rain is rain Trash the need to explain the self. Enjoy being in your life. Work the teeth of myth. A pendulum, it is noiseless and it swings from self to self, locking and unlocking, in swift wafts. "Now" is a swath, a frayed tapestry of crushed forest floor cherry blossom, sucking in the pink perfume. Silence from someone with a hammer-heart, he is locked, forever. I continue to care. I only hope to muffle hammers. Learning to dance with a bird who doesn't request explanations, but does ask "What is poetry?" or "Have you ever been in love?" (perhaps only once or twice, truly?), or "If you were a mixed drink, what would you be?" It is easy, and it doesn't sheet me. I am not in the business of technical love, not now. Winds warping immensely. Burning rose and dry sage oils. Feeling food again, daily tangelos and large apples eaten on the street, fistfuls of parsley, a long walk every day, walking very fast, musculature of the world. The cats get milk now, and I think I'm getting crow's feet. My body's surface, it is shifting, flattening in places, and the interior is a dark cool crystal. It is called a black 'sea' of roses. For a black 'ocean' is weight. Ocean is rain. Ocean in rain is rain. The rain (the ocean that's coming down) is soundless too, her charm nullified in that that night no one is around, she's smoking a cigarette. Graceful dipping her legs stretched down from a chair in night. Rain 'at' night is that black ocean around blank with nothing but waves. The Euphrates River is the forest's choppy black waves that are not in water.]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/the-ocean-in-rain-is-rain.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/the-ocean-in-rain-is-rain.html Sat, 22 Mar 2008 18:03:05 -0800 paper tower website (currently in its temporary phase) is up, lookin' beautiful. Come out to our reading this Thursday!]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/paper-tower.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/03/paper-tower.html Sun, 02 Mar 2008 22:18:01 -0800 veiling vesicles Ecclesia chapbooks, research, perhaps a short respite to rake the leaves and sweep the deck, crafting questions for my interview with Corey Arnold tomorrow evening over dinner. Life is loam, life is ebullience. Mr. and I are fantasizing about taking a road trip to a shitty fisherman's wharf kind of town next weekend, getting a cheap motel room, and hanging out with surly sea-men in smoky bars. The only thing is, my license is suspended (I drive my friend's cars illegally, regardless), and neither of us has a car, but I don't think either of those things should stop us from accomplishing our mission. I want to stomp around in the floam of the ocean and argue over the difference between flotsam and jetsam. ...]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/veiling-vesicles.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/veiling-vesicles.html Sun, 24 Feb 2008 12:31:20 -0800 warren of rabbits, den of rabbits The Great Gatsby and intermittently editing one of his latest short stories. We just came up with a way to say "I drink your milkshake." in sign language, involving teat-suckling hand gestures. Tonight is a going-away party of sorts, since Nick is going on tour for two months, so I'm storing my energy like a camel. ...]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/warren-of-rabbits-den-of-rabbi.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/warren-of-rabbits-den-of-rabbi.html Thu, 21 Feb 2008 21:39:15 -0800 probe would swim into alien seas Who would believe what a poor set of ears can tell you? Who would believe what a weak pair of hands can do? I could listen to Another Green World on repeat for an eternity... Greenland%201.jpg I have a date to go see this on Tuesday night at OMSI, a photojournalistic survey of glaciers melting and moving. Nothing romances quite like National Geographic. When my day is a mist fever, bequeathing, I ask my body what it wants to do. A scythe speaks, it is a slashing. It is a matter of a difference dividing, portals opening. It seems every day presents death, and it is my duty to wedge it. No minor function arising. Every day I walk through halls of the spirit, braids undone, coilings. He cut my cords, snapped them with salt water, and I could feel, something planetary. Ecstasy. I am at the verge of truly speaking. It is danger. I can sense the steep wells, walling. Those who are unfortunate not to, not to walk through waves. + Valentine's Day was great, until I barfed at my friend Jason's birthday party. My body is full of dulcimers. Today I watched a sub-par documentary on Klaus Nomi with Brooke. We ended up talking over most of the movie and eating grilled cheeses and doing arts & crafts instead. I made a miniature, mustachioed nesting doll for R. Then an UDLE meeting downtown, Chinese food with Ted, and now I'm half-alive and can't believe I haven't lost consciousness. Ok, I'm 'tardo. Off to bed.]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/probe-would-swim-into-alien-se.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/probe-would-swim-into-alien-se.html Tue, 12 Feb 2008 23:03:13 -0800 The beauty of the world is the mouth of a labyrinth. The unwary individual who on entering takes a few steps is soon unable to find the opening. Worn out, with nothing to eat or drink, in the dark, separated from his dear ones, and from everything he loves and is accustomed to, he walks on without knowing anything or hoping anything, incapable even of discovering whether he is really going forward or merely turning round on the same spot. But this affliction is as nothing compared with the danger threatening him. For if he does not lose courage, if he goes on walking, it is absolutely certain that he will finally arrive at the center of the labyrinth. And there God is waiting to eat him. Lately a shrill timbre. We had an amazing impromptu Schezuan feast at Orland's on Chinese New Year. I made mapo dofu for the first time, and a dish called Ants Creeping Up A Tree (for poetic value, mainly), and Orland made the most delicious eggplant dish I've ever tasted, with long slender Chinese eggplants instead of their fatter relatives, along with plentiful mushrooms, steamed greens, rice, oolong tea, and several bottles of wine. The night collapsed into dancing in the thick of pink fog, floor-crawling, shouting into blinking megaphones, falling over in moon shoes. Nick Jaina did some impressive contact dancing for a very lucky few, including me and my new gelfling friend. So, yes, so very nice through and through. Soul dancing at the Goodfoot Saturday night. I spent most of the evening dancing solo in a flapper dress, next to this huge fan that blew my dress around. It was cooler than Marilyn. This morning, we finished parsing together our lecture for the Pecha Kucha event, which is slated for tomorrow evening at the Imago Theatre from 7:30 - ?, for those out there who might be interested. Now I'm at home, bejeweled and well-napped (I was writing on the couch and fell into a long, languorous cat nap with Walter), rose-oiled, skin the hue of teeth, drinking champagne and eating chocolate with lavender and blueberries. The cats are brushed and well-fed, and I have to drift off because this week is very busy, what with a lecture to give, a Pranic healing session Tuesday night, my first psychic class with Petra on Wednesday, and Jason Leonard's 30th birthday party on Thursday night at the Roadside Attraction, w/Nick Jaina, Loch Lomond, et. al. Allowing the gaze of the intruder. A lucid brush between rooms. With one lash of the eyes, I see either desert or busied utopias. Life is no longer a cone, it is a sphere.]]> http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/from-room-to-room-spirit.html http://www.urbanhonking.com/dollrepair/2008/02/from-room-to-room-spirit.html Sun, 10 Feb 2008 20:58:02 -0800