White Noise Machine So the main part of my site is going to be down, or at the very least weird for the rest of the week. I'm doing a redesign, a pretty major one, and things are jumbled. The blog part should be good for now, but that too will change.
One of the main reasons for the redesign is that I'm bored with the largeness of the current one. It's too big and requires to much dicking around every day. Martha has seen the new design and does not like it; probably because it is so very, very different from what is currently up.
Martha can now officially hold up one hand and the thumb of the other when she speaks of The Steelers. Even though we had to miss The L Word (damn!) it was a great game. A true nail biter or in my case a pacer.
I am currently in a show in Portland called Flora & Fauna and I'm going to be in another show in San Francisco in March. Completely freaking me out is that I am going to be one of the Featured Artists in issue number 13 (of course) of Lightleaks Magazine. Crazy stuff. I have to gather all this material, (photo of myself, bio, 10-12 images) and I've just kind of seized up and not started anything. I have a history of shooting myself in the foot but at least this time, Martha is fully entrenched in my business bullshit (lucky girl) so I can't stray too much off track and waste the day taking weird photos of shit around the house.
Like this:
Or this:
Or being the human Greenies dispenser for Lily. She's pretty much on an on-demand feeding schedule. She demands food and I give it to her. She's 9 pounds of persistence and being almost 17 years old, she can have whatever the hell she wants, whenever the hell she wants it.
I keep having the feeling as if I am forgetting something. Like something major. Or that I am forgetting to worry about something. Maybe if I would actually focus on something like the Lightleaks stuff I wouldn't feel that way. Painful, I know.
I found out that there used to be a house in our back, back yard. We have this weird fence in the middle of the yard that splits the property in two. Half of the fence is chain link and ugly and the other half was a rotting picket fence that Martha and I knocked down last fall. That's right, we did yard work. Anyway, I always thought the half-metal half-wood fence and the location of the fence was odd. But you know, there are so many odd things with a 109 year old house that you just kind of shrug your shoulders and move on.
But we had a plumber at the house last week, (more odd things) and he mention that there used to be a house back there and the driveway was on the other side of the house. This explains the weird fence and oddly, why the dear use that side of the house as a superhighway, complete with rest stop facilities. A mother and her son lived back there and sometime in the 80's the house burnt down. They got out but still.
So now I'm creeped out every time I look out the kitchen window. I knew there was a reason I'm never very comfortable in the back, back yard. Well, aside from the obvious reasons of being outside in the grass.
Saturday I arrived at my therapists office about ten minutes early so I sat down in a semi crowed waiting room full of varying degrees of depressed, bipolar, jumpy, nervous people and waited. I didn't want to read any of the magazines because I have a 'thing' about touching reading material that is left out for the public to read. It's a germ thing. Or better yet, I think it's a New York germ thing.
I view public magazines like a public toilet. You never know where someone's hands have been and people are disgusting. I've seen people sneeze into magazines, lick their fingers to turn pages, causally pick their noses, rub their eyes and scratch their heads all while turning pages of a magazine, only to throw it back on the coffee table of place it back on the sales rack.
I'm so glad I could give my neurosis to all of you. You can thank me later.
Anyway, I was just sitting there when for a split-second I thought I heard a song over the speakers that could not be possibly playing. I perked up my ears and holy shit, no way...yes; yes, there it was in all its fantastic living soundtrack glory... Brain Damage & Eclipse.
I SWEAR TO GOD. Swear to God, swear to God. Not even close to kidding. Watch and Love:
The other folks in the waiting room went on about their business of reading magazines and subconsciously shifting around in their chairs. Probably because I was staring at each and every one of them to see if ANYONE noticed what was playing on the radio.
I started giggling and sort of laughing a little too out loud; an interesting place to do that and an interesting group of folks to do that in front of. It is a mental health facility after all and everyone in the waiting room is there for a reason. Considering that in the past this song has brought tears to my eyes, the absurdity of the situation was refreshing. Moments like that are why I really do, deep down, love life.
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