To Those Who Read This Blog

If you like what I post on here, I urge you to take a look at this interview: http://pitchfork.com/features/interview/7471-neutral-milk-hotel/

I find Jeff Mangum (and Neutral Milk Hotel) to be totally inspirational.  I love how his music is not easy to digest, but can be viscerally understood.  

I feel similarly to the way he describes his music and his dreams as all flowing together in a universe of no particular time, but of one connected place.  My dreams are my favorite, terrifying universe.  I find that my photos capture just a glimpse of what those dreams might look like.  Constant twilight, vast fields and paths through forests, mysterious homes, colors coming from unknown places.  These visions are a small glimpse into my dreams.  This surreal living and breathing and hiding behind you in the real.

The anti-Chris Knight

Judy dreams of horses, but I dream of homes, where they might be, and who might inhabit them. I think that they are homes of my past life, not in a sense of reincarnation, but homes inhabited by who I used to be.  Why did Judy dream of horses?  To retrieve her lost winsomeness?  To distract her inimical internal dialogue with a conversation with an animal?  To express her suppressed temerity?  Dreams of homes allow me to open doors that I did not know exist.  I open them to find secrets behind incandescent lights, smiling facades, straightened hair, and blue-lit white walls.  

There exists a home with life in the ceilings.  Three stories, too many fantasies, and one singular tale that pervades every dream that I dream.  I crawl in the ceilings of this home to escape the horror that unfolds between them.  In the ceiling I feel safe.  To separate myself from what is happening below, I am safe.  Yet, I am uninvolved.  I crawl from room to room and onward to new homes.  

Zugunruhe

Today my mind is in Germany, lasting an entire day without letting one word leave my lips.  I am talking and talking and talking to myself, but there is no one receiving.  I am walking and walking and walking with myself, and there is no one beside me.  I am lonely, but I am whole.  The train is my vessel to the city and to the outside world.  Forty minutes on my bike to get there.  Always passing the same farm, but never in the same way.  One day there is wheat, the next daisies.  I wonder about where daisies have bloomed back home.  I wonder where home is.  I wonder where I am.  I wonder if I will ever need anyone ever again.  I am lonely, but I am whole.  Today I have said words but spoken to no one.  I keep having the feeling as though I am about to leave.

things I'd rather not do alone

1. create memories associated with songs

2. cook for two

3. wake up on sunday and feel the romance of the sun rays on my wall

4. purchase plants and flowers/possibly hang some to dry

5. dissect my anxiety

6. learn how to manage my anxiety/hair pulling

7. live

8. go to the movie theater

9. understand my favorite quotes from Tom Robbins novels

10. roller skate

11. love

somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else

Assateague Island

Assateague Island might be a place to see stars unobstructed.  My shortness of breath might take me there sooner than I expected.  I'm alone, and the walls are closing in.  Still, my lungs are stronger than yours.  I breathe, and I see stars.  Can't keep food down.  Have to keep my voice down.  You're buried underground, and Assateague is disappearing.  Somewhere, there is an island, and someday, there will just be stars.