Real art! (ish)

So since last post, I have been bizarrely productive. I have about 5 spreads to show you and I've done huge amounts of cleaning, yard work, and other things. Also, tonight Mike came over and toweled so I got to do some fire, which was glorious. I haven't spun since September, and I missed it dreadfully. Basically, everything in my life is either rapidly moving towards complete awesomeness or settled comfortably enough. I am stupidly happy. It's kinda freaking me out.

Anyway, art time.

So last time I posted what was intended to be piece 1 of 3 (This is a Fire Door Never Leave Open).

(Our letters sound the same- full of all our changing that isn't change at all- All straight lines circle sometime)

Originally, I didn't realize or intend for them all to be Weakerthan's songs, or to be songs at all. But then the second one happened to be a Weakerthan's song too. So now I have finished all 3 and here they are.

Guy 2- Time's Arrow

(So you whisper your arrival walking backwards to the door wonder breifly what it is you're hesitating for)

And then, I wanted the third page to match up. So I needed to pick a Weakerthan's song for the remaining guy. My first inclination was The Reasons, but it's way too early to say I love you. Which is what that song means to me. So I ended up with My Favourite Chords, which I think is actually better.

(You are a radio. You are an open door. I am a faulty string of blue christmas lights. You swim through frequencies. You let that stranger in. As I'm blinking off and on and off again. We've got a lot of time- or maybe we don't. But I'd like to think so, so let me pretend.)

I've also bought Sheri Gaynor's book, Creative Awakenings and started working with that. So far I've decorated my cover- not according to the instructions. ;p

I've answered the starting questions

And done the first "EnVision Dreamtime" spread, which will continue to grow and change over the month. So I'll post it again at the end of the month.

And that's about all I'm up to.

More More Art Art

Life goes on as usual. My mom is in Jamaica this week, so I am queen of the house. Which should be more exciting than it is, as mostly, I've done the same things as if she were here (art, pretend to work on resumes, talk to George on Gchat all day).... I have actually made significant room cleaning progress, removing several metric tons of empty coke bottles/cans and locating huge swaths of floor as well as unpacking my spring/summer clothes. I am kinda freaked out by how clean my bathroom is at the moment.
Also, today is the last day of March... meaning today is the last day of the March Art Journal Challenge.

3/25- Words; 3/26- Photograph (Friedman refers to this as a myspace photo b/c I took it of myself)

3/27- Think; 3/28 "Ideas are like rabbits, you get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen."- John Steinbeck (Flavortext at the top says "Plot Bunnies"- there has been a large quantity of fanfic in my life this week. I blame George.)

3/29- Splatter; 3/30- Pencil & Gesso, Gesso & Pencil

3/31- One for the road; Bonus- not assigned, but I wanted to use both sides (OCD, me? Never) The End

Bonus Bonus- This Is A Fire Door Never Leave Open
(This is a terrible pic of a page that came out quite nicely. About/for one of the lovely gentlemen in my life (ha). If you can't guess who, you don't know me very well. Eventually, there will be 2 more of these... but as I am expecting Friedman in about 10 minutes, not today.)

Tomorrow I am going into the city to see George and attend a reading of Steve's play. Should be interesting. Then Friday, I'm off to the Met to see the Victorian Collage exhibit before it closes.

Old and sketchy

The mirrors and the unacknowledged nods.
Dial tones and license plates.
The words you didn't choose.
Everything the day's too small to hold spills on to the dusk,
and shorts the evening's fuse.
So you fumble for a voice and sing "Happy Birthday."
Read it to yourself again.
The stories always end the same.
He can't stay and she won't run,
and fear is where they're calling from.
Staunch the blood from countless tiny cuts.
We're all out of bandages.
The heaters rattle taunt.
Sifting through translucent shards of glass,
looking for a filament that lit the life you want.
So you stumble for the phone, grasp the cord and pull.
Will your readership complain the stories always end the same?
She can't stay and he won't run, and fear is where they're calling from.
Afraid is where you're calling from.


Weakerthans- Uncorrected Proofs


Another birthday. 23 years old. Nothing exciting to report. Sore from snowboarding. Black diamonds? My 6th snowboarding experience? What was I thinking? Trying to quit my job, making art, distension about party plans. The usual. 
As Vainglory said "Nobody likes me when I'm 23".... I never wanna act my age. What's my age again? What's my age again? 

Aside

Measure me in metered lines
And one decisive stare
The time it takes to get from here to there
My ribs that show through t-shirts
And these shoes I got for free
I'm unconsoled
I'm lonely
I am so much better than I used to be
Terrified of telephones
And shopping malls and knives
Drowning in the pools of other lives
Rely a bit too heavily
On alcohol and irony
Get clobbered on by courtesy
In love with love and lousy poetry
And I'm leaning on this broken fence
Between past and present tense
And I'm losing all those stupid games
That I swore I'd never play
But it almost feels okay

I'm taking a bartending class. I'm sure they all think I'm an alcoholic. Also, that I was one of those freaky spelling-bee kids. I'm doing a good job on the memorization, and the basic math. What can I say? There are only 3 of us, which means lots of practice. One of them (Cindy) is nervous as hell and the other (Jose?) is just bland. I, of course, cannot seem to shut up.
Because the universe thinks it's funny to taunt me Jose (I think that's his name- shows what a strong impression he's made) wants me to go out for a drink with him. He's not a bad looking guy, seems perfectly nice, but not interesting in any way.
Ok universe, I've stopped saying the problem was that no one is interested in me. But still you persist. That makes what, 6? Fmylife. I should ask Nina what she does with things like this or something.
At least the class is interesting. I feel like I could o this- you know get a JOB (gasp).

On a completely different note, I've finished the purse I was knitting. Once it's sewn up and lined, I'll post pics. I've started a hat.