Niki de Saint Phalle

Married at eighteen, mother at twenty-one, and terror of the art world.

Favorite dream of mine.

I dreamt I was a young, fierce orphan girl, flat chested and wiry. My best friend and my intended was a fellow orphan. He would hold me to him when he laughed, great lungs booming around me. We tormented our ancient city.

Playing one day on the sandy edges of the town, we found a book with a map and an corroded navigation tool made of bronze. We set out to find the treasure it described, although we could not read or use the tool. We just knew that was the proper response.

We went deep into the deserts. The deserts were shaded every hue, and as the sand moved dunes took on new colors. We were awed by the beauty, and although we were about to die of thirst, our eyes praised the world. Holding dirty hands, browned and naked skinny, wonder eyes.

We collapsed. Desert gypsy's found us and a large woman who had lost a daughter took me from him. They left him.

I was convalescent, planning murder, covered in beautiful colored blankets. Wakeful in a tent, with lights shining on the fabric, I saw his shadow creeping along the edge. His knife came up and cut open the tent cloth and he stepped in.

Overjoyed escape into the desert.

Hedgehog in the Fog

A La Belle Poule

I was unable to find the hairstyles that represent the solar system or commemorate the first vaccine, but the internet assures me that they did exist.

Interesting Trip

""There's a whole bunch of entities waiting on the other side, saying "How wonderful that you're here! You come so rarely! We're so delighted to see you!"

They're like jewelled self-dribbling basketballs and there are many of them and they come pounding toward you and they will stop in front of you and vibrate, but then they do a very disconcerting thing, which is they jump into your body and then they jump back out again and the whole thing is going on in a high-speed mode where you're being presented with thousands of details per second and you can't get a hold on [them ...] and these things are saying "Don't give in to astonishment", which is exactly what you want to do. You want to go nuts with how crazy this is, and they say "Don't do that. Pay attention to what we're doing".

What they're doing is making objects with their voices, singing structures into existence. They offer things to you, saying "Look at this! Look at this!" and as your attention goes towards these objects you realise that what you're being shown is impossible. It's not simply intricate, beautiful and hard to manufacture, it's impossible to make these things. The nearest analogy would be the Fabergé eggs, but these things are like the toys that are scattered around the nursery inside a U.F.O., celestial toys, and the toys themselves appear to be somehow alive and can sing other objects into existence, so what's happening is this proliferation of elf gifts, which are moving around singing, and they are saying "Do what we are doing" and they are very insistent, and they say "Do it! Do it! Do it!" and you feel like a bubble inside your body beginning to move up toward your mouth, and when it comes out it isn't sound, it's vision. You discover that you can pump "stuff" out of your mouth by singing, and they're urging you to do this. They say "That's it! That's it! Keep doing it!".

We're now at minute 4.5 [of the trip] and you speak in a kind of glossolalia. There is a spontaneous outpouring of syntax unaccompanied by what is normally called "meaning". After a minute or so of this the whole thing begins to collapse in on itself and they begin to physically move away from you. Usually their final shot is that they wave goodbye and say "Deja vu! Deja vu!"."" -McKenna

Plants

Home

Inevitable.

Tonight, sitting square between my mother and my best friend, retelling the story of my aunt who became a sort of intellectual Marilyn Monroe. The blond hair and roots, button down shirts, leather bound books and leather bound chairs, with a pipe between her Chanel lipsticked lips. I realized that I am headed on a short course toward that approximate spot, with the addition of eventual parthenogenesis.

After all this time, what should have been said:

We should have wanted to skip to the last page- and throw down the book. We shouldn't have felt we could trust the future as we did. We were in no hurry because we knew we shouldn't get tired; and when two people feel that about each other they must live together- or part. I don't see what else than can do.

Border Trilogy

"He thought that in the beauty of the world were hid a secret. He thought that the world’s heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world’s pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower."

Edo Monsters

http://bibliodyssey.blogspot.com/2009/03/edo-monsters.html

I am very, truly excited by these.

End piece of the poem

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                              For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                              Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                              For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

And of course, repetition is everything my heart says. And my heart says throw anything away that you procrastinate on. I am saying yes yes yes and no no no, and calling my sister in the early morning to tell her about my garlic throwing itself out of potting soil like heaven bound souls or the mighty bamboo.

Conversation on completing taxes

I call my father to tell him my amusement at reporting the 44 cents I received from Walmart stock this year, my amusement at owning any Walmart stock whatsoever. Stock still under custody of my father, and I am twenty-five.

I remind him that he gave me a gun for my sixteenth birthday.

He tells me that he has planted a garden. I exclaim, oh, your liberty garden! He tells me that he has hired a landscaper to plant a garden for him, and a plumber to create an automated sprinkler system.

Quothe he: I cannot possibly mess this up.
Quothe he: I just want to muck around in it.

He says that he is trapping raccoons all week, and freeing them far away from his liberty garden. I ask him, do you expect to catch them all?
He says, enough.

He had thirty people over for brunch this morning and he made grits: Not cheese grits, but brie grits.

Purple Fingers

I'm tie-dying a lacy floral dress tonight, but I really just want to dye easter eggs.