Thurday 8th (day 5)

On the porch in the sun I am putting the last layer of black spray paint when Lucas comes over to talk. My three-year-old neighbor friend asks what I am doing which I explain. When he asks me how is my white cat I tell him she died a few weeks ago.
"Where did she die?"
"I found her under the porch one day after she didn't come home."
"Is she in heaven?"
"I think so, but it depends on what you believe. What do you think?"
"I think she is in heaven. My dog is heaven."
Lucas is a genius. I was relived to talk to him about her. His dad, my neighbor Rich gave me a hug the night after she died, when I was still unable to feel anything. I am still waiting for the descent into the the reality of what has happened. dancing on the surface of that lately...
More photoshoots.

• Camalli Books (best actor, actress, supporting actor, and supporting actress) We use ourselves as the models which pleases me because they more you get non-modelesque people in photos the better the world will be, the more accurately will we see beauty. (Also: shoot for best screenplay with typewriter shots)
  

Ate at Parilla which was so so, too much for not a full stomach but everyone seemed satisfied. (I have a very indifferent relationship with Parilla) $2 tallboy PBR.

• High Tides (quick shoot of inside of kitchen - the theme has evolved from a concept I call "Inside, Underside" where everything photographed is some kind of inside secret part of Bend. Articles not obvious and unsually unseen. A backstage look)
• Brad's house (best musical score - big ancient piano shoot)
• Bendfilm Hub (editing of photos, I drew frames for the awards)

 Discovery on the page found on Terri's desk. Skim the name Rider Strong and my heart beats heavy. Rider Strong is a huge crush of mine since I was thirteen: dreamy oily haired troubled child Shawn from Boy Meets World. Within the last month I had an afternoon of cyberstalking him. OMG. Rider Strong in Bend. OMG. Leave the Hub at 1:00 or 2:00am.

Wednesday 7th (day 4)

A lovely local artist working with Nancy P's dropped off a donation of baked goods this morning at work. I bagged them up to send to the families and was able to thank Nancy personally before I met Jonathan at Backporch.
Jonathan and I discussed our artisic vision for the photography project that makes up the ceritificates for Bendfilm. We came to a conclusion on an artistic concept emulating the "trash" side of Bend rather than the traditional spots. For the student award we intended to go to Summit High and have a trash photoshoot for the award. This didn't work out so well and respective staff seemed uncomfortable with our presence.
Photo shoots include:

• Devore's compot pile
  
• Newport trash & bottle redeeming room
• Nancy P's trash
• Pakit

Intermission: Ate at SPORK (extraordinary bean sprout green curry) a restaurant trailer and ate at Jonathans. Met Old Man Cat (pic). Went home to apply another layer of spray paint and covered my hands in paint. Put on mittens to hide dirty hands, mittens become stuck because of the sprays sealer.
Photo shoot continues:

• Farmer's Market

Stopped at Jason Grahams to borrow masks for Actor/Actress/Supporting Shoot which we decided would be male/females holding the award in masks. While Jason did have a lovely assortment I couldn't find on that fit the theme.

• Fred Meyer's (mask hunting)
  
• Goodwill (mask hunting)
• South Timber's (saw dear friend with Michelle with her Hawaiian necklaces) (Best of Northwest theme)
• Bendfilm Hub (photo uploading and decompressing)
• M & J (best musical score shoot)
• Silver Moon (same as above) (picutures are too dark)
  

Kama Sutra for hands, make yr own zine

MyDad once told me he thought he was dyslexic. Dyslexia being the kind of visual scrambling occuring when one is reading and just can't seem to put the words on the page. Dyslexics have difficulty reading because their brain takes an egg beater to the words, they can't read in order. 

I kind of think I am dyslexic, kind of how I think I am also autistic. This is to say I relate to some of the symptoms but likely do not possess the actual disorder.

The handwash sign was not telling me wash my hands, it was telling me what to do on a first date without putting out too much. It was telling me the secret handshake of the World Health Organization.

So. I took their pictures and added my words. 

 

1. Okay dear friends, this is actually a mini comic. If you would like a physical one please get in contact or you cane print out and make one from the link RIGHT NOW.

2. Adjust the size when you print it out to make it as big as you can for an 8.5 by 11 without accidentally cropping. It will probably be smaller so you might have to cut it out. Whatev.

 3. Then watch this video which will tell you how to get the mini comic from the piece of paper (the music is lovely & helpful!) 

Tuesday 6th (day 3)

Little girl at work with the Celeste-like eyes and mousy hair kept asking me something I couldn't decipher through her 2-year-old articulation and to be honest I'm not a good guesser.
"Cut" the Taylor-Swift-resembling volunteer told me when i asked her to intepret. "She wants you to 'cut' her pasta." So I did. Then I found a geriatric fly in my kitchen, named him Finn,(pic)  and had to set him outside because of threats against his life.
The rest of the day was complicated.
Trophy making. (pic) Erin, my interior designer turned Americorp volunteer friend sought out those porcelain figures your grandmother hoards of children on benches with dogs, whimsical women in sweeping dresses, Norman Rockwell Limited Edition figurines. There were the basis of our trophies.

• dollar tree
• goodwill
• joannas
• goodwill (comic)
• home
• michaels
• home depot

Made dinner; salad and pesto with pumpkin (a staple this fall) then spray painted on the porch in the dying daylight 17 figurines and stained the wood bases a dark brown (jojoba).
(comic: Erin pointing out Settlers, "You play Settlers?")
 Erica picked me up a bit later to watch the Hangover at McMenamins. When the room was too packed and the only place to sit was far right front row we decided something else needed to be done.
Went to see Kevin at High Tides and get smoked salmon chowda (the best the best the best) we watched Sex & the City until both of us were to disgusted to be women anymore.
"There women are morons. The show tries to sell them as smart but they aren't real. There is never any chemistry between them or the men they date."
When Erica went home I drank too much, tried to write and ended up throwing my typewriter across the room and breaking a picture frame in vehement expression of stress and anger, a feeling occuring with greater frequency these days.
Kevin came home to me finishing up a pen-pal letter with the theme "ANGRY LETTERS ... SENT!" in which I wrote to my ex ("yes, I am drunk," I wrote in the first line, "you used to tell me I was disgusting when I was drunk") and we walked to the nearest post office box.
"Give me a cigarette."

Monday 5th (2)

Woke up to a lady gaga dream I don't think I'll ever be able to shake.
(comic here)
At work I fed the kids, bagged up the chili, labeled them and sent them off with it to their homes.
People kept coming into the kitchen complaining the soda they want is not in the building refrigerator. I gently remind them they can write their preferences on the "suggestion" post. They tell me they don't like soda anyways, they just expected to see diet squirt or Sam's Choice watermelon punch which is quite common. 
Picked up the epic looking Bendfilm trophy at the Hub office on Iriving with Erin. Tomorrow we get the ball rolling with trophy making for Bendfilm winners.
Artistic concept: photograph Mr. Bendfilm in locations unique to Bend that surreptitiously depict the theme.
(to still be developed) Project still in the making. Day 1.
At home I intended to work but picked up on a reoccuring theme and wrote a letter to my pen pals through swap-bot. When hungry Kevin and I competed in the kitchen for counter and stove space making food and messes until we settled back into the routine of me, working and him, reading.
Watched 12 monkies.
Late night bundle up walking downtown a homeless man is sitting on the sidewalk. Kevin chastens me when I cross the street.

Sunday 4th (day 1)

The heat doesn't turn on and the clock on the stove in dark. Snow on the ground so I guess the power is out. Tonight we were making chili and it seems to appropriote. Erica (younger sister) sends me a text: come see me im sick so I do and expect and even want for us to just sit a second and do nothing but when i get there she is ready to go thrifting.
"It's sunday,"
I say and spoil everyones plans.
At the grocery store shopping for my job, shopping for the chili fixings we need to make the chili we (we meaning Kevin & i) are making tonight Bernadette is there with kacey.
"We are also making chili," Bernadette says. A sunday afternoon socializing with helter-skelter weather feels cumbersome, mouthfuls of less than small talk we make the small ceremony of acquaintances and move on.
"I hate the way people talk about the weather," Kevin comments in the car in the middle of a conversation about the relativity of Type A & B personalities (we are varying shades of grey, we both agree).
We perform hokey monologues.
"Golly! Only in Bend is there snow in October!"
"If the weather is weird, you know yer in Bend!"
Kevin believes anywhere someone lives they always think their weather is spectacular. Special. Like there's is the only weather that is unpredictable.
After a stint at Costco we are in the kitchen I find myself working 6 out of 7 days a week being irritable to one another, listening to radio, crying over onions, stirring beans & tomatoes & meat & garlic & roasting spicy white peppers and peeling back the skins. While the chili turned and rolled inside the pot we watch half of the Shadowless Sword (a kung-fu film). Then, putting our shoes back on we put the chili the refridgerator, cleaned up our mess and drove home to Jeremy Peterson's In House.

Soliloquy of a Solipsist

A poem about myself without using the first person pronoun

Things have felt misplaced lately
a stranger walks in a familiar house

troubles are found in the most comfortable places
--- - sitting prisiscley and uncomfotable is recommend

because home hasn't felt like home since mom and dad
though the lover that shares the bed, the couch, the stove, the coat rack, the lamps, the laundry detergent, the financial concerns, the midnight suppers, the back porch, the late dark times and the early dark times(not the french press or shoes)
but the cat died last week and the litter box hasn't been cleaned.
This place has no curtains (dyed during asummer) because they were torn down last winter
too much yellow
and the carpet is gone
given away
so many things piled up in the car so arms can swing freely

two people in my life have epilepsy
they are both gemini
if this means anything to you

seen both of them disappeer for several uncomnfortable minutes

my house is in them
so there is worry.

they say
home is where the whisley is
but whiskey is nothing without the christmas lights and candles
or the converation
or the radio
but still with all this home      -- alludes
and bruises show up on hips and knees
a bull in a china shop

People say, older people say
"at one time it didn't feel there was a place for me in the world, then it happened."
So there's hope.

Bedtime is on the couch because he reads late
going to bed alone is unbearable
during snowy days the night time bedroom window is opened
breathing snowflakes helps winter go by easier(faster)

not once this fall have the apples been picked
and shaved and cut and toppled into my glass bowl with
sugar and cinnamon
nothing like a pie in the oven makes one feel home

the sudden curse (coarsness) of too much change all at once
things are lost
(but there isn't as much dust under the carpet is there my dear?)
the green book got at the library is not in the same place
and my notebook is has simply vanished
and the memory isn't so good for things specific.

There is a Sylvia Plath poem which goes through my head on vol du nuit
Soliliquy of Solipsist
which makes things unreal
and undoes the street before my very eyes
yet quite positivly, though there is no god, truly none,
it must all be as it seems.