Short icelandic story.

velkominn í hús mitt - welcome to my house

Húsið mitt er við ána. - my house is by the river

það er eitt við hliðina á birki tré. - it is the one next to the birch tree.

When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground, Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm, I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could play alone. One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. -robert frost

{veðrið orðinn óþolandi frá seint - the weather has become intolerable as of late

{{Afsakið mig, leyfa mér að þrífa þetta sóðaskapur - excuse me, allow me to clean this mess

Ef ég er í burtu, bíddu í hjólastóla - If I am away, wait in the barn

{ Komdu fyrir nóttina og við getum skiptast ferða sögur fyrir svefn - Come before the night and we can exchange travel stories before bedtime

Dear Scott #19

Dear Scott,
This picture looks like you.

-regards, Rachel

Imaginary Therapist

IT: Hello there, Rachel. How are you doing today?

R: Doing well.
IT: I really admire how you use the proper term "well" rather than "good" when answering my inquiry.
R: No problem. How are you imaginary therapist?
IT: I am doing well, thank you for asking. (pause) So why are we here today?
R: Maybe it's that I am working all day today. Maybe it is the impending reality that I am going to have, once again, nearly 23 days of non-working to look forward too - making me a little desperate and a little looked over. I am upset, and suddenly I am shifting gears. I thought everything was going to be okay, but it's not. Once again I have to struggle and this time in the winter. This time near Christmas.
IT: Are you saying you are upset because you won't be having enough money?
R: Yes! It's impossible! I just feel like I can't find the right place for me - I can't be settled and have things just work, I don't want to be an adult! (cries a little)
IT: (passes tissues) You sound like you are becoming regressive.
R: I am becoming regressive! My car broke down yesterday and my friend Erin helped and my Dad had all this advice and everything but what if my car breaks down?! How will I get to work? How will I go grocery shopping for work? How will I do anything? And I don't want to rely on anyone, because adults don't do that! They can take care of themselves.
IT: Okay, Rachel. You are getting a little shrill. Take a deep breath.
R: (takes deep breath)
IT: You know it's going to be alright.
R: I know (still upset). But it won't be alright. I feel like I can't talk to anyone without sounding like all those other people who whine to me about not having enough money. I hate hearing about how "broke" everyone is. We have such a high standard of living in this country, "broke" is such a pathetic nonexistent reality most of the time. I hate when people whine about being broke because they aren't broke! They have a nice car and a warm house. They have a good credit score and people to rely on and blah blah blah.
IT: Not to lecture you, Rachel, but you shouldn't act around what you don't like other people doing.
R: But it's true! There are so many people in my life that claim they have nothing when they have so much more than I do, they have things to rely on.
IT: Perhaps these people are having it hard, like you are. They are struggling with their own levels of financial strain. Regardless of someones current position they very could very well have the fortune of falling down a fiscal notch, and this is hard for most people to bear. Even you could fall down a economic notch.
R: Really? How much worse could it get than living in the least expensive apartment in Bend, driving a car I own that is about to crap out on me, and living pay check to pay check?
IT: It could be worse.
R: ... I feel really ashamed telling you all that. About my finances. It actually is embarrassing to me...
IT: I know. That's why you have me. An imaginary therapist and not a real one.
R: Right...
IT: Do you feel better talking a little about your money situation.
R: Not really. It's just embarrassing and I am ashamed I became specific.
IT: Do you want to talk about that shame?
R: It's only because I don't like sounding off like everyone else and getting so personal. ...
IT: Let's get realistic. You know how to lose weight? It's obvious. Eat less. Exercise more. You know how to save money - Spend less. Work more. Challenge yourself to spend a whole week without spending any money. Think: where can you make cuts? Is dumpster diving a viable option for Christmas gifts this year? Can you assemble things or steal things to pad you Christmas gifts?
R: How did you know Christmas weighed so heavily on my stress?
IT: Sadly, it does for everyone.
R: Why is that? It sucks.
IT: I know it does, but it's because people want the best for each other. The thing we give the most on Christmas is a state of comfort and a peace of mind. We give one another a finanical strain rather than something worthwhile.
R: Yeah... But my family isn't struggling so it's not fair that for the past 2 years I don't get them much. And I don't do enough. Adding to the shame I feel that I am the least successful member of my family and that whenever I need something from them I always feel their judgment. My dad lectures me whenever I talk finances and I feel they look down on me the same way I look at people who constantly talk about being "broke." (begins to become upset) I feel like a child who can't get it together. My mom always wants me to break down my spending and income and I hate doing that because she looks at it and tells me it doesn't make any sense why I live paycheck to paycheck. And my dad thinks he has all the answers. And I remember this time when I was unemployed and my sister went shopping and bought everything she wanted and I couldn't buy anything because I had fifty dollars in my bank account and it wasn't even mine. I feel like they don't understand and it makes me think that I don't even understand myself and why I am the way I am.
IT: You think you are destined to be poor. Like you are stuck in a perma-mind set where you will always live without the ability to generate money. (And I am not going to give you that crap about the state of being poor is "all in your head," and true "wealth" is spiritual and emotional. I know what you mean and it's strictly money. You feel you don't have money you don't have control.)
R: My dad always make these comments about my mom's family in Vegas, like they live this horrible low life. I feel living like that it is in my blood and I can't avoid it. I am a LEE therefore I am frugal forever looking for shoddy goods to fluff up hoping others won't realize I am poor. These comments and the view as my family as not making it have absorbed into my vision of who I am. It makes me feel like I am not in control. Like I am destined to have this life. I want to be rich! I want to have a car where when it breaks down I can call someone and yell at them because it's under warranty! I want to have a big luxurious house which is always warm with studio lighting and big high ceilings that make my heating bill unsustainibly high. No, I don't want any of these things. I don't know what I want.
IT: You just want the kind of inner power a person with money has.
R: Yeah, but what is that?
IT: In my opinion, it's something that doesn't exist. Well, it kind of exists. People will always call to yell at someone when they think they have been taken advantage of but this actually exposes their lack of power.
R: No, it doesn't.
IT: Yes, it does. You see, a person who really feels they have control of the situation, who is really powerful is the person who can logically call a tow truck and a mechanic and get things fixed. They don't need to yell. They yell because they imagine someone out their in the imaginary world has called them less than what they believe they are worth. These people know they are worth nothing, they know they are nothing but hot air and a massive debt. They know the personality empire they built around themselves, for themselves, and probably without deserving on the backs of people who likely will not see a reward - is just a fragile as the brittle pipe dream the very success is based on.
R: You sound bitter.
IT: This isn't about me.
R: ... rich people aren't bad. They suck, they are ruining the earth. But, excuses must be made. It's not all their fault. I just confessed an ardent wish to be wealthy because I want everything in my life to be working/functional, easy, and then I don't have to rely on anyone, can also get my family Christmas presents, and don't have to feel the stress of my fathers imaginary judgement.
IT: Do you want to say something in regards to your father?
R: Yes. My Mom and I were talking the other day. I was lamenting how his harsh and unrelenting judgment of myself and everything around himself affected me and she became upset. She told me that he is a hypocrite. She cleared things up for me. My Dad is a hypocrite. He isn't any better than all the people and things he casts down. That's the truth.
IT: Did that help you better gain perspective on your own self-consciousness with not feeling you make enough money?
R: Yeah, I felt like crying. It was a real catharsis. It was also nice to hear my mom speak up with a lot of emotion - emotion that was clear. It wasn't that speaking ill of Dad, it was constructive to my relationship with him, breaking down his continuing ability to hurt me psyschologically...
IT: I will ask you not to use that kind of language when discussing your feelings. Keep yourself from probing and finding reasons, allow me to be your psychologist, don't be your own psychologist.
What you're saying is talking to your mom about your dad was helpful for you. It made real the feelings of inferiority and your mom was able to keep in control by invalidating his judgments.
R: Yes. Okay, I have to go now. Sorry. I just looked up my old High School social studies eacher Mr. Udesen online and he is doing very well and it made me really happy. I think I am doing much better, thank you.

IT: I will let you go with a smatter of homework: make a plan for the next four weeks. A good spending plan. Now is the time for you to be as organized as ever but do not be stressed out. Keep a mantra of: I am here and I am okay. In any situation apply this. Remember, you are only walking distance from whereever you are. It takes less than an hour to get anywhere in Bend - if your car breaks down be prepared. Wear lots of clothes, pay your electric, gas, an phone bill then brace yourself to not spend anymore. Keep you phone battery recharged. Figure things out on your own. Do not ask your dad, you need to distance yourself from him right now letting these things reprocess. Plus, he's in the mood to control things immediately. That is hurting you right now so don't let it happen. Find a safe place to warm. Drink wine. Let go. Be with Erin. When you are stressed find a safe place in your head to rest awhile. Let than safe place be a hot spring where you will certainly visit in the weeks to come. Weeks of vacation. Find things that are free. Stay warm.
R: Thanks, see you next time.

My first Saturday off in two weeks.

Took a nap today. Just like an old man I stretched out in the recliner with a blanket next to the window in the middle of the day.

The only element missing was the television reeling a Judge Judy rerun.

When I woke up it was dark and I had nothing to show for myself for the day. Still don't.

Earlier today, Kevin & walked along the side of the Christmas parade that snaked it's way down Newport and Harmon. I forgot parades. A band was playing - frozen fingers on brass instruments but the colors of the uniforms were so sharp and clean. People waves as Kevin and I looked on smiling.

"We should get in a line," a camo clad woman suggested to an ROTC gaggle; teenagers, kids and such.

"Not the authority of a drill sergeant," Kevin comments as we pass.

Santa rides by. His speakers are turned up really loud. They crackle, making him sound somewhat possessed. My eyes glaze over, a hige grin on my face.

I LOVE SANTA.

"Maybe their going for a techno, Santa this year," says Kevin as we pass.

After we broke fast at Westside Bakery I clutched him in my arms. Something he said made me laugh.

I remember actually.

A bike shop display read, "Come in a check out our kids bikes," and Kevin imagined us going inside to see them and having the store owner bring out his childrens bike.

"This one is Michael's. Micheal, tell the nice people about your bike," and Michael would groan and tell us about the gears and axles.

"It's a Huffy," I imagined imaginary kid Michael saying.

 It was on Columbia. I love Kevin. He's just my favorite fucking person.

I need to be nicer to him.

Right now I have the post nap gripes. I need to shower, or something.

Instead I am going to a gathering.

100 Things.

1. Learn how to sing well (or at least decent)
2. Play the guitar on the street corner.
3. Drink wine with Adam Gnade on an old couch on the rooftop of a squatter house during a new moon and light bottle rockets.
4. Go to Burning Man.
5. Get a tattoo of "So it's Goes" on the birthday of Kurt Vonnegut with Heather and "This too shall pass.
6. Go on tour with Larry and His Flask in Canada and write a travel log/comic book during the experience.
7. Make my own dress (and have it be nice enough to wear all the time).  
8. Grow a vegetable and herb garden.  
9. Feel like I am truly at home
10. Live in a tree fort in the Redwood Forest.
11. Dance in a street performing dance team or be part of a mob dance.
12. Go on a road trip with my little brother.
13. Have a limousine pick up my grandma and whole family and take us to the Old Spaghetti Factory.
14. Own my own little craft shop.
15. Have my art hung in a gallery and have an artist reception with wine and cheese.
16. Work in my own studio.
17. Host an amazing themed party like Amy Sedaris does where no one brings a 12 pack.
18. Sing and play on the guitar, "Hall Filled Up Like a Lake" by Liz Pappademas to baby Dahlia.
19. Experience true peace of mind.
20. Go camping with my Dad.
21. Kick my addiction to salt.
22. Take yoga regularly.
23. Discover Northern Oregon on foot.
24. Speak French decently.
25. Go to Art School.
26. Visit Sarajevo, Bosnia.
27. Create something I am unquestionably proud of.
28. Do a project of some kind with Nicole Georges.
29. Finish the installation piece with Mike Chastain (if he would only contact me...)
30. Through a psychic, speak with Jay Rowan about how he is doing and what he needs all of us in the world to do to make the world as if he never left.
31. Interview JD Salinger.
32. Produce a radio documentary like they have on This American Life or Destination DIY.
33. Create a "peace center."
34. Be cool enough to be interviewed by Terry Gross.
35. Have my artwork hung at Townshend's Tea.
36. Hang out with Randi Hobbs.
37. Visit the South and stay for an extended time with a family.
38. Use Couchsurfers.net for travels.
39. Work on an organic farm for the World Wide Opportunities for Organic Farms.  
40. Be ok with crying at Disney films and showing my sensitivity.
41. Cure myself of peeing while running.
42. Always be flexible.
43. Go a year without gossiping.
44. Have a wedding.
45. Do something illegal and get arrested for something that benefit of animals or the enviroment.
46. Ride my bike across the country.
47. Roundhouse kick someone in the face.
48. Work at a record store.
49. Makeout with someone from Ireland.
50. Go to a strip club.
51. Be totally comfortable with sex.
52. Go to therapy.
53. Winter camping with Kevin.
54. Have coffee with Rider Strong.
55. Give away everything I own.
56. Tell someone off for a good reason.
57. Paint a mural.
58. Meet a stranger and for some reason or another end up at their house and fall asleep in their bed and be able to experience their life and fully indulge in it without shame or embarrassment.
59. Let someone take care of me for once and feel totally ok with that.
60. Grow old gracefully.
61. Have my place of living be exactly the way I want it (architecturally, colors, furniture, everything, perfect).
62. Know for sure if this world will be around in twenty years and based on that knowledge consider whether or not to have kids.
63. (groan) Go to school and get a degree in an art field.
64. Live in Portland.
65. Be in the instigator of an international zine exchange/swap regarding the daily activities of one certain week. Have everyone write theirs and send them abroad!
66. Have a mass shrine making for Dio De Los Muertos where a mob gets together donating a bunch of knick knack craft scraps and everyone makes a small shrine to honor someone who died. Then display the shrines in a public place with candles burning for every one.  
67. Create a real homepage on Dreamweaver (learn Dreamweaver).
68. Learn how to operate Illustrator.
69. Own a really nice camera and take millions of pictures with it.
70. Grow & make my own tea.
71. Do something with my sister.
72. Host an underground dinner (Episode 12).
73. Host a Sunday morning This American Life listening Breakfast party.
74. Live in a commune.
75. Make money doing what I like.
76. Work in a (real) café.
77. Grow long hair.
78. Be a part of a performance art piece. 
79. Visit Nevenka in Chile. 
80. Go on a train ride across the United States during Autumn. 
81. Brew my own beer. 
82. Be a part of a child's life from beginning until (my) end. 
83. Lay in a field by myself and watch a solar eclipse.
84. Contribute my skills to benefit the Fat Revolution and the Queer Movement. 
85. Never skydive or bungie jump.
86. Be a core volunteer at the Portland Zine Smposium and host a workshop.
87. Legally hyphenate my mothers maiden into my last name.
88. Write a children's book.
89. Do a tarot card or palm reading for someone famous.
90. Go to an opera again with my grandfather. 
91. Embellish furniture & clothing.
92. Join a knitting group.
93. Stay at a Bed & Breakfast in wine country.
94. Get a back rub by Gerard Butler.
95. Acquire breast implants (not really - I'm just running out of things to write).
96. Make my own FOUND magazine.
97. Write a cook book.
98. Arrange it so the Imperial March is played at my funeral.
99. Own a nice cat that I find at Humane Society or simply find and have it live a very long time just like Snowball.
100. Celebrate St. Patricks Day in Boston.

Dear Scott #18

Dear Scott,

Sorry I haven't written in awhile.

I was looking at colleges online the other day - looking at finanical aid options, comparing graphic art programs for different schools in Oregon, assessing costs of tuition, assessing professor skills and the seriousness of the programs.

I looked at Reed, Pacfic NW College of Art, Portland Community, COCC, Lewis & Clark.

I want to go to school because I want to know how to work Illustrator and have the ability to take my medium of illustration to a marketable level.

But I just can't, Scott and you know why?

I just can't imagine sitting on my ass for eight to ten fucking hours a day listening to someone talk, or in front of a computer or at a desk just reading. Sitting on my ass all day destroying my dream of doing something amazing and doing something so boring and being instituinalized and all that goddamn phony bullshit.

Of course I looked at the awesome Reed package concept where learning is something almost Montessorian but Christ Almighty, Scott! You have to read all day and write long papers and you have to be a goddamn genius to go to that school!

People like us - the man is always putting down. I mean, you! How can you sit on your ass for eight years learning how to be a doctor. It's bullshit!

I already ruin the creative process by forcing myself to give birth to my zine four times a year. All the editting and detail oriented this and that when I just want to experience my own life instead of write about it!

This zine takes so long and it is so hard to put together... I have to try and draw so well... nobody even cares.

Sorry - I don't like pitying myself. Pity Party.

Shabop Shalom --- Devendra Banhart

Kevin once got me out of rut by giving me a PBR