in any other way ..

And I sometimes forget that not everyone heard the sound of engines rumbling low to the ground and then the sound of police sirens and fire engines running down the street, outside the window. Emergency, except this is New York, and it always is. And I sometimes forget that I didn’t hear it once, I heard it twice, those engines rumbling low over my head. And then the sound, an impact I had never heard until I heard it again, but I am inside and I am at my desk and I am answering emails and no one is in the office yet.

And I sometimes forget that not everyone was there when it happened. That they didn’t smell it for months coming out of the ground, throughout September and October wondering if it will ever stop because it feels like it is in your hair and in your skin and its not like anything you can describe because it doesn’t smell like anything you want to relive. And the smell lingers outside the house and outside the office and it’s much too close but it’s far away enough that I don’t have to breathe it except when I can see those clouds that come out of the manholes. And then I hold my breath like a little kid sitting in a car that is driving by the cemetery. It is a long minute.

And though it has been ten years I cannot go because it’s just too strange to act like it’s business as usual because there are some things that I don’t want to remember and I don’t want to forget. We did a book right after and raised money because it was the only thing we knew how to do and that felt like something, because you wanted to contribute. But I had to release myself so I gave away the book because I will not look at violence like it is art.

Only now it is odd. Because I peruse blogs for photos and I find these images of planes upon impact and buildings ablaze and people jumping and it has become an aesthetic to be consumed. It is but a photograph littered in between hundreds and thousands of photographs of teen angst and lust and drama and dreams.

And so it has become a photograph. And this makes me think. About what it is when reality becomes but a memory, a memento, a token of life lived compressed into two-dimensions. An image. A decorative thing. I wonder what happens when something is both sacred and profane, and its meaning changes as it intersects with those who will never know it in any other way.

splash me with stars

an artist says a hard thing in a simple way

often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman’s love,
no wealth
can
match it.

—Charles Bukowski,
Writing

lost illusion

Writing a novel
is for people who live in their heads
and must escape from the world
because the world is too intense.

take care of the luxuries

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays.
Clutch it, and it darts away.

His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets.

Most good women are hidden treasures who are only safe
because nobody looks for them.

Artwork by Diego Rivera
Quotes by Dorothy Parker

three sugars please ~

Art in the Age of Digital Reproduction

Also, since art is a vehicle for the transmission of ideas through form,
the reproduction of the form only reinforces the concept.
It is the idea that is being reproduced.
Anyone who understands the work of art owns it.
We all own the Mona Lisa.
—Sol LeWitt

famous last words

 As to pain, seriously, what of it?
You can spend your life avoiding it, only to die,
and well, believe me or not, you’ll be back (giggle)
and the conflict won’t resolve until you face the lie and own the truth
and the only way you can do this is to walk through the fire.
You can do it now, or you can do it in another lifetime.
I am not actually sure that it matters
because I am not sure I believe in time any longer.
But I do believe in love,
and I find that love has extraordinary powers.

inside you there’s an artist you don’t know about

be with those that help your being

Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.

Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.

A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
—Rumi

healing begins when you bare witness

yesterday, he told me
that the nightmares stopped
when he began to tell the story.

the rule of a lady

What is hidden from you I will proclaim to you.
—The Gospel of Mary Magdalene

apparently there is nothing that cannot happen today

Sea Cliff, San Francisco, Sunrise 6:57am, Photograph by Eric Cahan

Authorship is not a trade, it is an inspiration;
authorship does not keep an office, its habitation is all out under the sky,
and everywhere the winds are blowing and the sun is shining
and the creatures of God are free.
—Mark Twain

art is never finished, only abandoned

Learning never exhausts the mind.

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

Time stays long enough for anyone who will use it.

Artwork of & by Pablo Picasso.
Quotes by Leonardo da Vinci

today was a goood dayy