Monday, September 19, 2011

a poem

Missed Connections

I liked your long post about no one missing you and would like to talk to you, yes I'm far away,
yes this is a little weird, but you seem a “kindred spirit”.

Every week I check this damn thing
to see if anyone in this city of millions
has missed me. What gives?
I ride the train no less than twice a day,
five or more days a week.
I'm pressed against some of you
in the commute.
Haven't any of you women missed me?

I go to the park.
I shop at places.
I walk around.
wear shoes.
I have ear phones.
I drink stuff.
Start missing me already, goddamnit.
I am very easy to miss.

Go to work after the weekend.
Try not to sweat in the sweltering
humidity of the subway.
No one misses a sweater.
Listen to music to drown
out the reality of being stuck
in the train with a million strangers;
avoid eye contact at all cost.
Bullshit about the weekend with the coworkers.
Get caught up on Craigs List.

Go to work.
Eat at one of same four places around work.
Walk around a little during lunch,
hoping to bump into someone new.
Trick my way home early.
Contact friends to make plans for the weekend.
Check Craigs List.

Go to work.
Spend most of lunch break wandering around trying
to find someplace new to eat.
Realize nothing of interest has been built since I checked last week.
End up eating at one of four usual places.
Try taking a different route home.

This time try to make eye contact with as many strangers
as I can.

Go to work.
Lunch hour I run errands,
return library material,
get money from the bank,
and call up friends to reconfirm plans.
In stores I walk up and down each aisle
to make doubly sure everyone has had a chance to miss me.
Get home and get frustrated.

Go to work.
Spend all day waiting for work to end.
Take smoking break.
Look for smokers to miss.
Get out of work.
Forget all about Craigs List.
Find friends.
See more strangers in one night
than rest of week combined.
Stumble home at ungodly hour.

Wake up at some point.
Roll over to the park.
Maybe check out a museum.
Try to look deep and lost in thought.
Feel envious of all the people missing others right before my eyes.
Try to forget or become crushed by laziness or the ennui of it all.
Look up ennui in dictionary.

Sunday: Fuck it. I'm sleeping in. I'm doing laundry. I'm ordering take-out. I'm not leaving the
damn house. You've had your chances all week. I'm taking a me day. I'm reading a book. And by
reading, I mean surfing the internet; whereas by book, I mean porn. Knock myself out with the
usual roofie-colada, wine + sleeping pill, so I can wake up in the morning and pack myself into
an overcrowded train to get to work and check Craigs List.

Fucking miss me already. I can't do this forever.


Monday, September 12, 2011

The Seamstress

this is for all the people who walk in to The Factory and ask me if
i'm the seamstress they have been hearing about. HA

a film by my Friend/roommate/road trip buddy
shot in our Brooklyn dwelling this past Fall 2010


a film one of my family members did about the BP oil spill.

WARNING it's really fucked up

Sunday, September 11, 2011

a few things i made

on sale at The Factory


totally awesome.

right now i am floating. i now work for Portland's coolest shop located on Alberta Street.

Here i sit sewing almost every day of the week, de-constucting then re-creating one of a kind fashions from pre-existing clothes. how perfect.

come in and check out what we are doing! every inch of the store is eco-friendly and super hip. duh. not only do we sell affordable vintage but I offer personal one on one design services. essentially it's funky, affordable, eco-conscious couture.

if you don't believe me read the articles about the shop and about my designs!

and theres more to come!

see you in the shop.



updates....==== a job. more like two.

one is better than the other -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
living with my home girlz M and S


It took me this long to write

new york-oregon
often we have to actually be in the situation to experience it and decide what to do. in that sense, living is the ultimate creative experience. we are often surprised and amazed by how strong we actually are, and we come away feeling that we have a lot of resourcefulness and will show strength of character that we never knew we had.

i chose not to post pictures of my travels, what i saw is what i saw.