Saturday, April 30, 2011


I was watching a film ("Coco avec Chanel") the other day. Chanel cuts her hair dramatically at one point, and someone says something to her along the lines of, "Ooh, watch out!: When a woman changes her hair, she changes her life." There's a lot of truth to that (though I don't think it's strictly limited to the fairer sex). Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about doing something along these lines, though a little more subtle, about half the area: 

...From When I was in India, I would see all these gorgeous women in their elegantly draped sarees with shaved heads, and thought every time how remarkable it looked. When I got back from India, I was emotionally devastated for about nine months, trying to reconcile my experience with my normal life. It took me a very long time to come out of that; just recently, to be honest. There was a period there when I thought very seriously about just going and applying to a Buddhist nunnery in a small town in Nepal, shaving my head, taking a vow of silence, renouncing creature comforts and the material world. While I've come to realize I don't want to take it to that extreme (just yet, anyway), there's a part of me that feels very at home with the idea. 
   Across cultures, head-shaving is an act of contrition, of sacrifice. I know it's a little bit of a trend at the moment, this hairstyle-- Alice Dellal, ya ya ya-- but I think, to me, it would have a meaning, something personal, a symbol of moving forward by giving something up, and acknowledging that in a tangible way. Perhaps I just want a pseudo-philosophical excuse to do something rash. Either way, I'm going for it.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

black milk of daybreak

Today I found a persimmon tree in the forest which had a perfectly triangular stone coming up out of the ground at its base and I took it as an omen and tried to meditate there, but it was raining and it just felt too dramatic. Heading to Philly on Friday for just one day for a top secret mission (fig) that I hope turns out well (water). (Picture above of a grow-your-own crystals kit; below, of one of the girls in the Cottingly fairies scam rocking a hairdo, and a dream-forest.)

I rediscovered this poem by Paul Celan today. Most poetry I find overly poetry-like, but this resonates with me because of the actual sounds of the words in my head/mouth. It lends itself to being chanted. I'm not trying to be all Alvy Singer dragging Annie to the depressing film-- I think if you take it apart from its reference to reality it has this dream-like quality, and that is what it is that I love. (Picture below of an illustration of Vasilisa the Beautiful at the hut of Baba Yaga by Ivan Bilibin. Cool torch she has there. In the story I think the skull talks to her.)

I don't mind if no one ever sees this or reads it, because really it's just another way for me to selfishly record moments for my future-self. I wonder what will happen to all the ephemera like this that gets put on the internet, what of it will get recorded for a while, and who will see it in the future, and what it will mean then. If you do come across this I hope the rest of your day/night is totally magik. (Pictures below of Pat McGee shreddin, and then some khipu, Incan knot-writing [which, like most ephemera, is indecipherable today].)


Sunday, April 10, 2011

many snakes

It's in the nineties here in good ol' Tennessee, and not even May yet. My friend Miri and her boyfriend Johnny came to visit for a couple days over the weekend. They had just come from South Africa, where they had been seeing Miri's family, and they brought back some Five Roses tea and Tennis biscuits, apparently staples there, as souvenirs. I just like the names.

There was a crazy yellow moon last night, and it was hot. We went on a trek through the woods to the Red River, where we went swimming and saw many snakes. (The camera got wet, but the moon was still in focus.)  I was able to use the old Red Cross flag I bought a few weeks ago as I intended to when I got it, as sort of a wrap in which to bundle up. 

Red sky at night: sailors delight. Red sky at morning: sailors take warning. I had a dream last night which I don't remember well, but I woke up sobbing. Let that be a warning not to fall asleep watching Gummo.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

mustard greens

Here is what I am feeling at the moment: 
 Mushroom hunting knife from Kiosk;
Amazing early 90's noise band t-shirt which I am fruitlessly trying to track down;
Emily Hope wearing something great, on the perfect quilt (all the pictures in her shoot are killer) from backyardbill;
 Detail of the monogram on a chemise from the late 1800s which I found on Etsy today, and bought, and am thinking of turning into a cropped top;
 Ilse Jacobsen rain boots from Lambs Ear Shoes;
This fellow's style is through the roof! From the Sartorialist.
I don't know: kelly green, off white, punk/dirty/worn/old, and workwear? Last month I was thinking red/fur. I bought a huge Red Cross flag made of linen from WWII to wear as a cape/wrap, a pair of red long underwear from the 1970s (with a dropseat!!) which, surprisingly, fit me perfectly and cost 16 bucks, and the shoes below, again from Lambs Ear (There is apparently no apostrophe in their store name, which gives my grammatical self a headache, but they are amazingly curated, so I guess it evens out).