Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Final - Dear Dad
Monday, December 1, 2008
Work in progress..
01. What is happy memory you have that involves your father?
Being apart from my father for 32 years was hard for me but in 2005 I decided to move to Iowa to care for him. He was turning 100 that year.
02. What is sadder memory that involves him?
Not being close to him as a child. He was raised to work and care for the family and with very little interaction.
03. What is trait you admire in your father?
He is always positive, never negative even at 103. Always caring for others. Always happy.
04. What is a trait that frustrates you or comes between you two?
Not showing affection to mom or me. It has affected me in my relationship with my daughter and other family members and friends.
05. When was the last time you spoke and what was the general context/mood of the conversation?
I see him everyday and at age 103 some days are better than others. Some days like today he was very alert and could carry on a conversation without much difficulty.
06. What is something that has been left unsaid or difficult to say to him?
Everyone feel I should tell my dad is it OK to just let go and die. He seems to be waiting to make sure I’ll be ok. My husband passed about 3 years ago and I feel he wants to make sure I’m OK. I try to reassure him all the time but I just can’t say “dad it’s OK to go be with mom.”



01. What is happy memory you have that involves your father?
On Sundays we would go to the park (Central Park) with Mariah and her dad. It was always lots of fun.
02. What is sadder memory that involves him?
Seeing him deteriorate now – with dementia – specifically having to change his diapers.
03. What is trait you admire in your father?
Resourceful imagination – to overcome terrible life situations out of his control (i.e. his childhood).
04. What is a trait that frustrates you or comes between you two?
His inability to listen, to me or to others.
05. When was the last time you spoke and what was the general context/mood of the conversation?
2 days ago we spoke on the phone (October. 15) and the tone was very confused about where he was living…
06. What is something that has been left unsaid or difficult to say to him?
I would remind him during the period we didn’t get along I still understood he loved me and I loved him. Now I would want him to know we always love him through his illness


Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Artist Book
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Mark Manders
"Under a table you have the possibility to test your own absence. The realization that life is taking its course, even without you, is an intense human experience; it shows the finiteness of personality."
Monday, November 3, 2008
Observation Walk Writing Piece.
Reconstructed Narratives
Sylvie was about thirty-five, tall, and narrowly built.
Her raincoat was so shapeless and oversized that she must have found it on a bench.
Sylvie always walked with her head down, to one side, with an abstracted and considering expression, as if someone were speaking to her in a soft voice.
“It was nice with the lights off,” she suggested.
[Evening was her special time of day.]
Sylvie had no awareness of time.
I was content with Sylvie.
Such habits (she always slept clothed, at first with her shoes on, and then, after a month or two, with her shoes under her pillow) were clearly the habits of a transient.
Watching her seemed very much like dreaming, because the motion was always the same, and was necessary , and arduous, and without issue, and repeated.
…why do our thoughts turn to some gesture of a hand, a fall of a sleeve, some corner of a room on a particular anonymous afternoon, even when we are asleep, and even when we are so old that our thoughts have abandoned other business?
…what are all these fragments for, if not to be knit up finally?
Sylvie smiled and nodded. “Now you’re in on my secret…”
She had left without a word, or a sound.
Dear Friend,
I am writing to you because she said you would listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.
This is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.
I don’t know the significance of this but I find it very interesting.
It happens very fast, and things start to slip away.
I just open my eyes, and I see nothing. Then I start to breathe really hard trying to see something, but I can’t.
It makes me think too much.
I just want it all to stop spinning.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. That you wanted to not be aware that you exist.
I guess what I’m saying is that this all feels very familiar.
I was suddenly aware of the fact that it was me standing up in that tunnel with the wind over my face.
I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite.
The policemen found me pale blue and asleep.
Not thinking anything. Not feeling anything. Not hearing the record. For hours.
So if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough.
I will believe the same about you.
I was young and had so much more orientation and could talk with nervous intelligence.
Work was my dominant thought – not love. Not the pain, which impels me to write this even while I don’t want to, the pain which won’t be eased by the writing of this but heightened, but which will be redeemed, and if only it were a dignified pain and could be placed somewhere other than in this black gutter of shame.
[Quick to plunge, bite, put the light out, hide my face in shame.]
Rise, do some typing and coffee drinking in the kitchen.
[It was enough to drive anybody crazy.]
Something is sick in me, lost, fears –
Suddenly someone had come up and was standing in the stairwell.
Well, I thought, this is the end…
And I go home, having lost her love.
[You threw away a little woman’s love because you wanted another drink with a rowdy friend from the other side of your insanity]
The Mahabharata says, “Of all the world’s wonders, which is the most wonderful?”
“That no man, though he sees others dying all around him, believes that he himself will die.”
It really doesn’t matter if it is I who die or another. What matters is that we are all marked men.
How can an individual count? Do individuals count only to us other suckers, who love and grieve like elephants, bless their hearts.
Although we are here today, tomorrow cannot be guaranteed. Keep this in mind! Keep this in mind!
Someone is getting excited.
This person is laughing out loud…
-- This person is not who they thought this person was
[She’s blasé. She doesn’t give a shit.]
For a moment, this person is almost creeped out by the scene, but it would be so like this person to become depressed on the happiest day ever.
This person’s heart was broken.
[Some may say that such a girl is not ready for a relationship with a man.]
How strong this person was.
-- This person is not who they thought this person was.
[She’s grown a lot since you last saw her.]
[I think she’s going to become a terrific woman one day.]
This person sighs. This persons eyes begin to close, this person sleeps.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Miranda July
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Cedar Rapids Art Show - Havester
local art show in cedar rapids. my friend meghan bean from a couple posts ago will be showing. also looks like our own meg has some entries as well!
this is something many of you could easily apply for and show next year. the due date is usually in august sometime.
(sorry the resolution is horrible...its the best i got)


A Divide.







