divisadero

everything is biographical, lucian freud says. what we make, why it is made, how we draw a dog, who it is we are drawn to, why we cannot forget. everything is collage, even genetics. there is the hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. we contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross.

page 16

i am curious - yellow

cleaning up my own heart

i feel as though i am experiencing the full spectrum of post-collegiate mania: far from everything i know, jobless, self-conscious about my outsider status, trying not to be a burden, making sincere yet seemingly insufficient efforts to maintain a steady writing practice, figuring out where to take things from here.

every day is a process of restoration. i wake up and feel the weight of the question, what can i do today to improve my situation, and where is that empowerment i sensed within myself while traveling across country, with no certainty of where i would sleep or when i would eat or what obstacles might arise?

every day is a process of navigation, both literally and figuratively. accounting. budgeting. networking.

and so every time i do something 'right', i suddenly recall my own ability, and i am energized like never before.

it's the little things that remind me how good it feels to be here, doing my own thing, on this strangely solitary journey: having a good conversation with stranger, friend or family; getting a volunteer position at the downtown central library; feeling really driven to secure a job that i would care about; finding solace in books and yoga; assembling manuscripts for submission to contests and publications; applying for an internship at a publishing house; having dinner with my very benevolent and generous friends/hosts; spending time with my thoroughly portland-ized aunt and uncle; attending poetry readings and concerts; discovering awesome little eateries, shops, coffeehouses; successfully getting around by myself.

as long as my eyes stay wide, i know i am in a good place.

the shape and color of an experience cannot be perceived while you are deep down in it - it's the difference between an aerial view of the ocean and diving.

fresh ethos

i'm eating sweet potatoes for dinner so it feels like thanksgiving.

here is who and what i am grateful for:

my mama and my papa
portland in the fall
my aunt cindy and uncle paul
my north atlantic house of bros
the wwoof network
david cross's visit to powell's city of books
the farmers' market
farmers
fertile land
$6 yoga classes with rad teachers
the friends i miss so much
the hemp connection
$3 movies at the dinner theater
the downtown waterfront at night
random encounters
transmissions of positive energy
being unemployed long enough to write a new cycle of prose poems
the wherewithal to still have hope for employment
new adventures
new knowledge
my body's range of motion and center of gravity

'i' am a symptom of something

i miss lacan.

books and walls, blurred

moon: did you see that ugly earth being?

oh baby curry

ingredients:

garbanzo beans, 3 cups
coconut milk, 20 oz
tofu, 1 extra firm block
red bell peppers, 2
onion, 1 large
whole roasted unsalted cashews, 1 cup
garlic, 2 cloves
ginger root

pinch of cinnamon
pinch of garam masala
pinch of cardamom
pinch of coriander
pinch of curry powder

red curry paste

basmati rice, 2 cups


directions:

heat oil in large saucepan. add spices.
chop up ginger into thin slivers.
slice the pepper and onion into narrow sections.
simmer garlic, onions and ginger in pan until the onion is translucent.
add red pepper.
add garbanzo beans.
let it all simmer while you take care of other business, i.e., tofu:

tofu:

pour 1/2 cup vegetable oil in small pot.
cut tofu into neat little rectangles.
once the oil is at boiling point, drop the tofu into the pot and cover.
shake pot occasionally to keep tofu from sticking.


don't forget the rice. take care of this towards the end of the curry process.
1 cup rice to 2 cups water. cook until fluffy.


back to the curry.
everything is simmering nicely and it smells divine.

pour in the coconut milk. stir the beans, peppers, and onions into the milk.
add a pinch more of each spice.
add 2 tbsp. red curry paste. stir thoroughly.

once the tofu is firm, drain it of oil in a colander.
add tofu to curry.

allow the curry to sit on the stove on low for however long you can stand it. stir occasionally.
the longer it simmers, the more distinct the spices and flavors. curry is also amazing the day after its been cooked.


this recipe has no authority whatsoever.
it's just what i did last night. and it was damn good. this recipe should feed four to five people, if everyone has one to one and a half servings. if you are feeding ravenous young men, however, it will only barely satisfy two of them.




it was curry and movie night. we watched wendy and lucy, which was shot in portland, right near the house. i think it's an extremely important, relevant film. watch it!

nearly autumn.

the sky is a heavy gray belly.

good coffee: albina press.
mellow disorientation: powell's books.
alberta cooperative grocery. local organic chard: $1.89
tour of st. john's community garden, given by my very own aunt cindy.
sangria at por que no?
arboretum.

i want the coast, i want the water, i want a storm.

film to watch: the garden (documentary about the country's largest urban farm in south central los angeles).
books to read:
plainwater by anne carson
the delicate prey & other stories by paul bowles
practice: the woman's essential sequence from: the woman's book of yoga & health.

the delicate prey and other stories

she was afraid of the night because she could not sleep; she was not afraid of life and death because she did not feel implicated to any extent in either one. only other people lived and died, had their lives and deaths. she, being inside herself, existed merely as herself and not as part of anything else. people, animals, flowers and stones were objects, and they all belonged to the world outside.

twenty-two

september 12.

yoga, muddy boot organic festival, farmers' market, bookstore, rock show.



birthday card from grandma & poppop!

excerpt from plainwater by anne carson

Town of Uneven Love
(But All Love Is Uneven)





If he had loved me he would have seen me.
At an upstairs window brow beating against the glass.

happy birthday

happy birthday! to:

julia schwartz
emily pober-higgins
alan macintyre
chris martino

this is a message for the one they call 'c'

we have your clothing. this is a ransom.
come to portland and we'll see what we can do.


signed,

subcomandante panda

watch this

hello to my mama and papa

hello mama and papa,

you've probably forgotten what i look like. here i am! i do not like to smile in pictures.
did you know that?



in other news,
joe (the boys' housemate and fellow band member) has been talking about the impending 'mad max' revolution, about how the entire american economic system is going to crumble irreparably sometime around february of 2010. he says it will be every man for himself, pure and total anarchy, people looting and killing each other, absolute civil unrest.
once it all comes down, he says, the first thing he'll do is tattoo his face. as a representation of his tribe.

there is definitely a very intriguing survivalist, wild west vibe out here. wyoming was one thing - what with the homesteads and the common knowledge that everyone has guns, in their cars and in their homes - but out here, there is the progressive spirit paired with libertarian preparedness and paranoia. and there are already plenty of people, young and old, flaunting face tattoos.


here is an image of the mad max fantasy:



i do think, however, that if such a thing were to happen and everything fell apart, and the world had to resemble some piece of cultural currency, it would be cormac mccarthy's the road, which looks more like this:

i'm not sure what i believe, but i'm maintaining a healthy skepticism. joe expresses sincere optimism about the uprising, but i can't quite sort out how i would feel about such a thing.
furthermore, i'm not even certain if this is something i have to think about, but i will nevertheless, since my mind tends to feed on slightly removed and abstract subjects that simultaneously stimulate and terrify me.


my address to my parents and this segue into the mad max discussion might seem wholly disconnected, but they aren't.
i had an end-of-the-world dream the other night and my parents were in it.
so to consider the fall of america and the deterioration of life as we know it just makes me miss my parents and think of how much i love them, and reminds me that all i really want is for them is to be healthy and safe, and this feeling of course extends to everyone i love, which brings me to the tentative conclusion that if a revolution could occur and not endanger them, then i'd be just fine with it.

and on the other hand, i'm a lucky white girl from the suburbs of long island, so who am i to speak of revolution? what the hell do i know about real revolution? not a thing.

to do today

8:30: wake up

9:00: breakfast (golean crunch cereal with blackberries & soy milk)

10:30-11:30: yoga

12:00-3:00: work at slow hand farm on sauvie island.

3:30: lunch (sauteed chard & spinach & vegan sausage in a toasted tortilla)

5:00-6:00: print many copies of resume at library

6:30-8:00: gallery opening for disappearing landscapes at powell's books

(dinner at some point here)

8:00-10:30: free opening exhibition of the tba festival at washington high school.

i went to sauvie island and spent a couple hours in the midday sun weeding. the island is a lush, blossoming haven just ten minutes outside the city.
slow hand farm is a very small, tidy, lovely operation. i really enjoyed meeting the three people who work there. they seem laid back but hardworking, sharp but humble. it felt amazing to have that time, space and quiet to myself again, squatting down between the rows of chard and kale, lettuce and herbs, gingerly plucking up defiant weeds. their parting gift to me was a slice of melon and some sweet cherry tomatoes. superb.

http://www.slowhandfarm.com

6 - 2 = 4

the numbers keep changing.

osit left a few weeks ago, then louis went home for a week. upon his return, chipp flew back east for his own visit, and now courtney's hit the road. mike and i drove her to the train station (she is seattle-bound) and were very sad to see her go, but she seemed excited to get moving again.

it feels strange to have all of the road trip momentum suddenly come to a halt. little jaunts will have to suffice for a while. courtney and i had an amazing journey together and i will always appreciate that companionship. i think we understand each other in a rather rare and intense way, and i hope too much time doesn't go by before we see one another again.

i am staying on in portland. i have all of this inexplicable energy and optimism in me, and i decided, with the help of parental counsel, why not use that energy to begin a new phase of my life in an unfamiliar place? i am psyched for small city adventures and learning how things are done on the west coast, and i'm looking forward to getting to know myself better through all the challenges and joys that come along with big transitions like this one.

it feels good to know that everything i need can fit easily in the back seat of the little subaru forester.

fingers crossed i'll find a job.

in the meantime, i am applying for jobs, writing, cooking and cleaning, making to-do lists, budgeting, and getting in touch with local gardens and farms to see if they need extra hands. i'll be weeding on sauvie island tomorrow afternoon.

it isn't necessarily forever, but it is for now. a few years ago i would have been terrified of doing something like this, so it's a surprise even to myself that i am diving into the experience.

he tried to explain that he wasn't 'beat' but a 'strange solitary crazy catholic mystic'

now that i am not on the road, i am re-reading on the road. because i like it.