Category Archives: digital play

Covid Silver Linings, Lasagne and ADD

I’ll start the list of Covid silver linings with two.

One, The first thing I hear every morning is, “I’ll go down and start the coffee.”

Do you now how nice this is?

Husband used to leave the house at 6:15, which meant he was up and out in full dark for portions of the year. I’d be so dead to the world I wouldn’t even hear his NPR-set alarm. I never minded making coffee but it is so nice to rise and shine with it ready to pour. His company is nice too.

Two, Covid has normalized my wardrobe choices. Ha! Most of what I wear has to meet a single criteria — is this outfit as comfortable as pajamas? The rest of the world has caught up to me I guess.

 

This is the time of year when my holiday timing clashes with my husband’s. That’s why I will begin to sneakily remove the smaller ornaments and put them away. Hope he doesn’t notice! Actually, this year he might go for full take-down before New Year’s because we got our tree the day after Thanksgiving. It is dry.

I got a rice cooker for Christmas and we might just have rice every evening from here on out. It comes out perfect every time. I used to have one. Here’s a fun fact you probably don’t know about me: I ate nearly exclusively with chopsticks for about five years.

But what am I saying about rice? I have all the ingredients for lasagne. I really hope it’s as good as the batch I made for my brother the trip before last. They purchased some specialty ricotta which was creamier than what I usually buy, and I think that made the difference. Wish me luck! It’s a lot of work for a meh-meal.

Lastly, I get to congratulate myself (again) for sticking with the Paris Collage Collective’s challenge for the entire year, even with four trips to Los Angeles and one to Boulder. I doubt I’ll do it again in 2022. I am eager to make some collages fueled by more personal images. This week’s image was a hand holding a balloon.

If you don’t have ADD or don’t know anyone with ADD, you probably can’t quite appreciate why this is such a big deal.

Plug in remedies?

A series of really crappy moods.

Good — got that out of the way!

I may have to deactivate all my WordPress plug ins and then update them after sussing out which one is preventing easy access to media files. Ugh. I am too unschooled to do this by myself.

I’ve been busy, as you know, with my manuscript. Essentially I’ve deleted a novella — 20,000 words in the Silo Folder of Deletions with more to join them soon. It’s mostly relieving to have another set of eyes helping me decide what’s wheat and what’s chaff. But today I feel exhausted by it.

Finn got into a stock pot somehow. We don’t know when or how. But he got quite sick, depositing turmeric-yellow puddles of vomit threaded with scallion leaves. It wasn’t until all the rugs had been scoured that I sat in my writing chair for class and discovered he’d puked all over it as well.

I just scraped the deep seams of the upholstery with a knife, and soaped it all up, and vacuumed, and sprayed with pet enzymes. It’s one of the grosser things I’ve done in a while.

I seem to be in need of cheering up. Gonna pop a few pictures on here and deliver some gingerbread whoopie pies to my neighbor. Then it’ll be almost time to tune in to Deadline Whitehouse. Ugh. Bye, bye Roe? I’ve mostly been avoiding twitter but have seen enough to know how sickening it is to have trump’s partisan hacks on the Court.

On second thought, I’m gonna click on the fire, sew, and finish watching The Santa Stakeout. (So bad. It was so very bad).

The gloaming

This photo came from the drafts file. The title was The gloaming of a lame duck November. 11/18/2020. Nearly one year ago. Doesn’t it feel longer like maybe a century? Isn’t it more than a little disappointing how tense and frightening the state of affairs remains?

In other cheery news, I made an etsy sale yesterday and cleared $2.50. The postage killed me.

Stuffed into a 4″x6″ envelope, this pile of metal bibs and bobs cost $6.83 to ship to the west coast. I charged $3.50.

One way is to think about this is that I am a fool. Another way: I just made $2.50 for stuff I picked up on the street AND I got rid of some studio clutter.

Now, I’m letting the app calculate the postage. And I’ll raise some prices.

 

I’ve been tired. Can’t blame it all on travel because I was tired in LA, too. It was great to be there, don’t get me wrong, to see the progress, relax together, to have a meal with one of our boys, to see another whole section of the city (Echo Park). It’s just: I was tired.

I glued up this collage the day after returning home. Global warming is on all our minds as Biden heads to Glasgow for the G20 and the details of the BBB bill get hammered out.

This digital mash up includes a snow-scene quilt and this week’s Paris Collage prompt. Not happy with it yet.

It’s a banner year for walnuts. Some mornings it’s like artillery out there. Passing cars add their percussion — pop, pop, pop — as they crush the nuts in the street.

Today I will: write postcards to voters and finish binding two old abstract landscapes.

Paper plus photo plus another photo (or two)

And so it goes, obsessively, with this weekly visual prompt challenge from the Paris Collage Collective. I’m sorry if this gets to be too much, but given how many iterations I produce, there’s this need to document at least some of them here.

When I cut the male silhouette out of a magazine ad (above), by removing his knee, the lower shadow took on the appearance of a dress which, by association, transformed the dreadlocks into the knots and folds of a head scarf.

On an unrelated note, the other night when I couldn’t sleep I stepped outside and walked across the lawn to shoot the moon between the branches of our big black walnut tree.

Just as I reached out to open the front door, a man made his way along the street. Dressed head to toe in khaki, middle-aged, he creeped me the fuck out. I mean it was 2:30. Maybe I shouldn’t have read Stephen King’s The Outsider?

A little haunting

After dinner while K watched a taped Patriots game, I made a slideshow. It’s in the middle of the post. A few stills follow.

Montage of old collages about fear

But first the original collages of the running girl. In them, her urgent need to escape emerged from the iterations. The double/triple exposures that form the basis of the slideshow, seemingly of their own accord, continue that feeling. The way she comes in and out of view heightens the sense of imminent harm and also, perhaps, points to the way trauma damages one’s ability to stay in the body.

I couldn’t sleep last night. Eventually got up and read. I came across an article about Emmett Till which you can read here.

Short version: a journalist hired to write about Till’s murder for Life Magazine (this was after the two men were acquitted), couldn’t get releases from two OTHER murderers, so he just WROTE THEM OUT OF THE STORY.

The journalist could be tried (could have been? Sorry, it was 3:00 in the morning) for accessory to murder after the fact.

The current article makes plain that not only was it journalistic malpractice and very possibly illegal, the omission generated more terror in the Black community than had they known there’d been four perpetrators.

If two men were capable of THAT, what’s next?

Paris Collage Collective prompt. I now see the girl running in negative space with leaf as hair. Do you?

Maybe the sense of haunting had something to do with the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. K and I watched a Frontline episode — America After 9/11. Oh my god the lying politicians. The lazy press. It underscored a pithy tweet I read which said that we would have been better off as a country if we had literally done nothing.

The personal impact of the tragedy is rendered beautifully in this memoir piece: Hero by Liz Ackert.

Four of the hijackers spent their last night on earth in a discount hotel less than a mile down the road.

The place has long since been torn down.

P. S. Just went back and found a post about dreams the week before 9/11. And a Tarot card pulled (The Tower). Interesting to look back. A little haunting.