Friday, September 20, 2019

Night and Day


At night we sat under stars that if we stood on chairs, we surely could have touched. Above us, the fuzzy band that makes up the Milky Way, and down below, the ocean glowing from
bioluminescence. We saw not one but two falling stars in the space of four minutes. There would have been more to see if we had stayed awake long enough. By the time we woke up the next morning, the moon still hadn't gone to bed.




Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Lucky Apples


The thing with these apples is they've got a view of the ocean. They hang over a bench where people stop to visit or read a book. They are sprinkled regularly with rain water. They enjoy warm summers with their tree roots buried deep in the soil. And at least a few of them will eventually fall from the trees and be eaten by deer. 

Small price.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Monday, September 16, 2019

The Show



From the outside, it looks like any other nondescript building on York Avenue. I give my name to the woman at the card table and she checks me off the list. A dark entry gives way to a shadowy, cavernous room filled with people. On the left, there’s a wall of weathered, fabric faces like the kind you try to knock down with a bean bag at a carnival. Next to the wall sits a three-foot wide orb of chewed gum shrouded in plastic wrap. The gum balances atop a delicate multi-layered fringe-work of silver gum wrappers.

It’s a hot night in Highland Park and even hotter inside this warehouse of curiosities. More than once, I glance up to see what’s dripping on me and discover it’s just my own sweat running in rivulets down my scalp. The crowd is too close. I bump into a pillar made of wigs.

Chandeliers of buttons and shells cascade from the ceiling. My purse gets caught in an amorphous sculpture made of silver beaded bracelets.
I turn too quickly and bump into a tall wooden box adorned with a grid of human teeth. “Look Dad, this one has a cavity,” says the kid standing next to me. “Looks like more than one,” says his dad.

The heat and the people and the art objects give me a feeling of being underwater, suffocated. I want to be one of those cool types who understands modern art, really gets it. I know I’m supposed to feel something, something besides heat stroke and the need for a Xanax.
I am so god damned hot. My mind races. What if I died here? “Her dehydrated body was found slumped against a wall made of toy pianos. She died of art.”



Sunday, September 15, 2019

Smacksy Sunday Links



A citrine in the shape of an eye - a gift from my friend Emily

When it comes to the future hope is all there is. 

Gardening could be the hobby that helps you live to 100.

Resigning from a culture of busy.

Summer's last gasp.

She was India's Frida Kahlo.

And a baby owl.

Happy Sunday.