August 1, 2013

my heart beats faster on a normal day.

we are starving for stories.




I think... If I were to write a paper right now on what propels art. or artists. or the viewer of art. or the collector of art. or the person who " isnt into art " but passes judgement on that "stupid line on the bare canvas." 

it would be story.

because we are starving for stories.
 if they are hard to understand or nearly impossible to relate to, it makes us a little mad. or a little frustrated. or... it is easy to say. thats dumb.

except. I am not writing that paper. I am only really happy I had that revelation.

 while it makes no difference to anyone. it does help clarify my inability to relax. fully.

because I have so many to tell.


and fake.

but real.


i mean. dont get me wrong.
I am completely happy doing relaxing things. 
even probably happiest at a food cart festival on a blanket with a beer and a taco. I. AM. GOOD. at finding the best things.


I am talking about the part of me on the inside.


I am not entirely sure why I am the kind of person who sits up at night too excited to sleep.
but if you are too. you get this.


wait... one more thing.

tomorrow is going to be so exciting...


Why memories and things race around in my head until I make something or 
write something or tell at least three people.


I see things. and then I find myself unable to sit down


Literally. I have a faster heartbeat. 
I am very aware of it when I try to take a nap. I am not that good at those. 

But when my art life (not really distinguishable from my real life) is rolling along. and feels right. it reassures me.

just like J.D. Sallinger. he reassures me too. 

That my heartbeat is actually spot on.



Although I am not entirely sure of everything I want to say...
                                                             I am entirely sure that I have something to say.

lots of somethings.


In school we are given these launching points. projects. deadlines.

We are told to think about certain things. make something. then come back and tell everyone about it.

Somewhere along the line I never got the memo that no more projects were due.

I am over here constantly turning in papers to my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Prial.

and screaming to my mom who is sitting in the shade at Aunt Sissy's neighborhood pool. LOOK AT ME. WATCH THIS ONE THING. ONE MORE TIME.



 I go under the water.



and pop back up.







in other news. related. i swear.

my oatmeal pie intake was tripled two weeks ago. in one day alone.

more on that later.

See, I have been spending a lot of time this summer with little artists that ADORE making things and I tell them.




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i love music. almost more than everything.