fraction: self-portrait

this is awesome

eddie vedder - rise

Inner turmoil/Outer gumption. I feel like The Human Fraction.

I went on the West Side Walk today, a little of it, making myself homesick for a city I haven't left yet. I went to Bale Dave's, particularly, to see the living roof that he installed on his garage - like the one he will be installing on my new one. It was awesome - and everyone else thought so, even WBFO showed up to interview him about it while people swarmed around ooing and ahing. It was deeply cool to be there, seeing him reap that - when I met him last year, he was still hesitant around the edges of it, totally into it and yet kind of aware that maybe people would think he's a loonie. I mean, roofs made of plants and houses made of straw, right? But these really are legitimate environmentally sound building techniques, older than the ones we've been using in the last century basically, and more and more people are becoming aware of not only how righteous the techniques are but also what incredibly beautiful living spaces they create. It was (bitter)sweet somehow. Sitting amongst their friends, all out with their gardens showing, filled with weeds reclaimed as flowers and found-object sculptures. It might have been my world, but it just wasn't.

Welp, so I'm making a change, cz though I really hate having my feathers ruffled, sometimes ya gotta do it so ya don't get moldy. And I am psyched about The House, and the projects awaiting me there. These aren't pics of BD's roof, bc he's a techno idiot and his website is a front page that's "Hi I'm Dave" (eyeroll) but these will give you an idea of how it looks/works (I especially like the part where they produce more oxygen in a year than a family uses in that same time).

Mine will be even better than BD's because it's attached to the house and has a door off what will be the boys' bedroom, so that the living roof will be actually living space with a railing and then the copper flashing all around. I love copper. If Whiteyton doesn't show up with a building inspector to have a heart attack, when we're done I'll take pics and send them to local publications. His is going to be featured in Cottage Living Magazine soon . . . I told him he'll be basically helping me flush out the other hippies in Whiteyton, if there are any, so we'll run a couple of workshops on how to do it yourself (his idea). "This is how I make all my friends," he says. And I like his friends.

loudan wainwright III - the swimming song - from FPH - this isn't a metaphor, it's about SWIMMING, fyi. It goes well cued w/ that hank williams cover, which I'm listening to a lot - for some reason the gay dog makes it for me. I think it might be the look on Jasper's face.

Starting seeing HUD houses with OJ today - I'm getting a house, so now she wants one. I'm pro houses generally, they're good to make out with if you're into that, buuuut . . . Ponytail (guy 3 in the plot I've been trying to no longer follow downstairs [unsuccessfully]) is this guy who last week stalked her and my house, texting her all night long that he was riding his bike around our hood trying to find her (drunk?) on his bicycle and freaked her out so that the other 2 had to take shifts sleeping here to protect her - but that might have been just drama bc today maybe he can help rehab a HUD house, she says. Again, in principle, the re-use movement thing is cool - except for that part where he stalks her. Please let's not call the stalker, I say. "Well no, I'd just call him to ask if he could remove the back half of the house." Can we please not call the stalker? I stare at her, armscrossy. I'm imaging you here letting yourself into the HUD house with him alone, I say, pausing meaningfully. "I'd never do that - I'd take someone with me." Dan and I look at each other. I laugh. He sighs. I start getting this banging headache that I've got now. But she can't help herself. Welp, then fine, I'll call him myself, cz I could use my basement emptied out of old wood. Fine fine, let's call the damn stalker, I give up. Then

X-files opened tonight. Spoilers: Mulder and Scully are together now, but they don't screw (what is the point of that??). And the bad guys are serial killers sorta who maybe steal organs but no that's not it they take organs and heads but no that's not it they take bodies yeah that's it because they're GAY and RUSSIAN, booga booga (no serioiusly, that's the plot - only in America can you get that stupid and offensive all rolled into one for $8). Because everyone knows if you're gay and married in Massachusetts then the next thing ya know, you'll want a sex change by having your head lopped off and sewn back on to a body that has nail polish. And when you get caught, you'll yell "Nyet! Nyet!" because you're especially evil if you come all the way from Russia to get married and then have your head lopped off, because no red blooded American (even a gay one) would be that weird. Even if married in Massachusetts. (O and throw in a psychic, who gets visions because he once buggered an alter boy. [No, seriously]). David Duchovney is off my ogle list. Some things are unforgivable. He just let me down too damn bad this time.

[I have no fucking idea what this is a picture of - if you google "baseboard install mitre saw" hoping for meaningful diagrams, this is what you get. It might as well be drawn in Greek.]

Devon Sproule & Paul Curreri, Why Don’t You Love Me? [hank williams cover and a gay dog]
bonus track: Lucinda Williams, Lately link removed

I didn't anticipate such a bad case of moving-PTSD, anxious entirely and my stomach a stone, flashbacking to accomplishments of such things before, me like Wrath on Horseback tracking the thief that stole my happiness and by the time I catch that bastard he's usually dropped it in the woods somewhere anyhow.

"I Wish That I Could See You Soon," Herman Dune. (The angels are great in this.)

A spirituality weekend typa deal, we went into the woods and my stress level went down and we petted a lot of stray cats. We liked the healing temple and the fairy walk, ie the silent part and the other silent part. We stayed in a corner room, it had a nice crossbreeze. We got a lego thing per each night and in the quiet crossbreeze, we put them together and then went to bed contented. I liked being in the same room, crosswise to their own antique double bed, the lego peopling Mars all over the floor. On the way home, I tried to hang onto it, but my blood pressure went up with every mile closer. I hated being away from home, but mid-moving is like being displaced from home All The Time. Money or reasons or project or whatever, I’m going to fucking hate moving and the thought of it is filling me with tsunamis of stress, around which I am slamming down a lot of haagen daz. A lot.

And I am right back at it, hoping to sleep thru as much of it as humanly possible, and ball bust my way thru the rest.

This is the kind of thing that FPH finds very funny and sometimes I do too and other times it makes me want to croak ft. go to sleep – this genre is a mix of funny and embarrassing to the point of horrifying. It is funny though:

for Virgo today: Romantic matters look absolutely glorious today. You’ll be radiating the right sort of aura, thanks to dithery aspects which should bring out your softer side. It’s a good day to make a good impression; someone is bound to notice you. You may even be spoilt for choice!


huh. ummm . . . Well, I met w the plumber who'll be bashing up the garage floor and part of the driveway and then fixing the pipes to the water tank and any leaks from there on out . . . though not technically necessary, I added a new toilet to the list. I feel freaked out by used toilets, though obviously every toilet in a pre-exiting home is used eh? But it's like panties from the thrift store, I just can't go there. The plumber says, You want to pick one, or have us do it? O in this case, with so much going on, can you just pick something reasonable? He looks me up and down, says, "I have a nice Japanese model that'll be perfect." His 20-something grandson, who is giving me a milf vibe big enough for the real estate agent to joke about once they've left, cracks up. And I guess that's how a plumber checks out your ass, vis a vis their toilet sensibilities.


As FaintedInk would say, the house is making me look cuter I suppose. To the average person maybe not, but to the inspectors and workmen . . . every time that I've needed a mechanical assessment, it ends in some kind of "wow" over TH that splashes a little over onto me. This old plumber guy didn't even bother much with what I needed to get done, he just kept ogling the copper and saying things like "You're WORRIED? You can spend a few hundred dollars because this is THOUSANDS to replumb a house every inch in copper like this" bla bla. TH seems more and more to have the personality of Russian minor royalty in hiding since the coup.


Meanwhile, we finished work on Big Red yesterday. I got up on a ladder outside OJ's kitchen window, which is my way of nagging. I just start doing the thing you're supposed to be doing. And often, I'm gonna do a bad job of it (cz if I could actually do it myselps, I wouldn't have asked you in the first place) and/or break my neck. So that did it, and she called Dan over and we all scraped and painted all day, then I imposed a playdate on us all. Got some wine, food, put on music, got out some old magazines I had put aside for a collage project someday, and we made collages. RULE: no talking about any of the things that have been making us anxious, in each our own cases, no house talk no relationshipping no 'processing' - just CHILL. I've never hung out w them this way before, in my own space of what would normally be alone-time, not going to do anything or see any movie, just concentrating on being. The find of the night was an article about siamese twins Masha and Dasha, who each could control one of their legs. She just could not stop reading it aloud, horrified and fascinated. I keep telling her that though she insists that she "just doesn't find her sister very interesting", psychologically speaking being born a twin to a disabled sister is probably a thing. Might be more important than, say, the fact that her mother never attended her away-meets for track&field. She pointed to the more cognizant looking twin in the picture, ie the one not smiling, and said "Imagine being that one." Dan said, "Yeah, imagine that." (long pause)


The best collages of the night were Dan's:

alright?

iron & wine - arms of a thief

Me: Wow you’re cute.
TH: Not many people have appreciated that fully.
Me: So what’s your deal?
TH: I’m up for grabs. Want to touch my woodwork?
Me: I dunno - this is kind of sudden, I just started looking.
TH: I’m strong like bull . . .
Me: Are you sure you’re available? There’s no sign out front.
TH: I told you, I’m kind of a private sale kinda house, not open market.
Me: Uh huh. Are you a pain in the ass? I mean, why aren’t you taken already?
TH: The world is fucked up, what can I tell you? Everyone wants new new new.
Me: I dunno if this would work out really - I mean, you talk a good game, but you’re in the SUBURBS pal, ya know? I’m more shabby chic.
TH: No, seriously, I’m virtually misplaced here. Look at me, I have one foot in another continent altogether, like fairytale fodder.
Me: Sigh. This is gonna cost me I can feel it.
TH: Not that much, I’m kind of a bargain once you fix me up - you’re good at fixer uppers, clearly, or you wouldn’t have been mooning at me from the curb all this time.
Me: Welp, I could use a change, and I can see your appeal . . . So okay.
TH:
Me: I said okay.
TH:
Me: What? I’m not offering enough or ? I could offer more.
TH:
Me: Or even a little more than more.
TH: No.
Me: What do you mean no? You just talked me into this?
TH: Nope.
Me: Look, you don’t know me very well yet - I don’t really do NO.
TH: Well get used to it.
Me: No!
TH: No. Or yes. Whichever applies as thwarting you, that’s my answer.
Me: That only makes me stubborn.
TH: Noooo kidding? I’d have never guessed that.
Me: Well which is it then? A real no? or a ‘I want you to want me more than my no’ typa no?
TH: No.
Me: O fuck you. Seriously. Do you think this is going to work to make you go like hotcakes off this cold curb you’re sitting on? Cz I highly doubt that - experience suggests you’ve been sitting here empty for over 2 years bub.
TH:
Me: Are you serious with this?
TH: No.
Me: No you’re not seriously saying no, or seriously you’re saying no?
TH:
Me: You just got auctioned back to vacancy. Way to go. Stupid house.
(pause)
(pause)
(pause)
(snow melts)
(seasons change)
(pause pause)
TH: Hey, how’s it going?
Me: Huh? YOU AGAIN?
TH: Sorry, I got kinda hung up back there, been real busy . . .
Me: I’m not interested.
TH: Yes you are.
Me: I’ve been shopping in Kenmore. Bought myself a car. I’m over you, you were merely the “transition relationship”, thru which I learned more about my own real estate desires, that’s all.
TH: Want to touch my woodwork?
Me: hahahah well, yes sort of I do, but that’s not the point.
TH: What’s the point?
Me: You are some kind of impossible, that’s the point.
TH: Ok, just thought I’d check.
Me: Well wait a minute - are you available this time? I don’t want to dick around and end up merely annoyed.
TH: I was wise, and withheld myself for this moment of even greater opportunity for you. My price is good, my garden is a blank slate.
Me: Siiiigh.
TH: C’mon, take a look around, no commitments just some woodwork lust between old friends.
Me: I’m not really into touching your woodwork just for kicks, ya know? I want to build a fire in the fireplace, not walk around your empty insides pointlessly.
TH: I’m in great shape, the fireplace is ready to go.
Me: How’s everything else?
TH: Well, you have to expect some issues, that’s only natural.
Me: Little issues, or terminal issues?
TH: Go with your gut - you tell me.
Me:
TH:
Me: Okay. I guess I got time to improve my yoga practice meanwhile. I forgive you. Now let’s get it on, cz I been looking at landporn for months.
TH: Probably.
Me: You better stop screwing around w the probablies, I just plunked down a 2k deposit and $500 inspection.
TH: I have to think it over.
Me: WHAT?? Your fucked up owner bank can sue me if we don’t work this out now.
TH: You always jump in too fast and hard.
Me: You talked me into it, AGAIN.
TH: Then you’re a slow learner, eh?
Me: omg I hate you.
TH: No you don’t.
Me: Look, I agree to be willing to sell you later, but for the moment we’re either giving this a try or not before I lose any more resources in the attempt. Just be honest.
TH:
Me:
Me: I’m gonna kick your ass.
TH: You’re gonna have to because there’s a leak under the concrete floor of my garage.
Me: Somehow, deep down, I knew this was coming. Why are you driving me crazy?
TH: No.
Me: hahahahahha o shut the fuck up with your no’s.
TH:
Me: Is there more? Is the leak under the garage the full monty, or are you gonna try to kill me while I pet your woodwork for years?
TH: Maybe.
Me: Can I ask you something?
TH:
Me: Um, are we dating? lol

This house is proving itself to be some kind of impossible yet again, or meant for me ft. a royal pain in the ass. I dunno. All I know is that I’m hip-deap into it every which way and gonna get thru to other side okay, or wipe out my personal resources for houses altogether into the indefinite future. (exasperated motherly sigh) And in the process, I've spent days upon days getting Big Red cleaned out, sweating so much that it'd take a paintscraper to get the crud outa my pores. God damn stupid houses. I wish my orientation was Renter right now, WAY. >:(

the house ("Turtle House" is its nickname, which appears to be sticking) is testing my love. the water meter was busted, which is why we couldn't do the plumbing inspection bc we couldn't get water. the city has to replace that. but this is WHITEYTON, so of course at 8 am this morning as soon as we called them, they rushed right over, apologizing for there being a crack somewhere in their town. (hahahahah) they replaced the meter, but still no water . . . there's a main break under the driveway. they're rushing around now getting the pipe maps for the city - up to halfway down the driveway, they fix it. beyond that point, I have to fix it. I'm praying it's not under the garage floor, czzzz that would be that 4 ft of cement previously discussed. and of course I couldn't dig that up until I owned it, thus taking on whatever that amounts to . . . then again, if there's no water coming into the house, then it's impossible for there to be broken pipes INSIDE logically speaking since there would have been no water in 'em. I think Turtle-H might have not let any water come in, armscrossy-like. you'd think this might scare me off, but of course no - I thought "I love watching backhoes" . . .

I'm either really committed, or somebody should commit me - I dunno.

(many) mixed feelings

Sometimes when I think about leaving this place, The Red House, I am in actual physical pain. I get a stomach like I ate a bowling-ball quiver, as if those weren't mutually exclusive feelings in one gut. Yesterday, my skin almost melted off me in successions of freak-out shedding. I have rarely been so in need of having my hand held, and only FPH surfacing w the calvalry kept me from throwing the hell up before dawn.

But I persist w this house, the same one, which was re-listed and they called me and asked me if I still wanted it the day before they showed it generally, giving me the advantage of first/highest offer to their asking price (ie my last highest bid before the auction) - and I decided yes, I did want it still. For many reasons. Such as if I don't stop living with OJ maybe I won't be able to love her any more at some point, and I'll open the door and accidentally kill Poke with a garden utensil before I realize what I'm doing. And I'm bored, creative energy wise. And feel like this house I live in is me and I am it but I'm needing to outgrow myself and so the shedding is the thing as much as it is the pain. And I want to go out grazing where there are so many people potentially viable from a social point of view that I'd have to be helen keller to miss all the opportunities (bc let's face it, W-A-T-E-R is my idea of chit chat half the time) . . . and more. I have a feeling that I don't know all the personal/emotional reasons yet.

And the house itself. Everyone who sees it kind of can't understand what I like about it sooo much, cz as Bale Dave put it, "This place is some kind of odd." Today I learned better what it is. I had the first half of the home inspection (I still have to have the water turned on and the plumbing inpected - today was everything else). Turns out that it's built entirely of masonry. Although it looks woody, it's all stone or concrete. The rafters (not the show ones, the ones that hold up the second floor etc) are made of concrete. No, seriously. The entire second floor is concrete under the tile or carpeting whatever. The floor downstairs is stone, or plank wood on top, w concrete underneath. The walls are a foot thick, the inside walls I mean. The home inspector said it's built like a bomb shelter, top to bottom, "unique to say the least." I thought: This house is built like men I like, solid as if trashcompacted sorta - like Doug. If my grandpa had been a house, he'd have been built just like this one. Like you could punch at its palms all day while it read the paper and laughed at your effort, amused by your curly little relentlessness.

The pipes could still be busted, and embedded in concrete that'd be quite a project to fix. So it's not written in stone yet ( ha ha ), but I got a feeling that this is gonna be my new digs after all. Despite the tweeking out, of which I will do plenty more God knows, I am announcing my intention and desire that it be so.

Wild Light - "Red House"

Booka Shade- Body Language (Interpretation)

for virgo (potens) this week: In Terry Pratchett's book Wyrd Sisters, there's a passage in which he talks about how the sun conspires with the forest to pump millions of gallons of sap hundreds of feet from the ground up into the sky. And it all happens "in one great systolic thump too big and loud to be heard." That's the kind of activity I recommend for you in the coming weeks, Virgo. Collaborate with the source of all life -- the physical sun, if that's your preference, or God or Goddess, if that works better for you -- to pull off a huge movement of lifeblood that brings sustenance from below to above.

electronica, for my nerves (like a cigarette only different)

crystal method - (get) busy child

moby - natural blues

agoria feat. Scalde - Baboul hair cuttin

nina simone - turn me on (tony humphries got u turned on dub)

The quicker you wrap your head around disappointments, the less you're tortured. Want little in the first place, and you're ahead of that curve. Between overextending yourself into desire and having to retreat from it, there is the urge to haul off and slug somebody. No? O yeah.

"Escape From NY," Ass

kiss this one

anoushka shankar/karsh kale/norah jones - easy

First time in 3 years that it didn't rain. Ever since I lived in Elkhorn, I've loved the smalltown fireworks shows the best where you can sit right under them and the firemen are there and you can feel the boom boom in your back as you lie on your blanket. So we hauled ass out to Art Park - I had scoped it ahead of time w the locals, so I knew to set up in the library parking lot of all places, and sure enough they went off dead above us except for those ones in the pic that bloom up from the gorund like Las Vagas showgirl backdrops. That and 2 kosher hot dogs and I was almost totally fine.

Steinski - It’s Up To You (Television Mix) [for my nation's b(ullshit)day] - love this song, high rec

Franz Ferdinand - Take Me Out (Daft Punk Remix)

for virgo this week: When Tom first arrived in Santa Cruz from South Carolina at age 22, he was homeless and had $110. He quickly scored a temp job as a laborer, doing menial tasks at construction sites. His first assignment was at a place where a delivery truck had accidentally dropped a load of lumber at the bottom of a hill instead of at the top where a new house was to be built. Tom's job was to carry the heavy boards and beams up the hill one by one. He felt a bit like Sisyphus in the Greek myth -- that forlorn character whose punishment by the gods required him to push a boulder up a hill again and again, only to have it plummet down each time as he reached the peak. Unlike Sisyphus, things got better for Tom. During the next 15 years, he became a successful real estate agent. One day he sold the million-dollar house that had been built from the wood he'd once toted up the hill. This is a perfect time, Virgo, for you to predict and plot out a long-term personal triumph that will match Tom's.

jakob dylan (bob's kid) - something good this way comes