Anticipation of an immanent holiday visit, and rediscovery of an item lost in last summer’s house move, prompted these thoughts on difficult family relationships and accidental art reception. Read the rest of this entry »
I just found this drawn-on batch of coffee filters that I’d lost. I labeled these back around August ‘08 I think. Annotated here for your convenience. (Click to enlarge)
For a few months now, every time I thought twice about posting a status update or comment on Facebook I pasted it to a local document instead. For some reason, this has cured me of the practice - Now I either post things without any thought, or it doesn’t occur to me to post anything. Also, now I have this amusing list, in roughly chronological order, of the past few months’ rejects:
It’s been this long since I emerged on the other side of the silent season for Complex Fields. Long enough for the hammer-bruise to rise up from its place behind the cuticle of my left index finger, making the journey up to eventually attract H1N1 germs from the keyboards in the computer labs where I teach.
Apparently Complex Fields takes summers off. The past three months have seen me offline for the most part, my fingers clutching at drywall and my own sweaty forehead. More stories to tell about this when time allows, but for now I offer a peek out one odd porthole of my rickety ship. Read the rest of this entry »
An impending house move is stirring up old stuff; today I found the following writing from 1997 that seems to fit right in here at Complex Fields. Also this old drawing I like.
(These are not gifts. They are obstacles.)
I recently spent five days as the sole caregiver to two 1.5-year olds (my sons). In my quest to occupy them for any time at all while I tended to the rest of life, a new sort of math emerged. Each day I’d dump a bunch of random junk in these gift bags - then, throughout the day I’d throw one down when I needed to buy some time. I felt like the hero in a foot-chase, pulling down furniture behind me as I ran, adding a few seconds here and there between me and my pursuers.
