No Mo Chicago

"Banning Apathy in One Week," is laying on the floor with its cover directed at me and open for the grabbing. My art teacher from high school made this book and I was looking at it the other day. Everything seems so simple, so ideal, so utopian yet I haven't done a single exercise to ban apathy this week. For example, walk around the neighborhood to the corner store, to your friend's house for a cup of tea, eat and make a dinner made from local produce and with a friend, use your hands, attend a community event, have a conversation that does not necessitate technology, and lastly make brunch and play scrabble. None of these, not one! Instead I have relegated myself to my bedroom and am brooding while men in polo shirts and women in silk summer dresses gallivant down the avenue with no suspicions and ostensibly limited brain activity. Outside my bedroom door my roommates sit side by side rehashing 1969 and are completely content with this; stoned, illuminated, lost in a hyeina yelp.

This will not stand with me much longer. The more and more I sit, the more I feel like I am missing out on the people I should be meeting, the places I should be seeing, the food I should be eating. With summer approaching so is the feeling of flight because quite honestly I am too anxious to be here. I want to be everywhere at once which, quantum theory might suggest that this is possible. With that said, I have to go to Argentina. I have to.

I am no longer Chicago.

Building Light

I have been really taken by architecture lately (mostly because I am taking a drafting class) but I have always been intrigued by space. For class I was supposed to research 3 architects and as I was entering an abyss in which I know nothing of I stumbled upon House K by Yoshichika Takagi. This house captures the way I feel about interiors, open and warm...this is my simple answer because the way the sun is coming into my room right now is not allowing for me to think that clearly.

Anyway, I want to build homes like these or furniture...bookcases, let me build you a bookcase!

Going to the Chapel; Going to the Cemetery Yard

This is love:




This is folk:

Ultra-Cognition

A month later and A Heart Breaking Work of Stagger Genius finally makes sense, too much sense. Real talk leaves you in the bathroom with everything so quiet that it is softly humming, saying "You may be okay. You may not be okay. Don't do anything about it." The part of growing up where you begin to forget and forget with intention are some of the most troubling times, the most refreshing, the most naked.

I guess I am trying to get at something life-changing without giving away the credits for the sake of being too confessional, my general state of being: two friends make a film. Only one of them edits the film. In the end of the movie, the one who did not edit slumps into his cushion and springs up and hugs everyone in that goddamn theater.




I had a dream I hugged my mother so hard, harder than in real life. She bought me rain boots.

Head Bumper

I almost walked into someone's butt on the escalator the other day.

Walpurgis Nacht

Wonka Pixles

Maybe we should try to cycle out our words and phrases.

Maybe I need to because I notice I use, 'perhaps,' 'well,' 'anyway(s)', 'yeah,' 'fucking christ,' 'ughhhh,' 'dude,' etcetera, all too often. This therefore makes what I have to say less interesting, what I write less interesting, what I think less interesting, and if I can't be interesting, then I want to quit. That is pretty narcissistic, but then again so am I. One of these days I will re-explore that project.

A project. A project. What is my project?