4.16-17: the most exciting events, knitting a washcloth and wearing a neckerchief
4.18: home design
4.19: portraiture
(got the rain-footsteps i’ve been wanting to catch for weeks)
4.20-21: also knitting a guitar strap; mismatching and color blocks
4.22: guitar faker
4.24: easter dinner (complete with bunny cake)
This week I borrowed a guitar and played some music. I took a long bike ride and listened to Bossa Nova. I did very little work because my body was against me. So instead I saw three amazing bands with two amazing people and one amazing mishap. And…now I am in a strange headspace and it is about to rain. The end.
4.9: waterfront park
4.10: dressed up for h.p. lovecraft at the ice cream shop
4.11: movie still curtain
4.12: callers, wye oak
4.13: vivian girls (with the black lips)
4.15: spring weekend! joy?
4.15: care from afar. missss you.
This week had a rough emotional arc. I spent a lot of time loitering in back alleys and I started shooting in black and white. I read a lot of books and I smoked a lot of cigarettes. And I drew the wings myself.
Looking over my spring break, it sort of seems like nothing special – especially stood up against the New York trip I missed. And yet, what an amazingly soothing string of days. I went to markets and dinners and parks and coffee shops and cemeteries. I listened to music and looked at art and cried and let myself be moved. I talked to friends from far away, and I read poetry aloud, and I rode my bicycle, and I roasted my first eggplant. I hope summer is just like this, but with road trips.
3.26: winter market
3.27: provision dinner
3.28: cemetary walk
3.29: warpaint
3.30: there is a twig on tv
3.31: soft steps
4.1: impressionism
I dedicate this week to caffeine, visine, weather you can walk to school in, shuttles that run until 3 a.m., friends that let you call for only a moment, professors who assign movies in lieu of readings, and people who ask “how are you?”
3.19: hipster drag and crystal castles and driving in boston
3.20: sun and coffee
3.21: an hour before this photo was taken, there was a face here
3.22: i’ll never misspell nietzsche again
3.23: brown anti-gay protest protest
3.24: grey tones and whatnot
3.25: spring break – sewing, knitting, home magazines and humphrey bogart
3.12: providence, buildings
3.13: sun, colors
3.14: banana bathroom
3.15 and 3.16: grey skies and new projects
3.17: silly holiday
3.18: wind and whatnot
This week I came close to giving up my photo project. My academic life is ridiculously full right now, and I have been spending long hours inside, not moving, in complete silence, alternately reading and freaking the eff out. When I did venture out of the office, I was too exhausted and irritated to be very inspired by my environment. At dinners, at parties, on coffee runs, even on long walks I kept finding myself without my camera. But I’m glad I pushed through – while I may not be progressing (in fact, this week I think I’ve regressed) as a photographer, I am getting a kick out of the documentation aspect of this project. It’s nice to have something to show for each day. And some days I get busy and overwhelmed and work hard and forget to see what’s around me, and I need to remember those days, so that I can remember to see differently.
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3.5: The amazing and not-done-justice-by-this-terrible-blurry-picture Creature Show from Big Nazo labs.
3.6: We failed at the French film festival, so grabbed a glass of wine and watched friends dine in front of some rather apologetic sea creatures.
3.7: With all my books kept safely in my office, my actual book-bag is just…knitting projects.
3.8: Graffiti plot twist. Relatedly, I now have a committee chair.
3.09: Got up early with my silly nails, stayed up late waiting for a stranger.
3.10: Putting jewels (handmade clay necklace things) away (on a bulletin board).
3.11: After an exhausting three days of teaching and conferencing and seminar-ing and department-ing, I spent my Friday night under a blanket reading The Great Gatsby cover to cover. What comfort. All my notes from junior year of high school are very sweetly intact.
how to have a week like me:
2.26: start in a bar…
2.27: …go on a walk…
2.28: …(observe convenient snow formations)…
3.1: … have a panic attack…
3.2: …have a beer…
3.3: …receive flowers from afar…
3.4: …end in a converted warehouse
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AND WE’RE ALL CAUGHT UP
2.19: white electric
2.20: providence provision (and my veganniversary)
2.21: snickerdoodles for a teeny tiny craft night
2.22: a walk
2.23: a finished project
2.24: a cartoon under my desk
2.25: shoes, show, snow
Filed under: thoughts
I think about you at least once every day. I think about you whenever I hear the Beatles. I think about you when I am imagining things and pretending. I think about you when I see little boys and girls with smiles on their faces, or with big perceptive eyes. I think about you when I think about how I could be a better person. I think about you when I cross the street. Most often when I cross the street. I think about you when I am doing something adventurous. I think about you when I learn new things. I’m learning about cameras right now, and I always think about how much you could teach me if you were here. I have a friend who tells me weird science factoids all the time, and that makes me think about you, too. I think about you when I play with my nephew, especially when he asks me questions. I think about you when I hear someone playing the bagpipes, and when I hear “Amazing Grace,” and Kind of Blue. I think about you when I think about being a mother. I think about your momma, and your dad and your best friends and your little brother, and it’s very sad and hard to bear, but that is part of thinking about you. I try to be happy when I think about you but sometimes it’s hard because I’m so sad that you are gone. But the last time I saw you, you were all giggles. Chris and Wes were flipping you around and holding you upside down, and you were laughing and laughing. And that makes me happy.
You have so many friends who love you. I wish we had been better friends, Zachary. I wish we had given each other cool nicknames. I wish we had had more times to play together, because when we did, we had a lot of fun and you laughed and made up games and stories for us. I wish I had finished that dinosaur hat that I was making for you. I think maybe you would have liked it. I wish I had gotten to stay with you more times. The times I babysat you were so much fun. I only got to tuck you in a few times, and twice you were a baby and you wouldn’t remember, but those are some of my most vivid memories. I’m so glad I got to spend the time with you that I did. I feel so lucky for that. You are such a cool little kid, Zach. So funny and so smart and so interesting. I’m so glad to have you so much in my heart.
You’ve been gone for two years today. A lot has changed in those two years, but I never stop missing you and I never stop thinking about you.
Zachary Michael Cruz, 3.12.03 – 2.27.09
monster vs. monster 