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[21 Jun 2008|11:32pm]
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[01 Aug 2007|06:59pm]

Collagerie...an online blog dedicated to producing some kind of art every day. Prints are available for purchase on the blog, all for under 20 dollars. The blog is new, so stay tuned for daily doses of (afforadable) art.
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[27 May 2007|08:35am]
oh. and being 21 isn't much different than being 20.

this coming semester (fall) will likely be my last semester at FIT. i'm graduating with an associate's degree, and i'm not sure i want to continue there. my options are working, or central saint martins in london. fit would be a last resort, and i'd probably do knitwear design.

i'm in current scene next semester, which is one of several specializations we had to choose from. current scene is basically avant garde fashion...for their end of the year "fun" project they had to make an entire garment out of nothing but playing cards and poker chips.

i'm excited for current scene.
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[27 May 2007|08:30am]
the phone folds the hot space in here,
cracks, as fat in a pan
it is a worry.

not yet gone, the geese
weather september by the pond
so far the sward between us.

we defeat, i and the geese
each winter.
and the wolves have howled now
once or twice amid the splinters
of birches.

i do not do as they do.

for i have met my sorry someone
an emblem of my faults;
he is humiliating.

i will not take him southward
nor outside.
were he to die, i
would hardly miss him.

but in this static,
this unelectric ugly air, he heats;
he will do for this winter.

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[17 May 2007|07:49am]
you go always gold, incendiary
flash and risk electric:
something i can’t cast about in.
its brittle bits
eliding, eliding

like the terms of an autumn
goes so unslowly, more than any;
the pagans paint it
and god sweeps these leaves long away.
so swiftly!

the branches, spokes of thorn and feather
loom fruitless like careless splinters
in the no-grown grass—
hollow and full of sleep.

the sky will weep and gape
and wretch; the white glass fall
brimming birch-flakes
awled off, deer licked and fallow.

and you ought not love,
nor posit longitudes toward it.
go gallant, and bite the dawn!
draw its hot blood down your throat.

but never come back thirsty.
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[28 Apr 2007|04:24am]

I am sick of all the silence,
the numb ungentle thrum of it
loud and swelled up like leather

a pounded lung full of salt water,
drummed with an excellent fish skeleton.
revolt. the brine are whistling in my temples

I do not understand the sea,
dark and deep and irreligious.
the beat of it, the constant, contagious hum

the fray of foam and lily-coloured crystal
until my brain is dumb.
until my head is brittle.


i’d like to wake, sometime
to his hand on the small of my back,
to his fingers tracing maps on my skin

touching the world I would like to be
for him: to travel only me, see only me.

but when I wake, nothing
my hand reaches out into it
comes back cold.

I warm it with my tears,
because I am afraid I will never have this,
and will face my years alone.


when the dawn comes,
and when your skin lies like petals in its wake
I will kiss this worry from your lips
and drive the devil far,

far from here. I see you laughing,
and brushing the bleached tar from your feet
and fussing over your too-tight shirt.
I do not deserve you,

though I will try to—
you are someone, somewhat like a saint
a careful altar that I kneel beside,
and pray to keep you.

I do not deserve you,
though I will try to.


when I think of it,
its soft electricity shocks me

your voice is a transistor
a gentle hum, like milk and honey.
with the lilt of slow-rolling clouds

and candles burning out.
would that I could push your contact points
to me

send our songs together,
in similar frequencies
note on note on note

your hand on my neck,
my lips on your throat, and shoulder
all the night, and silent morning

the smoulder
of your dim unending gaze
is everything I know.


what so lovely, our berth—
i will pillow myself upon you,
in the wind and the rain, in the storm of our touch
and blooming chills, on our arms,
chest to chest, swan necked and sighing.

I would lie down with you forever
in your grass greener than any,
entwined and finding out about you
the way the rocks and the waves do:

clash! rollock. forth, back, forth.
the clouds are built up
a thrack of heat and sweat, and something
lovely, like a small white gull

cries, and my god, a force of heaven!
the trumpeting sky and sea surcease.
we are calm, you and i
with release.
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[13 Jan 2007|01:07pm]
i'm not dead, everyone. i think i might start posting occasionally, again. i've been wondering how everyone here is doing, so say hullo and tell me what you're up to.

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[22 Aug 2006|11:48pm]

Wembu creates the Nu nara Buti

Note: I have extra prints of these "Myths of Africa" pieces; if anyone would like one, or would like to commission one in the same style, feel free to contact me or leave a message here.
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[22 Aug 2006|02:02am]
Embaba ni Kajambu Ja'ra Embumu ni wuwune Wembu
Or the Coming of Wembu and the Creation

Long ago, there were no words; only the Buru, river, and the K-ijambi, jungle, existed upon the land, and they consumed it, and all men despaired. Jamuwa, the Scarlet Eye, loomed above; and though his heat bore down upon the land, he could not defeat the river, for it was too vast and too deep; nor could he burn the jungle, for it was fed by the great river and would not die.

It was not until Embumu ni wuwune Wembu, the Speaker of Great Dangers, came forth from the K-ijambi to the banks of Buru, that words began. Taking a branch from the nearest tree, Wembu lifted it to the sun, crying "Jamba! I take the heat and the heart of the jungle and the river unto me!"

And then the branch was set aflame, and the power of Jamuwa was unleashed upon the land. Where the heat touched it, the trees of K-ijambi toppled, and the froth of Buru fled; and so, in the space between the river and the jungle, a great plain was made, and the burnt fork of the brigand of Wembu was planted at its center.

From this fork were the great horns of Nu nib Narabi, the father of all gazelles, formed; and his body was of the plains, neither to dwell among the kapoks, nor to swim in the currents of the river. And yet he made great fun of them, for he was indeed swifter than Buru, and more alive than the K-ijambi; and in his pride he taunted them, and he fathered countless children and they were a tribe greater than any before them. Upon the grasses they fed, until much of the land was dry and barren that the Speaker had created.

Then Wembu was angry, and from the dust he made the second tribe, the Nu nara Buti, the lions; and he crowned them with heads of golden hair, and he sent them into the plain, and the tribe of Narabi was frightened.

When at last the tribes were in balance, Wembu sat upon the plain in repose, and pulled his knees to him, and there he remained like a great and silent mountain: K-irimanja'ru. From his hair and head, the birds came forth and with his great locks built their homes in the jungle; and from his secret heart, all the creatures of the world burst forth in flames and spread themselves upon it, and all was good.

And today, the people of the tribe of Wembu still cry the word "jamba" to the sun every morning when they awake, and they stir the fire of their hearts; and sometimes K-irimanja'ru answers them, when from the flames new life is born, and the river and jungle are kept at bay.

Listen to a recording of the story.
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[21 Aug 2006|10:19pm]
finally! i am leaving for manhattan on friday. i meant to post my course list some time ago, but i'm just now getting 'round to it.
Fashion Past and Present - basically a fashion history course
Apparel Design - draping, the real trenches of the fashion world
Flat Pattern Design - self explanatory
Fabric Studies: Apparel - learning how to render complex fabrics with varied media
Fashion Art and Design - the 4-hour drawing class of DOOM :D
Eastern Mediterranean Art and Civilization - fulfills my art history requirement
Fencing - yes, it's what you think it is
Textile Princples: Fashion Designer - textile identification/science course
i realized that i am going to miss having a life drawing class this semester, but perhaps i could squeeze one in someplace. i don't want to get rusty because i don't have that weekly time to sketch for sketching's sake. and i'd just draw naked people on my own, but then i'd have to pay them and all that rot.
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[20 Aug 2006|12:20am]
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

From Kubla Khan, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


There was an isle in the sea
Whose Kings incurred a godly wroth;
And long ago it ceased to be:
Swallowed by the gale and froth.

From Atlantida
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[18 Aug 2006|06:10am]
so i see that september's vogue will have a feature photo story with kiersten dunst as marie antoinette. it was shot at la château de versailles, which had apparently not authorized a shoot for 25 years.

there are some things that bother me. first, this entire mess stars kiersten dunst. i can't stand her acting style. i think she always delivers the same performance. and vogue becomes increasingly filled with celebrity, a problem that plagued the magazine up until anna wintour took over editorship some 20 odd years ago.

fashion is an art, and while it is no doubt connected to and patronized by celebrity, the focus of vogue should be fashion. i don't mind the articles about home, garden, special interests, cooking, etc., but the celebrity shoots are becoming too frequent, as is the common occurence of their portraits' being plastered on its hallowed cover. this shoot in particular is all costume. they're not showcasing any major designer pieces. in a season so rich in trophy pieces, i'm hoping for at least two strong photo stories; i'm not even going to hope for one by steven meisel. that'd just be ridiculous.

maybe september's W will satiate me. if not, i guess i could always get italian and french vogue and see what they're doing.
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[16 Aug 2006|11:39pm]

y caracwl ny cara
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[13 Aug 2006|12:14am]
the cold cove-hollow
its brave-hairless trees, how gold!
their winter wands

something like our song: borrowed, old
somethings, somewhat ugly
bold and fitfull

fallow out in the heat;
and never grow so lovely
as when they grow cold.

but we break them
tread on them with our wieldy feet
snaps of bracken

bruise and flake
from fire bites, and blacken
like a rite of necromancy.

i am a worshipper of ash
after the dawn
and winterbreath belie it.
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[01 Aug 2006|03:08pm]
Fantastic News!

I've just received word from my friend John LaSala that my most developed language, Ialbhyllan, will be used for lyrics in a performance piece entitled A Woman Made of Gold later this August, for which he is doing the music. The lyrics will be used during the Golden Woman's dance, to enhance the drama of her performance and her otherwordly beauty. The show will take place at New York's famous 3-Legged Dog Theater, on Greenwich Sreet. Show times are August 26th and 27th at 8:30 pm. Come and support the show if you can!

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[01 Aug 2006|12:30am]

Cwmalon the Tree Keeper
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[31 Jul 2006|03:23am]
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[28 Jul 2006|09:58pm]

mom's party tomorrow is wizard of oz themed. so i made a cake to go with that.
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[21 Jul 2006|11:31pm]

framed, matted 8"x10" of a gerber daisy

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[15 Jul 2006|12:54am]
i revamped my website,

& all that is left now, to do, is add/remove photographs, so that the site looks stronger.

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