it's hard being a giant baby bitch. i am able to deal semi-gracefully with many terrible things, yet minor inconveniences are 100% unacceptable to me. i have no patience for anything and this fucking weekend is going to really test my new resolution for

Fewer Tantrums in '10!

anyway, i appear to be stressed out. maybe it's school. who cares! all i know is it's manifesting in things like really strange dreams and a.d.d.-like behaviors. last week i dreamt (apparently; i felt convinced that it really happened, but, you know) that i inexplicably called out from my bed from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, which received a reply of, "what!" from the area of my kitchen. uh. it was a male voice, and just before "he" spoke, my cat darted away into the darkness in a panic. it was very scary at the time as i instantly assumed the source of the voice was some sort of evil spirit/demon/jilted former lover combination. a whole lot of things i don't want in my house.

other than that, i've been doing a lot of: trancelike staring, thinking aloud without realizing it, and generally blowing it.

very apathetic this week. that's why, in spite of the various issues of the day, i am interested only in thinking about shit like sacred trees atop ancient burial mounds, the lunar calendar, still bemoaning the sad and mysterious death of peter steele, and watching old videos like this that, again, make me wish it was still the 90s and that i was still 15 and irresponsible, dressing like a cartoon witch and not giving a shit.

all is temporary. right?

right.

earlier, it was raining while the sun shone bright and hot. witchy weather! now it's gray and the rain is coming down in fat, cold drops. i am listening to the mediaeval baebes because i have gone back to the 90s, never to return.

so i am taking this genealogy class which has caused me to go through some scans i made of various old and super-old family photos.

this guy looks so much like my dad that, as a child, i was convinced that he WAS my dad dressed up for one of those old west photo sets. it's actually my great-grandfather tom monaghan at work in the dakotas.

a curious stereoscopic. i can't tell who they are.

edwardian babe katherine monaghan with a younger sibling.

my grandma alyce, the most important person in my life now and ever.

will rogers, skeletor, and baby mary claire.

my grandmother's prized pink cadillac.

the 80s spared no one. look at those assholes smoking in my grandma's house. my aunt julie and my mom.

epic.

100% illumination

i am trying to be more measured with my reactions, and this is a good reminder. in fact i'm just going to hide out in my den and continue to be happy with small and simple, authentic experiences.

definitely need some more piscean advice. why evaluate everything? just make some art, fucking relax, hang out, write, watch let's scare jessica to death for the 4th time in a month and rewind/replay the raptly uncomfortable scene when emily's bony white hand caresses the trembling face of jessica, you know, do whatever.

close your eyes and watch

-

here is the oldest known surviving photo of the moon. there were earlier daguerreotypes, but they were sadly lost in separate house fires the century before last. so there's just this. samuel humphrey took nine exposures one night in september, 1849. so this is a 161 year old harvest moon. i hope it was a good month, because e.a.poe died that october.



of course things have never been the same.

fuckin a.


Ship's deadeye from 1780s wreck off Wattsness, Shetland

"Ship's deadeye (an object used in static rigging of a ship, dubbed 'deadeyes' because of their resemblance to skulls) washed up from a 1780s wreck off of Wattsness in Shetland, North Scotland. Made from wood and incredibly heavy, weighing around 5-7 kilos. The fact it has lasted so long into the 21st century, with only one small part of the object lost to time, is a real homage to the craftsmanship behind it; amazing to think that at somepoint in history someone meticulously designed this object with skills that are a rarity to witness in this day and age. A truly fascinating relic."

selling for £6.44 with 14 hours to go?

originally found by ms. graveyard dirt.

away

every time i come back into the hive, i forget how much i love the desert. outside of the city, everything feels more meaningful, momentous, and authentic. and it is! i'm changing my plans...again.

martanne's. oh my god. chilaquiles. the best green chili sauce on the planet. you line up outside the door which is propped open with a broken water pistol and simply have to stand there and wait as it is apparently always at capacity. i'm very disappointed that i'm not there right now, actually.

i hadn't been in the woods in a long time. it was cold and clean and the moonlight was very bright, and very white.

hey, baby.

this is one of my favorite songs ever.

i think i read somewhere that bruce channel's harmonica inspired lennon's harmonica in love me do.

after my parents divorced, my dad moved in with a friend, jonny. jonny was a tall, thin redhead with big hair and a boyish midwestern charm. as far as i knew then and know now, they were just friends, but i doubt that. jonny worked at a series of good old country bars, including the brass rail i think, or the hitching post. she lived in a large midcentury ranch style which she kept very cold, and very dark. she had a phone booth, a pool table, a pinball machine, and a jukebox, all of which were old. i was seven; to me it was a strange and sophisticated theme park for adults.


despairing at the jukebox selection (all old country! no new kids or paula abdul anywhere!*) i played the same songs by the only artists i knew - the beatles and elvis - until jonny tired of this and decided to school me in classic country and obscure 50s and 60s pop. thank god. "hey baby" was her favorite song and it soon became mine for the frequency of it all. after i got tired of inventing one-person pool table games and tilting the pinball machine, we'd dance around the living room to it.

it's still the best, every time.


*listen, it was 1989. i don't have to explain myself.

what's that you say? you don't like twitter?

what about twitter for...18th century internet!

historical humor translated to the internet vernacular of now never fails to amuse me, and, like most tiny bits of internet hilarity, it is 100% untransferable to regular conversation. does that mean i don't try? of course not. everyone must know.

photos of photos leave something to be desired, but.

my dad with our poodle, ty.

my parents. 1982.

my dad and i.

my mom and my cousin jesse. 78.

robert, my mom's best friend.

beauty school graduation!