Today, I asked you if I could help you.
I smiled like the last two bites of the best
hot fudge sundae that you ever had, and you glared at me
with the eyes of a million overdue library books,
the time you overheard a boy you liked calling you fat,
and the moment you realized you would never have children.
I really wanted to give you the yogurt you walked
all the way from your house in Coolidge Corner for,
but you think I ate all of the yogurt out of spite.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Porch Sitting
People are going off like fireworks in this neighborhood
Little bursts of energy, hissing and lighting up the sky
On Etna Street, the mom is mad at the dad
He's not very good at being one, and she's drinking beer
Two houses down, the Boston natives are in love
Embracing each other by dropping their R's
Talking about baseball, and the rain
My house buzzes with sleep
I know it's really just the sound of the dryer
The fans, the dishwasher, the humming of electricity
I used to hear voices in windshield wipers
Now I know you can turn just about anything into a song.
Little bursts of energy, hissing and lighting up the sky
On Etna Street, the mom is mad at the dad
He's not very good at being one, and she's drinking beer
Two houses down, the Boston natives are in love
Embracing each other by dropping their R's
Talking about baseball, and the rain
My house buzzes with sleep
I know it's really just the sound of the dryer
The fans, the dishwasher, the humming of electricity
I used to hear voices in windshield wipers
Now I know you can turn just about anything into a song.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday
Mondays are when you find a pack of cigarettes
in the bottom of your bag when you're broke
but it's empty, or that feeling of hoping
no one you know gets on the bus so you can just sit there
staring and avoiding all of the eyes, but maybe
mostly just the way your cat looks at you
when neither of you can afford to eat dinner, that's Monday.
in the bottom of your bag when you're broke
but it's empty, or that feeling of hoping
no one you know gets on the bus so you can just sit there
staring and avoiding all of the eyes, but maybe
mostly just the way your cat looks at you
when neither of you can afford to eat dinner, that's Monday.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Attic
Brains are houses, never homes.
Occasionally, eyes project possibility
Something about my eyes being beautiful
and I am tiptoeing back inside,
Thinking about the one eyed cat
Who never knew any other way of seeing.
Occasionally, eyes project possibility
Something about my eyes being beautiful
and I am tiptoeing back inside,
Thinking about the one eyed cat
Who never knew any other way of seeing.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sincerely, Frank
On Tuesday he picks the flowers in his mind sprouting from a more aristocratic existence. He holds them in his hand, sitting as dilapidated as the armchair holding his shriveled form. His eyebrows dance in unison to a weary fugue, a tune he no longer remembers as much as the pretty girls he forgets to ignore. Their faces are whitewashed with empty respect as fake as their tans, but they smile and the curves of their merry go round features twirl him into belief. He remembers himself with dignity, dedicates his coffee to the preservation of this memory with each sip.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Nerdy Shit
This semester I took History of Photo for basically no other reason other than my own personal interest. Throughout the semester I put astericks next to the photos I liked the most so that I could go back and explore them more thoroughly when I had the time. Now that I have the time, I want to document them so I can remember later on when I undoubtedly lose my photo notebook.(Also, I got an A in the class yayaaa).
Man Ray used one exposure in a series of photographs telling the story of a married woman caught in bed with her lover, yet each photo can stand on its own. My teacher (who is a genius and one of those rare teachers that I will admire for the rest of my life) remarked that "The Prayer" (seen below) is symbolic of a holy moment that is usually considered noble, sincere, and uplifting, but rather delivers the exact opposite because "what kind of prayers are omitted from the anus?"-Raymond Liddell.
The Prayer
Alfred Stieglitz- not so much my favorite but I really loved the way he emphasized a peculiar property of photography, particularly in this photo in which the bumps of flesh react to the movement of the water in a way that is not romanticized or glossed over.
Ansel Adams didn't impress me as much as I expected him to, but there were a few images that stuck out to me because of the way he captured the darker sides of nature. Specifically his images that portrayed trees as foreboding, mysterious, maybe even dangerous.
Robert Frank was able to identify cultural binders because of his unbiased approach to American values as an outsider. He conveyed the dark side of the American dream in his images, the intrinsic value of Patriotism imposed by the attitudes of Americans and the way they were molded by their surroundings.
I admired his work because he painted a picture of America that didn't please Americans, targeting xenophobia and contrasting the way we would like to see ourselves with what we fear the most. His images are ambiguous until they gain importance from association with each other, and most prominent is the American flag in his photography, which obscures the identity of the people in his photos and makes a comment on the ubiquity of the American flag throughout our country.
Finally, Edward Weston, who found pure forms in repetition with a Modernist approach to the organic and erotic qualities of nature. Most extraordinary, I found, was his ability to capture the human form in a way that mirrored the sexual imagery in his natural photographs, particularly vegetables. The palpable sense of vitality and the harmonious correlation between the human body as a collection of forms and relationships and the erotic celebration of that same form in nature was what distinguished Weston from other photographers to me.
oh and also this photo of him with cats, taken by Imogene Cunningham:
vagina?
Man Ray used one exposure in a series of photographs telling the story of a married woman caught in bed with her lover, yet each photo can stand on its own. My teacher (who is a genius and one of those rare teachers that I will admire for the rest of my life) remarked that "The Prayer" (seen below) is symbolic of a holy moment that is usually considered noble, sincere, and uplifting, but rather delivers the exact opposite because "what kind of prayers are omitted from the anus?"-Raymond Liddell.
Alfred Stieglitz- not so much my favorite but I really loved the way he emphasized a peculiar property of photography, particularly in this photo in which the bumps of flesh react to the movement of the water in a way that is not romanticized or glossed over.
Ansel Adams didn't impress me as much as I expected him to, but there were a few images that stuck out to me because of the way he captured the darker sides of nature. Specifically his images that portrayed trees as foreboding, mysterious, maybe even dangerous.
Robert Frank was able to identify cultural binders because of his unbiased approach to American values as an outsider. He conveyed the dark side of the American dream in his images, the intrinsic value of Patriotism imposed by the attitudes of Americans and the way they were molded by their surroundings.
I admired his work because he painted a picture of America that didn't please Americans, targeting xenophobia and contrasting the way we would like to see ourselves with what we fear the most. His images are ambiguous until they gain importance from association with each other, and most prominent is the American flag in his photography, which obscures the identity of the people in his photos and makes a comment on the ubiquity of the American flag throughout our country.
Finally, Edward Weston, who found pure forms in repetition with a Modernist approach to the organic and erotic qualities of nature. Most extraordinary, I found, was his ability to capture the human form in a way that mirrored the sexual imagery in his natural photographs, particularly vegetables. The palpable sense of vitality and the harmonious correlation between the human body as a collection of forms and relationships and the erotic celebration of that same form in nature was what distinguished Weston from other photographers to me.
oh and also this photo of him with cats, taken by Imogene Cunningham:
Friday, April 16, 2010
CVS Greg
I've decided I need to write about more interesting things.
Today's topic: Greg from CVS.
Greg is my favorite kind of human being. He works in the pharmacy, leaning on the counter while Elton John and Shania Twain serenade the hunched elderly women buying windex and bunion cream. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Greg. He is nearly lipless, lacking so much emotion that I instantly feel the need to cry, scream, and slap him as soon as I see his painfully blank face. I am driven to crack Greg. I have had plans to drag him out of his white cvs cloaked shell for months.
Today, Carolyn and I went to purchase cold medication from CVS. I caught a glimpse of Greg's face as soon as we entered the store. I repeatedly punched Carolyn in an attempt to convey my mixed emotions for him. She didn't get it, but she did by the time we left.
We stood in front of the cold medicine, the kind that they keep behind the counter because they make you hallucinate and hear voices. Greg walked mechanically over to the counter. Greg: "Are you dropping off?" (We were standing in the drop off part). Carolyn: "No, we're looking at the cold medicine." Greg: "Do you want to buy some?" Carolyn: "Yes." Hannah: "No." Greg: " "
Eventually, we bought some cold medicine. Greg's face passed my test with flying colors and never changed throughout our interaction. My standard for him is high. He thanked us for coming to CVS. Greg (robotically): "Have a nice night." Hannah: "You have a GREAT night." Greg: " "
More updates on this situation as it progresses.
Today's topic: Greg from CVS.
Greg is my favorite kind of human being. He works in the pharmacy, leaning on the counter while Elton John and Shania Twain serenade the hunched elderly women buying windex and bunion cream. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Greg. He is nearly lipless, lacking so much emotion that I instantly feel the need to cry, scream, and slap him as soon as I see his painfully blank face. I am driven to crack Greg. I have had plans to drag him out of his white cvs cloaked shell for months.
Today, Carolyn and I went to purchase cold medication from CVS. I caught a glimpse of Greg's face as soon as we entered the store. I repeatedly punched Carolyn in an attempt to convey my mixed emotions for him. She didn't get it, but she did by the time we left.
We stood in front of the cold medicine, the kind that they keep behind the counter because they make you hallucinate and hear voices. Greg walked mechanically over to the counter. Greg: "Are you dropping off?" (We were standing in the drop off part). Carolyn: "No, we're looking at the cold medicine." Greg: "Do you want to buy some?" Carolyn: "Yes." Hannah: "No." Greg: " "
Eventually, we bought some cold medicine. Greg's face passed my test with flying colors and never changed throughout our interaction. My standard for him is high. He thanked us for coming to CVS. Greg (robotically): "Have a nice night." Hannah: "You have a GREAT night." Greg: " "
More updates on this situation as it progresses.
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