03-29-2026



Super Sunday Downtown in New Orleans

03-27-2026

I think I’ve learned how to move into the unknown more gracefully through all my traveling through the years. When it crept in on me, I always hesitated in giving into the comfort of home. Having a home is necessary. Being home makes me feel ansy. I’m always looking for the next place, because I love the way departure sets in motion the present. I am going to Australia end of July. By then I want to have dissolved my home base into several bases so that when I set off into the world there is no place I have obligations to return to. All my stuff- I only want to keep what is necessary. I am constantly confronted with all my stuff through my frequent moves. I love the process of consolidating my items into a suitcase- though it is difficult and frustrating and exhausting to try to anticipate what is necessary to pack. I highly favor versitility, and look for it in all items I choose to bring with me. Some things are sentimental, like my camo bear, who I left in New orleans for most of last year as I traveled and I regretted doing so the whole time! I am yet again pulling apart the containers. It feels good, though part of me is still lethargic from the winter, though the days are sweltering already, and the mosquitos are vicious during my afternoon nap at the park. My x lover reaches out and heads south towards me. I ask the tarot about my grief. It gives me the Star (revelation) number 17 out of 21 in the major arcana. Nearing the end of the cycle. It is nighttime in the desert and a pink flute player sways in the foreground as water runs off into a murky green body of water. A blue figure hovering over the water in a staircase/canoe pours liquid from a vase down, the path of the falling liquid draws a line down and touches the lips of an idling fish. the moon is a sort of sun and glows bright yellow.bedroom portraits [ i really love this corner of my room] 

03-24-2026

reTalking to self
high image intake 
footstep or stamp 
the depression glasses 
frequent stops 
intermediate level consumption
consumed by negative thoughts 
i am eternally lonely 
field recordings 
im]mediate self perception 
arial view /wingspan 
feel for some edge 
remain unjudgemental 
spring chatter 
erupt from pores 
shattering
best beast 
breathtaking
the shaddow of someone sitting 
incessant cough- 
nearly vomittemperature drops i fall too into the concave divet of the wave, interior instantly depleted. the humidity takes me to a different place. the mildewey towels. i remember so much bright green, mossy binoculars, pinkish tile, the entrance that folds out into a busy intersection, the awnings of each complex and everybody’s clothes danging like flags out above each home. there is a point in each sickness where one can become superstitious. I am prone to such reasonings. Over ten days now of this hacking cough that brings up nothing, with no relief. 
 

03-22-2026

[I am fighting off the demons today!!!]
returning to paper with some intention, its been a while. many things seem to come between me and drawing, which maybe is a good thing because of my appreciation of limitations, the box or window, the scope, because the entire picture is confusing and indecipherable without an edge from which to break away, so maybe with painting it has been hard because... the image is so much more important. the drawing folds back into layers of time, between pages of different imprints whereas the painting is still there looking back at me when i leave the studio and turn the lights off. i dont want to disapoint it.there is a relationship there that is half sentient. the edges bleed into real life and make me dizzy. and the paintbrush is like a conveyor belt of information rather than pencil, which is like drawing with a body leaving footprints.  

Time is moving quickly 


03-08-2026
 
Canoe in Tickfaw national park 
 

hello blog, and my bff ryan, who may be the only salami blog reader. 
I’m laying on the day bed in my sunroom in new orleans in a tank&shorts. The outside is blue the way city evening is blue and the streetlights emit a glowing yellow hue which saturates the slate pavement below. I am on perched on the second floor overlooking the street like a mermaid on a rock, listening to the sound of chatter coming from the porch across the way, the conversation too blurred by the distant interstate buzz to discern into sentences. My street is pourous and punctured - car bearings squeek and bounce as they cruise through the neighborhood. im quite fond of my street. its hard to drive on which forces everyone to slow down, and i love the way the potholes pool with rain days after the storm.the sound of a bike (spokes spinning) being walked by its owner (sloshin footsteps) goes into my left ear and out my right ear. and lastly the siholhuettes of houseplants and arched, radiating meshed windowframes superceed the entire image. 
it is... 20:52 Uhr. I’ve never been good at solving the puzzle of reading time on clocks with hands. it takes me too long to follow the short hand to a point and then the long hand to a different point and then descipher those two points into a number sequence that describes the present moment. I used to wear a digital watch which pointing puzzle for you, and it lit up in the dark and was waterproof. sort of recently it started to give me a rash when i wore it which i took as sort of a sign i was getting allergic to clock time. i also no longer think its necessary for the indication of military time to be so indestructable and attached to me at all moments. everyone deserves to be able to get lost in their own time. 

during my time in europe i tried to familiarize myself with 24 hr time, military time as we call it. i wonder how noon feels in a day that is 24 hours long instead of 2 12 hours bunkbedded together. if i wake up at noon i sometimes feel like ive lost a whole day because of my upbringing as a 12+12er. something about being able to tell time in 24 and 12+12 interchangeably feels akin to being bilingual. im trying to become a polyglot *on spelling: i turned autocorrect off on my phone to free myself from spelling. i know how to communicate without the absolute necessity of spelling and in fact misspelling is a clear indication of my humaness, something that is less and less convinving when reading stuff online and in general. (imagine this pickle- we now as people need to be suspicious about if a human is talking to you or a robot. im numb to the bizzareness but shocked into disbelief in moments.)
my friends got used to my typos and eventually all learn to decode my bizzarely assembled text messages. it is freeing to just communicate using the tools given to me instead of adhering to some rules. 

**i guess i was thinking about [x], a little bit, because you are so good at proof reading, and knowing whats write or wrong about centence structures. it is a skill and intelligence that has always impressed me, but over time, after all our trials and tribulations, i guess i started feeling like what i was doing was merely the first draft and surely riddled with errors and typos, i grew to untrust my eye.
after my visit to berlin last fall i started daydreaming about moving there. I started learning german and found it delightful to unearth the building blocks of a new to me language and system of logic. now i know how to type characters like ö and ä on my keyboard- who knew! There they were inside the trapdoor underneath these letters i touch every day. 
i wont lie, though its frustrating and confounding, and one german lesson almost made tears come out of my eyes, i do sort of enjoy furrowing my brows in confusion and awe as i try to make sense of this world. there is a liberating feeling in the growing pains, knowing that i could at one point use this bizzare complicated language to express my very own thoughts and feelings. in those moments of frustration i still smile inside knowing with enough determination i wont always be a lost tourist with a blindfold and a map of the city. 
im attached to the time i spent in berlin, because it is part of my future, and i am inbetween the two, pulling them together. 

i got this little rock creature at a junk store near neukölln in berlin. 

after i got back to new orleans after my awesome road trip north, i started rearranging my room. its not a lot of space to work with which makes the puzzle even more interesting. I built a platform for my bed so that i could store stuff under it. i moved the platform next to my desk and moved the mattress onto the floor in the nook between the platform and the wall. i was watched some videos about feng shui of course. i didnt see any that talked about how to navigate the feng shui of a room vertically. now i have unlocked a never before traversed dimension of my room-the level of the platform, which functions as an intermediary between the desk and the floor; one is for laying and walking, the other is for working and computer stuff, but on the platform level...anything goes! when i stand on the platform i see my room from an angle i am not used to seeing it, a space within a space opens up.* i will probably smoke until i train myself to breathe without thinking.

*i am reminded of the half floor in Being John Malcowvich where the main character finds the John Malcowich chute. 

i was going back to a point i had remembered from earlier in the sentence. in my physical reality, i am making preparations to move to a different country. in the psychic realm, i am expanding my spirit towards possible horizons as i am in this space, the space of the US Empire, which feels endlessly repressing. I guess im preparing for the likelihood of space getting smaller, more restrictions, more surveillance, watch wearing, autocorrect.. and im armoring myself with my own freedom, that which cannot be taken from me. In the spirit of Assata! 


yesterday jack whitten space 

my laptop is almost out of juice and the chattering across the street has subsided. time to turn on the radio and let a bit of the city in... 

01-27-26

Oil painting is changing my relationship with image. with oil, you push the pigment around till it lands in the right place. an explosion of paint thinner can take every delicately placed pigment away. I think that is the most exciting part because intricacy serves to help me think. I do not feel so precious about the intricacy. I think the more important focus is intentionality. When i start to overthink is when the mark swells, bloats, or becomes plastic 1. “chopin's waltz opus 64 no. 2 in c sharp minor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
preciousplayspiano on youtube 
2. maya deren
3.the last trick 
jan svankmajer (1964)