Feels like time moves sluggishly, then speeds up when I'm not watching the minutes tick by. My friend Craig is getting married in three weeks and expecting a baby in a few months. My nephew now comes up to my waist in height, and says my name, and Buckley's...sort of. He calls me 'Gii-giish' and Buckley is 'Gucky' with a hard G.

I used to love sleep. Lately though, I've been having the most bizarre dreams. Disturbing content and the feelings from the dreams linger over me like a mist all day. I just want to sleep and be rested.



I don't want to dream of cut off hands, or sex with strangers. Too disembodying. I wonder if that is a word. Maybe I always want something. Sleep, better sleep, more sleep, fabulous sleep. Shit like that.

Due to reasons beyond my control, I cannot update as often as I like. However, I will do so as odten as I can. Talk soon,
Love,
Gish

an old woman's hands {10/365}
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Not sleeping so well, glad to have camera sleeping beside again me as though it were a real person. Laptop being sent away to have it's innards removed for cleaning, replacing, etc...will not be back in the house for a few days.

Photographs of my hands. Get back into the swing of things. Diet coke, and my dad laughing at something I've said. He and his family are down this way, visiting. It's nice.

But I still need to smoke.

Ive had a couple of bad days this weekend. A combination of the usual Gish-related traits that pop up more often than not. I reveal too much. My sister felt she had to bribe me with high grade parmesan cheese to call my doctor tomorrow.

I reveal too much.

I was driving to my sister's place in North London and caught sight of the original Apostle, and...well, nothing of course. He's a nothing, a black hole kind of nothing in my life.

Instead of that maudlin bullshit, lets talk about fantasy. Dreaming, and feeling like it's right around the corner.




It's Morocco, and hot. The night is so hot that I take off my tshirt, wearing a camisole underneath. I walk around with the shirt tied around my waist. He walks ahead like he doesn't know me. I take pictures every time he stops and gives the look of "hurry the fuck up, will you?"

I hold my breath and look at the perfectness between his collar and hairline. We'll go back to our hotel and eat warm mango with sweet water and talk about the things he's seen today. I'll put my camera on a slide show and listen to the melodic sounds of the water fountain in the courtyard outside our window.

Dear Chicago,
There's a girl I know...
She's this wonderfully bright and basically it's really neat to know someone like that. She's an artist, and has interesting things to say about the fundamental aspects of painting. Her learning curve hasn't been completely laid out yet, it's still growing. She pretends things never bother her, so the emotions that make her art completely incredible, also make her maer her come completely apart at the seams. At intervals.

She's loyal, but never recovers from broken friendships because afterwards it takes too long for the trust to come back. She spends a lot of time alone, that's her indulgement, almost wantonly taking time for herself, locked up in those rooms. You could talk her out for some sugary tea and impulsive conversation. You may dislike her penchant for smoking, but then...everyone does, so that won't faze her.

Wish you knew her, it's nice to have something so shiny near you. It makes you hope that some of the shiny rubs off on you.
Love,
Gish

Harry Potter today, disappointed things don't look the way they do in my imagination. Ran out of cigarettes awhile ago. I have to wait until my younger sister gets back to tell me where she put them, or get off my ass and go to the store. Not too keen on either choice but seeing as Nick Stahl is waiting for me to soak up his image on Season Two of Carnivale, then I guess I'd better wait here.

I might be moving, to the chagrin of my sister who told me yesterday that she really liked the place. But if I found something cheaper with a bit of a yard for Buckley to rabbit around in, then heck yes I will take it. I can't believe I just wrote 'heck yes'.

Midnight waters...


Already I miss cigarettes, although I'm sure I look twenty years older just from the smoke itself. I just miss them. Bed time soon, and I'd better get to it or it might be another repeat of today where I didn't get out of bed until 2. This sucks. Sleeping is still bad unless I take a multitude of drugs in order to get knocked out enough to turn off my mind.

Seriously.

Pills may cure the insomnia, but that doesn't mean I like to be unconscious for 16 hours. Even *I* think that might be a bit too excessive, and I LOVE sleeping. Ok enough rambling in different directions. Good night, dear readers.
G.

I dreamnt that we kissed each other last night. My immediate impression was that it was an area that needed some work. Sorry, Apostle.

Dear Chicago,
Remember that one summer when everything felt like eraly morning suburban lawns. wet grass that stuck to our shoes from running across other peoples front yards, laughing like loons, holding hands, crimped fingers, sweet breath on each other's necks. ?

The most recent heatwave brings you to mind, once again. No sense wishing to tranform the years back to where we used to be, but it brings such a warm flush to my cheeks to want it so. I just want to wake up there again. Wake up with your hand on my hip. Your mouth on my skin.

I guess I get carried away with the memory most times. All the time.

Wet summer grass. Makes me want to walk through front yards at dawn, just to get the feeling right.
I'll look for you in the weak light.
Love,
Gish.



I used to be such a grammar nazi, way back in the day. Now, I don't really care as long as my words get out there, regardless of which order they arrive in. Same deal for spelling.

I've been watching Durham County. I forgot how good Hugh Dillon was at portraying an angry man. Check out the link below for his new(er) project. I'll pick up the record when I get a chance. I love finding out I've missed the boat by a few months.
http://www.thehdrc.com/

Labels: Dear Chicago, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, love, True love, we all lose in the end, writing

my hospital room
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I've been purposly ignoring my ailing laptop these past few days. Save for checking email and a friends' website, I've mostly been watching tv or re-reading one of my countless books. And thinking. Always with the thinking.

Sometimes, thinking can take me to places I used to dream about. Sometimes, thinking can land me in the right place when I've done a wrong thing. For instance, taking your life. Ending it all. Offing yourself. Whichever phrase you use, it means the same thing in any language. And I've been known to try stupid things. Lots of stupid things. But I've also been lucky in that it only took until I was 31 to find out what the answer to all my stupidness *and* greatness stems from. I mean, I'm not a rockstar, nor a famous painter or photographer.

But I've got this brain that never seems to stop. From that, good and bad things happen. At this point in time, I'm focusing on the good things. Like this photograph of my nephew:

taken but his Aunt Niibin.

I also did a lot of thinking in the hospital. Not really much else one can do when they aren't allowed to leave. I've been thinking about Bipolar and my creativity. Or what to do with the issue of school. My family wants me to wait until I'm more 'settled' which seems silly to me. Why would one get settled only to up and leave again? Or a job. Or a real life, instead of the half life I was living.

I don't know the answers to anything small. I just have one big answer that I have to break down into something more manageable.

And dammit, I want to see some new live shows.

Labels: Daniel Johnston, depression, drama, family, how not to be an idiot, job, Matthew Good, nephews, neurotic, New York, photographs, photography

self portrait nude
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

There's a girl in London, Ontario that has just made a big decision. She's nervous but seems to think it will work out ok. Hopefully, she's right.

Even though I had initially decided to try for a Master's program next year at the University of my choice (Columbia), I've now changed my mind. Again. I've decided to go this year. Classes start in three weeks. I'm either having a gigantic yardsale, or will be putting my things in storage. I haven't gotten that far in the planning yet.

This morning, I ate a bunch of Honeycomb and contemplated the chances of finding a cheap apartment in three weeks in New York. Can't be that hard, there are a gazillion brokers and everything is for rent now. I don't know, I might be just sweet talking myself.

Also, the nude self portraits, that's as nude as it will ever get. At least for internet posting.

nap time. I'm old now.
cheers.

entry
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

A page I wrote while I was in the Big House, as Matt calls it. I call it CrazyTown.

Labels: inspiration, Matthew Good, photographs, we all lose in the end