Graphic Arts

Invitations...if you don't have one and want one, let me know your address and I'll mail it ASAP.

I like the graphics on these. The weight of the buffalo against the slender letters on the invitation and the small buffalo against the big word on the bookmark.

In graphic arts, in writing, in food (in life?) many of the most exciting pairings are, if not opposites, then the very different. Chutney's spice against the sweet tart fruit, a novel's horrific image rendered in exquisite language, a pool on a hot day.

Turpentine, in-situ

Shawna came to town yesterday (Yes, the Shawna Yang Ryan, writer extraordinaire, who wrote Locke 1928, available on Amazon, don't tell me you haven't read it yet? Have you checked out her web site? She has one of the best blogs going!) We went to bookstores to see it on the shelves. At Borders we found all but one of the autographed versions sold and six new ones out.

Louis brought them to a clerk and said I would sign them. The clerk looked at me dubiously and I said, "He means, I will sign them if you would like me to..." The clerk frowned. "Maybe two. If you sign the books, we can't return them!" I signed (squeaked three under the wire) and tried not to laugh. What faith the woman had in me!

I had, of course forgotten my camera, and Shawna hers so we didn't even get to record the event for posperity.

I was downtown this morning, however, so I went back, took a photo and was stopped by the clerk. He told me he couldn't allow me to take photographs in the store. I pointed to Turpentine and said, "Oh, I was just taking a picture of my book." He didn't smile. "It is corporate policy. No photographs."

Why? What could people do with pictures taken in Borders? What are they afraid of? Do things happen in Borders they don't want bandied about? What happens in Borders stays in Borders?

And the photograph that got interrupted? That's not it. That's not Borders. That may not even be Turpentine top shelf second from the left. I swear.

Really and sadly, that's the way it was.

A friend who had seen yesterday's posting asked me if I hadn't messed up my office more than it really was for the sake of the photograph?
Louis said he couldn't believe I would post that picture.
What? Doesn't everyone's office get like this?

I couldn't take it anymore. I had been working nonstop trying to get a draft done, telling myself the cleaning would wait, unpacking the rest of Turpentine would wait, throwing out the candy wrappers and the scrap paper and emptying the trash would wait. I couldn't file the papers. I needed the research notes. Every spare moment I could get into the office was for writing. But tonight, I had an hour. I had already written for six and the mess stress was killing me.

“First comes thought; then organization of that thought, into ideas and plans; then transformation of those plans into reality. The beginning, as you will observe, is in your imagination.”
Napoleon Hill (American author, 1883-1970)

Gap

I wish they wouldn't embroider 'sweet dreams' on pillows, or silkscreen 'coffee' on mugs. I don't like bowls that say 'fruit', or cookie jars that say 'cookies' on them. Worst of all is the advertisement of a brand of clothing on the clothing itself. I can live with 'Levis' printed on the button of my jeans, but hoodies with the word 'Gap' across the front are a waste of a hoodie and the terrific word 'gap' as well.

Gap--- Any opening or breach in an otherwise continuous object
A breach by which an escape might be effected or an attack made
A notch or slit made in a swan's beak
A break in a range of mountains
To fill a vacant space.

Entry project part 2, 3,4...

Alas, before one builds, one has to prepare. One must paint. I hate painting. (walls and sheds, houses and the like) I started to paint, but I couldn't quite reach the whole thing. So-(pic 2) Louis got the ladder and finished the high spots for me, then decided (picture 3) to go ahead and finish painting the entire length of the wall. While he was doing that, I spray painted the light fixture to match the hooks I'd purchased earlier at IKEA.(pic 4) THEN I got to build, install the hooks, put down the FLOR squares and entice a cat to recline for ambience. Ta-Da! (Pic 5)

Transforming the entry

Sometimes I just want to build something. Something I can put my hands on and use. Because writing, though building with words, is very abstract. An abstractions of sound into meaning. An abstract set of marks to symbolize the abstract sounds that mean something. If one works on a computer they are using little blips of electricity that create a sequence of blips so that the computer can "read" in its abstract language and turn it into our abstract language. All those abstract words into abstract sentences, into abstract files called chapters and books...

Like I said, I want to put my hands on wood, cut it, shape it, use it. I've made tables, chairs, amoires, boxes, pencil holders...today I am going to put up hooks in the entry so that we can hang our coats. For no matter it is 100 degrees out, fall, and then winter, are coming.

Here is the before. Actually it looks pretty good. In the photo you can't see the holes in the wall, the dingy paint, the scratches and stain on the sixty year old tiles...believe me, they are there.