Archive for October, 2014

October 29, 2014

monikamerva-05 (monika merva) love everything about this photo, especially the nose, the bread and the red flowers.Leo Gestel  (leo gestel)

“Don’t gangs of coyotes live in California?” Wiley and Roadrunner, beep! beep!

“I think there are more packs of gangs than gangs of coyotes. They’re as loud as the coyotes at night, driving around.” Howling people and howling dogs arguing, trying to take up as much auditory space as possible. Coyote suckling from a mama coyote. Baby boy suckling from mama gang member. Romulus and Remus.

I wished we could be coyotes roaming free. Coyotes find rabbits and cats and small puppies in suburbs and yum yum, that’s all they worry about. Coyotes might be cowardly wolves, but they’re not naïve about it. They know they’re naïve, they like naive.

fred huening(fred huening)

Inside the swimming pool was a child with her mother. Water drops like glass shards. The child was holding on to the breasts of her mother, had to be the mother, as if they were flotation devices. Breasts and bottoms make women better floaters, make women flotation devices.

new sam bay and i like it

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October 22, 2014

to return to nostalgia and the idea of possibility.

The reception man at Motel Niantic was actually two. Two pint-sized men that, when stacked on top of each other, could form a fully sized man. I imagined tetris men as they stood side by side. The one on the left was mute and ever-nodding, agreeing enthusiastically to comments whispered to himself. The man on the right had skin so full of hair dark fuzz it looks like a pelt, a beaver pelt because he also had large yellow teeth like pozole corn kernels.

Beaverman told us our room had a balcony and he winked, like my lover and I were going to go do it on that balcony. We didn’t. From the balcony we saw the pool, gray with a fat child whinnying, splashing.

Screen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.44.44 PMthat is from when i used to be really into lomography. i have to fish out my camera and try some more. this is me nowScreen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.49.14 PM my toes still move that way, like french fries with minds of their own, or jelly fish tentacles that don’t know how to sting yet. Screen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.41.47 PM my maternal abuela, wearing a clean white dress and clean white shoes in front of a dusty farm house. i imagine it has painted blue shutters. in galicia, they paint shutters and doors blue, green, red, leftover paint from the fishing boats. inside the house there is a bowl of fruit and cheese awaiting her, a pack of cigarettes. is that too expected? i’m probably wrong. what i do know is that there is no fridge in there, and no almond butter, no hemp milk, avocados, or cashews.  but there are eggs, and the yolks are sun orange.

 

October 15, 2014

monikamerva-10 (monika merva) (nika aila)nika-aila-states05

grandma has an opal ring. it would turn pink when she cooked because of the heat. pink when she boiled orange shrimp or potatoes, pink with beef stroganoff steaming. it turned pink when she roasted a chicken.

blue when we held hands on walks in the botanical gardens. blue with binoculars at hand, blue with hummingbirds, squirrels, rabbits taking dust baths, roadrunners and a hawk in the sky.

the ring turned green when she stopped cooking and stopped walking and bought a wig. the green looked nice with the gray white of her wig, though. “my hair used to be black when i was young! i didn’t want to be different so i’d say no, it’s not black! it’s just very dark brown! i wanted to be like everyone else” she’d tell me that.

now, she wants to be different though. she doesn’t want to be tucked in with pale sheets and tubes and buttons, monitors that buzz like all the others in the beige rooms.

her opal ring is green and she doesn’t wear her wig, she has no hair. her opal ring slides off her fingers and i want to tape it on.

but when the sun sets it shines color on her through the window. yellows and oranges, warm pink glows. she is resting her eyes and doesn’t see the colors but i do.ricardo_o-940x626 (ricardo cases) these photos are from a series titled “El Porque de las naranjas”ricardo cases el porque de las naranjas which means “The Reason of the oranges” or, “The Because of the oranges,” or, “The Why of the oranges.” I’ll let you decide how to translate it.

nancy, estas alli?

October 10, 2014

te estas preparando para el dia de los muertos? disfrútalo por mi, porfis.

carnation patience

cactus legs

hippo arms

salt stings peanut grit

monika-merva-doki i absolutely love these photos taken by monika merva. monikamerva-03 yes, yes. i hope you find this as funny as i do.

autumn is here

October 6, 2014

“Harvey Cushing, who practiced medicine, from 1899 to 1932, was also a prolific documentarian”Screen Shot 2014-10-05 at 7.55.04 PM you guys gotta check out his photos from the new yorker. utterly beautiful.Screen Shot 2014-10-01 at 7.59.39 AM my mother’s mother. and this poem has been haunting me. it says childhood and life. “in the waiting room,” elizabeth bishop.

joelmeyerowitzjoel meyerowitz. and now it’s time for some roast sweet potato, yours truly. that’s me. i’m orange inside, fluffy with butter. i like the sweet potato skin. i also like the skin of palm-sized purple potatoes from bolivia, with witch moles and round tummy flabs.