The past few weeks have been a blur of Venezuelan, Thai and Japanese cuisine; mango peach boba smoothies; running errands. Drove around the city, past the haunted hotel and chic urban neighborhood, around uptown (funk you up) and back downtown. Sauntered through malls, munched on teriyaka, people-watched, raced through arcardes. Talked about heavy topics in a pseudo Target living room for two hours. I named my boyfriend’s GoPro Susan as we drove around and pretended to narrate to an imaginary Youtube audience.
Last night he drove back to drop off my sweater and I gave him a huge piece of watermelon in thanks. Then we sat outside as he munched on watermelon and talked about ridiculous things and how you can see the stars with night vision goggles–the Big Dipper and Little Dipper (“I know my dips–“). It’s nice to sit under the stars and just talk.
Work’s been fun as well. I’ve been feeling chatty and I’ve always really liked the people. We went out for lunch two Friday’s ago. And two days ago I organized a little Boomerang video shoot for the office. My co-worker and I found props for the others to don, and then we all danced to the first day of summer.
In general, life’s been pretty gouda. Hope everyone’s been doing okay! Been catching up on my favorite blogs.
“I wish I could pause time and moments like this without having to think about what’s next.”
Pause. The sun set. We were quiet. It felt like the moment when my friends and I were in Central Park, New York. We’d found a pond with ducks and turtles facing a castle in in the distance. So we sat on the rocks, quiet and contemplative, swimming in our own thoughts.
A blanket of peace descended upon us; I asked them what they were thinking. My friend said moments like this were rare. And maybe we wanted to achieve material success in life so we could buy intangible moments like this. Maybe we strived to make money, lots of it, so maybe we could buy peace, calm and happiness.
But wait–no–that didn’t sound right.
In a crafty fury I’ve gone out and bought a new sketchbook, postcard book and scrapbook materials. I’ve been crafting like a wild crafts storm, spending hours pasting, trimming, doodling, painting, etc. Here’s a glimpse at something I digitally sketched today.
I love zines: they’re the perfect intersection between art and poetry and prose and photography with just a dash of weird-creative and jarring-aesthetic and shakes-you-up-prose. Sorry not sorry, but I’m having a major art nerd attack right now: I’ve found zines on zines on zines! And it is, I tell you, ama-zine. Normally, zines are small print booklets distributed by hand. But many–as I discovered last night–are uploaded onto Issuu and it’s f–king fantastic.
Before I forget, here’s a link to the vast array of zines littered across Issuu.
It makes me wish I could write poetry the way these writers do. But poetry always feels so personal. I mean, writing’s pretty personal in general, but poetry’s, like, the stuff of the heart. I only ever write poetry when the heart-stuff’s threatening to overflow and coat everything in sight so I jot it down real quick and show it to nobody.
But I guess that’s why I like these zines so much. They’re raw. Made of heart-stuff. Not like the glossy magazines–they’re more like the, uh, hashtag nofilter creative underbelly cousins of the magazine. Magazines are all dolled up, stuffed with ads. Zines aren’t. And that they’re oft produced by creatives and minorities makes it all the better.
God, all the art and writing is so inspiring.