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I sleep late late late. Finally awake, nap-stretch in my bed for over an hour, thinking lazy thoughts. Breakfast in bed, feels like a mini holiday.

Today I finally make a start on my new moleskine-sketchbook after not drawing for three weeks. (portfolio, applications totally wore me out.) Now lines feel unsure and clumsy, but drawing, I missed you!

There are things you need to do with new sketchbooks. First scrawl your name and address in case you lose it. Second, find some fun quote for the inside cover. Some drawings or stickers are a good thing too. Then wreck a couple of pages with really bad drawing. Weep the loss of the image of the perfect sketchbook. You know, the one only filled with awesome drawing.

And then: Get over it. Turn a page. Continue drawing.

P.S. I am so going to knit pirate mittens. I am thinking pink.

MIRROR PIECE
Instead of obtaining a mirror,
obtain a person.
Look into him.
Use different people.
Old, young, fat, small, etc.

CLOSET PIECE III
Kill all the men you have slept with.
Put the bones in a box and send it out into the sea with flowers.

CLOCK PIECE
Select a clock.
Set it on time.
You may rewind the clock but never reset it.
Call it your life clock.
Live accordingly.

- Yoko Ono: Grapefruit

Naps at noon. Morning coffee at 4 in the afternoon. Walks around the bay. No jacket, just mittens and a scarf. Lollipops, tea outside. Crazy little books, poems and instructions. (All people should have such crazy inner worlds)

swim
swim in your dream as far as you can until you find an island. tell us results.

Travel plans should always be made in the spur of the moment and out of the blue…

Yesterday the flatmate and I started the long due spring cleaning. Old school stuff, first architectural endeavors, all go in the bin. I want to get rid of half of the things I own. A mental inventory: paperstuff, half working stereo, all to the workspace I’ll start looking for when I know where I’ll live next fall.And then we dream about just leaving, talk about where to store all the stuff (dad’s garage, grandparents attic. I don’t even own the bed I sleep on), talk about what we’d really pack in one suitcase.

I’d take:
my computer
my music (preferably stored in 20gb mp3-player)
two rings and one necklace
three Derrick Jensen books
my full collage-sketchbook
some postcards

clothes, shoes, replacable
ink pens and paper bought (found) on the way…

And when it stops, all I’ve got is me. I feel small and quiet.

Books and paintbrushes scattered around exactly where they were left. Dust. Undone laundry. Windows needing spring cleaning. Instead I go sit in the cafe, late monday evening, eavesdropping conversations, all this life, (who knew?), woving to come back each day. With a less heavy heart.

At home I curl up with a book.

p.s. She is amazing.