from the cinema: slumdog and oil

Slumdog Millionaire is the kind of movie that is a whole, complete work of art. it has mastered storytelling in every way available to the medium--thru photography, music, story, acting, editing, and design. i left that movie affected, yes, by the extremely harsh realities of the boys' lives but even moreso by the artistry, sincerity, and morality of it--the freshness, resilience and real lifeness.

i felt similarly when i watched There Will Be Blood. it's a similarly harsh movie in many aspects, but to me, more dominated again by impeccable storytelling and remarkable, sometimes breathtaking artistry.

these movies' natural style underscores everyday beauty and brings it into high relief as it is set against cruelties, disappointments, and injustices. like real life.

these belong to the category of movies that leave me inspired to create.....to keep creating with meaning and energy and complete artistry. to think things through and leave nothing done halfway. to find inspiration in everything around me and to use art to recast life.


from the bindery: bench in my bedroom!

still in progress.

but at last.




to pass.

from the bindery: !

people have been using link stitch to sew books for almost 2,000 years


from springs long past: windy words

so i'm stalling. i have somewhat to say concerning bookbinding and the unknowns in life. but i'd like to write it up properly and really think it through even more carefully.....which means i haven't been thinking much on it at all.

so in its stead, i dug this out of the closet of diaryland. another poem-like tangle of words assembled about 2 and a half years ago. it is really meant for march and april, but since we are all dreaming of spring anyway, why not now?

it doesn't have a name, hasn't got much form or polish. i'd still consider it a work in progress. i might do some more tweaking. although, like nearly everything i write, it was snatched out of a moment and meant for nothing else but that moment and a burst of creative notions.


This wind. It blows. everything. Blows the broom over. Blows dust round and round and round in a swirl. Blows old dead leaves. Blows me. me. meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Up in a gust.

Round in a spiral.

Lifting me higher.

Up, up, and over, beyond the tallest limbs of the tallest tree.

I look out over the world. From the wind’s eye view, I see the world curve. I curve with it! I AM the world’s curve!! I look out over the world as I curve. I see where I have gone. I see where I could go.

I rush into empty pockets, vast voids, new spaces. equalizing. Balancing.

I throw my arms around the wind, exclaiming, “You are mine! I am yours! I will soar along your current that is also mine!” I also push over brooms, sweep streets into the air, fling dust and dead leaves. I reorder the air, replacing heat molecules with cool. I breathe the cool breath of the breeze.

I will cool you.

Cool your mind, your spirit, your skin, your heart.

I will steady you, little molecules, I will slow your agitated dance.

Steady your mind. Steady your spirit. Steady your skin. Steady your heart.

We curve in coolness.

10:33 p.m. - 06.06.06