steampunk coveting:

And I'm absolutely excited about the prospect of this SF based Dickens Festival:

roasted chestnuts,
victorian attire,
scrooge and fagin,
hot toddies,
meat pies,
vintage printing presses

WIN.

last night, i traveled to france

under my eyelids. It was green

all those rich shades of it

that makes cities seem poor

and there was a pool

with swim lanes

separated by mini-pirate ships

I wanted to go anywhere. I jumped

and realized I was naked. AH!

These are part of me-

(like my runny nose ands eyeballs)

shame, self-consciousness,

forgetting what's expected of me,

and wanting to shed everything and jump

headfirst into a beauty

that doesn't exist.

Two things

you made two things

a mess

and broccoli leek soup

you can't afford art supplies

so you use food stamps

you can't write poems

so you make monster creations

and cook them up

you fingers want to type so they chop

you eyes want to frame a picture

so they watch the pot.

Follow recipes like the rules of a sonnet

pinch syllable or two.

You shove your free verse

pecan biscuits at me:

you don't say

"eat my art"

but it would be true.

Romance is on a diet

no longer the large belly full of private dinners

tipsy from the cocktails

heavy makeup to impress

and flesh full of lovebites

She eats a salad at work

washes your dishes

picks up your pens and paper

holds you, nude, for the few moments

before your eyes clothes

Every now and then,

she looks at old pictures of herself,

letters and gifts you'd given

before she can tear up

(romance shouldn't snivel,

she should weep gloriously-

or not at all)

she lights a candle

dims the lights

and waits.

She dreams of

gorging on you

till her heart explodes

but she can't find her appetite.

and besides

there's no time.

We rode our bikes

you me dad mom

to a festival for honey

who knew there were so many hills

in iowa, your dad

laughed at me

when the fresh honey poured out

of that big black machine

i was tempted to stick my face in it

so i stuck my finger

the sweet taste in your mouth

is always your secret

I kissed you with tongue to get

courage to take a picture

really really close

of the man with bees

on his face, totally covered

and there were bees crawling on me

but I was so far from my mom, the east coast,

your home, and that bad sting in 7th grade

I didn't run or scream

and you laughed at me

and I thought, fuck it

and laughed too.

Optical Illusion: Hitler/Lesbian

img004edited
Originally uploaded by Iamsurrealism

You better believe it was a workout getting this gem of a shot.

MFA Degree Vs. Fantasy

Some may argue that's just the same:

an MFA in poetry is a fantasy degree made of legitimizing an art form so that with lots of money and school you are a "Master"- but you can't teach talent. (PS. MFA is a terminal degree, there's no PHD in creative writing)

It's true. But regardless, that isn't my dilemma.

Going to an MFA program is probably the most solid option I've got for a "future".

I'd have to get a pretty substantial scholarship to afford this socially approved institution- the odds of getting into well-funded program are, well... it's more difficult than Harvard Law.

Worst of all,

My super-secret dream goal that's not so secret and maybe not a dream

is to rent a storefront, live in it (*ahem* nap in it), and create a community art space.

Sometimes

when I hear my smart friends talk about genetics and the body

or my business friends talk about their $26 dollar an hour internships

(with free transportation)

And I'm burping in front of a film camera for petty cash

while working on penny-stipends at non-profits

I wonder if maybe I shoulda done something practical with my life.

Do you ever think that way?

It's No Oregon Trail

But here are some pictures from the journey west:

Chicago, IL [Photo by A. Fries]

Iowa City, Iowa

Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Highway 80, Iowa

John Wayne's Birthplace, Iowa

Earlham, Iowa

Grand Junction, Colorado

Grand Junction, Colorado

Cedar Rapids, Iowa

(Bridges of) Madison County, Iowa

Understanding.

I recently (joined with my partner in crime) started a candida cleanse which means no:
1. sugar
2.starchy veggies
3.hydrogenated oils
4.yeast (so no bread, carbs, etc)
5. perservaties
6. and more

This means I've taken to cooking lots of fresh meals like:
1. fried eggplant w/ almond flour + kale chips
2. chicken fajita, sans taco
3. quinoa with lentil and salad (homemade dressing)
4. Kabob (coming soon)

In this mindset, I volunteered time for fresh veggie juice at the farmer's market.
Lo and behold, I found myself cleaning cilantro for an hour.

In Iran, women would always spend hours cleaning herbs when they came back from shopping.
My grandma still does.

I always watched, fascinated and confused by this process, this woman's work, this task I snubbed my nose at.

And here I am, seeking a life where I do it daily.

Birthday Suit

Happy Birthday to me from San Fransicko!

Sorry for the lack of Iowa/San Fran updates. I'm running around trying to get a home/job/life started here.

More later!