Posts tagged ‘dreme’

February 19, 2011

be // twee // n the // heatha // mphetamines

ix hermit

ace wands

daughter pentacles

xx judgement

ace pentacles

 

the dremes are coming on fast and thick – i cannot write them down quick enough.  slippery rock and architecture carved into the landscape is prevalent.

 

dried rose stems make for love spell wands.

i work badly collectively.

puncturing through tissue and equipping others for my filth.

brain’s on another wavelength as a :: a novel would have it.

more heathamphetamines, please.

February 15, 2011

Valentinian // Anadoxia

04 swords

08 pentacles

09 cups

xv baphomet

07 wands

05 cups

03 pentacles

 

between the tennesee tennis knee and a hilarious bout of the trembling bunnies, i somehow managed to draw 4 cards today, including our dearest BAPHOMET on this valentine’s day.

instead of boring you with my processes, i’m going to bore you with a dream i had last night.

i’m the eldest daughter of a nomadic tribe led by michael gira.  my name is oksana, as the eldest daughter of every tribe must be named oksana as every CHILD must be born in oksana, north dakota.  my family tribe travels around the world hanging signs – the huge ones that you see on the sides of highways and such.  at one part i am separated from my family while soliciting for people to advertise with us.  michael gira’s voice is ringing through my head YOU ARE OKSANA THE DAUGHTER OF DOXA.  REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE, REMEMBER THE ANADOXIA.  i am climbing up these very beautiful houses, white and silver and they are carved into cliffs, with very dark green coniferous trees gorwing out of them and forming other houses.  i am lost and i have lost my younger sisters and brothers that michael gira has trusted me with.  i am walking up and down and up and down these slippery wet white rock cliffs trying to get back to ‘the car’ but there are all these very old ladies dressed in crazy colours and piles of gold jewelry and i am all in black because i am ‘oksana’ and i must never forget.  i am now walking up this very cold snowy mountain holding a huuuge cloroplast sign and i can see my tribe at the top.  the sign is very unwieldy and am holding on very tight but the wind is blowing it up like a sail.  i finally reach the top after what feels like hours and my tribe climbs onto the sign and slides all the way down the mountain i just climbed and we do this like 5 times.

July 22, 2010

bombs not guns

Now the rain’s like gravel on old tin roof
And the Burlinton Northern’s pullin’ out of the world
With a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw.
And a Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all.

comfort tagging, yarn bombing, grafknitti [though i’m not much of a knitter]

st viateur and st urbain

laurier and clark

fairmount and parc ave

i do this for many reasons

like rebelling against the colour grey which we are coerced into having a relationship with in this disgusting urban environment

like opening up a dialogue with my fellow citizens.  living in a closed world, the subversive act of doing something unusual in a public space creates a safe place to ask the questions ‘what are you doing?’ ‘who are you?’

this is a good thing, i tell myself

this is not like dancing alone

this is like being something realer

this is reeling from the blow of returning to the [un]fair city.

the light here is not unlike trying to photograph heat
my keyboard is still set to german because i couldn’t stop writing about einstürzende neubauten

here’s to hoping my Ys and Zs are easilz transferable and feral enough to hold their own

in effort to not turn into a sponge, i created a little [semi small] art book of 10 mixed media drawings

duet cover

duet epic

to the mewling of our qat outside, i dreamed of hugging and running to the sea.

i wonder what that feels like.