A Hard Book to Read

Ghost lines dogged his face. They moved, quietly, when he was worried or frightened. They had hidden written meanings and sometimes they read different things. One day it was, "I hate this," and the next day, "I'm leaving," and later that night, "But where would I go?"

This Site is SO Over

Have moved to wordpress. Blogger, you treated me well, but my command of css is not adequate enough to make this layout alright. So, onward to

www.katebarbaria.wordpress.com !

Home on the Range

Pop pop pop like a toy it popped them all off.
I was not sure exactly what to do after that.
Cans are easier to pick up and re-stack.

Close Enough to a True Story

I was a woman, earlier today. I am an android, now, in hot pants and drying white paint. The transformation, it was quite complete; I will go mechanically (so to speak) through the motions. When the sun rises at four-thirty AM, I will just be Susan, the girl-human, again

C'est Magnifique

Danny loves Mme. Barrett.
It was carved into the high school wall in shaky latch-key kid scrawl. I wondered, as it sweltered that evening, what were the supposed charms of Mme. Barrett? I wondered if she, too, nursed a deep and illicit longing for Danny-- and if, perhaps, he passed her class.

Also, You Had a Car

I've been wondering where you are since you left this town. If you're wondering where I am, I'm just at the local bar. Bring me another! Bring me two more! The only place I want to be is on the floor, and the only thing I want to hold is in the bathroom stall. And I'm definitely not answering your calls.

Roasts are Good Left-Overs

"Why bother with the niceties?"
"You're right. We should cut off the candle light and the nice dinner I had planned. The roast is already in the oven, but..."
"You could kiss me now."
"I thought you wanted to edit out the extras."
"Oh, right. Well, we could skip to the --"
"Why don't I just put on a movie?"
"I'll bring the coffee in."

They settled onto the couch, each glad the other wanted so little. Just a warm body and a sub-par film.

Professional Communication

She sighed, again. "It's not what you say, it's how you say it."
"I hate you." I said it very sweetly.
"Better."

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I met Jesus last night. He is a vagrant and the Master of Funk. Where he walks, technicolor lights and a Bootsy Collins soundtrack blossom in the air.

I knew who he was the moment I saw him stumbling, drunkenly, down the beach. "Oh, Lord," I said. "It's you. What the Hell happened, Jesus?" He did a tumbly dance and fell back on the sand.

"What was I supposed to do?" he replied. The light show flared in time with the trombones and the sun going down.

Jesus is the Master of Funk. And this is a true story.

I Forgot My Heart at Home

The pansies waggled their little heads in the breeze and we lay there side by side but I couldn't hear him breathe. Oh, he was there, all right. Just not completely. Who was I to judge, half a woman as I was?

Eve's Revenge

In the Lord’s image Adam was made
But he couldn’t get laid
So from Adam’s rib I was created
I think that means that we are related

Adam was a pretty bad boyfriend
Lord, he never treated me right
He came home drunk every night

After one terrible fight
I took my split lip to the apple tree
Just one bite was enough to make him realize
I was the only woman alive

Well, there were so many trees to choose from
The cherry, the plum, but I took knowledge and started to run
I’m getting out I’m getting out I’m getting out
I’m getting out of Paradise today

We were both told to leave Eden
I moved to Sweden
I feel completed (his profile deleted)
Where ever Adam went to
I’ll never need to know

God’s garden won’t grow
And Satan, my roommate, is digging a very large hole
It is going to be a nudist beach, I’m told
I can’t wait to go swimming.

Your Presence is No Longer Required

Everything of importance is on the computer and backed up in two places.
Do I still have to be here?

That their limbs can hang so tight for
Ever and so long and heavy,
That they should grab hold the height and
Swing under over hardly hardly steady,

That the cold freeze fingers blue for
Reasons like flight and breathlessness,
That the world past chain links grew but
Held no cure for restlessness,

Girlfriends are Great

Whenever Sarah reminds me to take out the trash, I consider asking her to leave. But she does a lot of nice things. For example, she likes me. So I turn up the volume and crack another MGD.

I Could Have Gone to Fiji

I decided to visit my childhood today
The trees were much larger than I remember
and the road stretched much farther out ahead
The cat and the mouse quite clearly fought
While rain puddles became
Lakes for swimming in
By pursing my lips and closing my eyes
I became, convincinly, the bugle, then the band
It's a serious game I'm playing
With forget-me-nots and lilies

Why Science is Bad for You

I learned yesterday that Leo DaVinci wrote a treasty on the impossibility of perpetual motion. I feel that this explains a good deal about his personality. No wonder he was so hung up on that Lisa chick.

Dude, she was not that hot.

They Called it my "Earth" Phase

All of my paintings are in brown because I threw out the other tubes of acrylic in a fit. It was supposed to reflect an artistic rebellion. Sometimes one should think before acting.

Notes From the Underground

Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Bot discussing:

D: Why are you here?
B: Don't you know?
D: No.
B: Neither do I. Should I be worried?
D: Probably.

Dad's Day

I went for a hike yesterday, and I thought of you. Remember Pyramid Falls, where the water flowed all around us? And at Point Reyes, climbing up Eagle Ridge? And in the Palisades, where everything else looked so small, except the peaks, which looked like steaks...

I drew a picture yesterday, and I thought of you. Remember how you always bring a sketch book, and one of those hard blue pencils, everywhere you go? I was always so astonished that you didn't want an eraser. There are only happy accidents, I guess.

I went to the museum yesterday, and I thought of you. Remember when you read Marc Chagall's biography to me, and I was nine? And when we went to Florence to see the big art? And when, in Paris, the first place we went was not the Louvre, but Picasso's...

I had to deal with people yesterday, and I thought of you, Mister Shades of Grey. It made me curious about what they were really trying to say.

Unwanted Neighbors

Aphrodite has been sitting for thirteen weeks in the peach tree, but so far I have refused to make contact. Today she moved to the stile and I had to climb over her just to get out of the house. Some days I think I should just run up and say to her, “All right, I give in. Now leave me alone.” But even then, I think she would only move into my extra bedroom—it’s meant for guests.

Earth is a Wench

My brother was a fire fighter. He was good at fighting fires, too. But I guess Nature is one of those women; you know, the ones who put up with you until you rearrange their shit too many times.

And He Was on a Platform

Two Forks in A Wood

I don't think we should go down this path.
You are far too sensitive when I ignore your calls.
Maybe we can try again tomorrow.
When my friends aren't around.

I Never Learned How to Form a Question Properly?

I read once--well, I've actually read a lot of times--but one time really hangs with me because it was about being in love with soap and mice in brown suits, supposedly.

Two questions have haunted me since. One, I did not know mice wore suits? If I had known that, perhaps I would not have killed so many? And Two, I would not be in love with something that dehydrates my skin so much?

Then again, I did not write the book.

Elba Seems Like a Nice Place

Napoleon and I are the same height, according to the wax museum.
I wonder what else we have in common.
A lust for world domination and a penchant for ermine collars, certainly.
Fondness of rural Italy in the summer.
Stomach cancer--man, I hope not.

What's in Your Wallet?

Don't forget to go crazy.

I wrote it as a side note (in pencil) on my grocery list. I am absent minded, sometimes, and it would be unfortunate to have that fall through the cracks.

Un sure

We all need
reassurance
so don't
beat yourself up
but I
certainly don't
want yours.
Anymore.

Bell

Bring out
your dead
said the bells
on the ankles
of the body
collectors

No dead
in here
no not
anymore
we lowered
them into
the garden
out back

You may
take them
if you like.

Robots in Russia

The first of the traveling bots has sent a message to the Homeland. My friend Adam, currenly on a jaunt through Europe's underbelly, has kindly directed this photo back from Peterhof. Typical robot behavior-- attempting to take over the gaudy gardens of the czars.

Update: Removal of Worldy Possesions

I've gotten rid of it all. There is nothing left in my room (of my own) except my skis, a few changes of clothes and my computer.

That's a total lie. My place is still full to the brim, it seems. I've got boxes of stuff, but nowhere to take them. Salvation Army, I guess. And more boxes of trash. I could just take those to the curb. And, of course, a room still full of possesions, in general. IE, books, clothes, notebooks, a giant box of pencil stubs (?), and the list goes on. Slowly, but surely, I will simplify my life. 'Cause it's so complex, I know, I know. But seriously, every time I can put another hoodie in the "give away" box, my heart feels a little lighter.

Onward!

On another note, the writing is humming along now. Seems I just need copious amounts of coffee and a little guilt to get me going. Today I wrote the beginning of two plays: one about a transient who can only speak in iambic pentameter (his name is Billy), and the other is about a family who can't get things quite right (especially in regards to religion). Hopefully I'll have enough on these soon that I can show them to people. I might decide they're not so great after all.

Cherry blossoms are falling. Wind is blowing. Sun's shining a bit. Construction outside my house all day long.

Mom's Day

Hey you-- yeah, YOU! You ROCK! I know I'm not home this year (gasp, for the first time ever), but I'm still thinking of you. Lots. Ask anyone. Someone says something about home, and inevitably I will say something about, "Dude, my mom is so cool. Seriously, man, you don't even know."

Everyday something (well, okay, tons of things) remind me of you. Take, for example, the fact that "Burkina ___" has come up as a clue in my daily crossword for the past two days. Or that people are always asking where I got my robots, and stealing my Indian scarves. And that I know how to talk to human beings. And how to write, sometimes. And also, how I know to have my own money. And that if I don't like something, I can change it. And that I can, actually, change the world.

I know this sounds like it's about me, but really, Kim Tackett, you know it's about you. You have taught me, well, it turns out, everything necessary for thriving in this world. Or you gave me the tools to figure out what I don't know on my own. That plus unflagging support equals two daughters well prepared to face life.

Love you. And I'll call you in the morning. Hope you're eating strawberries and drinking too much strong coffee. (That's another thing you "gave" me.)

Explainings

Two Down is about crossword puzzles, which I am currenly consumed by. Go, power of-- Cryptic Crossword! Go, power of-- Thinks.com! Go, power of--24 (their sudoku is pretty good, too)!

That second one is just because like 3 houses in my neighborhood have recently been torn down, and the dad really was clutching a hose spigot while watching his home being bulldozed. Thought it was funny.

Grocery Shopping is just 'cause I got nothin in the house but Raisin Bran and peanut butter. But that's just 'cause I shop the way the French do.

New Works on Paper (actually on hard drive)

Two Down
Everything came so easily
Until the last few unknowns
What does it mean, to be liked immensely?
What are the repercussions,
The effects, the shock-waves forthwith?
I need to know, to understand, you see
What one calls a foreign ruler and how
Many rupees add up with joules
To explain what it means to be liked immensely
And how songbirds line up to
Zola’s collections and also where Mary
Went to ease her pain
And what Rubrik
Said, which was similar
All of this adds up to a one word explanation, what it means to be liked immensely.

Cleaning Up the Neighborhood
One house two houses down
Was knocked to the ground
One month ago and has proceeded
To be rebuilt through the rain
And unseasonable snow.
A second house three houses away
And a skip was knocked to the ground
Or in the process of today
While I walked up the hill and around
The family including what
Must have been the patriarch grey-haired
As he was clutching a memento I propose
This was an outdoor spigot for the hose.

Grocery Shopping and Why it is Necessary
The prodigal son has returned to find nothing in the cabinets but cobwebs and stale double-scoop Raisin Bran—no milk in the fridge, he thinks he is coming undone.

Take Me To the Mountains

I just wanna have fun. And hike. I can hike around the city endlessly, but my mind/body/congolm-exsi-soul wants out for a bit. Because of prior engagements (ie money makin) I'm waiting until Early June, but that really seems like a long time. I figure that until then I can escape through literature and my fertile imagination. The only downfall is that I get an increase in comments from my friends along the lines of, "Kate, are you okay? You've been staring at the wall for 20 minutes. You're creeping me out." Which is actually probaby an upfall, rather than a downfall.

The Robots

Please do not be worrying. Judging from the outcry (of EVERYONE) the robot collection is pretty darn cool. I'm not getting rid of them. But I am going to do fun things with them. Toys are no good sitting on a shelf. So here's the deal: I've got several that are travel sized and can fit in people's backpacks. So I'm giving them to friends as they traipse around the world (Mongolia, Europe, Michigan, Europe again...) with the demand that my wee robotic companions see the sights, taste the salt air, experience the thrill of adventure, etc, and are well documented via those handy cameras people got everywhere. Will post pics as more develops.

Commence

I'm proceeding with the plan to eschew worldy possesions. Kind of a road block when I realize that I have very few worldly possesions. But, I've gone through my books (filled a box), my clothes (three banker boxes), and extra tchachkas (one more box). That's about it. Plus an alarming amount of straight up trash. I still have a lot of crap, but I tell myself that I need all of it. I think I'll do this again next week and see what else I can release.

On the positive side, I see that most of what I own is straight up paper goods: in folders, piles, on the walls, not to mention my extensive and well developed library. Next in line is an alarming amount of pencils, and following that, my robot collection.

When I find myself trying to decide whether to put something in the "keep" or "give away" box, I repeat a mantra created by my parents (in their infinite wisdom): "Pack light, move fast. If you care about it, carry it yourself. And it should all fit in the back of a VW Bug."

Email to my mom that I decided to post here instead

While studying for a final today I indulged in an extravagant daydream wherein I sold all of my worldly possessions and went on a personal journey walking the road to Santiago. I don't know anything about it other than the fact that Paulo Coehlo did it and wrote about 6 books which have made him very successful. Then I thought I could settle for a 4 day vaca to vancouver island and hike around. what do you think?

K

also, I am still toying with the worldly possessions thing. not including my skis. or ipod. or cool clothes. damn it...

also, I really do need to do one of those personal journey things. this summer seems like a pretty good time for that.

New Things are Hard

Woot. Doin new stuff. Bein pro-active. Creatin. Callin. Photocopyin and emailin. Still no replies (well, like four...)

So a group of like minded classmates and I have launched a Vancouver-based artist communtiy/network. Within the first four days, we had 100 people sign up on facebook. And now... well, we're trying to combat the apathy that seems to plague the UBC student scene. The whole point it to get the art community working together, and everyone thinks it's a good idea. So-- what gives, student body? I bribe you with promises of beer and asail you with flashy underground-style posters about campus, that clearly say "we are SO cool. you should SO be one of US", but still you are non responsive. What else do you want?

I wanna help you find people for your summer projects. I wanna find someone to produce your play. I wanna find a venue for your next show, or actors who want to be in the film you're doing this weekend. But you have to work with us, people. Work WITH US.

End of the Year

Last day of class is tomorrow. We have exams through April, but those aren't too much of a hassle. Thus, we have reached the end of my second year of College. I know, I know... holy---! I'm half way there. A little overwhelming, actually. This week has been kind of sad because I'm saying goodbye to my first wave of graduating friends. I know a LOT of fourth year students, but only a handfull of them are actually graduating-- most people like to hang around here for a few extra years. So Jack is going to Calgary (yuck), Glen to Australia, Mark to lord-knows-where, and a few other people, I'm sure. Not to mention the fact that Morgan is going to PRINCE GEORGE next year for environmental engineering... but that's not until August.

I'm getting older, you guys. And everything is just getting weirder. Good, but definitely weird.

Aw, Human Rights, don't make me cry

Is it bad that this article: http://www.newsday.com/news/nationworld/wire/sns-ap-britain-olympic-torch,0,1681499.story made me well up while sitting at the public computers in the student union building?

It's too complicated to explain the emotional "issues" but it has something to do with triumph of the human spirit, the actuall magic that I feel surrounds the Olympic games, and the actual-factual truth that Tibet is getting fucked, China is in a REALLY bad place, and can't we all just get along?

If I could have three Christmas wishes, 1st would be that all of the children of the world would join hands and sing...

An Open Letter To Myself:

Dear Kate,

It's amazing how many things you can find to do when you are supposed to be doing something else. When I was younger and I was supposed to be cleaning my room, I was usually reading. My mom had to lock my books in her car. Really. Now, when I'm supposed to be cleaning my room, I'm reading. Well, not as much of a problem any more, but the point is the same. Also, now, when I'm supposed to write a paper, I write a play instead. The exscuse is that I needed to do it anyways, but in truth that paper is due tomorrow, and the play is due in a month. Or I should study, and I play the guitar. Well, that's studying too, I reason with myself.

We're always being told that doing these "other" things means that we are being lazy, or undisciplined. I'm a very disciplined person, but there are just some things I would rather do. We should pay attention to what we would rather do. If you like doing them, they are (probably) good things to focus on. So next time you find yourself getting distracted from the task at hand, consider why it is that you are choosing that alternate activity. Maybe you should just do that instead and stop beating yourself up about "procrastination."

Love,
Kate

Act 1, Scene 2

Wow. This weekend was a handful. What happens when Kate actually goes and meets with her TAs, and asks for HELP? Well, I guess it's good to ask for advice. And it's good to ask what they want from you. But sometimes, just sometimes, they heap on way more than you can handle.

As a result, this weekend I: Wrote a play (first draft completed in 4 hours), had a 5 hour photoshoot, processed all of the film resulting from it, disposed of the personally constructed props and 8 mannequin heads with corresponding hand-made wigs used for said photoshoot, and wrote a term paper on the tactics used in National Geographic to legitimize colonial claims of power in Mayan culture.

And now it's Monday. A new era. Deep breath. Supress the rising panic. And.... GO!

Art School

I think that there is a very difficult balance in secondary education, between the skills needed to function in the real world and the skills to think independently purely for the sake of the "concept." Both are important. Both are hard.

Sometimes I find myself getting frustrated that a course (especially art) always wants us to have a "concept" for our projects. Sometimes I just want to make something for the sake of making it: because it looks nice, or it brings someone joy, or it wasa technical challenge. When art teachers want you to have political charges behind everything you do, it quickly becomes inaccessable to the rest of the world, the people who are, in fact, your ACTUAL audience once you get out of school.

That leaves me mediating a (sometimes) unpleasant conversation between the practice and "art." It is hard to believe that art teachers (in my experience) have such disdain for things that are pretty and nothing else.

That being said, I still like ART. And I still like theory. And I still, pretty much, like my art teachers. The trick is listening to them, hearing them (which can be an altogether different thing), and then transforming it in your own head. Once we can do that, we can all me millionaires! Seriously.

I wrote a blog about the importance of good friends, but it got erased. So instead, I'll just leave it at: good friends are necessary to survival, and really good friends make you a far better person than you are when you are alone.

http://improveverywhere.com/

Wouldn't it be cool to be so creative?

Issues

Go to
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmLHOGT0v4c
And also watch everything related to it. I guarantee you will enjoy. That is all.

Go On...

Intriguing. I've a blog. And as a side note, it is officially impossible to make a blog look cool.

Kate's Day:
Arise: 5:45
Public Transit: 6:40
Study: 7-9:00
Class: 9:30-2:00
Rest/Strum on Guitar: 2:30-4:30
Transit again
Work: 5-midnight

And now... this. Cause lord knows I can't go to sleep yet. Basically, I realized that I haven't been doing a great job of keeping up with Alex. So this is mainly for her. And anyone else in the interweb who is mildly interested in my interests. I will do my best to keep my daily play-by-plays to a minimum (the above being the only breach). High level banter, low level journaling. A good goal, at least.

So Al, for starters:
1) Go to www.questionablecontent.net.
2) Get Mom/Dad to buy you "This Year", "Color in Your Cheeks" and "Dance Music" by the Mountain Goats
3) Read 1984, and then A Clockwork Orange
4) Wear the red shirt I made you for Christmas
5) Cuddle with Toby

That is your assignment for the day. More tomorrow.