My eyes opened and it was too dark to see the ceiling and I knew the alarm clock was coming soon but I silently slid out of the bed and down the stairs and felt my way through the dark to the tall desk in the corner and covererd my eyes as I turned the lamp on and I took a seat in the tall chair and the house was cold and silent and I stared at the wall and the stack of papers and thought about all the things on the other side of the alarm that I was dreading and one day these paints will take care of that and there will be no alarm and I found an old postcard from someone and smeared white paint around it and found the .03 pen and moved it around and daydreamed about a day without the alarm and this went on for a while and the postcard was complete and I turned the lamp off and silently went back upstairs and slid into bed and looking at the clock I had just enough time to close my eyes and finish dreaming…Enjoy!
Daily Keemo. 02.23. At The Bottom Of The White Box
At The Bottom Of The White Box
I have spent the entire day alone. (I recommend that everyone do this once in a while.) It is now 10:21 PM and my only contact with another human has been at the Chinese take-out and the lady who gave me the finger because she thought it was her turn at the 4-way stop. “Why yes, I would love a fortune cookie,” I said to the girl behind the counter. She threw one in and I returned to the quiet house to eat my food. I didn’t even bother to take it out of the little white box and took a seat at the desk and there was a Thelonious Monk Pandora channel on and as I ate I had lonely conversations with myself in which I am fairly certain that I solved all the worlds problems and was certain that only good was going to come from that moment forward. “My fortune cookie will be the test,” I thought to myself. I grabbed the cookie and broke it open and flipped the fortune over to read, “Made In The USA”. What the hell is that? Made In The USA? That is no fortune.That was it, no words of wisdom, just that. I couldn’t help feeling a bit midlead by the words “Fortune Cookie” on the wrapper. I threw the fortune on the desk, picked up the brush and went to the conversations with myself.
I Will Take This Day It is 3:00 PM in the afternoon and this painting is leaning up against the wall just to the right of the computer monitor and as I look at it, I am having trouble figuring out where to begin. I never write in the afternoon and I swear the words come out best when the rest of the world is asleep. While I feel the keys under my fingertips I imagine everyone driving in cars, at the movies, buying pants, getting coffee in large paper cups, standing in lines at stores with carts full of packaged tomorrow, in resturants, at stoplights, in airports, on busses and on and on and on and all the while I sit here in this quiet house with the shades pulled open and the cool winter sunlight shines on my back and I try to remember what it is that I wanted to say about this painting but it doesn’t seem to really matter now. The only thing that really matters is that it is 3:06 and I have these words and this painting and for right now all the other stuff has nothing to do with it.
At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room. One is over there on the table where the paints and brushes are and there are also small speakers over there with music falling out of them. The other lamp is here, near the keys and the emails and the web pages and where the words rise and fall and all fates are determined for what is done on the other table under the other lamp.
This painting was under the other lamp with the paints up until just a few minutes ago. As I looked down over it while putting the final signature on it I paused and let it just be a painting for a moment. Like something organic and unique and genuine with no other desire than to just lay there on the table and be complete.
When it finally gets moved to this desk, under this lamp, the wheels are set in motion for it to become something else.
At the moment, there are two lamps on in this room and it is time for me to turn this one off.
Daily Keemo. 02.15. In The Slow Movements In The Hands Of A Clock
In The Slow Movements In The Hands Of A Clock There was a line in a poem that I read this afternoon that I cannot remember now and I am too lazy to hunt it down for you and I think the dead writer deserves better than what I have to offer him now.
Which is not much.
There was a line in a poem that I read this afternoon that I knew that I would forget as soon as I turned the page like I always do but who reads poetry anyway and I feel real sorry for those that write it because in the end the words are only that and it doesn’t matter how many times you hit the enter key as it is only another poem on another day and another try at getting it right but I think the dead writer deserves better than what I have to offer him now.
Daily Keemo. 02.02. There Is A Photo On The Wall And It Is Of Tomorrow
There Is A Photo On The Wall And It Is Of Tomorrow
It’s just the two of us in the house tonight and she is the shower and I can hear the water running from the floor above me and I am here at the keys and there is a wine glass and a lotto ticket and a lamp and addresses and numbers scribbled on a piece of paper and on the wall is taped a photo of my dead grandmother and I talking in the Michigan sun and she is leaning in very close to me because she couldn’t hear very well in those final days before it was all over and the picture reminds me not wait for things to happen because they won’t and you have to make them happen and there is a stack of paintings to my right and behind me there are paintings drying on the desk and just now I hear the shower turn off from the floor above and
The Luchador (a reminder to step away once in a while)
When you spend hours over the paints and keys under a desk lamp at early hours of the morning, you start to become those paints and keys and you turn inward too much and you start exploring and thinking and not that there is anything wrong with either of those two things, as a matter of fact, I would highly recommend both of those activities for 100% of the human race, but you just need to know when to temper the large doses of solitude with light hearted thoughts and imagery and ideas and remember that there is a world that does exist beyond the exploring and thinking and that there are many miles beyond the desk lamp and as much as you might not think so, it is then that you can truly create whatever it is that you feel like creating.