Just like suicide

Today I learned that a man I never met and only heard about a few times killed himself last May. He was married to a woman I know, they got married for green card and couldn't decide if they want to be a real couple or not. I haven't seen her in a couple of years, then, run into her in the street and she told us about his death.

It's strange how suicide makes me feel instantly connected to someone, even though I had no emotions toward him when he was alive.

A dream

I was supposed to go to an art exhibition opening. I think some of it was of photos I took in an earlier part of the dream, photos of boats shot through a window and the, the same boats shot from the outside, right by the water.

I was supposed to meet a woman there, which was both a work connection and an old friend or an old lover.

I was getting dressed to go. I had the whole outfit in my mind, something very faminin with a lot of layers and lace and fluffy angora in light pink. But I just couldn't wear it right. I kept wearing the top layers first, or wear the whole thing then discovered I forgot to take off the bra and having to start over. I wore parts of the outfit in a way that made it impossible to move, and I got trapped in cloths.

I got more and more nervous about being late, eventually, I called the woman and it turned out, she already left. The event was over and I missed the show.

Subtarenian

That was the word of the week for illustration friday. Usually I do big alaborate pieces for that, but this time, I just went with a morning doodle.

Subtarenian

That was the word of the week for illustration friday. Usually I do big alaborate pieces for that, but this time, I just went with a morning doodle.

Fragments

I feel like I haven't written a thing in weeks, barely even answering e-mails. They pile up in my mailbox, I'm watching the numbers go up and helpless to do anything about it.

All my drawings this week had been about mirrors, about reflection. 2 sides of the same coin, which are the same, and not the same. I have this feeling of a thinning universe, of multiple incarnation of myself in a million parallel worlds. Me that made different choices and became different people. I can hear their echos in my ears when I speak. I feel like if I just reach out a little farther, I'll be able to touch their hands. Like reaching to the moon and stars in a clear night, feeling as if they are just within reach.

A pregnant women in a forest green dress reading a book with a big moth on the cover, over two sunny side up eggs.

Plastic vessels with yellow liquid, plastic vessels with brown liquid.

Cold light over a patchwork blanket.

Choking laughter.

All I can see today are fragments.

trying to fix a problem

I wish I was brave

We were having breakfast at EGG this morning, having coffee and eating on a shared 4 people table. There were 2 women eating and talking next to us, one very younge and slander that did most of the talking and had a Europian accent I couldn't place. The other, older, was writing things on a piece of paper.

Ned and I were talking about all the things we need to take care of this week. Making prints for the Pool art fair this weekend, shopping for dishes for a class I'm teaching next week, editing photos from Fashion week, setting up a beauty shoot.

All this time I was listening to the women conversation. The young one was a model, in town for fashion week, and the older was a booker or an agent.

It almost sounded like one conversation, we were talking about finding a model, they were taking about finding jobs for a model. I really wanted to just say "hay, lets put two and two together" to intreduce myself, pass some business card and maybe, shoot that girl next week.

But I didn't, the words just couldn't come out. I felt so ugly and unimportant and worthless. Damn. I wish I did talk. I feel like in one of those dreams in which I want to scream and nothing comes out.