I’ve been working on a food brochure for camp to send out to parents. This morning I took a picture of a fruit bowl to put in the brochure.
NOW I MAKE TO-DON'T LISTS
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"A man isn't a man until he has exhausted all other options." --Ted DusseldorphMy name is Anthony. I am a writer, an installation artist, a manufacturer of radial arm saws, a mentor, a substitute teacher, a friend, and a son.
Credits
NOW I MAKE TO-DON'T LISTS is using the Illusion theme by Hello New York.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
NOTHING BUT YOU
a taxonomy of bruises
contusio luctus: a bruise located beneath the rib-cage stemming from grief
contusio amore irremunderato: a bruise blossoming ever-black from unrequited love (or requited love at a distance)
contusio existentialis: a bruise created throughout the flesh by the daily pummeling of existence
(Source: cabinetmagazine.org)
st. roch cemetery, new orleans
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"
When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say We should get together
say why?
It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees.
The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
—
The Art of Disappearing by Naomi Shihab Nye
Via been thinking
(via travelhighlights)(Source: kairia, via travelhighlights)
THEY DIE KIND OF
We had to make a Halloween illustration for work today. I chose to use a quote from my dear friend Anthony
I spent most of my Saturday afternoon as the ghost of Theophilus Q. Pinches, an old sugar-runner from the White Mountains region. My friend Jamie asked me to be a friendly spirit storyteller for the Remick Museum Halloween Festival. There I boarded a horse-drawn carriage and told the cautionary tale of General Jonathan Moulton, the man after whom Moultonboro, NH is named. He died face down in a pile of his own gold.
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