East Belleville

Greek Revival and Italianate homes. The architecture in Belleville is fabulous.



Pretty Bellie

So pretty she kissed herself in the mirror and held the pose while I laughed and laughed.


I love thread.

All kinds of thread.
This is DMC Floche, a twisted thread made from the finest long fiber cotton, mercerized to create a beautiful finish.

I love Paper

I collect old notebooks with a stitched binding: those days are gone.
I love paper.



My sleep was loaded with you.
We were in a rotating landscape of houses, alleys, garages.
Significant that the alleys were concrete and not black asphalt for white settings dominate my perfect dreams.
The scenes kept shifting but we remained together. We were consistently and successfully dodging something intangible.
You were awkward which charmed me and oddly decisive.
I thought you were tolerating me when a hidden affection escaped through your hands. I caught some of it when an abbreviated smile landed in my hair.
I woke rubbing my head and listening to the cries from various crows as they passed over the house.
I woke smiling.



I inadvertently woke Pst who sleeps all day and works in a Lab all night (he's a very white man) with I Love Livin In The City.
I suppose snarlng along with the lyrics out loud was inconsiderate but I was really hankering to hear FEAR'S Fuck Christmas.
Pist: WTF IS THIS!? Me: Hey, you should have seen them live. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ptb-4p0198&list=TLPQMzAxMTIwMjNosKZVVXpydw&index=2&ab_channel=KicksInStyle

Antique Umbrella

From my personal collection.
The design of the stretchers beneath the canopy is astonishing.


Whose Street?

The geese crossing the street single file in Tower grove Park.
They are completely out of fucks to give.
Cars were backed up to Roger.



I've been thinking about Carrie this week. We had some great adventures together and because of her, I met my former beau, Rob Klingon.

This morning I found this ad Carrie had designed for my former retail store, RE:GENERATION.

Carrie was so funny. I often let her push me around because no one else dared. It was hilarious. I'd be at her apartment on Delmar having a conversation with someone when she would open the darkroom door and say, Get in here and print these photos.


The Pillowcase on the Dashboard

No shit, I knew a batshit crazy MFer who had taped a pillowcase to the dashboard because the glove box door was missing..... maybe the dash was crushed.
It unnerved him. Made him jittery. He spoke of it incessantly while I was in his car. Pointed to it and told me not to look at it.
Took me to his parents house to see their collection of Native Pottery so he could raid their fridge for beer at one in the afternoon.
He was an exhausting drunk. Delusional. Boring. Insisted to himself/others that I wanted him.
That I wanted to look beneath the pillowcase.


The Crow

This morning the crow walked in and slapped several things on the table: an empty chip bag, some damp cardboard, a candy bar wrapper, a yellow plastic lighter, and three pennies. He arranged these in a circle, often glancing at me wanting a reaction.
Fine thanks, I said to him. And you?
He sighed.
Listen, he said, I need you to do some work for me. This is the payment and if it's not adequate I will bring more. It's sufficient and impressive, I told him. Consideration and work went into this collection.
His little chest swelled and he preened for a moment.
Why is your face red, he asked.
I've that fever beneath my skin, my ear is throbbing and swollen with infection.
He pushed the three pennies towards me. Here, he said with terrible pity, eat these now, you'll feel better.
I noticed they are all tails up. The Crow noticed too.
He looked away, embarrassed.