Looks like I'm moving studio's again. Ho-hum.

Worked from 7AM to 4PM. Took a break, came home. Then into the studio from 5PM to 10PM. I got a lot done, including RRL's text, stretched a canvas, and started on my show flyer. Pretty productive, but I am exhausted. I get a mini vacation to Ohio this weekend, so that will help.

Walked into a random downstairs apt. in the same building as my studio. I wasn't really informed that someone would be living there. And the back door is the only door I have the key to. Needless to say, it was pretty awkward. Poor people were just enjoying dinner on the couch. So now I need to get the key to the front door so I don't have to cut through the rented apt. So weird. I just saw my landlord at the gas station, and he just said hi and nothing else. We didn't even discuss the situation. Ah, life.

Recent happenings:
RRL album art
2 possible shows in March
Year 3 24''x 24'' painting
Possible H&W album art?

Longest and most productive weekend in a long while.

This is kind of a joke writing I wrote about brushing teeth. I like it.

To get the cleanest clean
Foam functions

Don't use a wire brush
Gauze function

To sop it all up
But at least I'm tuff.

I slept in my studio last night, and I swear there were people walking around upstairs. It's a really old big house with a million and a half apartments built on. Today, before working on some sketches, I climbed up and looked in the attic. There were a bunch of old boxes. It was really dirty, or I would have dug around up there. I will later.

Goodbye Lenfesty/Fester Center. Hello Pink House/Art Haus. I officially changed studios again. I don't know how permanent this one will be. BUT, there is heat, and it's closer to my house. I can walk there! I am thankful for my provisional blessings. They also seem to be my most superficial...but: beds, a good vehicle, good health, a place to work, family, and friends have all saturated my life.

A water pipe burst in my studio, and everyone moved out. So, that being said, it's not worth it for the land lord to keep it open. So on the 14th, I am moving into a room in his house. That I can supposedly use whenever I want. Hopefully that goes well. At least there will be heat there! Oh, and not to mention running water!

I guess I've been busy.

I'm going to a jazz concert tonight. Alone. Like a creepy old man. But at least the girl asked me if I wanted a student ticket. This means I still have street cred.

The smell of fire places and bonfires burning. It makes me so sappy. I wish I had someone to be sappy with.

I think tonight I made a realization just how much I need/want/enjoy "decompression" time.

I also realized I would love to find someone who loves that I need/want/enjoy "decompression" time.

It's funny how closely my life aligns to a diver's depth. I feel like I work in a constant barrage of social interaction at work. And when I come home I love to just regenerate with a little bit of quiet before I feel just about ready to go out, or go back to work (in the studio). And although working in the studio is very enjoyable I still kind of need decompression before I do it. To clear my head. Sometimes it's so bad I need like 2 days of decompression before I work in the studio or go out in a large group.

If anything the loss of a relationship strengthens my resolve to find someone who fits me well. Because no one else can really work, other than a good fit. With others I just leave them worn out or confused. Or in need of their own decompression.

I also know I started 2 sentences with the word and. Sorry.

Jailed

Our first kiss was in jail
Our first kiss was in the holding cell, it was a stiff backed bench sleepless night secret

We held hands in the cop car
We held hands in the cold clamped secure backseat, it was a cordoned off secret

It was a police line catastrophe -- hit and run hold up love

We last kissed in front of the judge
We last kissed in view of the jury, and it wasn't fanciful and ha-ppy

We were convicted of first class forgery
We were convicted of second class perjury

It was a public nuisance -- domestic disturbance embezzled love

First base, Second base, Third base.
And now love is the swinging gallowed dead corpse creepy love.

Birdcalls II (Again)

Tonight I was driving and I looked up ina secon' story window.
I saw a silhouette of a woman
An she was changing...
She was changing her mind.

She weren't changin' er clothes she was changin' her mind.
Well you know ow it goes
You know ow it's been
When she comes around it's back to the pastures again.

And it's me back to my pastor's again.
Seein' what I can to do just to get Jesus, get (h)'im my sins tend.
Seein' what I can do to get my heart to mend.

Been there before and written again...
Bird calls, and bird calls and again and again.
CAT CALLS, CAT CALLS CAT CALLS BEGIN!

But if I don change myself:
She'll be there again.
Standin' in the window changin' er mind again.

It makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Long time, no post.

Kind of an update on what is going on so the one to maybe two people can read it. Maybe get some hope from the fact that maybe their life is better than mine. Or they can just pretend. Anyway here is the low down.

Living situation: Upon graduating last summer I moved into a house with a few friends who were and are also still graduates. It was on Landess St. 3812 to be exact. After each one went their separate ways I moved into a new one bedroom apt. on Harmon St. 4523 and 1/2 apt 2. I lived there, slept on a couch for a year. Had some people over, advanced relationships with girls and friends and this August I moved out. I moved across 38th St. in the direction of due north to 3628 Harmon St. I live here with Zack and Frank whom I have known for going on 4 years and Pat whom I just met this summer. We have a dog, and a gas stove and a fire pit. Pretty cool stuff.

Working situation: Since graduation I have been working on the Paint Crew for the school. Repairing dents, scratches and painting whole walls all through out campus and dorms and bathrooms what have you. I may achieve full time status by the end of the month. Not that exciting but it gets me money for the next and the most important part of this update.

Art situation: Living in houses and not having much space to work on painting and drawing has been difficult. I went from a back kitty litter smelling studio (Landess St.) where I completed 3 or so paintings and about 30 drawings...to a bed room with bad lighting and sometimes a dog cage. This is where I competed a 4th painting while also a 5th and partially a 6th. And about 30 drawings. When late August came around I moved into a studio space on 29th and Home St. In an abandoned church I have completed a painting and about 6 little card drawings and a regular drawing. For $50 bucks a month I am around 3 other artists and am feeling way more productive. Pretty good digs, although we discovered a leaky roof dampness creating a musty smell and a wet carpet the other day. I am also currently working on getting a website going to show case most of the work I have created since last summer and future gallery shows etc.

Hope this is thorough enough for all you strangers.

My Indiana

Here there are barns full of junk.
Ever notice how the rain starts and they rot from the ground up?

Crooked doors and the windows show a shady clutter.
Full from brim to brawn with saws that've sawn.

Mini whispers about this and that...with the corn that was long ago replaced for progression.
Be it cheaper or be it prosper, they'll never know...any better.

I forgot how looking for "artist" jobs on craigslist depressed me.

After I am surrounded by love, I feel so attacked.

I don't know.

I'm still driving on Will's gas.
And I'm -- still -- driving -- on -- Will's -- gas.
Thanks, Will. For the gas.

You know that song you liked?
The one you liked so much?
For me -- it's a shredded curtain blown by wind.

It is held together now...with:
1.Weak strands woven through ventricles.
2. (Inaudible medical mumblings)
For -- me it was like little pins...

It's held together now, like a glued rock.
It's safely tied!...In a knotted sock.
It's cemented now in Plaster of Paris.
It's a frozen fossil now, Allosaurus fragilis...

Planted architecture, and locked beer cases.
Familiar places - non familiar faces.
This started my hoarsest week.
My chest is solid.

I miss you and I don't even know you.
And I'm so ready to love

Thanks for taking all my advice and using it for your next conquer. And using up all the grace I had inside of me. I make no excuses, and I am not cool. I don't have a hat to match a jacket. I felt like I was in highschool again.

I'm not cool, but I like who I am.

It's not strength I seek, it's the power of the meek.

It will take a miracle, or it will take a million years...
for me to come around again.
I'll always be wrong and weak.

Love me and to the grass I go.
Cattle, and pit bulls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Bird calls, cat calls.
Cat calls!

It's not you in the foreground, it's you...
In the back!

"Lord help me change."
"Lord I'll need what I prayed for yesterday today too."

I sold a piece at the 1920 Gallery show. It was an 8'' by 11'' drawing called Twinkie Temptation. Pretty encouraging. I have yet to find out who purchased it. If it isn't someone I know it will be my first sale to someone who has no relation/friendship with me. If it is someone I know, it will still be ok, because I love the fact that people respect the work I pour myself into. The compliment of a purchase is a golden feeling of validation that I haven't felt very much growing up doing art.

I'm much to nostagic for my friends most of the time, so there are always things I want to tell them, but feel that if I did it would be a little too mushy. Either that or my thought comes out a garbled mess of speech not wholly conveying what I had planned to say. So I am going to make a mini list.

The friend who I look forward to working with.
The couples who have provided for me.
The girl who is extremely encouraging. (She has no idea)
Witty and rediculously girl magnet friends.
Those who really care.
The one who makes me laugh the hardest.

If you think one of these is you, it probably is.

I found out a few days ago that the stray cat which annoys (the one I have an on going feud with) my neighbors and I is actually "owned" by the lady a few houses away. Why doesn't she keep it inside on -8 degree days? I don't know. But she evidently cracks her garage in the summer.

Last night I dreamt I had a new 6.0, Canon megapixel camera. Then I woke up to find I had none. What a bummer. When I was little like 7 or 8 I had a similar dream about a skateboard. The next morning, I ran out to the garage to go use my skateboard to find I did not have one. Again, what a bummer.

I also had a dream about a ghost cat that I thought I killed, but when I threw things at it, they went right through it. So I could not kill it. When I went down to my car to go to work, that same stupid black stray cat was waiting for me. I think for revenge.

So the show went well, except for the last hour or so which was spent getting evaluated by my friends who think they see male reproductive organs in my paintings. Everyone from far away came, including Charissa, Samo, and Katrina. I was pleased with that. I handed out a lot of hand made business cards so that was good. Still as nervous as always.

Sometimes I really think I will never escape myself.

Sometimes I am ok with this, other times I'm not.

At least I know I am loved.

I have some drawing and paintings in a art show coming up.

Monday, Feb. 5th 2007
1920 Gallery
Indiana Wesleyan University S.C.
from 4 to 10pm






Change me, Change me, Change me.

Just when I think I can't get any lower, I do.

Things affect me way too much. I feel like I can't change this.

I'm a workaholic and I care more than enough for dime jobs that don't even matter.

I cannot be myself under stress. I need to grow up.

First snow of the season and of 2007 in Marion, Indiana is to be recorded for January 15th through 16th.

Well I don't want just a girl to fool around with
Well I don't want just a girl to ball alright
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.
Alright

Well I won't pretend I like a girl if I really don't
And act like she's great when she makes me feel appalled
All I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.

Well I don't want some cocaine sniffing triumph in the bar
Well I don't want a triumph in the car
I don't want to make a rich girl crawl
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want no one at all
Alright, listen to this now.

Picture this:
I'm walking with my girlfriend
28 misguided souls combined say, "We're moving in"
There's a certain kind of girl that you care about so much
You say, "I don't care what you guys do to me, but her, DON'T TOUCH!"

'Cause I don't want just a girl to fool around with
I don't want just a girl to ball
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all
Oh alright

Well I don't want a girl to fool around with no
I don't want just a girl to ball no
What I want is a girl that I care about
Or I want nothing at all.

Alright gentlemen.

I'm shallow.

R.I.P. James Brown.

Sometimes I can't believe how fear and uncertainty start to weasel their way into my life. I want to do things, but then I think about how things in my life are so unstable, I can't bank on them staying the same. So it stops me, and inhibits me. I am confused on how to live life, should I play my cards close? Or should I just do what I want to do? And how can I be sure it's fear stopping me and not better judgment?

At the same time, I am content. I have a peace, and I don't worry as much as I used to. I trust a lot more. How much of my life can be fulfilled? Are my desires to love and to live selfish ones?

I just want to love Christ, and show it. I want to meet someone who wants to do the same. Maybe we can grow together. But am I good enough for that? Am I immature and idealistic? Or will someone blow me away?

I want God to live in and around me, and I want to live in him. I want to eventually share that as a common interest with someone.

"Lord help me change."
"Lord I'll need what I prayed for yesterday today too."

Movies I like in which John Williams has composed the music for: (In chronological order of release)

The Towering Inferno (1974)
Jaws (1975)
Star Wars (1977)
Superman (1978)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
Star Wars: the Empire Strikes Back (1982)
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
Star Wars: the Return of the Jedi (1983)
Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)
Space Camp (1986)
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
Home Alone (1990)
Hook (1991)
Schindler's List (1993)
Seven Years in Tibet (1997)
Minority Report (2002)
Catch Me if You Can (2002)
The Terminal (2004)
Munich (2005)

Count them it's 19 and 5 before I was born.

I'm so sick of it.

One thing I love about nature's most extreme seasons (winter, and summer) is that it creates a sort of unity in people. In the winter, there is nothing I love more than rosey cheeks and warm drinks. The chill of the wind and the snow is hard on our bodies. We are in this together, (unfortunately those in mild climates don't get much winter) this is survival. Even though modern day inventions have helped us along, there is nothing we can do to change our frosty plight once each of us reach the great outdoors. There are days when even our coats hold no significance. In John Knowles' book "Peace Breaks Out" (and this is paraphrased) he writes about exactly the day of which I speak. One line to do with it being so cold the air is like spikes in our lungs. No one can avoid this, we are all human and mortal.

We suffer together.

Now for summer. Since most places which do not have a winter season have a summer, this is what draws me to it. During the hot months (July, August) the sun is at it's peak. Especially where I live, it is humid, hot and sticky. Tanning, and more specifically burning is going to happen. Whether it is because of lack of sunscreen or sunscreen with insufficient SPF it happens. People cannot really avoid tan lines or (much worse) burn lines. Even a baseball cap with a ponytail through it can't prevent the sun's damage.

And in summer, we all suffer together.

This may be a little bit weird to admit, but I like tan lines and nearly frost bitten cheeks. It is so endearing.

Now I can see that everything meant nothing. Your actions display your true confusion, and I'm not buying in anymore. I can't take another promise broken through "naivete". You say you want stability and faith, but all too often you seem blinded by the desires of your heart.

And I know it's hard to decipher which are good and which are bad desires, because both good and bad desire flow from the same functioning muscle.

The muscle which keeps you alive.

Right now, Matthew seems so right.

I'm done and few things matter anymore.

I may always have salvation, and I have a choice to not choose damnation. But depression has no choice. It is inflicted. And you seem to impose a life sentence sometimes.

I don't have much feeling in my fingertips. So far, this has probably been one of my best weeks since sometime in the summer.

Blessings and curses.

I'll always be your best friend.

I am in a unique place in life. I have just a tad more responsibility than when I was in college. I don't have the pressure to perform for grades, and I motivate myself. I am not tied down to a specific place. I chose to live here. Since I am none of the things I listed, I can be a great friend to all those still present in Marion.

I want to try to devote and invest into people. I have the time, and I have the people. I want to be a great provider of encouragement, honestly, and an example of Christ.

I do not want to condemn, or be over opinionated. I just want to make sure these people know that someone still cares and there are still people who value others.

I am not just another person out to gain from friendship. I want them to gain, I want to be taken advantage of and used.

All the while being refreshed by Christ.

As told by wikipedia: The White Panther party ethos reads:

In November of 1968, Fifth Estate published the "White Panther State/meant". This manifesto, in emulation of the Black Panthers, ended with a ten-point program:

Full endorsement and support of Black Panther Party's 10-Point Program
Total assault on the culture by any means necessary, including rock n' roll, dope and fucking in the streets.
Free exchange of energy and materials - we demand the end of money!
Free food, clothes, housing, dope, music, bodies, medical care - everything free for everybody!
Free access to information media - free the technology from the greed creeps!
Free time and space for all humans - dissolve all unnatural boundaries.
Free all schools and all structures from corporate rule - turn the buildings over to the people at once!
Free all prisoners everywhere - they are our brothers.
Free all soldiers at once - no more conscripted armies.
Free the people from their "leaders" - leaders suck - all power to all the people freedom means free everyone!

What a bunch of freakin' hippies.

I probably shouldn't be alone on nights like this. I should probably go to bed (it's only 9:30), but I think I want to paint. I think if I do, I would end up ruining something. Perhaps that's just what I need.

I feel old and out of it sometimes. I feel unattached and out of the loop. I'm as quarky as I've ever been, and maybe more.

One rent check away from bankruptcy.

Is my nephew Lou Reed?

So three new opprotunities to show have popped up. Two seem like good venues to show and sell work. One seems like it would just be a fun thing, and it's free. So no harm in that. Besides I might be pleasantly surprised about the outcome. My sure bet of the summer DJG proved to be the biggest let down. Didn't sell a thing.

I am going to try to make some pieces which bridge the gap between my sketches and fine art. They may be more accesible to the viewer. Not as descrete and less in price due to the size, and time put into them. Maybe if I sell a few of these and start a fan base, in the future they will buy prints and then maybe paintings.

It's kind of hard to start something in this town, but one thing is for sure, if I can get blue collar people to buy expensive work it seems like in a city with actual expendible income they will also sell. Although, so far, my experiences in Indianapolis haven't been promising. I may need a city on a coast or a seaport in order to move some pieces from my apt. to a "collector".

I really hope I don't read this in 5 years and consider it too idealistic. Please pray for me.

Paint crew until December?

I ran 12 miles today, and I think the joints in my knees are going to disintegrate.

I am posting this from my house. I opened my computer today, and I had two dots of wireless. So I decided to make a celebratory post. Friday I am moving out of said house. Zack said he would help me so that's good. I have work in ten mins, and this may be my earliest post to date.

It's going to be weird to have students be back in Marion and not be one. I have friends still in school plotting out their year and it's exciting, and I will never be back. When I graduated, I felt like I was so ready to be done. Now I realize there were certain great things about college that I will miss.

Some of them include:
Lone walks around campus
The art building stairs
"Reading" in the SC
Being a T.A. helping people with projects

I figured summer meant no one was coming back to school, and in a weird way that made sense that it ended for everyone when it ended for me. It's a completely different campus this year with all the construction. It may turn out that I feel like I never even went there.

R.I.P. I.W.U.

People having babies! Well this person was my sister, so meet Tate Alexander!

2 In the Face of War shows in 2 nights. Last night was a blistering list of bands that in the end topped at 7. The high light was Ruiner, very good.

It's like highschool and the first 2 years of college all over again. Except more responsibilities now.

I will probably always battle what comes first: a girlfriend, or art. Most girlfriends have not understood the importance of art in my life and my desire to express myself in that way. I feel, that it is the single most expression I can put forth. Writing doesn't do it for me, or anything else. I can put the colors, textures, values etc. That I want to and how I want them. All to create a cohesive piece or work. I have been hearing lately about men who are not passionate. And about how a lot of women are sick of men who lay around all day or are not passionate about this that or the other. But where I come in is my extreme passion for painting and drawing. I think that I am too passionate, it gets in the way of a functioning relationship. I have had one girl who has understood this, and despite her great attempts at taming whatever it is that is the driving force in me...It still failed.

It's been obvious that I don't know what I need, but I always thought this: Someone who appreciates this, and isn't trying (in vain) to funnel this passion into feelings about her. The feelings towards art can never be switched for a girl. I have 2 separate sections for love of art, and love of people.

So basically I need someone who allows me to venture over into the corners of my mind to express myself. Let me be fully done with it and then, when I can fully focus on them, come back and express my love, value, appreciation, etc for them. If that is accomplished, I can really let someone whom I care about know HOW much, and my brain won't be split into a couple different pieces and not able to focus on one thing.

Maybe I need to be psycho-analyzed.

My self esteem really isn't soaring at this point. Just many issues over the past 4 or so months have cemented a thought in my mind about worthiness towards the opposite sex. I don't want to hear about what a great guy I am anymore. Or what a great best friend I am. Part of me wants to be worthy enough to be with someone, and maybe for them to think that about me. (very selfish) Don't get me wrong, I am not lying around the house crying "woe is me"...but I have been seriously thinking about my character and morals. How they matter in the grand scheme of things.

If I long for something that is out of His plan for now is that sinful? Should I live a life and expect things to happen? I feel like when I pursue I fail, and when I am running things I never make the correct choices. How can I be sure my mind is of His perspective and not just lonely.

Why is there a spot in me which feels like it needs companionship?

Is longing wrong? Or do I long only for selfish reasons?

24!

Happy 4th of July, America.

I have been talking about my friends from home a lot and I think it begins to grate on the nerves of those who have yet to meet them. Now, that I realize this, I play it up and tell more and more stories. Most people aren't really listening. I don't have to work tomorrow so I am up late. Checking email from Carmin circle.

World Cup hopes dashed.

I'm not producing. I hope my book comes before I go to Chicago this weekend. This trip will be a great break from Marion. Hopefully I can shake the blues I have had this week.

I almost bought a Mike Jones cd over the internet. The show on the third was pretty good. Eric had some people interested in buying some of his work. That's really good for him. Now he has to get to a place where people actually go to shows to perhaps purchase an original piece of art. Although, the paintings with my face on them may not be considered as such, because of my ugly mug. I have been sitting here in a book store checking my email and in 30 mins I have seen 2 Beatles shirts.

I should have a picture up soon of the Irving. (See previous update). Coincedentally, the last thing in the theatre was a porn movie business. So I was thinking it was kind of weird that the last business in there was a porn place and then my work hung in it.

My friend's Aaron and Steph had a baby today! His name is Jack. He looks like a mini-Aaron. Happy birthday, Jack!

I will miss Andrew!

June 3rd, 2006 10AM to 5PM
Irving Theatre in Indianapolis


I have 2 pieces in with Eric Helvie (who is showing approx. everything from two years of work.) So it should be really fun. Now, when Eric gets famous I can say I showed with him.

There will also be a cd release for Josh Garrels. Everything, Now! from Muncie is also playing for anyone interested in that.

New color on paint crew: Rural Green. Sort of a mix between pea green and urine green. I took 2 paintings down to the Irving Theatre for the show on June 3rd. Eric has a lot of work in it too, so you (whomever is reading this) should go. Everything, Now! is playing too.

My lease is now officially up in August due to new tenants moving in. So now I need to either: find a place in Marion, find a place in Indianapolis, or move to York PA. It would be a trip leaving all my friends who are sticking around here, but I suppose we all must grow up at some point. It's only May, so I have a good amount of time to think. Your prayers are appriciated.

This week on paint crew we have used these colors "Favorite Tan", "Oyster Bay", and "Artichoke Green". I feel sorry for the people who have to live in University Court. Although, after awhile "Oyster Bay" grew on me. It's kind of a gray blue. Not so much robin's egg, but close. It's a shade darker with (what I assume) is green mixed in.

I officially started my own work today as well. I am startting small and then will be painting on a larger 30'' by 40'' canvas. I am using lime green, magenta, black, white (gesso), and brown-yellow. I could doctor and fancy the names up, but then people wouldn't know what I was talking about. I might be able to borrow a digital camera from someone and take some quick snap shots.

Soon I may scan in some polaroids I took of friends etc. I may average a picture a day or all at once, who knows. If I have time I will do it.

I drove home for Mother's Day, and after 4 hours driving in pouring down tornado rain I made it. My question is, if April showers bring may flowers...What do May destructo storms bring?

I should be starting some paintings soon.

The caption reads: "Jeff Beaver in front of his painting 'Large Work' at the Dean Johnson Gallery"

www.intakeweekly.com/partycrasher then click May 5th, 2005 IDADA First Friday.

If anyone who reads this wonders, I am not dead. However, my internet connection is. So here I am sitting in the student center checking my bank balance and my email. (Neither one has changed much). On Friday, I had a gallery opening. It went pretty well. I was surprised to see so many friendly faces out there to support Julie, the arts and I. It was a good feeling to see my paintings recieved (from what I can tell) in a good light. They will be up until June 22nd if anyone is interested.

Another chance I have to display my work is June 3rd. There is an old theatre in Indianapolis that is being renovated and they are having a cd release show for Josh Garrols and wanted some art work too. I met the guy in charge, he came down Friday to Dean Johnson. It should be a good experience.

A majority of work in the last week has been 12 hour days so that has been hampering painting. The art building here which houses all my supplies closes at 5 and I have been to lazy after a long day to go. Some of those days I worked past 5 and some after 4 I am beat. I should be able to get most of my stuff by Tuesday.

I'm still reading "Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man" slowly but surely. I like it a lot. Thanks for the recommendation Amanda.

I graduate today.

Friday May 5th, 2006

Spring Gallery Walk

Dean Johnson Gallery
646 Massachusetts Ave.
Indianapolis, Indiana

Featuring:

*Julie Martinez
*Jeff Beaver
John Bragg
Rhett Haynes
Bruce Dean
David Kleeman
Orlando Perez

Hello, world.

Senior Art Show

Indiana Wesleyan University @ the Beard Arts Center - March 19th - 2PM to 5PM

Featuring:

Eric Avery
Haley Choate
*Jeff Beaver
Holli Fairchild
Sarah Morningstar
*Andrew Luttrull
Corinne Kilfian
Kevin Kleman
*Jeremiah Kuch
Dan Varnado
Elissa Schmidt

Since 1999.

I won't be posting on here until I have anything good to say. It could be a day. It could be years.

I felt normal around my friends. They tell me the truth. They let me have it. Thank you, you know who you are.

We take large rocks and lob them on to thin ice.

God save me again.

Oh, how we're living so dangerously.

I can't believe myself sometimes.

As soon as I think "What am I doing?" I remember. It seems like I just lay out and say: "Choose your weapon." and the worst is done to me. Then I come back and do it all over again.

I went home this weekend. Max came with me. It was kind of odd, because I was in all the same places I have always gone to: (Cw's, Seattle's, Fairlawn, Akron) but I am in a totally different stage of life now. It's funny to experience those things again and think how times have changed. Everyone knows everything changes. For me, the change is usually unwanted, but then when it happens I think "How could I have ever lived this way?" (or eaten that, or listened to this etc.) It would be a good thing to keep growing like this. When change happens, to realize it for the better, and not yearn for past times or future times. I will try really hard to take change like this for the rest of my life. I hope God keeps changing me.

"It's so much easier alone, but you don't have to go that far."

I never ever ever knew.

I don't like 8:50AM classes. I think my eyeballs are going to fall out. I pretty much wish I could fall asleep in my bed and never get up today. It's hard acting responsible, and that's a great life lesson, but I still hate it. We have to feel responsible and learn it at this school, but we are never allowed to exucute it.

We are forced to display behind locked car doors, and our emotion is cramped by the back seat.

The good thing is, is that it may make us stronger.

"For love and not for lies."

You drive me crazy. C R A Z Y.

C.S. Lewis class and a book a week. So far it's been The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Last Battle, and I am nearly through with Surprised by Joy (in my opinion the best so far). Next is The Screwtape Letters, and The Great Divorce for an extra project. My head may explode due to word overload...it rhymed.

Tonight is my first In the Face of War show of the WHOLE school year. I'm pretty excited, and can't really believe I have not been to one since I have been back. I sat and ate with Janie and Eric on Friday. Eric said his favorite city in California was "Alien Workshop", it was great.

I should start reading now.

I went throught my music library and tried to piece together London Calling from the Vanilla Tapes. I think I got most of it, except a few songs are missing. I might listen to it tomorrow as I run, but I am not sure yet. Tonight is the debut of the Cobrasnake tshirt I bought. So far I have gotten a good response from those who have seen it.

Eating sounds good right now. So does painting. I think, though, that the pieces I am working on need to stew a bit. Stew they may.

Ps. 132:4-5 NASB

"I will not give sleep to my eyes
Or slumber to my eyelids,
Until I find a place for the Lord.
A dwelling place for the Mighty One of Jacob."

I'm tired of being stubborn and bullheaded with everything. There is such simplicity in life when you realize you can't control it. Not that you are becoming someone who is lazy. But the moment you let things happen, you remember why you love life so much. What good can come of it.

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10

K.O.

You're not crazy.

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10

K.O.

There are some things in this world I will never understand.

Chick, you could write a book.

Peter (Solitary):

"Watch your tongue." urged Peter as he passed through the narrow isles of the shop. Rose had obviously been muttering to herself the sweet nothings that hand blade saws love to hear. They were nothing particularly vulgar, but Peter, the shops owner tried to curb the habit of inanimate tool lust.

To Rose, however, this was no non moving non living object. This saw was a living breathing part of her life. Peter could tell by the way she looked at the shiny metal chrome handle. Didn't that saw once have a blade? The fact is, it did. Peter knew Rose had it. He let it slide.

"You know, if you really like the saw all that much, you can have it." Peter announced. He did this in a non-boastful way. He could cover the cost. Rose was unbelievably lovable. And Peter was wise to this. He didn't see exactly what James saw, but he could tell she could win her prize in a beauty contest. It wasn't so much her looks, Peter thought. It was her.

It was her.

Rose was stunned. Peter, the solitary man of the hardware shop suggested she should maybe just take it. In this situation, she would always purchase something small in order to draw attention from her stealing. Everyone noticed though. If it was mercy she wanted, it was mercy she got. And mercy she will continue to get.

Tack nails, gum, shoe polish were the accomplishes to her crimes. But no one who knew she did it thought it was a crime. It was her working her way out, with her God.

Peter, (Solitary) walked her up to the register in the corner of the room. He then placed the saw handle between too sheets of heavy packing paper. With red wrapping twine he tied the folded edges of the package. Solitary man was pretty old world in this sense. He treated every purchase like it was worth it's weight. He sent them off like first day of school children. With a mug of chicken broth.

With the package wrapped up, Rose remembered the blade in her inside coat pocket. She kept a light cloth in the pocket to prevent wear into the coat's lining. It was a nice coat. James noticed why she liked it. He kept it to himself. James liked to keep his thoughts hanging in his head like medallions. Like the collection Rose had. In that, he knew they were very similar.

With Solitary smiling brightly at Rose and the bound in red twine package, Rose swung out the door. She got something for free this time. The saw was given to her.

I saw Munich tonight with my friend Sam. I always say movies like that will change my life.

Worst Scrabble word to get while playing with mom: A-N-A-L. Like "anal cavity". I think it was something like 8 points though. I won a game and she won a game. I didn't want to play best out of 5, so I stopped after 2 games.

Rose:

Rose liked to steal things. She never really considered it stealing because she thought once she got a collection of things, someone would but them in a museum. Eventually, those people would thank her. She never stole big things. She never took things which were large in monetary value. She never walked off with a television, or a computer or car.

Little by little Rose collected the small things. Some would say it's the little, it's the small things that matter most. She used to smoke, but she quit. She used to be a pretty girl and she used to have fun. She doesn't know she's still a pretty girl.

Rose looks for things to steal. She doesn't happen upon them, she seeks them out. But it's her desire to be passionate. Inside her exists a large burden to the world. One day, she will make her mark on someone or a group. They will be forever entranced by her collection of objects. Playing cards, lawn ornaments, Catholic icons, shoe laces, silver dollars, lengths of rope, keys to locks, and the locks themselves. They would all combine into a divine installation one day. She knows people are endeared by her now, but she's always working for something.

This is what makes this kind of stealing ok.

On a 14' by 14' square of robust white painted peg board she hangs her objects. She has genuine deep down love for all of them, and sometimes she takes them down. One by one she whispers why. If the one neon red shoe lace could actually know how she felt. It would be the most special shoe lace in the world. If only she could express herself in the way the virgin mary candle would understand. If God knew it to, she surely would be shown mercy.

If mercy is what she wants, than God will give it to her.

She was in a shop one day when she saw James. She seemed to instantly recognize James' love for his tools that he delivered. She noticed the care he put into his job and he saw the shine of the tools. The tattered red cloth hanging from his waste was used to wipe off the grime of his tools, and to make them presentable.

"Morning."

She looked up and he noticed her. He noticed her. She wasn't seeking approval from him. He wasn't God. He noticed her, without her clamoring for attention which people maybe thought she did. But James, the big lug, the unassuming clod, saw something. God knew what exactly James saw, but no one else did.

Not even Rose.

The door clanged shut. She walked over to where James had been. She stepped in his spots. She examined the counter where the tools sat. "Where are those tools?" she thought. Slinking up and down the 7' tall isles she saw the extension cords, she saw the extra fuses, and she saw the extra blades for the boxcutters. Anything in this humble shop could be used to her advantage.

When she reached the wall where James' deliveries hung, she examined them. She saw the hammer, the saw, the crowbar and the nails. Reaching towards the saw, she unattached the blade. This was a good one. Two things in one. A blade and a saw handle. They could hang as two separate pieces.

The worst thing about the end of the year is the contiual revival of news stories that don't matter. Now don't lable me as some kind of stone hearted ogre, but there is a limit to how many times I can hear the story about the Brad and Jen break up without becoming legally insane. I am not talking stories about hurricanes and tsunamis, but the media just seems to have a knack of shoving this useless information down our throats. Being back on break helps me realize how NOT having a TV in my room or house is a blessing. I feel like I read it enough on internet news pages let alone from the magazines, TV shows, and newspapers.

Ok, I am going to eat lunch.

James:

James, black wash denim. Carries on down the street his crate of tools. One hammer, one saw, a crowbar and nails. He scuffs his shoes, he doesn't walk right, he continues on down the street. Taking his cargo on the left side of the road, James and his conscience think together. He can only be good or bad.

Maybe James can be a little of both.

People pass him, they stare. Sometimes they throw things. Sometimes they are insults, one time it was a can. He took it to the metal works and got 10 cents for it. James throws insults at himself too. Those, like the can are recycled. The same inadequacies fit each time.

Lack of smarts, James thinks. He thinks he lacks in a lot of areas. He thinks not like normal people do. Texture has a lot to do with it. Each situation is related to him by texture. If it is wrong, it rubs him the wrong way.

Nothing can prevent James from feeling what he feels, and he likes this most of the time. And he likes his hammer, his saw and the crowbar and nails.

The door swings wide.

He stops it with his right foot, which has an untied loosely hanging patent leather shoe on it. "Morning.", he greets. He remembers: Beth, John, Steve, Tom, Joyce, Al...Blond hair? He does not remember this one. Seemingly, with burning-iron red glowing eyes of imminent doom she turns to him.

Swing do his arms, he drops the crate of tools.

He takes care of his hands, and his feet. James' father, Job (Joe-b) told him to remember to do this. He can kinda remember a lot of what his dad did or said:

"Take care of your hands, so they can mend. Your feet, keep them dry. Keep clean socks beside the radiator during the winter, James."

James also remembers other things. Some of them are: Job's fondness for gumball machine gum, fishing caps, and pin ups. Those ladies now are 80. James' memories of his father are pinned up in his memory, but are now fading like the beautiful buxom ladies which then hung against the wall of the garage.

The tool box is empty. The tools are stocked on the hardware store's wall. They are the same tools, in a new environment. Usually they fly off the shelf. Now, however, they remain hung and left to shine. Maybe to display there value and their luster. Or maybe to hang.

James leaves the store, but first ties his shoe. He takes his crummy old crate and heads back up the road from where he came. He admits he would do it as many times as it takes.