i think this weekend is the celebration of "dia de los muertos," as i am in pilsen, the mexican neighborhood, and have just visited the very busy hispanic cultural center where i put out postcards notifying of the upcoming SAIC Holiday Art Sale, which I'm going to be in, hawking my feeble wares and ogling other people's stuffs. but right now, i'm drinking Mexican hot chocolate and it makes me happy, and the brightly painted tables make me happy, and this place has so much energy and motion to it, a nice area, a little crumbly but just right. kids in the street all dressed up with candy junked up around their mouths. fathers toting, a little girl fell, her mother picked her up. i wonder what it would be like to live here.

my life has been crazy and weird and one of my best friends is going to have a baby soon (like this weekend maybe) and another best friend is getting married (like this weekend), wow, and trouble's brewing, the gallery exhibit is coming up, i'm feeling manic with hair pulling, i'm supposed to make a mockup of an alternative form of "publication," but i'm not quite sure where to find what i want to find - i'm thinking of proposing a reliquary, maybe just because i like that word. but where do we look for a reliquary? anyhow,

here are some snippets i found in my pocketnotebook and like:

*

As it was the last clef he thought of, he wrote her a note in the key of H. H, because of the he wondered if she knew he wanted her to know he knew she understood he knew she loved the way he knew she understood he knew. H being the only key in tune with such distance, far from the slightly sour note of A, which was where they began, but scores away from where they each stood, singing solos under the crook of time and/or new spheres, as is the sound of it all.

*

they built their acre's fence out of adjectives—impermeable, defiant. to the west—glorious, to the east-kitch. on the north side they raised a barrier of tall and impregnable, but to the south they selected azure welcoming.

*

away from all world politics, we selected our gods to threaten each other with acts we couldn't possibly commit on our own, or pleasures we don't know how to express. "look," he says, "there is Allah." and we look up to see the fragile dart of light sliding around the island through the fog.