On The Scales

Or: Libra, Steelyards, Symbols, and Justice.

Being born in October I have been, for most of my life, obliged to take notice of the balance. I am a Libra you see, and whatever else that does or does not portend for me as an individual, and whether or not that designation holds any meaning whatsoever for me personally, one result, impossible to deny, is that my brain has been conditioned from an early age to give special consideration, be it particular depth of thought or even a single extra second’s worth of attention, to scales.

02.16. filed under: humanity. ideas. observations. personal. 4

Just a note to apologize for the quietude and tumbleweeds here recently. No existential crisis or impending mental catastrophe this time, I’ve simply been busy at the workplace and have not had the requisite time, nor energy, for quality posts. On the bright side with what little free time I’ve had I’ve been quietly working on two new sections for The Nonist which I hope to launch and fold into the site sometime this month. Anyhow, if you’d be so kind as to be patient with me a little while longer I hope to be back at full strength in a week or two. In the meantime I’ll post as often as I can manage. Now, back to the wheel. Heart.

02.02. filed under: announcements. personal. 7

Happy Holidays To You

Though I didn’t find the time this year to continue my tradition of Nonist holiday cards I just wanted to carve a moment out of the hectic schedule to wish all of you, my astoundingly attractive, astute, and aesthetically-advanced audience, a very happy holiday season. Here’s to the terrifically unlikely proposition that we, all of us, come out of it feeling even a smidgeon more rested than we did going in, that even one among us manages to give a gift that will actually be enjoyed by its recipient, that our travels are relatively painless, and that none of us are forced, through the sheer frustration of contact with the inevitable massive and milling crowds, to elbow anyone in the neck! Joy, then, be to all. I hope to return to action before the new year. See you then.

Love- Jaime

12.23. filed under: announcements. personal. 11

In case you’ve been gnashing your teeth at the silence here and cursing me under your breath, let it be known I’ve been a bit under the weather and will return when I’ve finished sweating. Hopefully the “miraculous and splendiferous radium pills” I picked up on ebay (for a song!) will do the trick.

12.10. filed under: personal. 7

As The Sun Goes Down…

at the close of another hard day in the life, people can not help but indulge in some melancholic reverie. It is our nature. In pubs and gentlemen’s clubs and living rooms and on park benches, the drinks drunk and the songs sung, our eyes become distant as we think privately on all that we’ve had and lost. On this evening it’s Giornale Nuovo which occupies our thoughts, as its proprietor Mr. Aitch closes its doors for the final time and walks off toward parts unknown. Goodbye Giornale!

Just wanted to wish a fond farewell to Aitch. A classier and more gentlemanly blogger I have yet to come across. Giornale Nuovo will be missed. Here’s hoping his next project, whatever it may be, brings him happiness. 

10.23. filed under: personal. 4

Mary Neumuth Mito, Murky Water 60 x 88.

Transmutation of the Mundane

When I came upon the images which I’m about to share with you, I was a bit slack-jawed, standing there in the book store. They were of dead leaves, pond-bottoms, sticks in snow, the edges of lakes, and other such humble subjects. Those of you who are at all familiar with my photographs will know that these are just the subjects I’m drawn to myself. Turning through the pages of the book, a catalog from an exhibit, I was agape because these photos were so very in line with my own; Creepily so. After taking a moment to read some of the accompanying text I was handily slapped around and had any egoistic notions of similarity dispelled- they were not photographs. They were paintings.

09.25. filed under: art. personal. 4

The Last Epiphany

Waiting for a light bulb to go on… it can be a drag. That’s what I did though, just sat there and waited. I couldn’t understand it. Not a flicker of warning. Not a buzz. Not even that final brilliantly bright POP you might expect before a burn out… the thing just stopped working, leaving me to sit there in the dark. I tried a few times to coax it back… a jiggle… a tap. Nothing. At one point, and I’m not proud of it, I think I might have threatened it, saying something to the effect of, “go on or I’ll smash you against the fucking wall!” (Big man me, threatening a defenseless, paper-thin, spheroid of glass!) Other than that though I pretty much just sat there, waiting. 

08.02. filed under: ideas. life. personal. 4

Selaginella Lepidophylla does not know it’s waiting for rain. It’s roots do not yearn for flood. It’s leaves do not twist upward beseechingly. The argument could be made that it is not waiting at all, really, at least not in that expectant, care-worn, way bourn by anthropomorphic implication. Yes, time passes, bone dry, and Selaginella Lepidophylla is there. What of it?

The “Resurrection Plant” is desiccated. It is brown and it is dormant with all lively function slowed to a corpse-like still, but it’s not dead. Even separated from soil, laid out on an off-white field, it is alive. Why should it care about the rain? The rain is tacit. The rain WILL come eventually. Selaginella Lepidophylla is alive and can go on living for 50 years without so much as a stray pity drop from the sky. A freakishly strong wind might pull it from the ground and blow it across the sand like a tumbleweed, but it would not roll with it’s destiny caught up in piddling puddles. It would just roll, freakish wind guiding where it might.

No, the Resurrection Plant is superbly adapted, and I envy it this, because it is I who, desiccated and dormant, waits like a nervous child for rain. 

07.29. filed under: personal. 6

01.06. filed under: personal. 15

Like a shining diamond, Like a knife.

Or: My finest art?

First I’d like to say thanks to everyone who took my little poll. The results have been pretty much what I expected (more on that later). Double thanks go to those who left thoughtful comments, they were illuminating, and I appreciate it very much. Second though are apologies. Yes, apologies to all of you who have travelled these parts long enough to witness my repetitions. Ennui, desire, dissatisfaction, and labor pains- I am about to speak on these yet again, and yet again I will mull the pulling of my rug out from under you. Giving thoughtful consideration to, and writing about, the creative process is both honorable and necessary. So when a creative sort has, for a period, spent the better part of his creative energy on a blog the result of an inventory is, unfortunately, that most tiresome of things- another blog post about blogging.

01.01. filed under: announcements. personal. 14

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