Less than a month ago, my permanent address was in Oregon. Less than a month ago, I moved out of my childhood home. In less than a month, I am moving to San Antonio. In less than a month, I will be a Texan. I don’t know how long I will be there.
The east coast carried me through unstable times. Barely. I am leaving with four years worth of scars and heartache and disarray. But I am also leaving with four years worth of love, and patience, and music. Above all, I am leaving with my life.
I spent nearly two years of my time in Syracuse in a haze of klonopin and alcohol. I am no longer ashamed to admit this. I alienated a lot of people that were, and still are, very dear to me. I fell out of touch with my old friends back home. I went to a lot of great shows that I cannot remember, I attached to a lot of people that I shouldn’t have. I hit the sea floor, and fell even further than that. I trusted too easily, or too infrequently, and picked myself apart just looking for one piece of flesh that I didn’t think was rotten. I was dismissed, ridiculed, and cheated, and I spent months trying to figure out the best way to not exist.
I am still not certain of my ability as an artist, but I still try. I am still not certain of my ability as a living thing, but I feed myself, and sleep when I can, because maybe someday I will feel like I am on stable ground.
For four years, I have moved back and forth between one side of the country to the other. I am no longer bound to either side, and I realize there are people that I may never see again.
I didn’t think I would make it past 20, but I am halfway to 23.
me and a dog
interesting things i found while boxing up my childhood home
1. a bracelet i made with Lisa Frank beads, between ages 5 and 7
2. a cool lenticular sticker with my name spelled correctly
3. a memo pad with just a crayon drawing in it
4. a CD made for me by my first boyfriend, grade 9
5. my name tag from the church i attended before i decided i didn’t believe in god, ages 4-7
6. a picture of me in a costume for my dance class, before a traumatic event caused me to quit dance, age 9
7. a t-shirt my older sister purchased for me, given to me shortly before or after she decided to move away and live with her biological father, age 7 or 8
check out my new movie, ya’ll!
Spencer would be in my top 8 on MySpace but he was dumb enough to cast me in his final film of the year.
I had my thesis exhibition a couple of nights ago. I’m still not sleeping.
i don’t even know what insomnia looks like anymore. the static is familiar, and day and night now just fuse together into one steady drone. the images i want to make settle under my tongue until i can’t say them out loud. i can write the words down, but they just scramble in front of the lens.
everybody is going blonde for the winter, baptizing themselves with bleach to keep it away from their lips. my shoes are soaked from the temporary thaw, and in yellow it’s easy to fake spring.
i am dumbfounded on a sea cliff, in an awkward place between midnight and dawn. the static behind my eyes is now more like a drone.
potential contributions to the body of work that will decide whether or not i win at college.
Minden Christmas time, the 20 year old light displays sit beneath the water tower and are bright enough to illuminate the quarter mile stretch of brick road that still remains downtown. The town is dry, the neighborhoods turn in early. Teenagers fire bottle rockets at each other in the fairground parking lot. On warm nights, young lovers drink on Sallie Baker’s grave in hopes of feeling something real.
The Music Tapes’ Traveling Imaginary
Portland, OR - Mission Theater
7 May 2013
Shot on black and white film.