low-fi images of doodley pals and blurbs trapped in bound books & loose leaves that want a home, too (and so here they rest)
chronologically organized with most recent to bloom at top of page

 doodle diary
2020

even the limbs of our gazes cannot graze! i'm sorry, but it's the rules.
 doodle diary
2020

i have a little window, who's upside down and blue - i see the world a little bit divided into two.

i have a little window, i think it's been unclean - i'll wash it and forgive the dust for letting me be mean.

i have a little window, and i opened her today - it's been a while since i've breathed and didn't sleep all day.

i have a little window, she sometimes helps me see - all the ways we've walked away from being you and me.

i have a little window, that i look through from in here - i wonder what it would be like to try and be out there.

i see a little window, that tiny little square - but now i have all of this space out in the open air.

that secret little window, amazing how it seemed - the seeing that i saw through it was all i'd ever need.

my protective little window, was really just a shield - i didn't think i ever could be safe beyond that seal.

we all have little windows, and you, you have yours too - maybe sometime you'll open yours and hear my quiet tune.

you could crack your little window, to try and hear me say: "hey hello! down here, you see, can you come out to play!?

i see the world much clearer; i can hear her better, too - i'd really love to have you here to sing to her with you.

it seems much safer in there, i once thought that was true - but i promise that there's love out here, and to love i will need you."

oh, i had a little window, that my eyes mistook for bliss - until i took a walk outside and noticed what i missed.
 doodle diary
2019

each moment of each day is spent carefully attending to the distance between death and i, and all of his little friends that he carries with him. it is dangerous not to be at least a step ahead of them. some (most) days, though, they sit right with me. and sometimes they are the ones a step ahead and i walk behind like a puppet pulled by strings they've been attaching to me ever since they got close enough to.

today they are in every position imaginable, and any movement forward would be without the usual sole purpose of escaping them due to their omnipresence, and so moving at all would carry no meaning. accepting them as my atmosphere wouldn't free me of them, only free me of a life whose direction is driven by avoiding them. sometimes i hope they will hold me in their air overnight, a long enough time that by morning i am one of them, i am with them, i become them, in peace and without pain. the kind of wish that by wishing makes it less likely to happen.

we have yet to make friends with each other. the closer i am to them (a necessary movement for friendship), the more malleable the Unbearable Weight becomes, the more it seeps into empty nooks, the harder it becomes to remove and fully clear of the soot that carries it, the more surface area it has access to. it seems that this soot is their medium, and they hope to make it mine too. this, whatever it is, is not profound or insightful. it's just here.

we have confronted each other far too many times to know that peace cannot possibly be made. for now, it is just something to live with, something to try to keep distance from, in silent hope that one day they realize i am not their home and leave for somewhere else.
 doodle diary
2019

compulsory things that absolutely must happen no matter the lack of development
 doodle diary
2019

in collaboration with 3 and a half year old Edith, who told me this is my "mom and her dog"
 doodle diary
2019

i want goodness to be the guide. i want us to know what goodness is. i want a different world to live in. i want a different system. i want a different place. i want a quiet place. i want a place of nothing. i want the excess to be burned. i want our passions to go away.

each little lens is a world, there are almost 8 billion, not counting the uncountable creatures that go unaccounted for, an endless amount of worlds, all of them happening at the same time, all the time, right now, in the same place, right here, and the one that i hold is unfortunately failing, floating in a little web of weirdness, strange and stumped at how to find that tiny pocket of nothing for a while, even for a moment, just one, one that i can hopefully explode, the kind of moment where everything vanishes and i am distilled in the fibers of forever, ohhhh wouldn't that just be quite nice, oh yes it certainly would, oh it will come to me again eventually.
 doodle diary
2019

on friendship, on intimacy, on the sweetness of sharing, the too close for comfort, the feeling of loss when stepping only an inch away, on learning to take time, on gaining more personal gravity to not become the moon, on maintaining planetary boundaries, on the maintenance of boundaries, the holding onto love, the oh god, oh dear, this could possibly fail, too, just like the with the other ones, the inevitability of loss, the never having had in the first place, the illusion of having, the illusion of holding, the illusion of being held, of merging, the bliss in the illusion, the process of disillusionment, the hoping to find ground, on staying grounded, on grounding oneself, on being oneself with another's Oneself.
 doodle diary
2019

ah! o! the things we carry with us and how they'll eventually topple us over! the weight of dirty laundry! how it fools us into comfort with its softness! oh o o ah oh ohhhhh!
 doodle diary
2019

they are created and used to one's liking, just as i was. sometimes there is no use at all for them, and yet they continue to appear in increasingly strange ways...just like we do.
 doodle diary
2019

through the muck, turn the soil
 doodle diary
2019

little play
 doodle diary
2019

i want the world to hold each other ~~~~~~~ i want to be held by the world in a way that is real ~~~~~~~ i want fires to be made with the intention of giving and sustaining warmth ~~~~~~~ i want love to be held with intention

~~~~~~~

i want to intentionally hold love in the world, i want to intentionally be held in love by the world, i want to the world to hold itself intentionally in its presence and love at all moments

~~~~~~~
 doodle diary
2019

just walking around the fire, saying hello to my friends

in collaboration with robert frank
 doodle diary
2019

we met at pinnacle hill and cried together at sunset, or maybe it was just allergies
 doodle diary
a friend named curly
2018

story sketch / late november isolation

"there was a friend named curly
who would wake up really early
to knit together string
by herself as she would sing,

'i really love sitting,
and spending my time knitting
hats and scarves and tops,
and sweaters and mittens and socks...

...but because i always sit,
and knit and knit and knit,
by myself and all alone,
it seems that i have no one
to wear the things i make,
because all i do while i'm awake,
is sit and sit and sit,
and knit and knit and knit.'

...so curly had no more room,
and sat there in a gloom.

...'but WAIT!' she said with glee,
'i have an idea for me:

i do not need a friend,
i have my very own head!
and arms and legs and feet,
all places that need more heat.'

and slowly, one by one,
curly tried to put on,
her sweater and scarves and knits,
all until they couldn't fit.

and curly sat back on her floor,
and knitted until there wasn't room again anymore."
 doodle diary cardstock, watercolor
birthday book
2018
cardstock, watercolor
2.5x2.5in

"on the day that you were born
there was a star that could have sworn
it saw a glimpse from far away
a flash of light too quick to stay.
it came and went, and with a sigh,
the star said, 'gee, wish I could have said hi.'
since then, on that day, every year,
the star's light wiggles into your ear,
or maybe your pinky, or maybe your knee,
it speaks to you in ways we can't see.
maybe this year you heard it too -
the star returning the hello to you."

you are both light and star
 doodle diary

2018

new orleans
 doodle diary

2018

the darkest black is a medium blue; shadows are just colors, too
 doodle diary

2018

all you have is this torn off piece of paper and a set of hands to make marks on it


"your hug came two days later in a dream; your body was ambiguous, still tall and i could feel the coarse denim - or was it canvas? - that covered it. there wasn't really a face or visually identifiable features but i knew it was you.
i thought about how that's the way we remember people: not through visual or objective features, but by the way their presence feels.
i thought about how dreams are made of our memories and make memories.
i thought about that dream and the memory of a feeling of a familiar presence.
i thought about how i made up a fake rule that i shouldn't be missing familiarity or thinking of anything other than what i'm doing, especially when doing something new.
i thought about that ambiguous shape of a person in our minds that we say a person is to us changes when we're far away from it.
i thought about the mesas and the mountains and how the sky we see them through from far away makes them a hazy purple, the red rock seen through blue. you can't touch them from that distance and when you're within the landscape the blue isn't there and the perception of it's size and sublime beauty is certainly strange and compelling but different.
i thought about how it's the same with people - to see them through the hazy purple of memory allows us to know their presence in a way you wouldn't know if you were always sleeping in the walls of their canyon.

i thought about the sun and how we would navigate the landscape without it.
i thought about how thankful i am for my senses. how thankful i am to feel. how thankful i am to be alive.
i thought about how that weirdly can make me want to die: what do we do with it? is feeling enough?
i thought about enough and what that even means.
i thought about thinking: here i am, thinking. i asked myself why i do it.
i thought about wanting to be a placid moment in the land. to be the quiet i felt in that nook between utah and colorado where the rock's looking like robin's eggs and how the soil was harmed just by stepping with the soles of my feet. (i can apologize now but it'd only be to make myself feel better).
i thought about that quiet and how much room i can make for it in my body - the more i let it breathe the more it grows.
i thought about the marks we make as humans - on paper, on rock, on people. impressions on body and dirt.
i thought about why we do it, what it does to what we're marking, what this paper thinks of the chemicals in this ink. if it's hurt from being shredded and pulped, dried, bound, and ripped again. if it misses home. can it still feel the roots and what they touched? the soil it came from?

i thought about the soil i come from.

6.24.2018
 doodle diary

2018

tiny travels, big earth
 doodle diary

2018

a field of grass is a tiny bug city forest
 doodle diary

2018

words from the poetic piano ramblings of a rochester musician transcribed into visual vomit
 doodle diary

2018

words from the poetic piano ramblings of a rochester musician transcribed into visual vomit
 doodle diary

2018

rooted
 doodle diary

2018

and sprouting
 doodle diary

2018

keep breathing
 doodle diary

2018

kiss the sun when you can, diminish the border between skin and air
 doodle diary

2018

just your average everyday systematic brainwashing procedure
 doodle diary

2018

how-to: winter
 doodle diary

2017

sleep all day, nourish the subconscious
 doodle diary

2017

willing whims to wane within the wearing of a weaved work
 doodle diary

2017

little garden friends
 doodle diary

2017

there they are, all of them
 doodle diary

2016

the dirt and my bones, the last branch i grazed, the paper ink sits on: we are all hand-holding
 doodle diary

2015

where's he come from? what's he doing? hello?
 doodle diary

2015

weeee, wee, we- are swimming!
 doodle diary

2015

dear friend