Monday, September 29, 2003
I didn't mean to be maudlin on that last entry, but I was thinking about Robert Palmer - how he was basically a clean-living family man who didn't go in for all that rock-star shit like drugging and terminal self-indulgence, etc. Terribly shocking to lose him, and cretins with chemicals-for-blood like Keith Richards and Ozzy Osbourne seem to hang on in spite of the reckless abandon with which they have treated life, their bodies, and the people around them. I never bought a Robert Palmer cd, but I always liked him. So much of his music is classic. Even running out and buying his music now will not make him any more present in the world - I remember the chord changes and brilliant structure of his music without ever even needing to hear it again. And still, it's sad to lose him. Sad in the same way I felt so hollow when I discovered the music of Jeff Buckley, only to find he had died mere months before at the age of 30. Stevie Ray Vaughan's death meant I would not see him perform in this lifetime, and yet his music is so much a part of my life. Strange to think we are part of a universe which stretches infinitely in all directions, and maybe ours and all neighboring galaxies are merely a mote floating around in some god-beast's cocktail. The idea of loss of people is as inconceivable to me as the breadth of the universe. I sometimes feel so ill-equipped for this life.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Saturday, September 27, 2003
When I was a little girl I would chase the tendrils of smoke hanging heavy in the air of my grandfather's house. Sometimes I would try to grab the ash off the end of his cigarette, and he would pull his hand away quickly and we both would giggle. Once I won the little game, and I still have the scar on my finger. Other than my DNA, this scar is my only physical reminder of his existence. It's amazing how people weave in and out of our lives, new threads joining the weave and others fraying and trailing off into the unknown. We try to hold on to our lives and people, their memorial the wounds and blessings they inflicted and bestowed, and in the end, it's all just like clutching at smoke. Life runs out like a pocket full of change.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Thursday, September 25, 2003
Overcast today. I got in my truck after buying a toolbox for my silverworking gear. In the road beyond the parking lot and waiting for the light to change was a seventies era oxblood hearse looking every inch the ride of choice for ganstas, slappers and ballin-out-of-control pimps crossing over to the other side. Mesmerizing. Then I noticed the driver. Young with close-cropped hair and mirror shades, all in black with twin dragon-jet plumes of smoke shooting downward from his nostrils then flourishing into heavenward tufts. If ya gotta go, go in style.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Recipe of the day: Fried banana slugs.

Take however many bananas you want to make. If you plan this dish as an hors d'oeuvre, 2 slugs per guest.
Slice them the long way to make two long pieces.
Coat them with flour.
Fry in butter (yes, real cholesterol-laden butter, but what the heck? We're eating slugs-let's gild the lily!) until brown and a bit crispy on both sides.
Remove to a plate.
Sprinkle with sugar.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Friday, September 12, 2003
Soundtrack for a rainy day: Spiritchaser by Dead Can Dance.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Wednesday, September 10, 2003
I love the silken turning of the steel mandrel, enjoy its weight as the molten glass winds onto its shaft. I am aware of the callous it has worn at the base of my left pinkie. Making my beads, I am utterly the Mistress of my own creation--no authority stands over my shoulder commenting on my breathing, or the way I chop a phrase into little sausage-like segments. I compete with no one in this endeavor. Someday, when I and all of my kind have ceased to exist, my scattered glass progeny may stand as a testament to my brief time here. I look at ancient beads and marvel at the uniformity that was achieved with primitive techniques (the first glass beads were literally created with a candle or oil lamp flame) but symmetry is not something I seek. If someone finds my work beautiful, that is wonderful--but I vastly prefer the compliment of "unusual" or "peculiar." It seems to me our world is saturated with the idea that worthwhile things must be mass produced, and that small-scale is not a blip on the radar. I think if people take a minute everyday and turn off the radio, television, computer and cell phone, they would realize that they need to seek their own unique talismans for their lives--not to wear a label or someone else's initials for validation as a worthwhile human being. This is what this creative process means to me. Sometimes a bead turns out like I envision, and sometimes the glass takes me to a place I never dreamt, and what a fool I would be if I didn't follow its wisdom.
Written by phlegmfatale
0 cared enough to comment!

Name: Phlegmfatale
Location: Elsewhere, Texas, USA

I'm not whining;
I'm unburdening.

Learn more here

September 2002

November 2002

January 2003

March 2003

June 2003

July 2003

August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

November 2003

December 2003

January 2004

February 2004

March 2004

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

March 2005

April 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

August 2007

September 2007

October 2007

November 2007

December 2007

January 2008

February 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

May 2010

June 2010

July 2010

August 2010

September 2010

October 2010

November 2010

December 2010

January 2011

February 2011

March 2011

April 2011

May 2011

June 2011

July 2011

August 2011

September 2011

October 2011

November 2011

December 2011

January 2012

February 2012

March 2012

April 2012

May 2012

June 2012

July 2012

August 2012

September 2012

October 2012

November 2012

December 2012

January 2013

February 2013

March 2013

April 2013

May 2013

June 2013

July 2013

August 2013

September 2013

October 2013

November 2013

December 2013

January 2014

February 2014

March 2014

April 2014

May 2014

June 2014

July 2014

August 2014

September 2014

October 2014

November 2014

December 2014

January 2015

February 2015

March 2015

April 2015

May 2015

June 2015

July 2015

August 2015

September 2015

October 2015

November 2015

December 2015

January 2016

February 2016

March 2016

April 2016

May 2016

June 2016

July 2016

August 2016

October 2016

December 2016

January 2017

March 2017

April 2017

May 2017

June 2017

July 2017

October 2017

Who links to me?