PICS
I take a light rail train from my home in the factory district to downtown, where I catch a bus to Santa Monica. Yesterday, a man walked slowly up and down the crowded train car, slowly spelling out his name: "D"..."O"..."M"..."I"..."N"..."I"..."C"...followed by counting to ten, over and over, in Spanish. As he walked, he would look people directly in the eyes before passing them. He walked to the end of the car, and slowly pivoted before walked back to the front, while counting. At first, it was the sort of funny that's pitiable--the drunk old man singing to himself. But he never stopped, he had been performing this action when I boarded and was continuing after I left. It became almost threatening.
Look, look! I have an etsy store with things that are too expensive for anyone that I know. I have priced myself out of my social circle. Good work, me.
(click on pictures to be taken to the magical land of commerce)
(click on pictures to be taken to the magical land of commerce)
I took the train from Salt Lake City to San Francisco. Sleeping through half of it, I woke up to the news of a death and the landscape of central Nevada slipping by.
In the suburbs of Salt Lake, I am a visitor from a distant place, someone who lives in Babylon, who doesn't own the correct clothes or the ability to speak the same anymore. They have supplies are laid up in basements and closets, carefully marked and maintained, waiting for the day. But the day doesn't come, though they know it will. They love me, but they don't understand how I can live without this preparation, so close to Gomorrah, so close to the end.
walking by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
Yeah, that's me--all a Master of stuff in my sweet wizard robes.
Painting on the screen for a monoserigraph by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
P1030031 by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
P1030029 by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
work desk by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
stripey legs by Camilla Taylor, on Flickr
