Wine Label

you show your face to me like a wine label
and i'm trying to figure our what part of france you are from
somewhere warm where the wine is crisp,
or somewhere else and all dried up?

did you notice that i don't know a thing about wine,
besides that it is grapey?
and it involves something called a bouquet
(but not the kind you give someone)

And so I keep you on top of the refrigerator
or in the downstairs cupboard
and you'll stay there
because I never know how long you should keep
or if this birthday, or anniversary, or graduation,
or thursday, or boat christening, or memorial day
is toast-worthy enough to spoil you for a moment
and a whiff of your bouquet.

Strawberry

it's a quiet and beautiful life when you know how to
make yourself exactly half a pot of coffee.

i leave things around accidentally
like tissues with my blood on it,
a cat scratch or dry day for my nose
i forget that there's things here that aren't from the inside of me.

does it bother you to know that i can be so forgetful
of the kind of hygiene that keeps everyone separate
and not part of each other?

I eat strawberries with the coffee and I'm trying to remember
not to make that sucking sound
when I bite them off the green part on top.

It's quiet at this part of the afternoon.
There's light in the window and I can see the dust floating in it
it is floating up and down like it's getting heavy and it's
getting light all at once only to stay in place all told.

Let me make you some coffee
and you can hold this bag while I tidy up this mess.

Who is Larson Broome?

Hi all-

Looks like I'm starting back into this thing again. I've just gotten done with a huge event, presenting a conference paper. This is crazy stuff, this Giving Talks, this Having Work. Being someone who actually asks questions like "What do you consider to be knowledge?"

Here's a link to the paper, that you can read:
http://www.dodccrp.org/events/13th_iccrts_2008/papers/037.doc

Now that the presentation is behind me, I'm feeling a bit better... Like it's time to stop being in Crisis Mode, that the hurdle is past. That it's a whole story I can tell myself now. That it's OK now to come up for air.

Life has been happening so much over the past few months, and I've been neglecting these artifacts I can leave behind. In the wake, in the moment. So I'm wiping the dust off.

So Larson Broome is back, and we are still asking who he is. In Second Life, Larson Broome has a redisigned art gallery / AI lab that you should visit. In First Life, Larson Broome is still awash in his own concept. Still a blur we aren't pinning down yet. Situated, embodied, and nowhere. So stay tuned, there is more to ask of Larson Broome; more explaining himself that needs to be done.

In the mean time, I have several new poems that I've written in the months since we left off. I'll be sharing those and writing some more. So, Rock On.

Best,
A

On New Notebook, New Second Life.

Hi all-

I got a new morning pages notebook. It has heavier paper, so that I can use a felt-tipped pen without it bleeding through. Intead, it bleeds out, just about a half a milimeter in every direction. I imagine it makes a hissing sound as it falls outward, like it would ina movie. Anyway, it's those little things that keep me comming back to the page. I'm just a simple creature after all.

In other news, I am working on an art gallery / AI lab in Second Life also called 'Who is Larson Broome?' I will let you know when it gets rolling... there are only two photos up on the wall right now. I'm in the Excellens region... if you are a Second Lifer, come find me.

-A

On Arting it up More, Getting off the Ground.

Hi all-

Things are looking up. I wrote my morning pages (that's three pages of freehand writing) for the first time in a long while. I mostly went on about how guilty I should feel for meing away from the page for so long. But I realized that is just ego. Julia Cameron talks about "the wall" as a block we put up for ourselves about 2/3 of the way through a project. The part where we are crippled because we start caring about the product rather than the process. I think much of my artistic endeavors have hit their own "walls". This doesn't mean I have to backtrack to a more artisitic, idealised past. Rather, I have to check myself, my perfectionism, and my ego and get back into the thick of things.

If you are looking for inspiration, sometimes the best thing to do is stop worrying about it. Just get out there, put yourself on the line, and something will come to you. Get into survival mode.

I can't promise that I will become magically more artistic, or even that I can keep doing morning pages everyday, but I will be putting myself out on the line for it. Accepting that I've fallen off of it, and get back on. When you fall off the horse, you have to get back on. Or more pointedly, when you fall off the horse, you have to admit you are on the ground, dust yourself off, and then get back on the horse.

Here's to looking up from the ground.

-A

On Sideways Smile.

Sideways Smile.

He had a funny, sideways smile,

like he was trying to tell me something.
maybe it was that he had nothing to say,

at least nothing i hadn't heard before.

it's not like I had been around the block or anything,

but i could smell bullshit,
sometimes from almost a whole foot off.
and maybe, just maybe, he could smell that i could smell.

that's why he was a little lighter.
that's why every sentence was weaseled:
"Some people say..."
"I heard somewhere..."
"A lot of people think..."

Maybe it's those little nose hairs that

won't let him say something and mean it.
or maybe it's those little ear hairs that

won't let him hear himself
and how ridiculous it is to never actually say anything,

even though there's
so much talking.
so much talking.
so much jerking off, going on and on about ourselves.

it's your little smile that gives you all that power.
some people believe in shit like that,

maybe because if they called your bluff
they'd have to call theirs.
it's an uneasy truce; it's a delicate circle-jerk.

On The Wall

The Wall.

Me, I realize that I am a good man and deserve a good stack.
for too long the idea was a light through a wet tree...
the branches are a fun way to grow; just know where your roots
are and you should be in a basic beat.

He's a military dork like me. he had a great time just
running errands, those late night runs.

And then I got used to being elbow deep
into the nearest wall putting our mouths
so close, so close, so stumbling in the dark.

He leaves me now in the bright field, basking in the sun.

On Corners

Corners.

They talk of the music we'd make strangely this day.
Dream all day that I have read to them in a big corner mirror,
and I wondered why they were me.

I realize that I am, after a good sentence. Oh I know now life.

I am the party that occurs each weekend because
of the photos of my grandfather. He was in the service.

He had nothing to say, at least not in this post, to sound off
on what they don't seem to escape this moment, those right-proper peeping toms.

On Believing with '-ist', Being with '-er'

Hi all-

That's my cat Ralph. Just giving the model credit.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what happens when you put '-er' at the end of a verb and call yourself that. What does calling myself 'writer' or 'photographer' or 'drummer' mean? What does it do to my expectations about the work. Gaping Void, in its ongoing 'How to Be Creative' series, talks about what happens to your work when you 'make it'. I'm talking about the step before that.

What happens to your work when it becomes 'you work' and not just something fun you do. Something that takes up your time. What's the difference between you owning your art and your art owning you back? I feel the expectations rise every time I get really into something and start calling myself a 'something-er'. I'm going to actively avoid that kind of language for a while. Let myself be a 'scientist and artist' and letting anything in between those poles come my way.

-A

On Hitting the Button, Not Showing Off, Capturing Moments.

Hi all-

Someone about to take a photo has to answer a fundamental question: is this the moment I want to capture? Because really, even in the age of digital photography and very large memory cards, you only get one chance. Even if it comes out blurry, that was the moment. That's what you got of it, and it is never coming back again. It's a big part of taking the best snapshot, or effectively using the time of a photoshoot. Both are just instants, and even though in some cases you can try again, it's not really the same anymore. I don't need to convince you of this.

It takes judgment. Knowing when to hit that button and commit to something. Maybe not the best photo in the world, but something. I'm learning more and more in music that technique in and to itself is not enough. You can have the best technique in the world, but without the judgement to put it to good use, you are just showing off. You have to trust yourself. Maybe the best photo, or the best drum piece, is kind of handjammed and simple. Minimal and kind of blurry. A little off focus, but really what you needed all along.

-A