Where is my mind?
Addictions of the day : Water, The Robot Ate Me, Pedro the Lion, picking at this zit on the right side of my face, guitar tabs, tenor saxophone, thinking about the Summer Camp festival August 6th, and air conditioning.
After hours of pestering my brother, I finally succeeded in getting him to move. A victory in its own! This couldn't've been accomplished without the old fashioned bribery trick, so I took him to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Yay, fun! I'm slightly worried that I enjoyed this movie more than my (almost) 9 year old brother, and all of the other little girls in the theater, but all is well.
Last night I found a concert log I had started earlier in the year. It depresses me to see how I went from two concerts a week to a weak two month break. Unacceptable! Thankfully I have Summer Camp, Decemberists at the Bite, The Notwists and Themselves, The Gossip. . . And most likely several trips to the Ike Box and possibly to Portland. Phew. At least I haven't completely lost my mind.
Speaking of losing my mind, from a boredom induced google search, I traveled back in time to middle school and cleverly typed my name in the search box. Rather than viewing the usual athletic track star Katy Trotter, I came across the real Katy Trotter (as seen here, here, here, here, and here (Okay, yeah, sure, some articles are the same, but they were links, stalkers, liiiinks!. . . )). It's completely reassuring to know that I exist on the internet. This is the link to the Dove site where I'm also featured. Groovy!
I had a long conversation with my poet Uncle Pete earlier today. He's intriguing. He'll hide for months and months and only communicate when he feels it necessary than BAM! Approximately 80 new emails in my inbox of crazy Pete poems. Granted, most of them go straight to the designated "Pete" folder simply because I need a pen, paper, dictionary and a fully working brain to comprehend.
Example:
There's a hand behind the cognizance of two like minded in attraction and that hand will push the cognizance into a mutual position. Could the hand be an overseeing consciousness that in effect manipulates circumstance?
And every so often, I come across one that's off-the-wall kind of fun.
Adolph Levin was one mixed up fella. So mixed up in fact that his neck and head descended right through his torso and out of his anus. The trouble was his head was facing the wrong way so he had to walk backwards which doesnÂt make for much speed. He had his pants custom made so as to protect the rest of his privacy and hide the diaper around his neck. The hole between his shoulders supported an earthenware pot of dirt in which a tree was planted. In his will, Adolph asked that he be buried standing up.
My favorite to this day exists on our desktop computer. His rhyming poem about the Planters Peanut guy coming out of his ass. Brilliance.
Back to what I was saying, our conversation earlier consisted of me in the midst of creating a studio for portraits. . . Therefore leading to a discussion about the movie Blow Up. A few hours af
ter getting off the phone, I get an email titled "Katy's soulmate" with this picture of David Hemmings attached. I giggled and oohed for a few minutes before realizing that it is, quite possibly, the most true-est thing I have heard in awhile. Not only is David Hemming's character completely attractive, but he's ALSO a photographer. This got me thinking about how I desperately need to be sucked in to the movie Blow Up and hang out with the asshole photographer. Pronto!
After hours of pestering my brother, I finally succeeded in getting him to move. A victory in its own! This couldn't've been accomplished without the old fashioned bribery trick, so I took him to go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Yay, fun! I'm slightly worried that I enjoyed this movie more than my (almost) 9 year old brother, and all of the other little girls in the theater, but all is well.
Last night I found a concert log I had started earlier in the year. It depresses me to see how I went from two concerts a week to a weak two month break. Unacceptable! Thankfully I have Summer Camp, Decemberists at the Bite, The Notwists and Themselves, The Gossip. . . And most likely several trips to the Ike Box and possibly to Portland. Phew. At least I haven't completely lost my mind.
Speaking of losing my mind, from a boredom induced google search, I traveled back in time to middle school and cleverly typed my name in the search box. Rather than viewing the usual athletic track star Katy Trotter, I came across the real Katy Trotter (as seen here, here, here, here, and here (Okay, yeah, sure, some articles are the same, but they were links, stalkers, liiiinks!. . . )). It's completely reassuring to know that I exist on the internet. This is the link to the Dove site where I'm also featured. Groovy!
I had a long conversation with my poet Uncle Pete earlier today. He's intriguing. He'll hide for months and months and only communicate when he feels it necessary than BAM! Approximately 80 new emails in my inbox of crazy Pete poems. Granted, most of them go straight to the designated "Pete" folder simply because I need a pen, paper, dictionary and a fully working brain to comprehend.
Example:
There's a hand behind the cognizance of two like minded in attraction and that hand will push the cognizance into a mutual position. Could the hand be an overseeing consciousness that in effect manipulates circumstance?
And every so often, I come across one that's off-the-wall kind of fun.
Adolph Levin was one mixed up fella. So mixed up in fact that his neck and head descended right through his torso and out of his anus. The trouble was his head was facing the wrong way so he had to walk backwards which doesnÂt make for much speed. He had his pants custom made so as to protect the rest of his privacy and hide the diaper around his neck. The hole between his shoulders supported an earthenware pot of dirt in which a tree was planted. In his will, Adolph asked that he be buried standing up.
My favorite to this day exists on our desktop computer. His rhyming poem about the Planters Peanut guy coming out of his ass. Brilliance.
Back to what I was saying, our conversation earlier consisted of me in the midst of creating a studio for portraits. . . Therefore leading to a discussion about the movie Blow Up. A few hours af
ter getting off the phone, I get an email titled "Katy's soulmate" with this picture of David Hemmings attached. I giggled and oohed for a few minutes before realizing that it is, quite possibly, the most true-est thing I have heard in awhile. Not only is David Hemming's character completely attractive, but he's ALSO a photographer. This got me thinking about how I desperately need to be sucked in to the movie Blow Up and hang out with the asshole photographer. Pronto!
posted by Katy at 10:54 PM
2 Comments:
I had a headache already before I read this entry and your uncle's poem gave me a headache AND made me feel stupid. Thanks for a wonderful finish to such a long night. . .
hmm... that's a new one... finding yourself on the internet... I don't think that's ever happened... I should try... Anyways, your Uncle's poems are great. I think I understand at least the first one... except for like one word, which could make me totally wrong... oh well... kudos to you on the Dove thing... I've said that before, oh well.
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