cas mcshady

view from van Gogh

-or-

"i wear my suuunglasses at night"

dang.  i have too much time on my hands.

last final tomorrow!

San-Remy

i wish i would have made toast this morning.

the coffee is shuffling a geriatric pace through my blood and has spitefully neglected the region of my brain.  the morning is a promise of cooler, normal weather- like a last meal before execution.

"here ya go.  here's some comfort before the heat.  drink your coffee while its still cold enough to enjoy it."

we walk like musical instruments across our second story college apartment, lovingly referred to as The Tree House.  it must be like listening to a Balkan garbage can tuba band from the apartment beneath us.

and last night, when i dared to play guitar in the delicious gloaming of the warm night out on our shared  porch, the neighbors opened their window to listen, saying when the noise bleeds through the walls they quiet down and eavesdrop.  

and today, i am Abraham all over again.  at least in his beginning sense.  "here's for today, Abraham: go.  dont try to understand or plan.  just go and live."  permission and command.  command and permission.  

It reminds me of driving across the salt flats when i was 14 and we were almost out of gas so we couldnt listen to the radio or feel conditioned air.  

it reminds me of lying in bed when i was 18 years old the night before i left for bible college, wondering.

it is blank canvas, picking the colors in my mind...wishing You would pick them for me.  my imagination is not a long distance runner.

van gogh eating yellow ochre oil paint at San-Remy.  a childish wish to take the color into himself.

by this time next week, the long dark dream of chico will be over.  i want to lay my head on a rock and live somewhere between esau and a withered hip socket- watching the ladder carry traffic from Him to me.

"surely the Lord is in this place and i knew it not."

mute

it would almost be easier to talk to You if You were only half listening

like everyone else

like i assume You are

and me with my new type of perjury

lying thickly to the teary child face

still poised on Your knee

still attached to me

but sometimes, faintly

i know i've slipped away from the cruel falsehood

of Your diverted attention

and arrive breathless from fleeing

i cant remember what i came here to say 

now that i believe 

in Your nearness

but how can anyone be awkward around You?

how can anyone feel at a loss with You?

maybe i didnt lose my words and my thoughts

maybe i just dont need them.

finally surprisedly willingly confined in what i came for

realizing that it was 

just 

and simply

You 

this whole time

the parking meter i drew that day

parking meter in ball point pen.

what a symbol of frenzied, restricted time this thing is... kinda like my time here i think.  try and try to make it beautiful and its still just a parking meter, counting time, gray and metallic, void of person or passion.

i have grown exceedingly discouraged with the course of my life right now.  i don't see the point of getting twelve grand into debt over an art degree.  

pray for me if you think about it.  

the brotherhood of man

"can i see what you were drawing?" came a voice from beneath the shaggy blonde haired head that had been sitting at the small table to my left since i started the picture.  he had come in from sitting outside where i had walked past him a quarter hour before into the coffee shop.  i had noticed him because i always notice shaggy people who mean to be shaggy- they have the look of a forest animal so proud of its winter coat that it will stand unflinchingly in the snow.  maybe its a hippy thing deep inside me trying to find my own kind.

"ya, sure," i said furtively.  good thing i had been drawing something worth looking at this morning...its not always like that.  i never know if its a scrimmage or a game day with drawing.

today, it was the parking meter batting its flashing zero eyes at me from just outside the window.  today would be working on tones with a blue ball point pen.  an emaciated hippy girl with a half-sleeve tattoo and a nervous cigarette flounced spasmodically in and out of my line of vision of the meter as she talked to her two seated friends outside.

holding my drawing up awkwardly and probably crookedly from his perspective, i held it up long enough for him to say, "i like it."  

"what are YOU doing?"  

"planning my day," the shaggy head answered pleasantly.  

i glanced quickly at his tattered notebook written all over with sloppy male handwriting: one doesn't look too long at personal thoughts.

"everyday i try to just sit and think about what would make up a totally amazing day- what i would REALLY want to do that day.  after i write it down and get it all out on paper, i go about my usual life and feel a little better about what happens."

"do some of your 'amazing day' things ever happen?" i asked as i packed up my sketchbook to leave for class.

"o ya," he assured me with a quick smile which i didnt take the time to enjoy.  i always wish for random people to talk to me and then i get all flustered when they do.

"well, i hope you have an amazing day," i said sincerely.

"i hope you do too," he answered in the same truthfulness.

"thank you," i muttered as i walked out the door to my own waiting day, taking with me a shared part of his.

ps.  the parking meter sketch will come later.  had to turn my sketchbook in for class.

aunty cas

my friend jen has a new baby bird-- silas jude.

i've never held a baby this small before!

cas, silas and his mum.

i'm in love :)

you can take the girl out of humboldt, but...

a guy with dreds who i was sitting behind at a cafe.  i love the one bead he has on that one dred. 

tree study at bidwell park