I'm flipped around. I woke at midnight and now may sleep. tomorrow I have a course where this is the task.

Frontpage
(Identification)Title of project, field of work Name of the natural person or of the institution submitting the application Person responsible for the project (in case the applicant is an institution): name, title,Address
Page 1
Brief summary of the project Duration of implementation of the project
Page 2-3
Detailed description of the project:Activities, goals, aims, approach, methods, multiplier effects, foreseen tangible results and indicators
Page 4
Timeline, precise schedule comprising a complete list of activities foreseen
Page 5-6
Detailed provisional budget of the whole of the project (in Euro)Financial partners (financial sources other than the Fund) and detailed description of their contribution

I'm not sure about this. My group conceives a project for a group residency in Leipzig but it's to imaginary to be defined. I think I'll sleep a few hours and then think about that. I put together a links page on my web sight , hopefully, we'll be making some things in Buffalo come March.
I made a presentation on my soul project today. I feel a bit outcast in this group. I was trying to think of how to make art about the holocaust but I really see no way for me right now. Sure everyone has a story which could somehow link them [inlink]robin,81[/inlink] but really everything is just a small nuisance. I'm trying not to survive here in Weimar but actually live the best way I know how. This, unfortunately is a bizarre way of living and as a result, lonely. Even with my four super gau flatmates I can't find a dinner partner for Pano's in the middle of the night, or even a Pano's. It is good to switch commodities for a while but where are the sweet potatoes?
Thanksgiving was cool. My friend Naomi made us a chicken feast. Sam made potatoes, dusica made carrot salad. I showed up late with a few spliffs and a bottle of white wine from the pub down the street.
So the temporal question is how to fill up my time? This moment is sleep but when I wake? Read, read, read things that I never have the opportunity to discuss.
This Sunday at the crossroads I spied a spy on tape.

was ist das?

So I've been awake since 10 o'clock last night and now it's 1.pm and I'm on my way to learn to make money as an artist. Ha ha ha, to that but it's fun to try. It's about working in groups so this is good for my ego. I really love this Beach Boys song "hang onto your ego" it's good.

I stayed up all the night last night because I feared if I slept I would miss my 9 O'clock meeting. I got to the meeting almost on time and announced to Liz and Susanne my plans for selling my soul to the Devil. The seemed to support the idea even though it is not an idea inspired from the art and commemoration workshop. I showed them the documentation from the first two days of the ritual. I started in the park Goethe designed and I will end the ritual in London, then return to Weimar and hopefully set up an installation in the park.
After this meeting I went to the class and watched two presentations. The first woman's work was... pictures of blocks of ice with Brazilian aerobic tapes playing... yeah. The second woman talked about her idea for the Belgium, Art and commemoration project. She wants to make match books that say, paper burns words fly away. People had a heated critique of this idea. I just sat there and thought of the Dixie Chicks.
After that I took a 3 hour nap. Then woke up and drank a really strong espresso and went to the monument/memorial workshop. The guy showed us lots of Jenny Holzer work. I get so sick of this text based work sometimes, sure its profound but I'm more affected by the Brazilian student's performance where she put an orange sheet over her head, cut a hole for a mouth and read porno mags. I know I had a strange expression on my face when she showed us that.
So after that workshop I went home, crawled into the bed and watched today's Democracy Now. About the time the program got past the part about how the white house wants to change what some guy said in the public records, I started feeling queasy and had to go vomit. I don't know why, maybe that double shot of black espresso ripped into my stomach. A long shower worked wonders and after a few hours I felt good enough to eat some of Albrecht's pasta. Then I watched Satan's Brew and wondered why I haven't met any people like that here in Weimar.
The kids are too damn moral here. At least one kid told me that he wore his "I love Kinky Sex" t-shirt in my honor one night.
One good thing about getting nauseous is that it inspired me to wash my bed sheets for the first time since I've been here. Hallelujah, praise the lord for that! Earlier this week I changed my website a bit, I put up some collages I made from the pictures Liz, Arzu and Soyeon took this summer when I took them to my parent's house.
My Mawmaw sent me a thanksgiving card and told me to get some turkey. She put a five dollar bill in the card. I loved it but it broke my heart. Speaking of love and affection, I must get some sex soon or I will spontaneously combust. At the moment I'm listening to The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots pt. 1 and thinking of someone very special.

pursuit

link for ebook, Venus in Furs.

rapunzel hair totally fucked up. how can people function with hair that long? It's not like they were locked in a tower, or were they?

Yesterday I was about to start helping Naomi edit documentation of her roundabout installation when she ran up the stairs saying look at the rainbow. We ran onto the porch to see a huge rainbow. A flock of crows choose that moment to fly across the sky. It was a strange and beautiful sight, the sweet spectacle of the great outdoors.

Here is a web site where people submit their dreams and then they are made into comics. I read them all.


So I'm lying here in the bed thinking of my Mama. Last night I dreamed that I was at my parent's house and wanted to buy a peach tree that was in the trunk of my car. The tree would cost 289 dollars and I only had 20 euro, so I asked my mom for the money. She gave me what she could and made me feel guilty about it. I sat and counted the euro she gave me out in our georgia driveway.
I also dreamed about the spirit of Matthew Proctor. He was mad but I pushed the magic wand he was bopping me with to the side and hugged him. The I started shouting, "hey, listen up" to all the people in the room and reading from a letter I'd written to or about Matthew.
I woke up from that one all sweaty. I think that comes from this document I found online. Yes, I still search for Matthew even though he's dead. This document www.gasupreme.us/pdf/s05a0257.pdf gave me more details than I had before and yes even 4 year after the murder of my first boyfriend who was my ex at the time of his death, I'm still having tears for him.

This is what I had intended to write about when I first started this post however. When I was a little girl I would go on walks with my mom and she would point out the flowers to me and tell me their names, sweet peas, black-eyed-susans, honeysuckle and so on.
One day she pointed to a weed like plant that was topped with tons of tiny white blossoms and asked,

Do you know what that flower is called?
No
Kiss me and i'll tell ya
just tell me
i did

i looked all over the internet for a picture of some kiss me and i'll tell ya, but I was unable to find any. I did come across the The Legend of the Cherokee Rose and this got me to thinking about how the United States deals with commemoration.