Sunday, December 12, 2010

a letter to a friend

Glanced around the space I was surrounded by and felt a thumping reason to escape it. To my right – interesting men having an absorbing conversation I most probably could have interjected and interacted with. Across the way – a community I’ve felt pulsing that I wanted to ride the night with. Instead, I sneak into the back room and decide that what I need to do is write a letter. To whom? Three people seep into my head and I pull out my phone to write a hurried, modern-age message to them.

Instead, I grad my computer, my fluid pen & my mechanical pencil and I scurry out of my establishment toward home. On my way home, I think about those people that came to mind to write a letter to: Jessica, an ex-friend, my only ex-friend in existence. David, an ex-boyfriend, but really so much more to me and not deserving of such a connotative title; and Jackie, my sister, whom I could write any word to and not only would she accept it, she would admire and respond to it as if it mattered, even if it didn’t. Which, for me, words only matter when there is feeling behind them – and most often, any written letter, however meaningless, will have intention and the warmth of breathe: the thought and life of stories & purpose.

As I am considering who to write this letter to, I realize I am scurrying home, in a horny spasm of hope that writing will pour out of me. And when I do get home, I throw my jacket off, I toss my computer down on the bed and I begin to type into the computer as if it is a piano my fingertips make love to. And as I type, I realize my fluid pen, and my mechanical pencil, are spectators of this moment. Only they are the bystanders of this silent happening where there are words pouring out of me. I am in an empty, dark room in an empty, quiet house that I own. And I am flooded with auspicious surroundings. I am overwhelmed with tidy packages of opulence that I am aware of and suspicious of, yet I have known my whole life that I have been working toward manifesting these things. Life hasn’t been about building wealth or the right connections or the proper career opportunities toward success. I have hard hands with scars and dirty fingernails and the people that matter to me not only don’t mind my imperfections, these are the things that turn them on to friendship and acceptance of me. That I will dig into the dirt and contribute. That I will act awkward and silly and honest and myself. There is no better feeling than to be surrounded by people who know you and love you all the more for knowing you so well at what you are.

As I was coming down the alley toward my house, I saw a coin-shaped glow of moon yellow. I’ve seen a low hanging moon that tricked me into thinking it was a street light before. This vision wasn’t the moon, yet it gave me the same sensation. That I had seen something worth seeing, that could not be described or shared with anyone again, because it was so particular to the moment and sight.

I don’t want to verbally replicate moments or images or emotions for people. In the least, I want to inspire people to go out and get these moments, images and emotions for themselves. This world is brimming with inspiration and positivity; so much that it almost always causes me to lose my breath. I want this growth for humanity – however it may arise, I want internal art for everyone. It is the fuel for each personal soul. It is what allows us to manifest a purposeful future.

Monday, February 01, 2010

Burning Man 2010

Here's a link to Anton's new grant proposal website for this year's project: full of photos, plans, videos and even a stop animation movie of this year's project! Yay!

It will be called Burning Rectangle. . . no wait, Monolith.

Just kidding - it's called Towering Inferno. 30 feet tall. Enjoy!

And here is Duncan Mackenzie's project: Human Interactive Sundial

What fun welder friends we have. Please come support both of these artists on Memorial Day weekend at a fun Burn party at the Deep Creek Mine in Lime Colorado. We put the fun in fundraiser!!! Ahhhh... punny.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Domesti City!

My first month at the local coffee shop went like this:

1/ one day of closing training
2/ one day of opening training
3/ open by myself
4/ train the new employee
5/ take over manager position at the roastery
6/ potentially taking it over in May 2010

We have our own Roastery in Lawson Hill, where we roast all the beans for orders all over the country - including but not limited to: Skaneateles, NY, Alaska & most of Colorado. Coffee beans smell like gucky rust that builds up on espresso wands before they are roasted. And they are spanish-moss green. Pew.

To go up to Lawson Hill, I take the Galloping Goose: a free bus San Miguel offers from Telluride to Lawson Hill to Norwood and a loop that goes around the town of Telluride. Free. Now, the Lawson Hill loop only goes early morning and early evening, to get workers and Mountain School kids to and from work/class. So when I go up there, I am stuck up there, unless I make the 45 minute - hour walk back through the twisting Valley Floor. Today, Bill gave me a ride home. He asked if he could take nude photographs of me. No thanks, Bill. He came to the coffee shop later that day to ask again. I thought once was enough?

The reason I am going into so much detail about what a pain in the neck it is to go up the Roastery is as follows: it sure ain't worth it financially. I make approx. 14 dollars minus taxes per Roastery visit. And I have to deal with people like Bill.

But Doug is up there and he's fantastic, a pleasant to talk to wizard Roaster who likes Wilco and thinks Conor Oberst is one of the best lyricist kids we've had in years, which I do, too.

And I learn about coffee. I get to start up this beast of a machine, which eventually creates POUNDS of espresso beans that delight people from here to Upstate New York. I think that's pretty cool.

Closing the coffee shop (which I subsequently have to do when I fill in at the Roastery) isn't much better on making a living. I make about half the tips I make in the morning and I have to haul heavy trash up freaky, unsafe stairs in the dark. AQnd I miss making sandwiches for Brian.

So why am I putting myself through this? Making less than half I would make working for Autumn, nearly double the hours and being stuck in one place?

Well, because I don't feel stuck at all. The gained benefit is living with Brian, living in Telluride, cooking and cleaning in a house instead of a van or a tent, and skiing one of the best mountains I've ever skied nearly every day. Those things plus more trump the "bachelorette" lifestyle of being an ATD rep.

There are also daily events that occur that make me smile wide until my smile muscles start spasming. And not just daily - nearly twice or thrice daily.

I was waiting for the Galloping Goose outside of the Sheridan with a group of shrieking middle schoolers. I considered just walking the 10 minutes home instead of putting myself through a bus ride with banshees. The Lawson Hill bus pulled up, which doesn't stop at Clark's Market (my stop) unless there is someone waiting there for a ride. I wasn't sure if I wanted to risk it.

Then some men from the east coast that were my favorite café customers all day came running up to catch the bus. I told them it was headed out of town and they jollily boasted that the buses take them wherever they want. I decided to hop on with them and get off at Clark's, considering that this was the only other place they possibly could want to get off. The bus driver was a young guy and promptly started blasting Cake's song "Wheels". As we rode the 3 minute drive,

And when the sun is going down I can take a taxi into town
And the waiter at the restaurant sets a table just for one
Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round spinning round
Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round and round

So I had a plane to take me to a place so far away from you
Eventually we began to see that we could be completely free

the song beamed happiness into my ears. Everyone else on the bus dug it too. The east coasters had tipped me a hefty six bucks earlier that day for making them pretty lattés and yummy hot chocolates.

Before Clark's, I fished out 5 dollars and on my way off the bus thanked the driver and smiled, handing him a tip.

Tipping: I think you should tip anyone who does a service for you that you believe they did well. I've always wanted to tip a Goose driver, but no driver has ever given me a reason to do so.

I like living somewhere. I love living in Telluride.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

SHUT: mantra of a small mountain town

This sign is quite a lie


When I first visited Crested Butte in 2006, I loved that when stores were finished with business for the day, a simple sign of "Shut" hung in the window. Nearly every business there adopted this method.

Years later, I've driven through Silverton Colorado numerous times, transporting myself between two temporary homes: Telluride and Pagosa Springs. On our last adventure through, I amped Jackie up, telling her about this really cool coffee shop that sold nice winter hats - Mobius. Yet, everytime we've attempted to go, we met a shut door by near minutes. That's hopeful: at least they open at some point. Some of the following pictures show that there are places in Silverton that completely close for the winter. That was one of my favorite parts about taking photographs of Silverton's shut-ed-ness: it wasn't like Crested Butte in it's cutesy "Shut" simplicity. Each business had their own way of conveying the idea that it was not open. Whether it be a sad bear outside, a lack of illumination on an OPEN sign, multiple methods, boarded up or newspaper-ed shop windows or an intimate handwritten note, Silverton certainly has personality - nothing has to actually be open to know this.


where do the rogue snowboarders stay?


there really wasn't one place to eat - we had to wait until Ouray to eat chocolate and scrap cookies at Mouse's... and that crazy 6 espresso shot cayenne drink :-!

the handwritten sign on this one says "Come on in, Warm Inside" directly next to the CLOSED: will return sign that says 12:20. It was 2:30.


I like the personal touch to this one . . . understandable!

Gone for the Winter

They wanted to get their signs up for all the people passing through in the winter

Boarded up


A columbine, Colorado's state flower, painted onto their Shut for the Winter board. Nice touch.

I really wanted to check this place out.

Where do the locals get their Swedish fish?!

unlit open sign

Does Kodak even exist anymore?

multiple signage

no sign, simply locked up.

A sled shop that is Closed in (for?) the winter. What?

Just in case a' lootin', gates!

kid hieroglyphic

This store-owner decided to be different than all his fellow business owners in town and let Molly, his 5 year old daughter, design their SHUT sign.

Snowmen are doomed here:

Monday, January 25, 2010

a Promise Post

Chelsea, this is specifically for you - and me.

Over the next few days, I will post at least once a day on the following topics until all of these topics have been covered:

- Guster's song "Two at a Time"
- Skiing and Snowboarding: There doesn't have to be a "Versus"
- Who Will Hand You Your Future? You or the Moon?
- Always Light a Candle
- Homebody
- The Best 18 Hour Vacation
- Goals of 2010
- Christmas isn't necessarily Gluttonous - This year it was Cheesy
- Becoming a Coffee Connoisseur
- SHUT: mantra of a small mountain town

and possibly more, but those first.

Thank you all.