While I was housesitting for my dad the property manager’s ex-husband (our friend Sheb) called me up with an extra ticket to Metropolis at the Lensic.

The property manager is our friend too. I modeled for her and when my dad was looking at houses he saw a picture of me on her wall.

I was meeting Sheb before seeing Metropolis and a guy asked if I had some change or a cigarette. I didn’t so he told me his name was “Bobby Chupo” and that he is “an artist for real,” then took me to see his art in the Santa Fe Arcade. A man sitting in a rocking chair, who was seemingly the assistant for the closed gallery, asked Chupo about his black eye. Chupo told me to “go eat pizza.”

I ran into Chupo again later and he pointed out all the other galleries he’s represented at before starting to cry and saying he didn’t want to be an artist anymore.

Metropolis was as good as I remembered. It was the day before halloween and I wished I had time to make an art-deco robot costume. I said that Metropolis was one of Leonardo DiCaprio’s best roles and Sheb said: “Come on, it’s definitely his best role.”

 John invited me to see electronic music at Red Cell’s “3 Times a Lady” with Lady Uranium, Lady Gloves, and Lady something else.

It was refreshing to see band-generated, dynamic electronic music in Santa Fe. The first two bands were good and the last one had basic lyrics that we made fun of in John’s rust Tercel on the way to see our pals in “Alamo Sun” in one of the historical asbestos-baracks at SFUAD called “The Squish.”

Every time I see Alamo Sun it is their best show. They put intense fun. Each song is the hit and is only played once. The last band was named after one dude but it had like 15 people. They were full of joy and friendship, dancing around while playing their African drums/tambourines, fringe pants and cargo shorts shaking. We had to leave. We spent the rest of the evening sitting on chairs and talking sleepily. “Maybe taking these plastic eggs full of prescription drugs followed by weed are the source of my ennui.” “I know I am bored when I am just staring at my books.”

I met Laura while I was DJing “Mix” and she gave me a blank business card. I was impressed. She retracted it to print her information with a rubber stamp. I was impressed. We met for beer and subsequently invited one another to parties that neither of us showed up to.

Before I met Laura I talked to the owner of the gallery that represents Bobby Vigil (FKA Bobby Chupo). He asked if I was the person who was walking with Bobby the previous night. He pointed out the use of motion in Bobby’s art and we discussed experimental music. He gave me some names to check out and told me to come back and show him my work.

I sold out (paused my vegan-separatism) and applied to Geronimo. I found out my competition was volunteering for the Santa Fe Film Festival so I asked him about the contest they’re hosting that I haven’t been able to find information on.

I got the job over him (barista experience) and he emailed me the information I requested. Then he asked me out.  I replied with friendly feedback that him believing men should be the heads of their households and  that women are obligated to shave their legs, among other things, may be perceived as sexist. Haven’t heard back. Heartbreaker.

Geronimo wanted me to start the next week, and I called them every other day when no one contacted me. After 2 weeks of this I stopped by to ask what was going on and the manager told me the dude responsible of scheduling told her he had called me and I didn’t get back to him. If he did call he got the wrong number.

* Update, heard back from Geronimo-competition dude, he says he’s a feminist and name-dropped “The Second Sex.” If he’s not reading that for historical value he must be a first wave feminist. He said “I know it’s really girls running the place, it’s nice of them to pretend men are the ones in charge.” I replied “It’s nice of you to pretend we don’t live in a patriarchy where only you are not marginalized.” Neither of us can find a job.


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When I got home from Chicago I had a mild cold, which I made worse by working, DJing and dancing. I spent 2 days in bed and then drove across the country again.

Will and I stayed with his brother and sister in-law in Austin and were treated to a lot of good beer. The percentage of profits in the beer market that microbreweries make is around 6% When Will and I are in Austin it probably soars to 6.01%

Even Will is bigger in Texas.

Even Will is bigger in Texas.

We ate well, drove in hot rain listening to Ros Sereysothea, went swimming with Cole and visited the UT museum. Will’s sister in law had been working night-shifts and sleeping in the day, but still managed to be as bubbly as the mineral water she constantly sipped. As we drank she worked on creating lungs for the child in her womb.

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Cattle bones above, pennies below, connected with a spine of communion wafers.

It was another 3 days to Boston listening to Lord of the Rings and sleeping poorly. When we got to Rex’s house/Will’s new house we opened the bottle of whiskey on the counter. Our other college buddy Nick came and we celebrated our reunion by being inefficient at using public-transit and enthusiastically discussing pop-culture and philosophy until we were dreaming.

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The next day we dragged our sleepy headaches through east coast traffic to IKEA to buy Will a desk and a plant, and to nap on every bed. The carts for hauling furniture are SO FUN to ride on in the big IKEA parking lots. There are balanced perfectly for carrying human form (if I am the standard human form).

We played beer-pong at Rex’s friend Wes’s house and visited my friend Christine, a comedian who interned at SITE and now works at Harvard and gigs around Boston. I felt myself becoming city-slick again, walking to save money and getting $2 dinners of samosas. I also got to see my former Australian roommate Liz, who now does flight booking and gets to travel with her job.

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My last night in Boston Rex, Will, and I watched the movies we made together in early college. As I left Rex said he would write about my visit in his journal, I said I would write about him writing in his journal in my journal.

I thought it would be funny to listen to 100 Years of Solitude as I drove across the country alone. I listened for a few hours thinking the book was really experimental until I realized the files I downloaded were out of order.

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I rationed my food out on the road (multi-grain chips, chile that Will made, two apples, chocolate almond milk, coconut water, a thermos of coffee, and a mushroom, arugala and pepper-jelly sandwich) but ran out of money anyway and had to borrow some from my mom for the last tank of gas.


2013-08-27 19.15.28I had a stomach of hatred toward Chicago, but I had been planning to do an installation there with Meow Wolf for months.

It was tornado season and rains became so torrential in Kansas that traffic slowed to a crawl. Don’t get sucked up in a torny! That would #suck!

We were split into two houses, in my group we starred in a reality TV show: “7 Dudes in a Room” (this figure included Noah’s cardboard GF “Princess Miami”).

The landlord of our “Bed and Breakfast”  gave us a discount based on our vibe and had glamorous fingernails. He decorated the place with  (partially up-side-down) African art, mirrors, and a mass-produced paintings of the Eiffel Tower, Audrey Hepburn, and Marilyn Monroe. Our room was outfitted with three box springs and three beds. Half the “beds” had bottom sheets and half had top sheets. Throw pillows had pillowcases that matched the sheets. There were two 2013-08-14 15.48.35triangular plates, no cups, one dented pan and the cupboard was stocked with a bag of MSG and lollipops. Whenever we did laundry we would each loose six pairs of socks.

One day as we were leaving the house we heard ghost noises “hoooooooooo ooooooo-woooooooo!” from upstairs. We deduced it was the landlord. Later he asked if we believed in ghosts. Another time I was the only person in the house and landlord didn’t seem to think anyone was home. As he did laundry he sang: “I just wanna smoke some wee-eee-eed but right now I gotta do these chores, but later on I will be done with these chores, I cannot wait to go upstairs, and smoke some WEE-EEE-EEEEEED ——– YEA-AH-YEAH!”

2013-09-09 19.23.31When we weren’t at the house Noah and I were skateboarding to the gallery or at the gallery. We got good at skateboarding with groceries.

One evening we went to a penthouse with Feather and took part in corporate bonding/bondage exercises. Afterward we went to a wall of graffiti, which had a hidden door that led to a dark lounge full of famous people and the best cocktails I’ve ever tasted.

Dad was on a road trip and showed up with a huge bag of chia,
Happy Camper IPA, and a shirt/shoes for Noah and me. My college buddy Blaire lives in Chicago, and we caught up over rum and orange juice.

Noah had been intent on fighting Molly Soda but was not let into “Total Therapy,” where she would be. Luckily we were invited to her barbecue by our new friend Toothepaste. We brought a hostess gift of a number 8 candle, and Molly Soda ended up being nice person who gave Noah cron on the cob – so she won the fight.

Our DJ friend Teena Pizza had just moved to Chicago and was always either bringing pizza or coming up with fun things for us to do. I talked about going to the lake every day,  a couple of times a day, so toward the end of our visit she and I went to the great Chicago lake with Blaire – it was basically the ocean.

Teena Pizza invited us to a rager and as we skipped back Benji splashed into a bog. “Chicago? More like Shit-Bog-O!”

By the end of the install 17 of us were at Thomas Robertello Gallery “bumping booties” as Goulda had prophesied. Noah began the comic “Cat and Lady” based on Matt and Caity. It features two cute animals with a strong work ethic.

The fuel for the show’s creation was 23.5 oz. cans of Shaq Soda “A Big Can for the Big Man.” Shaq’s face ended up part of the installation’s skeleton. If you let little tendrils tickle your face at one point on a wall, you will see Shaq smiling back at you.

There was a bottle of absinthe in the bathroom, which tempted Benji and me for weeks before we each sipped a cap-full. Every afternoon between 3 and 5 A paint-covered coffee machine steamed the bathroom with the aroma of the well-balanced espresso from La Columbe down the street.

2013-08-17 21.17.34We created the infrastructure of the show with dumpster-dived cardboard – it seemed like all the neighbors had been getting new furniture: “Chicago, Meow Wolf presents: YOUR TRASH!” It’s doubtful many of the neighbors around came to the show however – they mostly seemed concerned with yelling at my friends to get jobs and to wash their hair. Our other neighbors at the restaurant “Wishbone,” where many ate daily, gave us gift certificates.

Meow Wolf got some nice words in Bad At Sports, Hyperallergic, Chicago Arts and Culture, Yareah, and the Chicago Tribune.  Visual Art Source said my piece was a “blue note:”  “…This reality check of self awareness helps drive home the fact that “Nucleotide” is not just a romp of artistic whimsy, but a large scale contemplation of viewership within an experiential artwork.”

I spent some time conceptualizing my portion of the installation, but I spent more time wiring LEDs. The metaphor for Nucleotide is that of a collective consciousness manifest through blending organic structures. As we built the show we talked about parts of the process as the “skeleton, nervous system, and skin.” Two friends created a whale out of miniature whales after discussing the things things are made of. I had been thinking about similar questions after Hoku’s death: What are the components that make a life? What makes a body? I kept coming back to space.

My part of Nucleotide is a space like space, reflective and watery and made of mylar, hundreds of LEDs, and a mirror ceiling. An ambient drone plays until someone comes in and the infrared camera recognizes their skeleton. The movement of bodies affects filters and activates virtual space-instruments, dance creating music… “dance music.”

In my heart the piece is a shrine to Hoku.

Our glitchy skeletons dance.

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