Some things from September, I think.. Lillian and Jani woke up as Stalin. So did Katy.
I have the Times delivered to my home. Maybe I'm spoiled, but I count on that little blue bag to be there when I amble out to the stoop each morning. Unfortunately, newspaper thievery is rampant in these parts. I've noticed that if the retrieval takes place after 9am, my crucial link to contemporaneity is nearly always stolen (just another example of early risers rubbing it in my face!). Of late someone in my building has taken a new and much appreciated approach - they take the paper, read it, and then (here's the novel part), they return it to the blue bag and leave it on the stairwell for me to collect at my leisure. Not only is this beacon of borrower's etiquette staying abreast of current events, but they ensure I get my paper before any other, less benevolent thieves spy the prize.
Still, the never-ending home delivery war is just one more motivation to WAKE UP as soon as possible.
Here's a little something from my box of special things, which is coincidentally stored under the bed. It comes from a binder my Dad kept when he was learning to read. Apparently, he got a blue star for this particular effort. Good job Dad.
Still, the never-ending home delivery war is just one more motivation to WAKE UP as soon as possible.
Here's a little something from my box of special things, which is coincidentally stored under the bed. It comes from a binder my Dad kept when he was learning to read. Apparently, he got a blue star for this particular effort. Good job Dad.
I love the way my brain works late at night. I love the secretive alertness, manic productivity and usually, the solitude. Yet, I'm jealous of early risers. They seem so smug and efficient at 6am while I'm mired in a cozy hatred of anything even resembling consciousness. I started this project convinced that waking up in the morning was the singularly most unpleasant, violently invasive moment of the average day and I wanted to one-up that moment but adding insult to injury - the self portrait. By and large, all these subjects (including myself) have taken their own photos-- from arms length and riddled with self-consciousness - a medium perhaps more comparable to a myspace profile picture than a genuinely intimate moment. Maybe its the nexus of the two that I'm truly interested in.
Anyway, I'm still groping around, trying to find a compromise between image and reality, waking and sleeping, dreaming and doing. Any wake up related pictures should be emailed to emilyjo.c at gmail dot com.
