Temples. I like white.
April: tender crystals of a temple
ruining your creases
with insistent fingers,
carving
my initials in pieces
shimmering with particles
of fine china historic women
donated to its construction;
devoted to losing life
for virtue's sake
water rushing
over my parching face
not with filling intent
emptiness is encompassing all
by letting fleshy rain
settle in surfaces you see
what's not available
to your sight is not
sacred, rather solitary.
So, that is a poem I wrote. And now I am going to talk about paint colors, because this blog has no purpose or direction. Basically, what I write here is a love letter to my family. Like an Ezra Pound style love letter: full of a little bit of everything, but not really anything.
My home is not that dijon mustard color that was so popular in the late 90's. Hallelujah. I could not have lived another week in a house with grey poupon walls. The walls of my house are a humble taupe color. Not too offensive. I have let them sit with me for a month now. Then I came across this photo on Apartment Therapy. It is the same color as my walls. Let's do this project.
I have to pick projects that can be whipped out in a couple hours tops. Low commitment projects. I taped my walls freehand and did a surprisingly accurate job. Normally I hang stuff all crooked if I don't have a level. I also swim crooked laps in pools. It is a flaw. Without using a plumb-bottom I was cruising. I choose this really well researched paint. Like I googled "best white paint" and decided that Benjamin Moore Swiss Coffee was the way to go. It was supposedly Divine. Of course, Benjamin Moore is not sold at Lowe's. It is sold at some little shop in the industrial section of town that only die hard painters go to. I decided to live my life with quality and go get the paint. Man, it was a little pricey. Not Farrow and Ball pricey, but you know. I was giddy to have my expectations met. The first coat was going to be glorious and all that was needed and it was going to cast cool undertones that played magic with the light. The paint was super thick and annoyingly non-covering. You would have thought my humble taupe walls were black with the amount of coats I had to put on of BM. (Ha, BM.) At this point my little year of the dragon Everett was done with me being on the ladder. He cried despite my assurances that I was fine. He sensed my imminent danger. He cries whenever I scream (which is often); he cries when I cannonball into the pool; he cries when Deven wrestles with me; he cries a lot, basically. So, I obliged him and stopped my project which was turning out poorly and not near as cute as the photo.
Late that night after little humans were asleep I drug the bigger ladder out of the garage, for I had reached my potential with this smaller one. When I was finished painting Deacon was helping me rip off the tape, since that is the best part. We tried to pull it off in big long pieces. "Deac, do you like the result." "It is very you." "What do you mean by that?" "It is white. You like white. This chair is white, white lamp, white bedspread..." and he went on for 10 more minutes pointing out everything white that I owned. I have been fine with taupe walls for a month, but now that there is white next to them they look super taupey. There is nothing like contrast to show you differences between two things: the difference between taupe and white. Like how in life you live with a whole lot of taupe but then you experience something or someone really amazingly white. Without accord, the taupe becomes less then it was; possibly intolerable. I give this a few weeks before I paint the whole thing white.
Now, for the rest of my poem.
June: touching them
"He wept"
i would like to have talked
to Lazarus
who returned from that country
hello. where have you been?
here all along
enter if you want
do you? Come.
Seize the door way
stuck in the light
The emporium is empty
it has been ripped off
so I let myself express violence
gain courage to go along (or alone).
Some of us fall; don't take it
as a tragedy.
We are all living
in a trailer park
at the edge of something.
Learning courage
with no way to resolve-
only a coming together
in a moment
of rest:
ruining your creases
with insistent fingers,
carving
my initials in pieces
shimmering with particles
of fine china historic women
donated to its construction;
devoted to losing life
for virtue's sake
water rushing
over my parching face
not with filling intent
emptiness is encompassing all
by letting fleshy rain
settle in surfaces you see
what's not available
to your sight is not
sacred, rather solitary.
So, that is a poem I wrote. And now I am going to talk about paint colors, because this blog has no purpose or direction. Basically, what I write here is a love letter to my family. Like an Ezra Pound style love letter: full of a little bit of everything, but not really anything.
My home is not that dijon mustard color that was so popular in the late 90's. Hallelujah. I could not have lived another week in a house with grey poupon walls. The walls of my house are a humble taupe color. Not too offensive. I have let them sit with me for a month now. Then I came across this photo on Apartment Therapy. It is the same color as my walls. Let's do this project.
I have to pick projects that can be whipped out in a couple hours tops. Low commitment projects. I taped my walls freehand and did a surprisingly accurate job. Normally I hang stuff all crooked if I don't have a level. I also swim crooked laps in pools. It is a flaw. Without using a plumb-bottom I was cruising. I choose this really well researched paint. Like I googled "best white paint" and decided that Benjamin Moore Swiss Coffee was the way to go. It was supposedly Divine. Of course, Benjamin Moore is not sold at Lowe's. It is sold at some little shop in the industrial section of town that only die hard painters go to. I decided to live my life with quality and go get the paint. Man, it was a little pricey. Not Farrow and Ball pricey, but you know. I was giddy to have my expectations met. The first coat was going to be glorious and all that was needed and it was going to cast cool undertones that played magic with the light. The paint was super thick and annoyingly non-covering. You would have thought my humble taupe walls were black with the amount of coats I had to put on of BM. (Ha, BM.) At this point my little year of the dragon Everett was done with me being on the ladder. He cried despite my assurances that I was fine. He sensed my imminent danger. He cries whenever I scream (which is often); he cries when I cannonball into the pool; he cries when Deven wrestles with me; he cries a lot, basically. So, I obliged him and stopped my project which was turning out poorly and not near as cute as the photo.
June: touching them
"He wept"
i would like to have talked
to Lazarus
who returned from that country
hello. where have you been?
here all along
enter if you want
do you? Come.
Seize the door way
stuck in the light
The emporium is empty
it has been ripped off
so I let myself express violence
gain courage to go along (or alone).
Some of us fall; don't take it
as a tragedy.
We are all living
in a trailer park
at the edge of something.
Learning courage
with no way to resolve-
only a coming together
in a moment
of rest:
I call this photo Taupe on White in a Moment of Rest
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