그림일기

i am too absent-spirited to count

susie — Thu, 16 May 2013 07:54:19 +0000

dining out, i met a stranger. small talk ensued. we were speaking of relationships, and he said he wished he could have told her, “i love you,” before he lost her. i lost interest in the conversation after that, because those words are always brandished dramatically but cheaply. people will commit destructive acts then say, “i’m sorry, please forgive me, because i love you,” or “i hurt you, because i love you.” showy, throwaway sentiment.

on my walk home i wondered what i would say to you who are gone from me. i compared others’ declarations and proclamations to our last dialogues. there was this one: after a long silence, you said sternly, “find a good man, and be good to him.” you were about to continue speaking until our eyes met and we both almost smiled and then you nodded and patted my hand. i loved you so much in that moment for your funny practicality. how you cared without flourish, without poetry, without the ostentation of feeling that begs for validation; your love was entirely in your actions. this made you the severest yet kindest person i knew, the quietest yet boldest, the one who showed the least yet did the most. this was your grace. this is why you are one of the only three people i have ever truly trusted, liked, and respected. i doubt i will find another person to love so. but “i love you” would not be my last thought to you for it’s too obvious and trite. instead the feeling that’s been surprising and overwhelming me is gratitude. so i would say to you, “thank you.” thank you for knowing me. thank you for teaching me. thank you for the pleasure of your company. thank you for the richness and virtue of your character. that is what i want to say to you. i want to thank you for the gift of knowing someone like you.

as i type this now i want to add that love is not cheap, showy, or trite. neither is it a matter of destiny or sentimentality, at least in my point of view. to love is to make a choice with conviction, to defend that choice, value that choice, and honor that choice; that is what i took from his instruction to “be good.” i have already chosen my mother, annie, and him, and though he is gone, i will still honor him.

that is what i have to say tonight.

dreamers, dew-dabbled

susie — Wed, 08 May 2013 18:51:26 +0000

we are such stuff as dreams are made on;「일체 현상계의 모든 생멸법은 꿈이며 환이며 물거품이며 그림자 같고 이슬 같고 번개 같으니 마땅히 이와 같이 볼지어다.」

scraps and sketches

susie — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 09:39:48 +0000

on the shores of olbia, i almost met a girl with her eyes set to sea. i thought i would stride to her side and touch her shoulder, and we’d submerge ourselves in the sort of deep, profound conversation only strangers on soul-searching adventures could share. as i stood there, hesitating, mentally scripting our exchange, hesitating, she walked — in a straight line unbroken by indecision — into the water. and the water closed over her head. and the waves beat the shore steadily. and my heart beat steadily, too. steadily i must have walked for i suddenly realized i had taken her place by the sea. i remember how the tide hemmed the white sands with foam as the passing hours bruised the sky, but i do not remember how her name came to me. the source did not matter; she had no use for it so i took it for my own. i had already been many women in my time: the poison on his lips, his serpent in the tree. then i took my own wavering, crooked path far from the beach. since then i have thought much about how she chose to leave. how she chose the sea. of all the strong women i could be, how pathetic that i have chosen to be me.

^ crappy little scraps from book-thing. but i don’t really care to finish it so i’ll probably just blog bits of it here. followed by life drawings (in chinese bakeries and trains) from my sketchbook. hopefully i’ll scan the whole thing before it dies. it has been soaked by rain twice and drowned in vitamin water once. and i have misplaced it numerous times!

the human heart its hungry gorge

susie — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 08:22:03 +0000

took a break from other work to get this out of my system.

a & i have been encouraging — well, emailing threats to — each other to finish projects. i have no idea what his subject is, and he has no idea what’s mine, but it’s been nice to run parallel. i was thinking of his ex wanting him to write shit for her, like r’s exes wanted him to write songs for them. i know it’s only for confirmation of affection, a romantic token, and nothing greedy. but because i often fall in love with the work before i learn to like the person, i don’t want to own that part of someone. when you read or hear or view a friend’s works you get to “meet” him again for the first time. like twelve years later i still get excited over s’s drawings. it would be nice but less interesting if she made something for me — though we have exchanged works, and it’s always nice, the best is when i learn what she has in her unique mind, her world no one else should own (invade, pillage, steal, haunt, etc). i want to know more about her, because all these years later, i’m still intrigued. this inexhaustible substance to a person: a really nice thing to have in a friendship.

a couple of weeks ago i visited an acquaintance from days of yore. on his desktop i found a folder labeled with my name. inside was a series of collages. drawings scrawled over newspaper and magazine clippings, all black and white except for a single detail like a yellow stripe on a shirt or a red apostrophe in a sign. i yelled, “what is this?! why?! why is my name on this?!” but he wouldn’t explain. this is another reason why you should not want someone to make “art” for or of you. besides all the previous idealization… sometimes it’s just an embarrassment if you hate the work!!

the centre cannot hold;

susie — Mon, 04 Mar 2013 10:17:09 +0000

…not quite there yet. still experimenting. hoping it clicks.
i remember the day he told me, “lie to the world, because no one wants to hear your grievances, not when everyone else is grieving or lying. but when you draw don’t lie. don’t lie to yourself or to your drawings. or you’ll be a coward.” tears brimmed in my eyes at his words for i had only wished to show him a picture i’d drawn of an orange cat coyly eating a flower.