[1]

dorothea lange, 1936

why can’t i see the sunspots in your eyes?
they were my favorite imperfection,
and now i find that you’ve sanded your face
down to where i can only see your muscles.

your hands are buried in your pockets
like a shovel in the hard, thirsty soil.
the lines in your weathered face draw
a road map to better days.
the gravel in my throat paves the way
to a chipped tooth and a bad hangover.
i want to grab your cold, pointless hands
and tell you the truth, but i know that
a dust storm is arising between us.

last week,
we unearthed the dead grass from our yard.
afterwards, i couldn’t sleep for days.
my lungs were clogged with discourse,
and my voice was in no condition
to sing myself any last lullabies.

[2]

fourteen songs in thirty-six minutes

you’re smith, you’re wesson,
you’re the feathers on an arrow.
you’re the pearl handle on your revolver
that glimmers in the sunlight when you shoot
blanks at the kids on your lawn.
your hollow-point fingers leave holes
in me when you touch me like that.
when you take aim, all the kids run
to you for protection. it makes me wonder
how much ammunition you have stored
away for a rainy day.

every time i smile at you, you pull your
hands inside of your sleeve and look
bashful. i know what you’re capable of,
but do you? sometimes i catch you writing
poetry that i can’t comprehend. i worry
about you every time i fall asleep, because
in my dreams, all i hear is gunshots.

i took the hinges off of our door. it left
splinters in my fingers that i’m not sure
i want to remove. maybe they can be my
reminder of you, forever embedded
beneath my skin like a tattoo i (hopefully)
won’t regret when i turn thirty.

What you’re seeing is Leo Tolstoy reading a book.

What you’re looking through is a window into our history, circa 1908.

105 years in the past in high resolution.

The Russian writer would be dead 2 years later, in 1910.

It is safe to say, I think, that in this picture he is unaware of his fate.

Despite the books he wrote, this last bit of knowledge was, more than likely, kept secret from him.

See the candle on his desk?

The light bulb was invented in 1879.

Tolstoy was a Luddite.

“When the life of people is unmoral, and their relations are not based on love, but on egoism, then all technical improvements, the increase of man’s power over nature, steam, electricity, the telegraph, every machine, gunpowder, and dynamite, produce the impression of dangerous toys placed in the hands of children.”

-diary of Leo Tolstoy (1828 – 1910)

Find Nacho on twitter too: @NachoNova

1. Where were you born and where do you live now?

I was born and raised in Prince Rupert, a small, rainy town along the west coast of British Columbia, Canada. After graduating from University, I taught English in South Korea for almost two years. After my contract had expired, I traveled throughout India, Thailand, and Peru before finally returning home. Right now I am visiting my family in Prince Rupert, but I’ll be returning to school in the fall to further my education.

2. Tell us about your education.

In high school I did well in science classes. I majored in biology at university, but I also took a number of psychology and Spanish courses. Currently I am enrolled in a physical therapist assistant program that begins this September.

3. What is the one book you will regret never having read?

One of my favorite books is “The Red Queen” by Matt Ridley. In his book, Ridley provides extensively supported explanations for some of the more puzzling human behaviors, specifically those involved during our interactions with others. It’s a fascinating subject and this is a great introductory book to the subject.

4. What is your favorite ingredient?

Macadamia nuts. A soft, chewy, white chocolate chip and Macadamia nut cookie is heaven in baked form.

5. How did you get interested in art?

My mom is a retired primary school teacher. When I was growing up there were always neat and colorful art supplies lying around our home. With them I was able to keep myself occupied for hours. I am grateful that my mom provided me with the tools to express myself in such a creative way from early on. I sincerely believe I wouldn’t be painting right now if it wasn’t for her.

6. How has your practice evolved over the course of time?

Skill-wise, I am still far from where I wish to be, but over time I have noticed improvement in my anatomy drawing skills. My brushstrokes have also become smoother and more relaxed.

Painting requires a lot of patience, something that I was not prepared for when I was first learning how to use watercolors. I used to make the mistake of not allowing one layer to dry completely before adding the next. Instead of a beautiful glaze as I intended, the result was a muddy mess. These days I’m usually working on more than one project at a time. This way I can allow one to dry while I paint on the other.

7. What do you consider to be your greatest success?

One of the achievements that I am most proud of is “running” (re: crawling) a marathon distance along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Completing a marathon at sea level is challenging enough, but much more so at several thousand feet and with the food borne illness I had acquired the night before. The trail typically takes 3-4 days to hike and our group was trying to complete it in one.

Only 25% of the people that began the race were able to finish the race on the same day and unfortunately I wasn’t one of them. But after a rough, wet, cold night of camping, I hiked the last couple of kilometers of the trail the following morning. My body was absolutely devastated, but in the soft morning light, the view of that ancient city in the mountains was worth all the hardship.

8. If you could ask yourself one question, what would it be and how would you answer?

“In what direction would you like to take your art?”

I would love to write and illustrate a children’s book in the mosaic style that I have been experimenting with lately. I feel very fortunate that my mom made it a priority to expose me to as many books as she could while I was growing up. When I was teaching overseas, I became very aware of the importance of colorful and interesting imagery when teaching a child how to read. My dream is to have published a book of my own that young people can read and enjoy.

Thanks for you answers and sampling of your artwork, Greg!

If you’d like to find out more about the artist and his watercolors, please visit his etsy shop: Dreaming Rabbit.

Or you can find him on Twitter: @whitegk

“A way out”
A euphemism for suicide.
“Boston”
A euphemism for no parking
“Liberty”
A euphemism for snakey fingers tugging oil from fledgling breasts
“God”
A euphemism for desperation.
“Holy”
A euphemism for labeling what people are desperate for
“Poet”
A man a woman a child, a flag, a junky, a pen and ink
Poet has a purree definition
Relative, coming down to the individualistic natural bomb
that we all detonate
upon writing.

Photo by Kate Bellm

Fearfull:

I am on the shitter,
nose dripping
and lungs.
Man,
o man. If I could
go back I don’t know
what I’d change
but I’d change
something.
That’s a good thing,
right? Now I’m
just questioning myself.
Over analyzing every conversation
because no one else will listen.
I’m not sad,
just act it.
How else am I gonna write good poetry?
The world has to make you sad.
With knowledge comes sadness
but I’m not that smart
and feeling pretty goddamn happy.
I guess the holes in my brain
were worth it.
Take me to a church
and make me fear God
because I’d rather have something to blame
than myself
and cops.

She said it was only paprika,
but paprika doesn’t burn that deep.
She must share whatever secret
you and the Schlitz
let me swallow.

Your mother’s mac-n-cheese tastes like what you did to me.
My malt liquor memory only tells me something about burning,
something about nails raking down the backs of thighs,
and something said about “Saxophone-Americans.”

What does your mother know about that?
Well, she did bear seven sons.
I suppose she must know about longing and the lingering rawness
like that place where pain and pleasure commingle.

At least, that’s what her mac-n-cheese said.
God, it was so intense, that burning that threatened
to never release me, but I scraped the plate clean,
licked every point and dip of the fork,
suppressing any worry that comfort food shouldn’t scar my soft palette
like I wouldn’t question if joining and rending shouldn’t tear.
This is the line between pain and pleasure. Watch
me toe the line. Watch me fall
over.

It’s like the last wail of a saxophone solo—
the sax knows it’s ending, so it pushes for the final note
to echo in that hollow place beneath your breastbone.
The tremors almost break
the xiphoid process into my heart,
I said, the tremors
almost break
my heart.

Pearl Street

Forget when I would crawl
under the covers and push
my bare feet against your shins,
forget the on/off clicks of the space heater.
Forget who I was
when my nightmares
woke us with my screams.
Forget the refuge
you could have been.
Forget the box of chocolate covered pistachios
next to the bed, forget the 2 AM gyros.
Forget waking up without an alarm clock.
Forget bagels, forget the sun opening the frosted glass.
Forget the penetration of air between the pane and window frame.
Forget searching for socks, forget the extra toothbrush.
Forget my hand on your chest,
rising with your breath.

Where were you born and where do you live now?

My father was in the Army, I guess you would consider me an Army Brat. My mother was French and he met her on the subway in Paris. He fell madly in love with her and married her. She was one of the first war brides to come over on the ship to the US. After 6 years of living in the US he was then stationed in Frankfurt, Germany for a year, where I was born.

Tell us about your education.

I went to College of San Mateo, where I got my AA in French and transferred to San Jose State University, receiving a BA in Speech Pathology and Audiology. I never used this degree except to teach my son Blake with Down’s syndrome to speak.  I ended up working for 15 years selling lumber wholesale.  After Blake was born I decided to pursue my dream to become an artist and went back to school for two years taking only art courses at Gavilan College in Gilroy.

I also believe that education comes in all sizes. Not wanting to go the academia route by pursuing my BFA, I decided to study privately, in groups and workshops, taking classes in color, life drawing and oil painting for 15 years. I still go to various art workshops, always believing I am a student with an endless amount to learn about my craft.

What is the one book you will regret never having read?

My first thought would be reading the Bible, but I did that and I recommend that you don’t unless you have someone help you interpret the book, too much fire and brimstone. I probably would like to go back again though, to reread it in depth.

What is your favorite ingredient?

Salt. Salt is needed in most anything you cook, and probably the most under appreciated ingredient.

How did you get interested in art?

I have always been interested in art. I am a colorist and my first recollection with color at 3 years old, was the box of 64 Crayola crayons. My sister would love to draw, although six years older than me I would love to draw like her. Later in high school I was always chosen to do the school murals for the proms. It just came naturally to me.

After my father died when I was 9 years old, life became very practical. My mother didn’t believe in art as a career; it was not a way to support oneself. She always taught me to prepare myself for the worst and choose a job that you can always depend on to provide you with your needs. It was only after I had my son Blake did I realize that I needed to follow my dream, even though there were no guarantees for success.

How has your practice evolved over the course of time?

I love to paint in series and still do, but I feel now I am looking at my art as a business. I have done quite a few commissions and actively sell my art. As far as my craft, I do believe that my color is getting more exciting.

What do you consider to be your greatest success?

My first greatest success was to be the first person in my family to graduate from college. Then I would say that being one of the first women to be in the Lumber wholesale business and always being number one in sales. And thirdly, completing my #paint52 project in 2012, where I painted 52 paintings in one year, which came to over 15,000 square inches (Read about it here). I am now currently doing another challenge for the year 2013 to paint 20,000 square inches (Read about it here).

If you could ask yourself one question, what would it be and how would you answer?

What’s your favorite swear word? No just kidding.

I guess I would ask, “What is the most significant thing that has happened in your life that gave you the most growth as a person?”

And reply, “When my son Blake was born with Down’s Syndrome.  He has taught me so much about life and myself. Here is a post about that.

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Thank you, Janet. Everyone else: Please enjoy Janet Vanderhoof’s (@JanetVanderhoof) handpicked gallery for TOE:

A flash of teenage madness
He stops at the fountain
Gets some water
The water is cold
As if he paid for it
First block is math class with Mr. Marino
He likes math
The numbers are like paper
He knows when to add when to subtract
When to divide
Multiply
The operations help him deal with stacking paper
He has to deal with paper every day
Thank God
The gold chain ’round his neck
Tucked inside his light blue business casual shirt
With a big ol’ gold face dangling
Clanks against his chest
It’s Jesus

In math class with Mr. Marino
He isn’t loud
Not like he is on the street
Whenever he has to get his point across
Mr. Marino isn’t like the other funny
People in Travis High School
Mr. Marino is alright
But he’d never call Mr. Marino his friend
The last person who said he was
His friend jumped him in his hood
Him and three others jumped him after
He said he was his friend
They jumped him and took
Everything he had
Which was a lot of paper
Some chips
And a blue drink.

-I’ve been jumped in every hood I’ve lived in. I’ve jumped other people too. Some of the people I jumped jumped me back. I never got the chance to jump my FRIEND back. If I see him again he’ll talk with my piece. Nah I don’t leave people for dead. But I’ll lace up and show him who’s boss.