He has spoken. The He I do not know of. Who I believe in only some days. Whose letter I wonder about--and if it waits at the bottom of a blue bin on the corner of California and Diversity.

He challenges me by submitting his thoughts without patience and expects the receiver to adhere to patience, and solely.

Please listen to me. Tell me I am good. Tell me what I did is great.
I have no time for you.
Solipsist.

The world is connected and connecting and by 'world' it is mine and those who share it with me: Sam, asleep on the floor behind me; Dan, asleep on the couch across from me--behind the wall; and John, asleep in the room next to me, behind the other wall. A dear and great friend had said the other night, your presence is felt in this room. This 5x5 white writer's room. This is where the next great american novel will be written. With an attic to myself--it is not there, but in this small space where I would like to write. One window encased by symmetrical rows of green leaves, an empty lot of weeds, trees, and dirt across the road, and a highway where a constant flow of vehicles create ocean sounds.

I searched for him last night, him and his wife. Her photos were still the same. The same two that I've already got stored and can look at anytime. For all I have to do is close my eyes or concentrate hard enough and there are blue eyes, hoop earrings, and a pensive look staring off. For him, the same. A mug shot. I remember the first time he had sent it. Why would he send this? A mug shot for someone who barely knew him. Yet, intrigued, correspondence continued.

The wife had told me that she had fallen back in love with him, but at that moment, she was not--and not to worry. She was having another man over, someone who she has been dating, and she felt the need to tell me--so that I would have known that all the while, I had known.

It is easy to become lost in secrets and winding stairwells of passages filled with only bits of information. This is a story that is already enough without the knowing of what was in the past.

I could leave them and be gone but what would He do? How would my betrayal effect Korah? He would not be able to continue by himself--they need me. I cannot go.

"My mother used to read my journals when I was a girl. She approached me once about something I had written and I stopped writing because of it."

A love so great, so pure, destroyed--to be hung. Laying beside her and our future child. She told me I would never be alone. She is a cunt, a liar, a commitment betrayed.

I promise you. You will never be alone.

Did she write this while next to him? Asleep, his naked body coiled, the sheet of Shiva above their heads. Had she really betrayed his trust by only kissing another man beside him? Truly, that was enough to damage him so completely?

"I will marry you. I will divorce her. We are not married. She is not my wife. This institution of marriage is folly. We are signatures on a piece of paper, that is all. She wrote a prize-winning poem about our court date. Crash and Leave. It is well to be known that she hates me--and I, her."

In his phone, he had her as K-- the cunt.

To have an expectation fulfill itself leaves no room for surprise--and in its wake, a reel of disappointment.

I know a man who says things but does not follow through, yet I hold on to hope that this time--and the next time, he will.

I'm having difficulty deciphering whether I'm patient and loyal or plain and pathetic.

Jeff sent me this, Post Reject.  Rejects from Post Secret.

Aikido/Capoeira/Jiu-Jitsu

I've been researching various martial arts techniques in hopes of taking classes starting Summer or Fall 09.  This six year old girl chokes this boy at a Jiu-Jitsu Tourney.  I'm thinking Aikido or Capoeira.  

Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian martial art, game, and culture created by enslaved Africans in Brazil during the 16th Century. Participants form a roda (circle) and take turns playing instruments, singing, and sparring in pairs in the center of the circle. The game is marked by fluid acrobatic play, feints, subterfuge, and extensive use of groundwork, as well as sweeps, kicks, and headbutts. Throughout the game, a player must avoid a sweep, trip, kick, or head butt that may knock him or her on the floor. Less frequently-used techniques include elbow-strikes, slaps, punches, and body-throws. Capoeira has evolved from one main form, known as "Capoeira Angola", into two other forms known as "Capoeira Regional", and the ever-evolving "Capoeira Contemporânea"  (taken from Chang's Martial Arts website.  http://www.changsmartialarts.com/home)

Aikido, is a Japanese martial art developed by Morihei Ueshiba as a synthesis of his martial studies, philosophy, and religious beliefs. Aikido is often translated as "the Way of unifying (with) life energy" or as "the Way of harmonious spirit." Ueshiba's goal was to create an art practitioners could use to defend themselves while also protecting their attacker from injury.

Aikido is primarily a grappling art in which attacks are neutralised with various types of throws or joint locks. Aikido techniques are intended to be implemented after first blending with the motion of the attacker, so that the defender may redirect the attacker's momentum without directly opposing it, thus using minimum effort.  (http://www.changsmartialarts.com/home)

Holy Shiz with a Shiz Nizzle Hiz

Maria sent me this...

Anarchal Effervescence

Have you ever felt like becoming an Anarchist
but just didn't have the gumption?
Didn't really know what it was all about?

Totalitarian Themed reads.

Read in succession:

V for Vendetta, Alan Moore
Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
The Giver, Lois Lowry
Anthem, Ayn Rand
1984, George Orwell
Brave New World, Aldous Huckley

and any and all Kurt Vonnegut, but mainly
Welcome to the Monkeyhouse
specifically shorts: Euphio Question, Barnhouse Effect

The only book I have yet to read is Huxley's. Just finished 451 last night, V for Vendetta the night before. I will write separate posts for each of those, as they are most deserving. Bradbury blows my mind--the book always has--and this was my first time with Moore, but holy fucking shit (pardon my language) but jesus christ is it the most fantastic word and picture orgy I've ever experienced.

My dad took me out to dinner last Wednesday night and he laughed at me, then said,

"Chess. You're anarchal."

Silence on my part.

"You're beliefs and ideals are centered around anarchy."

Silence on my part.

"Figures you're my daughter." "I'm proud of you."


Then he told me that though he supports my beliefs, I will need a real job to sustain myself.
That's why I'm writing a comic.

Okay. READ V FOR VENDETTA and FAHRENHEIT 451 and anything else you fiction mongers enjoy. Blast off! Next on the list is A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.





The book is better, far better--the ideals portrayed at the ending are completely lacking in the movie...but for those of you who enjoy the stimulation by millions of half-second clips all jumbled in front of you... the movie is still riveting. Say riveting in an accent for deserved
emphasis.

Got to Florida and found my mom. Asked her to sing the song I promised...
Here's my grandfather's campaign trail song.
Sing to the tune of SO HAPPY TOGETHER


When you vote for Harry Callaghan
You know you cast a vote to get an honest man
A man who will do his best
To Keep us all
So Happy together

Me and You and You and me
No matter how they cast the vote
It's got to be
The only one for Orange is Cal
and Cal for Orange
So Happy Together

He will tackle taxes and school problems too
With All his might
Education, business, and housing will see his strongest fight

You and me and you and me
No matter how they cast the vote
It's got to be
The only one for Orange is Cal
and Cal for Orange
So Happy Together

Asymmetry is where it's at.
Been trying to see things from a new perspective these days--
Looking all cross-eyed.
It's helping with the men, see.

Florida Hizzle

Florida to many, mostly myself, has been a place destined for two types of people: college kids and old people. then there are the kids of the old people who bring their kids to visit the old people, but they don't matter. Then there is the rest of the world--mainly Irish and British people who don't want to have anything to do with the Parisian version of Disney world and spend a hell of a lot more money to go to the Real Disney world just to say they came and conquered. Perhaps the Parisians would come over anyway because they would want to check out their rivals and it'd be funny to them to 'piss off' the Irish and the British. Now that the Irish and British seem to be getting along, it'd be a fair fight...but knowing those Parisians, it end with the Irish beating the bloody pulp out of...well now I'm getting off track...and I was going to include the rest of the world, mainly the Indians, Pakistanis and Italians--because south america and Russia don't matter--and the Chinese don't do Disney. Come to think of it though, the Italians are probably too poor to visit. The stereotype that they're rich is false. There are rich politicians and rich super models but they're either in Milan or Naples and those who live in Venice are rich--but the models will get old and move elsewhere, the politicians will die or become disguised, and the venitians will drown. Okay. So, Florida.

My parents have moved there.

I thought, at first, this would be horrible. Now, I've realized, this is incredible.

With the second blizzard in April, Chicago officially sucks. The only thing the Irish and Chicagoans have in common besides ancestry and the south side is talking about the weather. No kidding you can make friends with just about anyone either here or there just by saying something like, "Oh fuck. It's snowing again."

So here are a few polaroids from my last trip to Paradise...where I've come to love old people, their kids, their kids' kids, all spring breakers, and just about anyone and everyone who lives in Florida--especially the Greeks in Harpon Springs and the Crocodiles. Everyone is god damn happy--even the caged up Anaconda my brother Justin and I spent $20 bucks to see.


Okay, so just for symmetry's sake, I'm going to keep writing. I used to be an editor on the school paper--and since I'm now in graduate school, I should probably specifiy that this was in high school...although I could have left ya'll wondering if I was an editor now--but no, thanks to technology, I only work with my hands these days. Wink. ...Yikes.

The palm tree picture is just a few blocks away from my parent's house. There's an airfield, a yacht club, and a lot of land where people take their dogs. There's a shit ton of unformed seaglass and it seems to be the dumping ground for old brick and cement. You can catch the cruise ships every night around 4:30 and wave to the kiddies and their parents going off to Bermuda, Bahamas (comon pretty mama...[had to]). And for symmetry's sake, I love you. Ciao.

I feel inclined to include a P.s.

P.s. Any comments that appear racist or judgmental are in fact not. I'm a peace lovin' mama with a mean fist and bumper stickers on my car to prove it. Hi-ya!

Polaroids & Comics

Because Polaroids and Comics are amongst my favorite things, I have a few new ones for you. A few drawings from my travels overseas that I recently found and then some polaroid work done while spending a week dog sitting.




The cafeteria illustration is in the Roma Termini on the second level. I was waiting for a train to Napoli to stay with CSer, Cristina. There I would visit Pompeii and meet Nicola and afterward travel to Praiano to meet mi famiglia.

The Church is in Piazza San Marco en Milano. I had found an alley flea market a street away and had stopped to eat lunch (an apple and loaf of bread) on the stairs opposite the church.

The self portrait is from a polaroid taken in Milano at Flamino's sister's apartment. Flaminio studies neuroscience and was on sabbatical in Chicago writing a book--we met here through a family friend--he and his family live in Lago di Como.

This photo was taken while my grandpa was on the campaign trail.
Standing: Tricia, Eileen, MaryEllen, Danny, Betsy, Dossie, Kathy
Sitting: Anne, Margie, Sheila, Grandma (Eileen), Grandpa (Harry), David, Joey.

I grew up staring at this photo. I like to imagine what each of my aunts and uncles were like back then as well as my grandparents raising twelve kids. It's the most interesting to imagine the past and match it with the present--to ask about stories and personality traits that have stayed with people--and now look to their children--and watch the generations connect.

My grandpa hired someone's friend's band to write a campaign jingle for him. At his funeral my mom sang it and everyone else joined in. I wonder what Harry J. was like on the campaign trail, what the parties were like, his speeches--and what that must have been like for the kids. I'll have to call my mom and ask her to sing the song so I can type it here. The lyrics went to the tune "So Happy Together" ....if you vote for Harry callaghan, he's your man, He will rally, something about schools and taxes, housing developments...like no one can?

By the way, my grandma is a fox. Look at her little thang after twelve chillin (children slang)! She and my grandfather in white, their house on infamous Berkley Avenue, and a fancy evening out.

Grazie, gracias, Thank you.

THANK YOU fellow gmail friends who have showed general interest in checking out the link I provided. I hope you enjoy the images/writing I've done. Check out my other blog--it's got mostly prose, essays, poetry and philosophical rants of new and old (Chessa's Other Blog that includes a poem about not having a Penis--Get Jiggy With It). Some real old shit from 2006.

SPEAKING OF REAL OLD SHIT from 2006.
It's The year of the BLOG.
I'm going to link you up to some of the best ones--of my besties (I have never until now referred to any group of people as my besties as I have come to loathe the description. In this sense, however, it's fitting, because the blogs are from 2006 and have not been updated since. They are funny. Oh yes, they are.) And I will quote Sir William of Wadsworth, known to everyone else as Will or Willy,

"Vin Diesel once walked down the street with a massive erection. There were no survivors.

If you rearrange the letters in Vin Diesel it reveals his credo: "I End Lives."
There is no "I" in team. There are two "I"s in Vin Diesel. Fuck you, team.

When Vin Diesel drinks pee, his asparagus smells funny.

There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Vin Diesel allows to live."

Willy's Blog

Ryan Bench is Ryan Bench. If you know him, you know him. If you don't know him, you still know him. People attract to his blog like a dog to a woman's crotch, like flies to your face, and Lassie to Flipper.

Ryan Bench's Blog

I recently found my friend, Drew's blog and though I don't have permission from him--he still updates and writes about comics and life and since everyone knows that comics ARE life, then well, there you go.

Drew's Blog

My friend Alyse is a local photographer and artist. Her musings are fun and she enjoys the wayward lifestyle I appreciate. She lives in what I call a commune with varying ages of people, boa constrictors, millions of dogs, and craziness. She rocks.

Alyse's Blog

Snow Spring

Cheers to the newly fallen snow, may you melt quickly, with this heat I'm blowin'.

How many blogs must one have? Or can one have? Well after googling and looking through old bookmarks, I've found three for this one (being me). I update Thousand Nude Books and Lure of the Local (Beauty in the Breakthrough). http://rosesdreem.livejournal.com/

Comics Galore

Okay so the first image is of John Legend the R&B singer, next to him is an image from a comic I created as a Christmas present for a boyfriend of mine. He had a special relationship to his cat so I created a 36 page comic about a classic Villain/Super Hero spread: Fat Cat Meow steals Margo the cat from Mat who becomes a Cat Whisperer after Fat Cat's evil attempts to brainwash him go awry. So Mat becomes Matman Catman and the fellow cats in the neighborhood help him clean up his act to save Margo. He becomes protege to TomCat, the neighborhood tough 'guy.' Anyway the image is of Matman Catman and Fat Cat duking it out in a boxing match. The 3rd and 4th images are about transformation and time. The first of which is questioning what happens on a cellular biological level when a human goes through time travel. Are we decomposed and reconfigured during the process? The 4th image is of a human to owl transformation. The 5th-7th images are about coming into Being or gaining consciousness. My character, Lupo, is sitting outside Felix Guitarri's house as Michele Foucault fires a semi-automatic weapon at him from being jealous of his relationship to Guitarri's homeboy. Lupo is shocked but knew beforehand what their mission entailed. The series can go from most bold to most faint or vice versa. The 8th image is of my favorite character, whose name I will not release, but who does a lot of fun tricks...in this particular image he is learning to fly and sword fight like a ninja. Yes, there is stereotyping. Awesome! The last image is just some sketchwork on Lupo, Foucault, and so forth. Enjoy!

I've been a Polaroid Diva for a few years now. The film is so expensive now since production has stopped that I find myself trying to take "fantastic" photos but feeling sad afterward. I have one packet of film left and 4 exposures in the camera. These three are amongst some of my favorites. The three were taken during my sophomore year at DePaul, the first of the two towers, during a Polaroid Street Art Project I did for a class. My fellow friend, Polaroid and Street Art Aficionado, Morgan Manasa, joined me. The other two were found in the same alley opposite one another. Not so much an alley but a reprieve in the alley, a small overgrown opening. I remember feeling like I had found gold. Both sayings were removed a month after being found. I've been thinking of how to incorporate Polaroids into comics and specifically into the project I'm dreaming of. I'll also attach some comic images of my own. The one in the upper right is of french philosopher, Michele Foucault, who created the penopticon--the model that most penitentary systems are designed after. The spherical looking object is of a torture device Foucault designed. The guy sitting on his computer is my character, Lupo, and the girl is, Fern. This was an image I drew to brainstorm time travel. The colored image is only a portion of a larger one, but is of either a fox or rat/mouse-like character. I'm thinking of doing all of my dream sequences in color and illustrating like so because it's difficult to decipher what exactly is going on. The head shot is me (when I had long hair). I'm mixing fiction with memoir and sometimes I'll pop in to narrate. So now I'm getting excited. I wasn't going to release too many of my images (I have numerous so it's okay) but now I'm just like woah, baby, let's go-Go!-GO! So below are just a slew of images. Enjoy to those who read and hope your days are going as well they can be. Well actually I think I may just do a new post with all images because this seems to be acting funky with the text alignment.