evie altman
art and stuff


popcorn traveling

every once in a while, i feel manic. not manic manic, but fast heart beat and mind jumping around like popcorn pieces popping around my head and up near the ceiling and out past the roof. that’s when i make lists or take a hot shower and just try to chill. missed yoga last week, but i did go dance with carey in 5rhythms (website calls it a “dynamic practice to both workout and meditate in the same breath…. helps us become attuned to the underlying patterns in our everyday existence” and that’s pretty much it. granola-y to the max and if i ignore the dj lady telling me what to do sometimes it actually can be mind numbing to some extent. now that i think about it, though, it’s nothing like meditating in yoga or even swimming, mainly cause all these other people are dancing around you as well and you sometimes have no choice but to watch them (cause they can create beautiful movements) and make sure you’re not bumping into them. whereas with swimming, as long as no one’s in your lane (when attention goes to not bumping them with a very wide-legged breast stroke), you can go deep into any subject and come out the other side with a fresh look. and yoga allows you to clear it all out and breathe.) anyway 5rhythms does offer fun and exercise and freedom of physical expression, not a replacement for yoga. and the popcorn doesn’t stop jumping.

although being in agua dulce, california for 40 or so hours was a chill pill. mom and dad live in a separate world nice to visit, complete with delicious scampi and caesar salad and a hand-made gazebo and mountains just over the next hill. cut wood with dad and hung in his dream-workshop garage building a new medal holder for kadyn (placed second all-around flying and flipping like popcorn with a purpose at the houston national invitational on saturday). dad and i approach wood with the same joy and differing design/build methods. really a varied artistic vision i guess. and i fall right into my comfortable parent-child role, following dad’s directions and happily cutting wood. mom, meanwhile, creates her own art with a safe, cozy, warmly decorated home. she’s so steadfast, even though the emotion arrives easily for her. a really nice break.

woke up there in the middle of the night a few times and had that don't-know-where-i-am sensation but it wasn't upsetting. puzzling, but safe in the bed and covers with warm, nice sheets and a ticking clock.


love watching football with sarah and my parents. don’t watch much or feel so invested anymore. except against the patriots and tom brady. have to watch my cursing when i'm not alone — don’t always remember, so kadyn got to say a wallop of bad words in return. later, watching/listening to kiernan’s amazing voice is so cool and hearing him play queen on mom and dad’s piano made me think about bohemian rhapsody (thanks Alaska Air) and how one person's ideas can translate into so much joy for others. and freddie mercury was a freak, unusual, so talented. that set him apart, alone, but also made him ultra noticeable.

and working in the garage with dad, yes reminiscing about 10550 sw 99th street, miami, fl 33176, where i wasn’t allowed to cut very often but could assist and watch and get yelled at when i didn't do something right. yesterday i wanted in some ways to take a picture of dad so I could always remember him like that in his happy place but then thinking that a picture would cheapen it because the real memory is him.

stupid patriots.

sarah looks more beautiful than ever. 

love them all very much.

at home, the snow stopped falling. and here i am. love where i live. love taking a quick detour through the national portrait gallery on my way to a date. love the potomac half frozen, even though i hate the freezing itself. love my house, even though it has mice and the occasional rat and drafts that you'd expect from a hundred-year-old building. love going to art openings and seeing people i actually like conversing with, not making small talk, learning something new. love being able to walk to the metro and within 25 minutes be at a capitals game. love getting rides to the airport even when i can take metro cause, like that new york times article, it means i belong here. i love my friends and the art people i know. love walking five blocks, getting on a bus, and alighting in midtown manhattan. love having three airports available, even though one sucks donkey dicks with its people movers and one has the most ironic name ever. love the way it looks after snowing, although it'd be ok if snow could exist in 65 degrees or disintegrate when it was time to shovel. this is my home. i love it.