Tag: 10 things

april 9/HIKE

60 minutes
Minnehaha Falls Off Leash Dog Park
40 degrees

With the sun, it felt warmer down in the floodplain forest, although my hands are still cold many minutes later even though I wore gloves. I don’t like the cold hands, but I didn’t mind the cold air. So many wonderful deep breaths — in and out, in and out.

The trees are still bare, so FWA and I could see far in any direction. For the entire time, FWA was telling me the story of the latest video game he’s been playing, Clair Obscura. So good — both the game (at least as I understand it from FWA’s description) and FWA’s describing of it. His excellent way of describing the games to me reminds me of how I enjoy New Yorker book reviews as something about and entirely separate from the acutal book they are reviewing. Often the review is better than the book. I’m not saying that’s true of the video game, although I guess it is for me because I don’t play video games (partly because I miss a lot details that I can’t see).1

I love hearing FWA’s accounts; he’s so good at them. They require my full attention and engagement — which is a good thing, and a hard thing (hard because it is hard to stay focused and not get distracted for that long with so many interesting ideas, and because FWA gets frustrated and can tell when I’m not fully listening). Even as I listened to and engaged with FWA’s story, was I able to give attention to the river and the trees and the bluffs? Yes! Here are 10 things I noticed:

10 Dog Park Things

  1. at the top of a small rise: a HUGE tree with a girth wider than 2 of me could hug. Wow!
  2. tree tableau: one tree bent over in an arch across the path, another tree leaning in and onto its trunk, the next tree in the middle of the sandy path just on the other side of the arcj
  3. talking with some dog walkers, feeling one of the dog’s behind me, putting its snout under my coat and sniffing my butt
  4. bright blue sky with a few fluffy clouds
  5. a thin white foam near the shore
  6. the sharp, foul smell of Delia’s poop as I tied up a poop bag
  7. greeting another walker — good morning, what a beautiful day!
  8. a pileated woodpecker, laughing
  9. a thick wall of bare trees on the other side of the chainlink fence
  10. a guy with 2 dogs, talking — I think into a bluetooth, but maybe just to himself?

Returning to #2 and the tree tableau: I wanted to stop and take a picture of this beautiful image but I knew that would upset and derail FWA and I’ve learned the hard way to respect that and to recognize that it is part of his ADHD/(possibly) autistic brain. I was planning to write all of this in a footnote, but then a song came on, “People Take Pictures of Each Other” from The Kinks, and I had to put it on stage, here in the text. It opens with these lines:

People take pictures of the Summer
Just in case someone thought they had missed it
And to prove that it really existed

Was Ray Davies reaching through time to sing this to me? Improbable as that is, wouldn’t it be cool? I guess, from one perspective, he is!

grids — lines — strings — threads — yarn

note: I began writing this after coffee and a substantial breakfast of blueberries and yogurt and granola. Lots of thoughts from here to here to here that I think was influenced by that coffee and food!

There are many ways to think about grids, and many ways that I like them. Today I am thinking about the lines and how they connect and locate and tether us to worlds, to people, to logics, to meaning and language and words. I’m thinking about this metaphorically and literally. The Amsler Grid is made up of ink lines. Can I represent it in my visual poem as string and thread and yarn?

A few minutes ago, yarn as telling a story popped into my head and I wondered what the origins of that expression were. It’s nautical:

“story, tale,” often implying “marvelous, incredible, untrue,” colloquial, by 1812 in the figurative verbal phrase spinning a yarn (also yarning).

It is said (by 1823) to be originally nautical, a sailors’ expression, from the custom of telling stories while engaged in sedentary work such as yarn-twisting

yarn — etymology

So many directions I could go with these ideas. I love this idea of thinking about the grid and the material/meaning of its lines. In a New Yorker article that I’ve already used for at least 2 (maybe 3) sections of Holes 5, the phrase, pull the strings, appears. I noticed last week and put it aside. Now I’m thinking of shifting my poems from Holes to Threads (or strings or lines). Whereas the rule with Holes poems is that “hole” had to be in the text, I’m thinking of being more flexible with this new direction: maybe, for each new essay/article that I use, I find a different name/word for connecting lines. I already have strings (from “Mystery Man”) to work with. And, I found another article, about Arundhati Roy’s new memoir that has “hole” AND “thread.”

Another related thought: Lines, especially on a rigid grid, don’t always connect us in welcomed ways. They can tie and bind and trap us too. There’s a tension with lines and strings and threads: we want to be connected, and we want to break free from the connections that do harm to us. Entangle2 and unravel. Entangle and unravel.

Okay, I started this thought in footnote 1, but I’m bringing it back up here. I’m thinking about evidence boards (or murder boards or red string boards) and how they map out a crime. I don’t see my vision loss as a crime, but I do see it as a mystery — not to be solved, but to be mapped and located and witnessed — yes, witnessed!

And now, after hiking at the dog park and eating lunch and doing the dishes, I’m attempting to return to these ideas and dig deeper into them. But, it’s hard to get back i that flow.

Maybe creating a list of tasks?

  • think/read/experiment more with murder boards: redo the second holes and put it on a (card)board back with yarn and pins
  • begin a new playlist: grids, lines, strings, threads
  • make a poem with strings in it out of the “Mystery Man” article
  • give some time to Holes 6 and its hole and thread found in the New Yorker book review, “What to Make of the Mother Who Made You?”
  • create the proportionately bigger scotoma template for Holes 5b, experiment with placing it or tracing it over the words of the article
  • revisit the erasure collection, a splendid catastrophe for inspiration

Okay, lots of ideas. Let’s return to the one we started yesterday — 5b and the two holes and figuring out how to represent those 2 holes on the page (1 hole — the very small amount of central vision I still have left, 1 hole — the fuzzy, filmy, fading/faded central vision graveyard that surrounds/encircles what’s left — hole 1 = the word / hole 2 = the void or wall or circle that encases/entombs the word and is always waiting to consume it.

A visual inspiration for the dark/light contrast in this poem and in my experience of the holes as I read words on a page:

the image is dark except for two white ovals with blue dots
bright eyes in the dark

In my memory, Alice’s eyes were much brighter than I can see in this image. Something to think about: my version/vision of the dark due to my blind spot is never like this; I mean, it’s not all black. When looking at faces in can be a dark, smoky/smudged gray. When looking at words, I might see a faint dark ring. Sometimes it’s fuzzy or static — it’s not Nothing; it is something that is always moving. And here’s where I can get into Alice nonsense speak: It is not that I see Nothing; I don’t know that the something that is there is missing for me. I see no thing, without knowing that I’m seeing nothing. I think I need to work on that explanation.

But, back to the inspirational image. I like the contrast and the white eyes against the background. Do I want to make my word holes look more like eyes in this one? If I can do it without looking cheesy, yes!

I hope all of this makes sense to future Sara. Now, time to create my supersized scotoma!

update, a few minutes later: I started to think about how I might create the bigger version. There are probably many ways that are obvious to people who make things, but I have not been a maker and it’s all new to me. I like the idea of re-creating the grid, just bigger. Suddenly a thought: doesn’t the artist Chuck Close do (or, didn’t he do) something like this to create his portraits? Yes! He’s one of the most famous artist-users of a grid. Minneapolis Institute of Arts (MIA) has several of his works, but none can be viewed right now. The Walker has some too — I can’t readily see if they’re available for viewing. Some deeper digging is needed.

Here’s a video on how to use it:

Chuck close and the grid

And here is a great resource: Chuck Close at the Walker

Almost every decision I’ve made as an artist is an outcome
of my particular learning disorders. I’m overwhelmed by
the whole. How do you make a big head? How do you make
a nose? I’m not sure! But by breaking the image down into
small units, I make each decision into a bite-size decision.
I don’t have to reinvent the wheel every day. It’s an on-
going process. The system liberates and allows for intuition.

†National Gallery of Art

  1. file this with my Holes/Grid discussion: in thinking about all the ways I’m expressing something about myself through this series, I’ll add the significance of using the New Yorker and some book reviews. I love these book reviews and the access they give me to words/worlds that would otherwise be inaccessible (also thinking of the fun section on NY events and the restaurant reviews). Using New Yorker articles in these found poems is a way to reference that; it’s also a way to be able to still read them: slow, repeatedly, in strange order, and one word at a time. ↩︎
  2. I looked up, opposite of unravel, and found twist, knot, tangle, entangle. I love the idea of entanglement! Reading more of the Merriam-Webster entry, I read about unraveling a mystery/solving something, lessening the confusion. Yes! These ideas return to something else showing up in my visual poem: the image of a crime board — what is it called — where you put pictures of the suspects on a board and then use string or yarn to link them. I should read up on that concept some more, maybe watch some movies or shows that use it?! Is this linking used in other things that don’t involve solving a crime? How do I google that? ↩︎

april 6/RUN

4.35 miles
minnehaha falls and back
32 degrees / feels like 17

Cold again. Because of the low feels like temp, I overdressed: 2 pairs of tights, long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, pullover. Halfway through I ditched the pullover, which was awkward as I struggled to take it off without removing the outer layer.

Tried to stay steady and slow. Chanted in triple berries in my head. Took several walk breaks — not because I was tired, but to take pictures or to record my thoughts or to take off my second layer.

Thought about grids and nets (more on this below) as I ran. Recorded some thoughts on my phone:

recording 1: I’m thinking about grids and the lines and why it matters to me. And I’m thinking about the xy axis and a map and the visual field. And mapping and locating yourself within the known world and how reading is so important to that locating and figuring out how to navigate without that.

recording 2: Thinking more about why nets or grids or that particular way of being located is to be held, to be connected, to be located, to be seen or recognized or have others aware (of you). So not in this free fall. To orient yourself in some way. To not be entirely unmoored. Because as fun as it sounds in theory to be untethered and unlimited by these restrictions, physically it does not feel good. Dizzy, disoriented, nauseated (sometimes). A slow, growing anxiety.

This last bit about the ill effects of being unmoored was inspired by how I felt as I started my run. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but I did feel a little dizzy and disconnected from the path, unable to clearly see what was ahead of me. I wasn’t blind to the trail or anyone on it. I was disoriented and anything I saw was vague and barely formed. This way of seeing unsettled me; it also made everything feel dreamy and not real or unreal or surreal. By the end of the first mile, it had dissipated somewhat.

So, why the Amsler grid? First, the obvious: it’s a vision test and I am writing around (and through) vision tests in much of my vision/visual poetry. Another explanation: it represents a mapping, a locating, a connecting to the known world (where known partly = “normal”/medical understandings and models of seeing). Also, it is a reference point from and a starting point that readers can understand (a place of common ground, a concrete and easily expressed and understandable model and map for blind spots in central vision/visual field).

grids / nets

I was planning to study worms and bugs for my April challenge, but that will have to wait. This month is about grids and nets and matrices. I chose this topic because I want to dig deeper into the grid and what role it plays in my Holes series, and also because of a series of pieces that AMP pointed out to me at MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts):

text: Charles Gaines Numbers and Trees: Tiergarten Series 3: Tree #1, #2, #4, #6
Charles Gaines / Numbers and Trees

I found a book from one of his exhibits and requested it from the local library. When I get it, I’ll discuss the grids more. (I also plan to return to MIA soon to study the pieces more closely). Here’s one photo of them that I particularly like of me, FWA, and RJP, who is talking with her hands in a way that I love.

3 people -- a son, a daughter, their mother -- stand in front of a series of trees. The daughter gestures with her hands.
3 people looking at art, 2 of them talking about it, one with her hands

. Heading out for my run this morning, I wanted to notice grids. A few minutes later, all I could think about was the twisted/bent fence at the falls that I noticed last Thursday. I regretted not stopping to take a picture of it then, so I took several today. Here are 2:

1

Remembering this crooked fence and then taking pictures of it, inspired me to expand my grid/net/matrix month to fences too — this fence + chainlink fences. Things that contain, orient, map, frame.

To start this grid exploration, some research on the Amsler Grid. Have I done any research about it in past years? Not that I can find!

Amsler Grid

The Amsler grid, used since 1945, is a grid of horizontal and vertical lines used to monitor a person’s central visual field. The grid was developed by Marc Amsler, a Swiss ophthalmologist. It is a diagnostic tool that aids in the detection of visual disturbances caused by changes in the retina, particularly the macula (e.g. macular degeneration, Epiretinal membrane), as well as the optic nerve and the visual pathway to the brain. An Amsler grid can show defects in the central 20 degrees of the visual field.

In the test, the person looks with each eye separately at the small dot in the center of the grid. Patients with macular disease may see wavy lines or some lines may be missing. . . .

Wikipedia Entry

and:

Although originally intended for use in clinical settings, the Amsler grid has proven highly adaptable for home monitoring. Its portability and ease of use enable patients to participate actively in the management of their ocular health, allowing earlier detection of disease progression and more timely medical intervention.

the Amsler Grid in Everyday Practice

This idea of it being for use at home connects to my desire to use whatever materials and words I can find around me for this Holes series. There’s more there, I think.

I’d like to spend a few minutes (maybe later today or tomorrow morning) writing more about lines and grids and mapping and why it’s important to me, both in this series and in my understanding/description of my vision loss.

While looking for more on Amsler and the grid, I found out about Edward Munch and his vision loss at 60. As he was experiencing it, he drew a series of sketches/paintings, some with grid lines, some annotating the strange ways he saw. Very cool. Here’s more about it from a exhibit at the Tate. Is there a book for the exhibit and could it be at my local library? Yes! I just requested it.

april 5/HIKE

60 minutes
Minnehaha Off Leash Dog Park
40 degrees / sun

note: writing this entry on monday (6 april) morning because I was busy yesterday talking non-stop with my wonderful older sister who was visiting.

A wonderful hike through the dog park with FWA, AMP, and Delia. It was cool but felt much warmer with all the sun. More than once, I took a deep breath, sighed, and said, this feels so good — to be outside here, now! Delia was in her element, and so was I: hiking on a wide and open trail with people I love, having great conversations about storytelling and trees and other things I can’t remember.

overheard: a tween protesting to an older sister or mother or some adult — I really didn’t MEAN to reference 6 7! The older sister’s response — oh yes you did!

10 Things

  1. a pileated woodpecker calling out several times and in several different spots
  2. a few stretches of goopy mud with footprints
  3. a dalmatian — long and lean with bright white fur and dark spots
  4. a distant knocking of a woodpecker on some dead wood
  5. a woman, frazzled, calling out for her dog — Tubby or Toby or Trouble? (I couldn’t quite hear the name, even though she called it at least a half a dozen times)
  6. another dog’s name: Lola
  7. a tree graveyard — barren: mud/dirt, a few tall trunks with no branches or bark, half-sheared
  8. trying (and just barely succeeding) to locate Delia’s poop so I could pick it up
  9. a contrast in textures: first firm mud then hard dirt studded with rocks then loose, soft sand
  10. a full parking lot on Easter Sunday

Dalmatian: I mentioned to AMP that the concentration of melanin in a dalmatian’s spots can often cause hearing loss. I looked it up on a past log entry and discovered that I was approximately/almost right but also wrong:

Interesting fact from Scott and Mental Floss: 30% of all Dalmatians are deaf:

Around 30 percent of all Dalmatians are inflicted with deafness as a result of their spotted markings. Breeding dogs with this coat can lead to a lack of mature melanocytes (melanin producing cells) in the inner ear. Without these, dogs can become hard of hearing. Dogs with larger patches of black are less likely to be deaf. 

10 oct 2020

It was a wonderful sister visit. I was able to show my Holes series to AMP, who is an amazing visual artist, and get some helpful and exciting feedback. So many new experiments to try with layers and different types of paper. We talked a lot about the Amsler Grid. She suggested trying out graph paper or making my own graph paper by copying and enlarging my handmade grid, made on a loom with thread. Also: plastic sheeting — I like plastic sheeting because I have often described feeling like I’m seeing/experiencing the world through a plastic bag or bubble. And: stencils for the circles, which would make the tracing part easier. Oh — and she mentioned using something other than canvas for the backing because pins would not be stable. Wood was one of her suggestions — I could learn to cut my own wood (I know I could do it even with my bad vision, but would I want to?) and drill into it.

A thought: there is something significant about my reliance on found materials for this project. I’m taking the words from old New Yorker articles. I’m using my kids’ old craft materials — markers, pencils, glue sticks, yarn — and various things around the house for circles — a penny, dime, nickel, quarter, candle cap, 2 pill bottle caps (including the cap from my lexapro). My grid is made from old cardboard (a shoebox from my running shoes). I like the idea of making these found materials as part of the form/limits.

Crayons! I just remembered another thing my sister said. Crayons are fun to work with. She said a lot of stuff that I wish I could remember; here’s one thing I did: you can create thick layers with crayons that you can scrap off with a knife or a sharp edge or something. I would love to find a use for the ridiculously big bin of crayons we have in the basement.

A reminder: AMP reminded me that not all of the ideas might work in this series, but I can save them for other projects. A refrain to apply to any new idea/experiment: does it serve the message I am trying to convey? What is that message? More on that in the next post and after my Monday run!

april 2/RUN

4.45 miles
minnehaha falls and back
35 degrees / steady drizzle

The forecast, rain all day, but when I looked out my window it didn’t seem too bad. No ice, above freezing, so I decided to go for a run, which was an excellent decision. I was bundled up and barely felt the rain — well, I guess I felt my soaked socks and cold legs (through my running tights), but I didn’t care. It was wonderful to be outside, mostly alone, only a few other walkers and runners joining me.

Because of the rain, I was wearing an old pair of Saucony’s (3 or more years old?) and didn’t run too fast. That helped me stay relaxed and able to keep going for longer. Maybe I should train some more in these shoes and save my new ones for faster runs, races, and until I’m trained up to run longer?Everything was wet. My favorite wet thing was the slick mirror Godfrey Boulevard made from the rain and new asphalt. Very cool! I saw my running self, trees, and sky and I thought about the upside down world where they all lived.

10 Things

  1. the creek water falling fast over the limestone ledge on the bridge at the top of the falls
  2. the deep puddle I stepped in that I thought was only a reflection of light on the trail
  3. drip drip drip of water off the brim of my cap
  4. taking off my hood, folding the flaps of my hat, and hearing the steady patter of rain
  5. in through the nose 2 3 / out through the mouth 2 — 123/12
  6. a steady, almost invisible rain with the occasional big drop — plain rain or freezing rain?
  7. the lid of the toilet in the porta potty was wedged behind a bar and couldn’t be closed
  8. empty benches / mostly empty parking lots
  9. bright headlights cutting through the trees on the other side of the ravine
  10. running by the Horace Cleveland Overlook parking lot and seeing an animal care truck (another name for animal control?) — is there a wolf or a coyote or a bear in the gorge — it’s always possible; they’ve all been spotted before

worms after the rain

It’s raining now, but sometime later today or tomorrow or the next day, it will stop and the worms will appear on the sidewalk. Here’s a poem I found about those worms:

Advice/ Dan Gerber

You know how, after it rains,
my father told me one August afternoon
when I struggled with something
hurtful my best friend had said,
how worms come out and
crawl all over the sidewalk
and it stays a big mess
a long time after it’s over
if you step on them?

Leave them alone,
he went on to say,
after clearing his throat,
and when the rain stops,
they crawl back into the ground.

march 31/RUN

4.25 miles
river road, north/south
45 degrees

Overdressed. When I checked the temp, it read 45 but feels like 34 so I added a layer, which was a mistake. Lots of dripping sweat and a flushed face. My goal today was to try and take it easy with a steady 10 minute pace. I was mostly steady, but ran faster than that. I need to figure out how to slow down again; my new shoes make me want to run faster than I can sustain for long runs.

I chanted in triple berries to keep steady and to lose track of words and ideas: strawberry/blueberry/raspberry. It worked. I don’t remember what I thought about.

For some of the run, it felt hard to keep going and for some of it, it was easy. I think it’s time to experiment more with ways to distract myself — or to lead my mind in directions other than, this is hard, I can’t keep going, when can I stop?

overheard: I think I heard something at the beginning of the run that I wanted to remember but I lost it when I started chanting in triples. I do remember hearing something at the end: Two women walking, one to the other — it feels so good to have the sun on my face!

10 Things

  1. a speedy runner in white down below, on the winchell trail — beside me, then ahead of me, then gone
  2. soft, shimmering shadows
  3. a LOUD siren coming from behind, then an ambulance speeding by on the river road
  4. empty benches
  5. the view from the sliding bench: uncluttered, the sands gleaming so white that it looked like snow
  6. soft, dry dirt — no more mud
  7. one car then another then another passing by on the river road
  8. dried flowers hanging from the pink sign reading, Someone was taken by ICE here
  9. a slower biker riding on the grass between the river road and seabury
  10. the chain is still strung across the top step of the old stone steps, blocking the way down to the river

holes

Arts and crafts fun. This morning I did a test run of a yarn grid for Holes 1. A 9 x 9 square of cardboard with 1/2 inch slits all around. A long piece of blue yarn1 which I wound through the slits. A poem under the yarn grid: circles/dark holes encasing the words: off center era.

Assessment:

  • I need an exact-o knife for more precise cuts
  • the blue yarn is too thick and makes it impossible to read; try dark thread instead
  • make sure that the thread is long enough before starting to wrap it around the notches
  • follow this order: cut notches, place/attach (glue?) poem to cardboard, make sure the thread is long enough then wind it around
  • question: if I’m using thread, can I use a thinner frame, like cardstock instead of cardboard?

Here’s a picture of my test poem — should I call it, “(i’m in my)”?

a blue grid over found text, a black dot in the center then three dots scattered around it reading "off center era"
(in my) off center era

Okay, I tried it with thread and it works better, I think, but I need to be neater with it. Although, I do like the color of the blue. . . . For the larger Holes series, I need the black thread. In Holes 1, the Amsler Grid is straight, but by Holes 3, the lines will be much more crooked and warped. Black thread is much more effective for this warping.

(in my) off center era

A few more thoughts: It looks like I’ll need to take the circle-encased words and place them over the grid to be legible — the easiest way to do that is with the words as cut-outs, although I could also try weaving the thread under them (but that sounds difficult and beyond my limited skill and ability as “barely not blind.” Also, more thread is needed for back-up. And, should I create a frame around the holes poem that covers the ends? It could be a basic frame, either purchased or made, but I like the idea of creating some texture and/or a collage — maybe the black mesh fabric I bought, or ___? It needs to be something related to the holes poems and the act of reading? I’ll keep thinking about it. Would it work to have the words of the found poem on the frame?

update from yesterday’s post

First, yesterday I mentioned a discussion of three types of freedom that I was having with FWA at the dog park: I was looking for my PhD advisor’s book that discusses it. I can’t find my copy yet, but I found it online:

Second, yesterday I also mentioned that I was picking up 2 books from the library: Sea of Grass: the Conquest, Ruin, and Redemption of the American Prairie and a found poem collection by Annie Dillard, Morning Like This. More on both of these tomorrow.

  1. Finding a long enough strand of yarn took at least 3 tries. I thought I had a long enough strand then it would run out half way through and I would have to unravel what I had already done. Something important to remember for the official grid: make sure the yarn/string/thread is long enough before you begin! ↩︎

march 28/RUN

4 miles
river road, south/wabun/bottom of locks/river road, north
38 degrees / feels like 22
wind: 15 mph / gusts: 32 mph

Another windy run. Cold-ish, too. Wore running tights, shorts, 2 long-sleeved shirts, a pull-over, a hat, a hood, gloves. I didn’t feel overheated until the end. Lots of cars on the road, not that many people on the trail. Are they all going to the No Kings March at the capitol? I (kind of) wanted to go, but big crowds are not the easiest for me and Scott, RJP, and FWA struggle in them too, so I’m skipping it.

According to my watch, I slept for 7 hours and 21 minutes last night. That is a lot for me! And, my sleep score1 was 77. I think it helped me to feel stronger on the run.

10 Things

  1. reaching the top of the wabun hill, I heard the clanging of the bell — is there a bell up here? no — it was a kid banging on something at the playground
  2. wild turkeys — 4 or 5 of them, under the ford bridge! I passed close by them as I ran up the wabun hill. By the time I return back down the hill, they were gone
  3. goose honks near the bottom of the locks and dam no. 1
  4. swirling leaves
  5. the round shadow of the light on the street lamp
  6. more scales on the gray water
  7. chanting in triple berries to keep a steady pace
  8. running on the rim of the bluff, looking down at the winchell trail which was empty and farther down than I usually remember
  9. at the top of the wabun hill, stopping to look through the chain link fence at the river
  10. a boot, stuck on a stalk on the boulevard of matt the cat’s house
serve and a boot / the pink sign near the far house says, “someone was abducted by ICE here.”

The abduction by ICE happened early on, between the murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. Two people were pulled from their car and taken; the car was left by the side of the road.

In addition to this boot picture, I also took some pictures of the view through the chainlink fence.

1
2
3
4

I like this series of pictures. It reminds me a little of how I see. I can see better through my peripheral vision than my central — even when and if I don’t want to. It’s distracting to focus on the edge details sometimes, and it makes what’s in the center look even fuzzier to me. In thinking about my Holes series, does this happen at all when I’m reading? Is there a way to connect this fence with the lines in an Amsler Grid? An idea: what if I drew a giant Amsler Grid over the top of the entire, 4 panel, Holes 1 poem?

  1. What does the sleep score mean? I’m less interested in the specifics of it at this point, and more interested in tracking which direction that number is headed. 77, which is only “OK” according to Apple health info, is the highest number I’ve had in the past almost 2 weeks. A goal by May: a number in the 80s. ↩︎

march 27/RUN

5.5 miles
ford loop
35 degrees / feels like 18
wind: 18 mph / gusts: 29 mph

Brr. I was underdressed this morning in only one long-sleeved shirt, a vest, tights, shorts, stocking cap, gloves. It was the wind that made it feel cold. Running north and east it blew into me. It was especially bad on the ford bridge. Even with the wind, a great run. Sun! Shadows! The feeling of spring!

Some of the run was hard, some of it wasn’t. A little bit of unfinished business, legs that were sometimes sore and heavy. Does it have to do with the iron pill I’m taking? I am not anemic, but on the very low end of ferritin stores — and have been for 4 or more years now — so I’m getting serious with trying to increase my iron. A pill everyday, first thing in the morning with a grapefruit. No coffee or other food for at least an hour. Hopefully my ferritin will increase a lot so I don’t have to get an expensive iron infusion. And hopefully that increased ferritin will make it easier for me to run longer because Scott and I signed up for the marathon in October again!

10 Things

  1. a siren — off in the distance, then closer, closer, then almost right behind me, then stopped — the closer it got, the more distorted the siren became — I wonder who/what needed this emergency truck?
  2. a dirt trail behind a bench and railing at the bottom of the summit hill that led to a delightfully open view of the river and the west bank
  3. running over the lake street bridge, wind on water, a scaled surface, gray
  4. bright blue sky with a few puffy clouds
  5. an almost full parking lot at the monument, only 2 spots open
  6. several groups of walkers with dogs, some emerging from the trails below the bluff, some entering them
  7. the wind on the ford bridge! slow and steady, squaring my shoulders and leaning into it
  8. goose honks under the ford bridge
  9. empty benches
  10. an interesting image of vine on the neighbor’s fence
fence / 27 march

holes

Yesterday I watched the clip with the caterpillar from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland and I started thinking more about language and letters and our relationship with words and meaning through reading.

O u e i o A

The scene begins with Alice peering through the leaves at a caterpillar smoking a pipe and singing the vowels. The vowels — the building blocks of language — is this cellular level of the english language? Taken on their own, apart from words and sentences and paragraphs, the vowels aren’t non-sense, but they offer very little sense. I found an old stencil of the alphabet that I inherited from my mom in a drawer yesterday. Could I stencil in the vowels in a way that didn’t look cheesy or ridiculous? I’m not sure.

A thought while I was running: I’m in the process of editing my poems, which involves erasing holes that contain words that I’m no longer using. What if those erased words, those ghosts, remained as traces, haunting the page? Almost like an after image? I’ve noticed that after staring at these dark holes on the page, they start to move around and appear in places they aren’t. (writing that last sentence, I’m reminded of Alice’s nonsense speech to her cat: nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t

A deconstructed amsler grid: an Amsler grid has 38 lines, not including the frame. I decided to use pieces of dried spaghetti and scatter 38 of them on top of 4 panel poem. I’m not sure what I will use in the final version. Sticks? Lines at strange angles drawn on the paper, over the holes and text? Here’s a picture of it.

holes 5 / wip

I had no plan for where the lines would go, I just dropped the spaghetti wherever — should there be a plan, or is haphazard better? Maybe I scatter the dried spaghetti haphazardly first, then replicate that with thick black lines on the actual poem? The only rules: 38 lines, all the same length.

Ok, I scattered the spaghetti and drew in the lines. Here’s what it looks like:

holes 5 wip 2

I just realized I only added 32 lines. I need to add 6 more. Are the lines dark enough? Does it make sense that they are a deconstructed amsler, or do I need to add in a more explicit reference to that somewhere on the poem?

march 23/HIKERUN

hike: 60 minutes
minnehaha dog park
37 degrees

Went to the dog park with FWA and Delia this morning. Chilly but sunny and still down in the floodplain. Beautiful. No snow, hardly any mud, lots of felled trees. Halfway in we encountered an awesome dog carrying a stick that was 3 times as wide as his head. His owner said, the governor is about 200 feet ahead. Last summer, I recalled watching a video of Gov. Walz being interviewed at the dog park, so I knew he came here. About 5 minutes later, there he was! Alone and friendly. Hello! Hi! Of course, I couldn’t see well enough to recognize him, but FWA could. I wish I could have seen that it was him. I would have told him thank you.

5 Dog Park Things / 5 Winchell Trail Things

  1. a section of the river, sparkling in the sun
  2. the bark of the giant felled tree that FWA and I have walked around all this year had been stripped recently — a huge section of the trunk was barkless and gleaming white
  3. faint footprints through the small stretches of mud
  4. a motorboat rumbling by, making waves that rushed onto the shore near Delia
  5. a woodpecker knocking on some dead wood, another (or the same one?) laughing
  6. shadows everywhere — trees, the fence, lamp posts
  7. the winchell trail path was covered in dry leaves that made a delightful crunch as I ran over them
  8. a steady stream of cars (at 3:30 pm)
  9. empty benches
  10. no snow, no puddles

2.8 miles
river road / winchell / lena smith
46 degrees

A quick run — in time and distance and speed. I should have slowed it down; it would have been easier. It’s hard to slow down in my new shoes! I was tired and felt the beginnings of a side stitch a mile in — I ate a protein bar too soon.

Today has been an off day — not terrible, there were many good moments in the hike and the run. But I woke earlier than I should have and felt, for lack of better word, weird. Untethered, fuzzy, maybe a little woozy, tired.

holes

As I continue to work on my holes poems, it has emerged that a few things are present in all of five of them: a hole, that hole’s impact on how I read, my blind spot, and the Amsler grid.

Why the Amsler Grid?

  1. it connects these hole poems with my last round of visual vision poems, mood rings, which take the shape of an amsler grid
  2. it ties in with the larger theme of all of my visual vision poems: vision tests — first, the snellen charts, then the amsler grid
  3. it gives a context for my vision loss and grounds it in within a scientific/medical model of seeing/not seeing
  4. it offers another way to visualize my untethering from that model/logic of test/diagnosis

This 4th one is especially interesting to me. I’m imagining fun ways to play with the implosion or destruction or destabilizing of the sharp, stable, rigid lines of a grid. The lines coming loose, or the lines a ladder without rungs — no way out of the hole, the lines collapsing and being sucked into the black hole, the lines forming a new path, a break in the lines — a gap, a dash, a slash, a breaking out of the lines — an opening, an exit, a room a door unlocked. What could that look like as part of my erasure poem? I mean, what, with my very limited skills in visual art, could I make possible?

I think I need to watch Alice in Wonderland again — should I read it, too? The hole in my vision as Alice’s rabbit hole. A passing through to wonderland. One difference: for Alice, Wonderland is the opposite of sense or nonsense.

everything would be what it wasn’t

I’d like to take this idea of non-sense out of the binary, Sense/Nonsense, to imagine non-sense as being more than just not sense. What if non-sense was its own kind of sense, just like Nothing is not nothing but something outside of our logic or language or ability to name it. Or, like I say in Holes 4, “a nothing that is something not sharing its secrets.

a flash: as I was working on the above list, I suddenly thought about the debate over whether or not listening to an audio book was reading. Does reading only happen with eyes? I like to distinguish it this way: reading with my eyes and reading with my ears. After this thought, a further thought: what if I created a holes poem that wasn’t visual, but aural? I could pick one of the New Yorker stories/articles that you can listen to, and figure out a poem from that. How might that work?

I had intended to work on all of this today, but I was busy all day: a birthday week coffee run with RJP, the dog park with FWA, weekly shopping with Scott, a run + cooking and laundry and a nap.

sleep

I decided to use my Apple watch this week to monitor my sleep. I’m averaging 6 1/2 hours a night, which I think is good for me, but only “okay” for my sleep score. Maybe that’s because I’m waking up every 2 hours. I have to get out of bed and stretch or go to the bathroom or walk around for 10 or 20 or more minutes before falling back asleep again. A thought occurred to me: could my low vision be contributing to my sleep problems? I googled it and yes, it might:

Visual impairment can lead to disturbances in the circadian rhythm20 and exacerbate neuropsychiatric conditions such as anxiety and depression, ultimately impairing central nervous system functionality and contributing to the development of insomnia21. Existing research underscores the negative impact of visual impairment on sleep patterns. Studies conducted in Russia found that individuals with visual impairment had more than twice the odds of reporting insomnia symptoms compared to those without, with this association remaining significant even after adjusting for factors such as age and gender21. This finding further confirms the link between visual dysfunction and sleep disturbances. Community research in the U.S. suggested that older adults with visual impairment are more likely to experience various sleep issues, such as difficulty falling asleep, trouble staying asleep, early morning awakenings, and daytime sleepiness22. Additionally, such individuals often report increased disrupted sleep patterns and a higher prevalence of sleep/wake disturbances23.

low vision and insomnia study

But, this study studied different visual impairments than I have. What about cone dystrophy or macular degeneration, which has similar effects? I looked it up and found some articles that link it, but it’s mostly about anxiety over vision loss that cause the sleep disturbances. I know I have some anxiety about the final break, when none of my cone cells work and all of my central vision is gone, but I think the connection between sleeping and not seeing or seeing differently is more complicated for me. I’ll have to ask the ophthalmologist at my appointment next month.

march 22/RUN

3.9 miles
wabun hill
36 degrees

Yesterday it was 76 degrees, today 36. I didn’t mind; everything was dry and clear and I was able to run on all the walking trails in my new blue shoes! Today it’s overcast and both bright — a white sky — and gloomy — everything dull and bare. Did I see any shadows? I don’t think so.

I felt strong, not quite like I could run for several hours without stopping, but at least believing that it is possible. I also felt untethered from the world, everything fuzzy and me, floating above it or outside of it.

10 Things

  1. early on, another running passing me, their feet slap slap slaping the ground
  2. several geese honking below the ford bridge
  3. empty benches
  4. two women stopped on the edge of the trail near the 42nd street parking lot, talking — I couldn’t hear what they were saying
  5. heading up the wabun hill — no one else around, just me and the dirt and the dead leaves
  6. running through wabun: several people playing frisbee golf, two little kids running around the course, giggling
  7. lots of traffic on ford and the river road — cars moving fast, no sunday drivers today!
  8. a man in a bright orange jacket, sitting on the edge, above a ravine, looking out at the river
  9. the bright headlights of a car, giving off a purple glow
  10. a sound across the river road and the grassy boulevard — a gobbling turkey or a yelling kid? Undetermined

holes

I’m working on another holes poem — Holes 5. I’m using an essay about Rian Johnson, “Mystery Man” in the November 17, 2025 issue. My only requirement for an essay is that it contains the word hole, either as the word itself, or as part of/within another word. When I searched in “Mystery Man” for hole I found 4 instances of it including, “my wHOLE perspective,” “wHOLE time,” and “the wHOLE process.” I’m thinking these will be frame of my poem, especially Hole Time and Hole Perspective. What is my perspective (how do I see) with and from within my vision hole?

another part of my method: In addition to requiring a chosen essay has at least instance of “hole,” I read the essay from back to front. I started with the last paragraph, jotting down any words that stood out to me, then I read the second to last paragraph, then the third to last, and so on. It was a strange experience. I kept finding myself wondering, when I read a name I didn’t recognize, if I had missed the introduction/description of the name, then I remembered that I was reading back to front, from an assumption of familiarity to a not-knowingness (or not knowing yet-ness).

Here is a selection of words and phrases I jotted down:

  1. bookshelf
  2. stone
  3. let me
  4. still
  5. strings
  6. filters
  7. window
  8. flash
  9. beauty
  10. gathered
  11. convivial
  12. ends
  13. spectrum
  14. unexplainable
  15. gesture
  16. earthiness
  17. underside
  18. gnarled roots of a tree
  19. feel
  20. loop er
  21. limitations / limit s
  22. making diagrams with straws
  23. an older version
  24. flock
  25. singular
  1. (un) locked room
  2. mind / mind’s eye / eye
  3. tidy solution
  4. make sense of it all
  5. some measure of control over an uncontrollable world
  6. the world has gone mad
  7. center
  8. puzzle
  9. watch ed
  10. the satisfaction of seeing
  11. firelit
  12. delight
  13. smug
  14. cringe
  15. between
  16. it seemed dusty
  17. hypothetical
  18. enters
  19. throuhout
  20. leap
  21. a ghost
  22. nobody
  23. flock
  24. vision
  1. get in the way
  2. framework
  3. scam
  4. everything
  5. (r) ambling
  6. story
  7. distance
  8. slanted
  9. attention
  10. made
  11. backward
  12. moving around
  13. wonder
  14. read
  15. what is this?
  16. slip away
  17. lept
  18. feeling trapped
  19. peculiar
  20. sunshine
  21. looming
  22. house
  23. couldn’t see
  24. covered in string
  25. over

This essay is five pages long, so I’ll have to figure that out — all 5 pages, or 4 to make it fit more evenly? Or even less?

march 19/RUNGETOUTICE

4.3 miles
minnehaha falls and back
44 degrees
10% puddles

Spring! Sun! Sharp shadows! Clear paths with far less puddles! I felt strong and satisifed and at ease in my body. Well, mostly at ease. Because it’s messy out by the gorge, I wore an old pair of shoes — the ones that don’t quite work. Sometimes my gait felt awkward, my feet not hitting the ground in the right spot or in the right way.

Marveled at the river’s surface as I ran above it. So beautiful with its frozen surface. In the past, I’ve described the surface as vast or barren or eerie, surreal or otherworldly, but today other words came to mind: still, frozen, fixed, unmoving, deadened, paused, suspended. Yes! I think these words better describe its strange beauty for me. Looking at it is like looking at a film still. Looking at it feels like everything is paused, suspended in time.

10 Things

  1. gushing falls — I could hear their loud descent and see their white foam
  2. looking down at the oak savanna, tall, slender, bare branches mixed with their shadows to make a mess of lines on the snow — how much of it was actual trees, how much shadow? I couldn’t tell
  3. water dripping fast and strong over the limestone edges in the ravine at 42nd street
  4. empty benches
  5. a guy walking with a small dog and looking at his phone
  6. someone biking near the falls playing some mellow music out of speakers
  7. taking off my sweatshirt, running with bare arms, seeing a walker with bare arms too
  8. sirens in the distance, a loud, sustained whistle
  9. the walking trails are still covered in snow
  10. the gutter that was gushing water yesterday now only has trickles

Off and on throughout the run, I recited Alice Oswald’s “The Story of Falling,” sometimes reciting it in my head, sometimes out loud.

Holes

I’ve mapped some more of Holes 4 and . . . it’s a lot. Will this just look like an ugly, jumbled mess? Yesterday, talking through this with Scott, he said something like, do what serves the poem and the meaning you are trying to convey (or the effect you are trying to achieve). In terms of meaning, the words of the first section of the poem are about what I see instead of a gaping hole: shimmering, fizzy, ephemeral or elusive (hard to see, fleeting) things: snow flake marble dust, seltzer fizz, a nothing that is something not sharing its secrets. Perhaps these ephemeral things have come loose from what bound them to “normal” sight and its monitoring through tests like the amsler grid; it’s where you dwell when normal sight is not longer possible. So maybe the unraveling occurs prior to this hole? Yes, the unraveling (and vision of amsler grid as broken strings happens in 2 and 3, Does that mean that Holes 4 is all disconnected free-floating words/phrases? If so, how to make it possible for others to read it? I could place the poem near the center, around the gaping hole. I could also number the pages/sections and mark each word with a page number? Yes, I like this!

And hours later, I’m thinking more of using a distorted Amsler Grid at the center of Holes 4, and the black hole that the grid is collapsing into is the shape of blind spot.

Another mini project: can I learn how to draw decent-enough eyeballs — pupil and iris only?

amsler idea
very rough eye
poem text

Get Out ICE

This flyer about the next No Kings march came up on Facebook from Minnesota’s Lt. Gov Peggy Flanagan (and hopefully our next governor?!):

“In Minnesota, we’ve seen the federal government at its worst — and showed the world how to fight back.

Now, I’m honored that the flagship No Kings protest will be held here in the Twin Cities. Together, we’ll show Donald Trump that we don’t do kings.”

NO KINGS TWIN CITIES VOL. 3. Joan Baex Jane Fonda Maggie Rogers. March 28, 12 pm. March then rally at the State Capital.
NO KINGS TWIN CITIES VOL. 3. Joan Baex Jane Fonda Maggie Rogers. March 28, 12 pm. March then rally at the State Capital.