Why I heart District of Corruption.

Dear Today,

I'm in the greater DC metropolitan area and yesterday I should've gone to karaoke with my grrls at the Rock N Roll Hotel in D.C. I miss going to house shows, the Warehouse Next Door, Provisions Library, Hirshorn, and Adams Morgan. I especially miss a party involving these people:


Featured in this photo from left to right: Me, Cali, Dez, and Sofia!


This is a picture I found on their website which if you wanted to visit is located in the heart of Dupont Circle. It's a great place to support traveling and local artists who support nonprofit arts. In addition to art, they have a plethora of d.i.y. zines and books ranging from feminism, Noam Chomsky, Russian History, Anti-consumerist art, etc.


This is currently exhibiting the Hirschorn Museum In the Hirschorn there is a gallery space called the "Black box" where video and film artists can exhibit their work. Right now Semiconductor and Ruth Jarman have a "documentary" called Magnetic Movie, 2007, created during the artists’ residency at the NASA Space Sciences Laboratories, UC Berkeley. The secret lives of invisible magnetic fields are exposed as chaotic ever-changing geometries.(Explanations & Image courtesy of Hirshorn Website)


When I use to go to school in College Park, I loved spending late nights at Tryst looking at the little art works on the walls, ranging from painting, drawings, mixed media, to photography. It's always nice to see a cafe or restaurant support 'unknown' artists instead of buying prints from say Pier1 or Bombay. Amazing fair trade coffee served with animal crackers are the upside to it all! Adam's Morgan loves their murals.


With the exception of numerous band 'photography', I couldn't find a decent picture of the Warehouse Nextdoor when it was referred to it's original name. Now it functions more as a performance and visual arts space. At least they're still open.

sincerest,

annA

I joined the circus and make a joyous return to the blogosphere.

Hi Today,

We've arrived home safely. I swam with baby whales in the Pacific while wearing a tube top and some mermaid tails. I balanced high above the city only to be prancing on a thin, thing of string. I know it's been almost a year since I've come here to extract all the little birds that chirp inside me. All the I-told-you-so, all the merry-go-rounds of bliss and catastrophe, bliss and catastrophe. But I just got back from the traveling tent.



The nights have been filled with a dreadful slumber, often times I awake to a position where I feel like I've been stabbed in the back. There are raging opportunities (and yes do they R A G E!) and sometimes I let them pass me by like a mail man. I'm way too high up in the air or I'm juggling machetes in a leotard.

Next time can we mail each other letters? Fill ourselves up with stories. Fill ourselves with the ideas of somebody else's carefully constructed life?! At the next stop make a right. Two feet ahead veer right. The address is 463 Lavern St.



My life is one big road map. A voice drives me. Tonight (this morning) it has driven me here.