Joblessness has led to insomnia.
Insomnia has led to reading.
Reading has led to thought.
Thought has led to wishes of artistic autonomy.

The other day I bought this sewing machine for $5. It needs to be reconditioned, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less in love with it. Mint green reminds me of my childhood and carefree afternoons spent running around my backyard with our black lab, Missy, playing tag and devouring popsicles.

But it’s no longer 1985, it’s 2005 and I’m drinking loads of tea with valerian and spearmint and chamomile. Reading lots of artists statements and wondering at once why anyone does anything, then knocked back with the notion that creativity sets the world in motion, creates the beauty all around us.

When I finished this small cross-stitch piece last week, I started to come up with more political art ideas. It’s a cross-stitch of a screenprint of a stencil by Banksy, the pattern made possible by knitPro. With every stitch I made, I kept thinking about all the history and sweat and toil that encompasses needlework’s past.

I have some larger pieces in mind, but lately have started to doubt my entire line of synchronicity between art and politics. But, I know that I will press on, and hopefully won’t end up covering my walls with frame after frame of weird political art hybrids, stacking up like dolls on the Island of Lost Toys.

The man I spoke of the other day is still in grave condition in London, and I’ve thought much in the past few days about dreams deferred by coincidence. And how delicate everything really is, as well as how beautiful.