A broken string falls to emptiness
What I imagine you to be is mostly not how you are
A broken string falls to emptiness
What I imagine you to be is mostly not how you are
5am Last night, yoga was holding poses. Not physically painful like holding poses usually is but mentally, as you’re waiting for him to instruct the next pose you get an anxious, pissed feeling. A scared feeling, frustrated, flustered. Except it’s not of those things. Not sure how to describe it. Discussed with him afterwards. I first asked, “was there an explanation to that I missed? (I went to the bathroom before class started) No. When I told him how it made me feel he said “That’s your breaking point”. I equate my breaking point to physical exertion. This was mental. I don’t know if this is a necessary excercise. Or, if it is beneficial, I want to be able to decide. Why do I care? Why can’t I enjoy something different? Am I generally unhappy…Predisposed to that instead of joy rising? Delight? I want to make art, not go to yoga all the time. But I want to go to yoga all the time. Then, the Full time job.
So yesterday, I did some art dreaming in my office. I had to print out a list to reference for work. I hung in on a support pole that is in the office next to my computer monitor. It became art to me. Tall. A presence…
Recently watched a documentary with ancestor altars in it–Day of the Dead, flowers. Noticed the triangle shape of it. The tall center. One sided though (against a wall in the home usually) but evven the big one they made outside seemed to have a front and no functional back, like a stage. People gathered in front of it. People approached it. Maybe added things. I created a female ancestor altar at home be ause of the self help book Warrior Goddess. It is calming. Makes you send things outside yourself and think you relate. One more thing about altars: people put things the deceased person liked on the altar. (And the bells for 24hrs from 3pm on the day of the Dead. ) Mountain Dew soda, cigarettes, Twinkies? I noticed last night, I stopped for a Snickers bar before yoga!!, that Marlboro regular cigarettes I used to smoke cost $7.95 a pack. I stopped when they were $3.50 maybe. I remember when you could get two packs for $5!. Marlboro regular cigarettes with the triangle top, red and white. Simple. “See you Thursday.”. Talked to the man work that brings in his record player for the holiday decompression room at work (we work in retail) and his mushroom finds, brought the artist a little antique landscape painting aheput next to her computer. A landscape to look in to. I’ll bring him a piece of a tree I found with a nice elbow and squiggly lines from termites in it.
Dream last night buying a quilt and fabrics from an older lady, her house on a street corner. I appreciated the color combination in the bag. sepia, a dusty purple, ochre and a dusty turquoise and strips of tan satin ribbon in another bag. (Usually that ribbon has a velvet side, I’ve been attracted to velvet lately) She charges $200. I go back to my dad across the street in a church. He gives me money. My mom and brother are there too. Lots of people at round tables. A reception. When I go to pay her the money is a brass square with a little pointing hand on top and my dad appears, telling me how to count. I get that frustrated feeling. The feeling you get when you do math homework and you want to release the frustration and you’ve stopped applying your mind. So, in yoga , think about this, the goal is to hold and surpass the feeling. Is that scary? Admitting a wrong? Why don’t we want to go there? Am I approaching it wrong and refusing to change my mind? I’m not transforming. Or I’m expecting transformation and sometimes it’s just an even keep. I don’t know! The times I’ve over yoga are through physical exertion. It releases my mind. Unless I start out with pain or tired. I’m really frustrated with yoga for the past almost two years I guess, I started yoga after a break up so I had nothing to lose and I was with myself. Now I have alot of work to do. I don’t want to but I want to be in a certain spot so I show up and don’t leave. At least.
Anyway, the Snickers bar last night was $1.99. I left the store went back to the car and found a quarter in case there was tax which I calculated on my way back out to the car, about twelve cents. There was no tax. She looked into my eyes when I got to the register, maybe said hi. Said, “1.99” I gave her $2.00 and she put a penny in my hand heads up, I noticed. I had walked by a shiny heads up penny in the parking garage after work two days ago and decided not to pick it up. I looked down at the “take a penny leave a penny” thing. It was blue and empty. Clean and it’s little tray sloping edges up on to a flat standing back with advertising on it. Imglung to have to go back to see it again. It’s strange in my imagination. Maybe because it was empty, without functioning, it becomes a strange object. The tray below the advertisement upright panels abouve. Like an alter. Altar. Alternative. I never take a penny unless it really helps/is really needed. Oh, that’s what it is for. You don’t notice it until you need it. I very rarely leave a penny. I don’t use cash alot. Sometimes there are tip jars but you don’t put just a penny in there.
I’m not finished, I’ll add to this writing later, or not. Like how the man at work said he’s been noticing things lately and doesn’t have enough time (pull over, ax, cop, “harvesting mushrooms”) and something else about altars, the shapes maybe, and the dream maybe…
930am I remember now. Something about Marina Abramovic. Encountering the mummified body of a man she met five years before that made her weep by his presence…found by getting lost. And I think something like this was said in yoga today, or was it last night. Got to go in to get out. Or was it a song I heard while working. In her one million, 100 thousand 111 chants she encountered some depression but also sleeping and waking became the same. In touch with the cosmic. You can do anything. Not limited by small poor you. This is what we try to do through Asanas. But why? I don’t really want to. I thought about it in yoga today. I thought, I’ve acheived it in pieces. I also thought, if someone doesn’t really want to be with me…I get so angry and sad…
Yoga today:. Things I wanted to remember. One I can’t remember
The other is that I didn’t want to do the yoga. And I thought, while doing the yoga:. Art is the only thing you can make the way you want it to be.
View from Mt Holyoke (The Oxbow)-famous painting by Thomas Cole Hudson River Valley School.
Emily Dickinson Mt Holyoke Seminary
A post card of an oxbow looking turn on the railroad, PA.
What is the view like from Mt Holyoke today? I should take a trip there.
Do the trains still run where the postcard is from? Is the track still there?
He read me a Roethke love poem yesterday from the hill behind the movie theater parking lot. A wet log’s burning song pop “I’m__a wet log…”
He said, not many people can put this in to words. How does he (Roethke) do it? Just amazing. Let him do that.
I’ll feel it.
And, well it’s beautiful, but still a practice. Meter.
My body is too tired to.
Combine your mind and body into one, my yoga and spiritual readings lately…
Meanwhile I can’t sleep the way I want to, here or there.
Do as the natives do. Eat meat, or not. Go to yoga, religiously.
From the parking lot of the movie theater (saw Roman J. Isreal, Esq.) theAmerican flag blowing smoothly in front of powerlines and sunset clouds. A train ran behind the shopping strip buildings, looking like it ran on top of the, on the roof of each one, continuing. “My life is full of extraordinary things, or well, I’m noticing these things I never too noticed before. (Mushrooms on walks). Things under your feet or when you’re Stuck in traffic. Some days things feel mundane. Are ordinary. Other days I notice these things, take an interest. In the hills, the cones the powerlines.”
“Yeah, it’s a rollercoaster”
…insert somewhere: So that everydays a vacation. Not mundane.
She wants to marry him(B). He doesn’t see it that way. She sees it that way. She is presentable. I’m just____someone else will____
How things are displayed.
The sunset last night and Thanksgiving night. You start to notice things and the universe delivers what you can’t deny or help but notice. This is beauty tragedy reality. Intuition. Law of attraction.
Passed my little barn dream housestudio last night.
Parked at the abandoned house and took pictures of the sunset.
Some women find men to buy them houses. I’m told that I’m easy to love and I deserve. Told, by men (B and C), not to let my financial difficulties or dreams hold me back from love. Well, then love me. Make my dreams come true. Ha. You can’t do that. Can you.
I don’t want your bullshit. (F) wiskers and spit in the sink. Making you dinner, a sandwich, listening to your complaints taking advantage, consideration and accusations. Coddling your insecurites, having my mouth on your private parts because you like it and I want you to be happy some times. Maybe u just haven’t succeeded. I’ll know when it’s right. Or it’s just not for me. Universe. Law of attraction. Don’t worry about it.
So, the Hudson River Valley School:. nature is god given and should be preserved yet conquered and seen. Captured? Pictured.
Today I say to myself, in a parking lot, in traffic, nature is something that should have been preserved. The powerlines, construction cones, buildings, roads, create frames around the landscape. Adds to it it takes it away. No, it’s still there. Reconcilation? Reality? What do we do when we put man made things in the world? Roads, trash cans, powerlines are necessary. We hide the slaughterhouses (we don’t even need to eat meat) hide landfills, outsource production of plastic crap, have vacation spots, meanwhile there’s ocean dead zones. Framing, compartmentalizing landscape. When you go on vacation it’s a tourist trap and you are disappointed…recall landscape art history book that talks about framing the landscape.
We, I, want to possess. Frame, store, present. But not live it. Not practice.
Keep me in a single room, my love, take me out and play with me, remember me.
Until I’m ruined. Beauty doesnt last. Doll. Collectables. So why do we say Landscape can be preserved but we really can’t be.
I’m forgetting a word… important idea I had before I thought of burial. DAMN I hope I think of it…
Birth. Marriage Burial. Oxbow. Turn around. Rewinding.-One of his(B’s) favorite songs. Truth. Laying in bed telling me about positive Christianity preacher. I heard Pete Seeger song Arrange and Rearrange and “you can have anything you want, at Alice’s restaurant .” ( Except Alice)
I remember now: Virgin. Virginal.
Virgin girl, virgin landscape. Virginia he goes to. He (C) owns land. Let’s go. He’s retired but I have to work and there’s no electricity there. Cleaning up his bachelor pad in the city because he was depressed but got a girlfriend and realized cleaning was needed even though they break up get back together, break up again..was for her, now doing it for him.opening it up to more girlfriends I tell him. Laughter.
His (B’s) girlfriend made sure to tell me she was getting her kitchen re done and didn’t choose white cabinets because he didn’t like them. I always want to tell him but there doesn’t seem to be a point to that but spite and I’m the only one who’s angry. I want to tell him he can take her dancing when he asked me what I’d do to go out.
Her picture sees me in multiple places. It’s as if he doesn’t care about either one of us. These are his alone decisions.
“In the beginning, was the Word”
“Let there be light.”
Yoga: to yoke, marriage.
This would be a poem except I’m moving on to other things. Streams.
That all connect some how. Direct.
Lead to the ocean.
That scary fish with a see through head
Flourescent deep sea fish producing their own light. Flourescent spray paint. Everything had to come from nature, essentialy. Perpetuatal motion machine? Great grand pop.
Produce your own light. The light life force inside anything living. Spark.
Fireworks display. The way things are displayed.
Believe in something or something else or dont.
Obey the signs. Take them for granted etc etc
Indigenous-black walnut Trivia (from C): Used to sandblast the statue of Liberty. Black walnut under foot while he (C) read me the poem at the movie theater. I’m making him (bend over) laugh alot. Pretty soon his impatience will show and anger and he’ll tell me to stop. I must be in a less vunerable position now that he has options.
Look up at the trees. Always trees. When your making out in the car with (B). The trees are there with you. Beautiful. More beautiful. You always park in front of the tree at the gym.
Landmarks merely? Property lines on antique records: “40 steps from the pin oak tree.”
Trees live longer than humans. Sent Nana a fairy tale Hans C Anderson about an oak tree that turned into a Christmas story. It’s all in the way you look at things. Turn it in to art. Poetry. A mystery. But an answer at the same time. A Sacrifice on your behalf. A Saviour. No one really does that except/so there’s god.
Or drawn to it? The trees, nature. Is that my Personality? Soul? Self. Is beyond me…yoga reasons… I am offended that he (B) isn’t into what I am. Me. But the other one (C) is.
Marina Ambrovich described living with Aboriginal people in the Australian desert communication by thought. Mind. Not words or gestures.
I’ve never been married. I’m getting close to 40 and I’ve never had kids.
How we present things. ..
I’ve created an archetype he (B ) said.
Ancient, primal Biological love. Chemical attraction. Chemistry.
The start. A flash of light. Explosion,big bang, Explanation. Sin. Let there be light.
TIME. I don’t feel I have enough. It’s debilitating. Once I have things in place…
last night when I had more than two hours with you (B) I felt all the time in the world. Since I decided you didn’t matter. Since I do not go out dancing.
Go out dancing.
Song:. “Danced myself out if the womb…into tomb…hope didn’t dance too soon.”
Are there spaces in between I’m not describimg? Or is it an order, the order of things
The spaces in between
“Born between paved roads”is one of the short poems I was writing once
In yoga class yesterday. : Vision first before brought into physical form. (I vocal murmmer little cries and grunts and ha breathing. I sweat. Ibuprohen before. ) artist,Agnes Martin said this too-Inspiration first. People have lots of ideas but lose/not the inspiration.
(thinking about road signs)
self help books will tell you there’s something wrong with you. Love addict.
There’s something wrong with everyone.
It’s more about living an authentic life.
Be free and don’t give in to the false senses of security outside yourself.
It’s not about loving yourself. No one can do that all the time. What does that even mean?
I don’t understand what the self is if what I am is not my labels, artist, lover, etc.
It is the center. It is the connection to all things. So it seems, not me. Impersonal.
I don’t understand it.
Had a dream last night, visited my ex. It was horrible. I was the one not over it in the dream. That is not how I perceive it in waking life.
Reading about female artists lately. Most are single.
If you preoccupy yourself with these thoughts all the time you’re a love addict.
Love addict. Mr. Unavailable. “Take care of you
Whatever you want to call it .
I don’t want there to be something wrong with me.
There’s something wrong with most people.
I say to myself, I’m fine. It’s not drugs or a mental disorder. Depression or anxiety or bipolar.
My want of a relationship is normal.
I feel I should do a couple of things in my life before I have a relationship.
Listening to the law if attraction. I am attracting this bullshit! Unavailable man.
I don’t blame him. Or even me sometimes. It is the nature of things.
People cross and get sucked into orbits. And once detached, get sucked into a different one just the same.
But you don’t want to stop moving. You want to be fully engaged.
It’s first about awareness. and refusing the thoughts, behavior that make you sad?
I don’t know yet. The negativity is safer I guess.
My mom is so nice, she said “you’re just on the path to consciousness or enlightenment. We are all at different levels. Some are unconscious right now.
And I know, if I were hungry or cold none of this would matter.
I’m feeling the need to just be home. To be mundane and have nothing amazing happen.
Amazing things happen to me all the time, just about everyday. Not through lovers but through walking in the woods. Through photography series I continue to work on. That is what makes me sad also,. Not being able to work through the art.
So, get serious. Set Intention. What is it you really want? Can’t be happy without? That’s right, art. Even if it is probably impossible. Focus on it. There will be help along the way, it will take a long time.
The lover just makes me cry and feel miserable to the point I feel physically ill and don’t get anything done. “depression hurts”. Sometimes I want to take a pill to stop the sadness. I’m on a usual level of sadness I think. That is baseline. Was I ever happy in my life? As a child before anyone brought me down or bullied me maybe and I think last year when I was dying fabric, or was that two years ago.
You are doing ok. You’re not moving in with that guy who would care for you because you see signs of your own weakness. Co dependency signs. So this is good. You have a deep connection to someone who is a little to angry about life so you keep it at a friend level even though the connection is amazing. You have a special friend. You are doing ok. You have a lover. You torture yourself that you want it to be something more but it’s impossible. And you can’t be a lover without the other stuff. You realize you’re uncomfortable. So, you’re really doing ok.
Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
“Lately, I’ve become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus…
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter’s room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there…
Only she on her knees, peeking into
Her own clasped hands”-Amiri Baraka
Leroi Jones is Amiri Baraka
Ive been doing things lately like a little girl. Sucking a mug on to my chin, sitting in the bathtub cupping warm water to my face, putting my head on my knees, tasting and smelling the wet skin, watching the whirlpool of water tornado down the drain. Realizing other artists do things I did or want to do. Realizing I hold back because of what people think. Mostly followers on social media who are family or from work. Im not an artist there and youre not supposed to be in everyday life. At a grocery store, right? But no. And I haven’t come out as an artist. Yet I guess. Interesting thought.
Interested in the road signs still. Bright, simple, definite, taken for granted? and graphic against the complex backdrop cloth of weeds, also taken for granted. Is being an artist sitting, walking, noticing and then calling it out, talking about it? And nostalgia. I asked an almost retired coworker if she ever held a cup on her face by mouth suction and she laughed and said, “when I was a kid”
I did it yesterday and I’m in my 30s. It leaves a mark I realized after and then I had to go to work. I put make up on. I guess I can say I’m a performance artist.
I feel stuck by debt. And I think, I don’t want to die though. I’m afraid of death. I and other people have had the thought of driving into the other side of the road into the oncoming vehicles. I’ve had a couple bad dreams lately, battles, beheading, somegirl’s self infliction, hospitals. And speaking if afraid of death, I hear Buddhist or mindfulness sayings of not being afraid of death. Really? Listening to Thomas Merton on Zen and Hasidism. I think I mentioned this already. The Center. I’m trying to bring that into my composition.
Also thinking, always thinking, for years about “your artist statement. And wanting to write poetry and make handmade books and learn mold making and become a sculptor and also become a painter. To focus on something I guess. I just need to keep making little pieces of applique or something and keep putting them together. Don’t worry about the end composition.
I’ve been typing my thoughts as I see the images, other people’s work, their stories, my fascinations, in hopes it all comes together, relates, is my artist’s statement.
Anselm Kiefer wanted to be a writer. He is a painter. He’s also a sculptor. I’m reading his notebooks.
I don’t have time. Don’t say negative things like that. Positive affirmations…
Anselm Kiefer has a few studios around the world, storage containers of large paintings and materials, grounds for scupltures which are uninhabitable buildings. An scrapped aeroplane. These things, paintings in galleries, must be preserved and take up space in the world. And other artists, outsider artists work might just get thrown in the trash, undiscovered. Meanwhile, let’s say, a Picasso sketch in a napkin, if there was one, is worth alot of money. I want my work to be functional, lived on and with, changeable, wear it out. Quilts. Kiefers work is about change too. He puts the paintings in the elements, outdoors lets them age, rust. Is this my contribution to people right now-Art that will be usable, make them feel nostalgic. I would like one day to be a part of community. Have it all makes sense and integrate like Theaster Gates in Chicago. He created Marble bank note scupltures and sold them to a Swiss Bank, raising money to create a beautiful art community center restored from an abandoned bank in the community. The marble, dug from that abandoned building. The work taken from the place put back to the place.
I take the work from the place, the memories, the childish and mindful acts of us all and put it back to you right now. Why don’t you agree? Why don’t you love me, my love? Help me pay the bills instead of yourself. This is a love call and a love trap. And this damn auto correct always makes love live. I’d rather misspell than be auto corrected and I’m not even miss spelling, it is filling in what it thinks I’m saying as I’m saying it. I’m not finished.
Realizing there are no definitives. No answers. There are decisions you can go back on. If everything flows there’s no death. If there’s no God (autocorrected to Good) there’s nothing but the taste of skin today. Worry was yesterday. Tomorrow you still won’t have everything.
How do you write poetry?
I was writing haikus. Want to combine them in a volume. He said he’d letterpress me a book once I write 500 poems (because, unspoken, he doesn’t think that would happen). Well, I’ve been writing haikus and one line poems, my love. And my title is going to be “500 poems”. I Loved you. Love you.
And just realize what I think about. Make a mental list. Think about it instead of the man who doesn’t really want to talk to you. Just wants to f you. It’s the best kissing you’ve ever had in your life. Sometimes you can separate things. It is very difficult. Very insecure right now. The state of things. But as I’ve read many places, everything you need is in you. You already have it. Put your mouth on your knee, taste it. That’s me. Rest your head there. Suck like a baby. Comfort. Go back to that place of comfort. Center. I was in the center of my mother’s body and I didn’t even know it at the time. Pure. Pure something.
Realizing you hold yourself back from being what you are because you don’t deserve to be that free because you “need to lose weight” or you’re in debt and live with your parents. And that one guy you dated (he said dating, I said hanging out) depends on his parents and you think you don’t like that. Just keep working at it one piece at a time. Like patchwork. That endless patchwork quikt you imagine you want to make, without a top or bottom or edges. just from the center. Don’t let the bad feelings get in the way of your relationships and your self. Try. Focus, don’t be distracted by renunciation, abandonment, security breaches, that man doesn’t really love you. Don’t even let it get to that point. You’re deciding. Ignoring the bright and simple road signs that are there to keep you in order. You really want to suffer, don’t you? Living between signs. Is art. Make the art the sign…art signal. I cry out from the top of the hill, my precipice, in silent smoke breath from myself warning you or inviting you.
And now I’m ready to get out of bed and realized my hip hurts. I had headaches for a couple weeks. and I remember now how none of my bullshit worry, pre occupying mental stuff matters after an episode of vertigo. I feel so thankful and happy to feel better and that is all. No thoughts. Trying to do yoga without the thoughts.
“I looked at my father, at his hands, his face, his eyebrows, and I knew that this man had nothing to do with me. He was a stranger. My mother was non-existent. I was cursed. Looking at my father I saw nothing but indecent dullness. Worse, he was even more afraid to fail than most others. Centuries of peasant blood and peasant training. The Chinaski bloodline had been thinned by a series of peasant-servants who had surrendered their real lives for fractional and illusionary gains.”- Charles Bukowski from Ham on Rye
The recent stories of male sexual miscondit and women saying “me too”
Just an idea.
Been fascinated by bridges lately. Stone and or arch ones mostly. Those are around here. And hills. And body. These things have a presence.
Oh, and free signs. All started with a free tv with two uneven long amounts of electrical tape to affix the sign. Free signs: usually made with spray paint on wood or black permanent marker on cardboard.
Oh, and lines in the landscape. Powerlines, sign posts, reflectors, signs, cones. I commute alot. So I notice. Are these things supposed to be ignored when looking past them into a sunset in a field, or at a beautiful house? They are warnings, serve a purpose. Seeing them all the time, they become a design element for me and/or something surreal. so bright and if you aren’t reading them, so random. If you are, placed. Depends on how you look at it, what you need, you decide.
Not sure if all these things connect. Will keep thinking through it. Making lists.
Relationships, sex, phrases, “water under the bridge”. In the end I’m left alone with my powerful body that will become frail and die. I am afraid of death. I heard it is possible not to be afraid. Im Not there. I am here still. In this place with stone arch bridges and breasts that are too large and starting a double chin and grey hairs. And you’re not supposed to attach yourself until you’re supposed to attach yourself. To some one. It’s all a decision to tell yourself all these bullshit things. And their decision. You’re left with the bridges you go over and the signs you choose to ignore or automatically read. And your body. And your mind, mulling it over, another saying. Your mind deciding. Phrases like “I love you” can mean anything you want and anything they want.
Connection though. A bridge is a connection. Body, tell me, body language. Word signs…
And how to stop thinking during yoga? About the things that make you sad. Set up some rocks on the mat. Stone archways drishti to look through. Or something that moves. I never know when to stop a composition. Been having trouble with composition. Why does there have to be edges. How about a mandala composition. No top or bottom. How about patchwork random and forever or a repeat pattern. I go on I to infinity. Energy. If you decide to believe that. I just want to put the color and textures together next to each other. I just want a companion. Yoga-yolk (hey, center), yoga-to bring together. Something like that, I heard or saw some where.
Sterling Ruby art
Im reading Thomas Holmes Connecting with our Inner Selves in the book Seeds of Awakening. He describes that we have many traits and they come out in different situations like for defense. And this is not our whole self. We can lose other parts of ourself. This is a good thing to read. When I get upset I later feel embarrassed because I equate that with defining me. I can’t maintain one nice self though. My self is really my relationship with my self.
The self is the part where nothing and everything matters
Not one specific annoyance or getting the right gift
Problems are not really problems
It’s all within you all along
Don’t let the things stop you
It will all end
Don’t waste time on waiting or wondering
Connect with the self. Go back to it when you’re done your task. Don’t go back to thoughts of what you didn’t get and how you might get it. Just go back to what youve had all along.
How can I bring all the ideas together and understand them?
Explain them in order to understand them.
Understand them in order to explain them.
Spend more time on one thing fully. Instead if snippets briefly. Let go instead of collect.
But social media does give comparisons and art you didn’t know about.
Also, sometimes you need to recognize someone’s effort even if their action wasn’t what you wanted or imagined or think you need. So then, your response can be just like their action. Positive.
I’m having trouble not thinking someone’s actions aren’t just to flatter me. The person doesn’t genuinely care about my things or understand me. But we understand affection. What am I anyway but wanting to be loved? If I am not my faults then I don’t want to be my accomplishments either! Just practice. Just do what you do. No final accomplishment necessary. Only to flow into the next thing.