An interview with my wife, FF: It's a partially cloudy evening here in Portland. FF sits on her brown mid-century inspired sectional holding a 6-and-a-half month-old bouncing baby in her lap. Every so often she looks out the window, where through a blanket of thick bamboo, rests a partially demolished house. Her hair is freshly cut at the shoulder to keep the baby from pulling it out in handfuls. She wears a black tuxedo jacket, a pair of skinny jeans and naked feet.
FF- It's been a while since I last interviewed you. You've obviously been busy with things...
FF- Yes. Things. Many, many things. Too many to keep track of. I'm decompressing from the Process Mundane workshop I performed at the Open Engagement Conference and thinking about how I can offer the piece to a larger audience. I think maybe I'll post an ad at the back of the newspaper or one of those spiritual guidance publications you get at vegan pet stores. Who knows. It's just a thought. I've been snapping random pictures and writing sentences or paragraphs each day and occasionally find some of them interesting. Oh, and I'm getting ready to do another SRS release that will involve scissors, my sewing machine, and 5 Peruvian school children. At home, I've been cooking new recipes, but half the time, they aren't as exciting as the pictures made them out to be. I'm plotting out how to reorganize rooms within the house to free up some brain space, and am seriously considering teaching the cats how to do my laundry. Child rearing is going well. Miss Beckett is sitting up and playing all by herself for an hour at a time. She's clapping and happens to love squeezing my face. She especially appreciates when I dance and make music for her on the ol' guitar. She's graduated to another array of pasty fruits and vegetables and still feeds primarily from my left - and consequently much larger - boob. At night before settling into a sloppy sleep routine, I either watch a film or internet TV, or read one of my many unfinished books or magazines. I do yoga most mornings, run with a stroller, bike to and from work, and try to get out into the woods for a picnic and a hike each weekend. Everyone needs a good tree washing. For "work work" I'm producing a "pro" golf inspired photo shoot, designing a new creative space for the art department, and developing a line of prints for spring 2013. A few of my dear friends are pregnant, many of my friends are having birthdays, and my niece is graduating from high school. I'm trying my best to send along care packages, but the post office isn't in my favor.
FF- Sounds smothering.
FF- Yes, it can be. But I'm pretty good at keeping the juggling plates from crashing to the ground.
FF- Do you know any professional jugglers?
FF- I know a juggling expert. Her name is Julie. She's been living in India for the last 6 years. At one point a long time ago, Julie weaned herself off of smoking by periodic sessions of juggling and chewing on cinnamon sticks.
FF- Sounds like a good method.
FF- It worked for her.
FF- You smoked at one point. Yes?
FF- I was a half-assed smoker. I never really liked smoking like some people do. I didn't crave cigarettes first thing in the morning or after a greasy meal. I was a nighttime smoker. A drunken smoker. I smoked to meet strangers.
FF- What about smoking to fend off stress?
FF- There were a few times I smoked because of stress. After breakups, and once after my step-mother punched me in the back of the head during a road trip across Italy.
FF- Did you punch her back?
FF- No. I just said something along the lines of "Don't you ever touch me like that again or I'll fucking kill you", fled the vehicle, and enjoyed a smoke with a handsome stranger.