boring energy generator ballchain friendship necklaces

boring energy generator ballchain friendship necklaces

trying to do everything at once, as usual

energy generators a la the orgone ones my mom’s best friend’s husband used to make in the early 00s, designed to save the world with their reverberations;

these ones are time capsules or place capsules, homeopathic, holographic in that they contain the multitudes, a la bugs in amber;

these are shiny found scraps in resin, held together, haptic poetry

ballchains in honor of my raver days, a quiet symbol of ravery

also the ballchain hallway at burningman annie and i encountered, swept ourselves thru, at dawn on the salt flats in 2005

friendship because it’s sometimes all i can think about, my friendships in their various states of vigor or decay, the tenuous links that hold us together, the memories, the shared experiences, the connections between us that can activate or fail to, how connections persist across distances, space and time

the times we spent together as silly-little capsules, little nests of nearness but never quite merged, always at a little distance, together but still at least a little apart

boring because i’m in boring, oregon, my hometown; i have a peculiar relationship to boring and to the boring, boring like boring holes and tunnels, boring like a yawning, a yearning, maybe a calming or a peace-space in an abstract way,

so in honor of all this i made 49 boring energy generator ballchain friendship necklaces, seven series of seven, thinking of rhizome’s seven-on-seven again, something about that exercise excites my sense of possibility, stays with me

also the scene in “there’s something about mary” where the serial killer waxes on about “seven minute abs”

i was always a bigger fan of 0 and 9 as numbers go but for this project, seven times seven felt right

do i still have 49 friends? did i ever? how many friends did i have on myspace?

i made seven series of seven boring energy generators each, each with a loose theme curdled or accumulated around a loose-knit friendworld, a friendzone, a type of friendships i want to honor and hold close, have held close

for each set of seven i gathered silly-little remnants that reminded me of said friendworld, the friends in that space, then wrote a seven-line poem as a reflection of and an offering to that friendship, cut it into seven lines, then submerged the poem-lines and the silly-little remnants in 2-part resin, molded them into silicone shapes, threaded them onto ballchain, gathered them together, over time until there were 49 to send out to my friends in the world (and a few more for Samimi)

here below you can see seven slideshows, each with eight slides, one for the poem held line-by-line inside the concomitant energy generators; the other seven for the aforementioned energy generators, each in a kinetic scan, kind of capsules in and of themselves.

  1. charming local field

charming local field, or, the gift of the gathering, late April 2021

this series comes from a walk in the field and stand of trees behind my house, the field i would walk across to meet jenie in middleschool, the field me, jenie, major, and tyler walked across the summer before sophomore year of highschool one night high on black pyramid, the field i know by heart. embedded in these energy generators are things i found in the field, beneath the trees: hawk feathers, foil from a birthday balloon, a chip off a golf ball, green tie tape, mole dirt; and body glitter from the stick of glitter tyler shoplifted me from Clackamas Town Center in 1999.

2. bad-kid corner

bad-kid corner, or leap second, safety third, early May 2021, made with leftovers from my beltane birthday party at Andrea’s house, when us friends-since-adolescence walked to the middle school across the greenspace and cut rowan branches off the nearby trees to wind red thread around along with our wishes for the next year, and tiedyed and bleachdyed tshirts together. these contain birthday scraps: red yarn, teal-dyed cotton, birthday-cake-flavored weed-cookie crumbles, crossword scratchoffs, rowan leaves, and more of tyler’s glitter

3. river/raver

river/raver, late May 2021, my two favorite venues to tempt fate & build trust in the cuspy 00s & onward; the casual dangerousness of ravery & rivery was always a draw for me whether I saw it as such or not, the near-deathness and the making-it-thru-togetherness, emerging on the other side both worse and better for wear. These ones have leftovers from my early raver days along with riverside groundscores from a trip to Dodge Park with my kid in Spring 2021: pony beads, elastic, gravel, bark mulch, crawdad claw, cigarette butt, daisies, bottle foil, and tyler glitter

4. alien radio

Alien Radio, or, Eugeneration, Eugene where I got to be friends with all the most beautiful & wild & weird women, always a bit unsure why they let me tag along with them on their adventures, all the established bonds and deep fam, Oregon Country Fair camps and Burning Man excursions and working at Ruthie B’s the feminist-casual tea shop and dancing frantically at 80s night at John Henry’s; and our own rituals, the bikini carwash and the Jesus sandwiches and the years just leaning into one another and going too hard or almost too hard, again that frantic near-death yearning. I dredged up some remnants from the archives to embed: carnelian beads & fluorite beads, cubensis, weed, an earring kt made, pine needles, denim scraps, burning man glass & dust, neongreen medusa’s makeup brand glitter from annie

5. doing other people’s dishes

These ones are in homage to all my work friends, all the ways that shared responsibility brings us together, all the strange bonds that I have built thru mutual reinforcement throughout my life. Especially during our era of social distancing, my current workmates (gruff as they may be) have been a strong social outlet, since we never much stopped working at the shop on the farm together. But in thinking of them I also think of all the friends I have made at all my jobs, from Paola’s Pizza Barn and Bi-Mart to Englishtime and AUW and LSI. The things in these objects come from my current job as a management assistant/parts chaser/central purchaser in the Hood Acres Shop at a wholesale shade tree nursery in Boring, where I encounter many appealing scraps and leftovers, industrial and agricultural remains: heat-damaged leaves, copper wire, spent lathe metal, printer toner, Brother labelmaker ends, and some tyler glitter for good measure

6. a flag that is also a pocket

i’m not sure how I made friends with so many artists but I think I know why 🙂 these are full of art scraps: fabric leftovers, seeds from Giovanna Olmos, lines from one of the things I wrote for Provision/Converge45, letter beads, shiny plastic cord protectors, glass beads from Garima Thakur, a qr code, more tyler glitter for more good measure

7. silly-little infinities

friendship is recursive, looping, returning-to and building-upon, as is this set of seven, made of leftovers from the other six, packing materials and things i forgot to put in: metal shavings from the locksmith, spent metal from the lathe, ballchain, old slivers of epoxy, bubble wrap, jewelry findings, sun-damaged gingko leaves, packing foam, and still more tyler glitter, for ever for good measure

❤ made with love in 2021 by Tori Reis

when in doubt

kiss wash, kitten-soft

little glimmers of love,

little like precious glimpses

good things, small packages

*

near repetitions, dancing patterns

almost aligning

almost a tunnel

a tunnel just for a split second–

a tunnel of light

cosmic pathway,

wormhole or whatever

*

scattered dreams stacking for a split second

scattering back again

dilated memories lining the edges

seeing neurons everywhere

*

boring empty poem

like, cryptic diary entry

some fun is hard to write about

*

she named her kittens Diva and Parkour

she says “ballyball” and “pole volt”

default style not set

where should i start?

show me, i would always ask the oracle, just show me

and i would look!

asemic chemtrails

patterns in the coulds i mean clouds

tacky memories

the clockworks where i first did it i mean did it til i felt it,

turned more part cartoon for a few, all backlit edges, smoothing tool

type to choose a block, i choose the sideyard

i choose the left speaker, right in front of it, speaker-freaking

when in doubt, dance memories, i mean, quantum ribbons

looping movements, dual tracks, something about the map and the territory

something about the mise en abyme, picture-in-picture, palimpsest, half-erasedness

crystal palimpsest, crystal palace, world’s fair, worlds of fun,

all the worlds-within-worlds, nested or wrestled together, nestled,

meghan’s bedroom nest again, “let’s make a nest,” she said, on camera, in 1999,

on a tape that’s lost to the ages

local dreamer

start with the building block of all narrative

the mommy blog a central character in her new story

the reverse-chronology scroll dives deeper into prophecy

she finds the mommy blog about echoes her own, perfectly

the mommy blogs find each other, recommend each other

matchmake–

their feedback loops leak into their authors,

who fall in love, obviously

tap on their laptops in matching slouch chairs at the local play cafe

running their fingers up and down their touchpads

push notifications

burielle

*

**

*

the grand conjunction

a graphic four-pointed throwing star floating just above the horizon

was it spinning slowly or was i?

the videographic of the solar system’s trajectory around the milky way, so many orbital coils

aircondition by oliver laric

sometimes the clouds cover the sunrise and sometimes the light catches their edges just so

*

coordinating conjunctions, fanboys is the acronym

for and nor but or yet so

holding hands with my microobsessions

diaeresis in every direction, multiocular o

*

sensational spelling

following my whims seriously, eagerly

looping with them thru the ‘verse

watermelon gazpacho for my family

so tasty

soup for my family

aged newspaper

rubbed by the air

psychic Acorn House bridging worlds

soft rose mushrooms empurpling next to feathers from a hawk fight

nature walk in the backyard

weeping pussywillow

memory tags, silky&shaggy,

the pair of brown cows no longer in the field on the hill across the creek

Mary Oliver everywhere.

Diane DiPrima everywhere,

Audre Lorde in the bestest places;

poetry everywhere,

in the back yard, in the front room

referentiality looping everywhere

ribboning like ribbon diagrams.

my life story is an allegory for your life story,

she said into the camera, uploaded it to youtube,

he told her he liked it a few years later

in the library, always in the library

so many pages young and aged

start writing, the prompt said, so she did

3 poems by kit howard

POEM 1

she smiled at me

as I rounded 

his bed 

I knew 

but

I still didn’t know

or 

I didn’t

      want 

to 

knowing 

would make it 

REAL

and real was the worst thing I could think of

real

would 

put me 

into

a new

“category” 

one of delicacy and kid gloves 

of tuts and too bads 

a category 

I thought I’d spent my 

whole life

preparing for.

a category I was

ready for. 

I wasn’t ready.

how could i be

heat rises

a rising tide hits me square in the jaw.

I can’t compete with the allure of her 

magnetism.

she goes around like a waltz,

an ease pervading the air about her

like it’s coming off her skin,

like she’s doused in a perfume of 

power.

her presence towers over me, pushing me to my 

meekness,

huddling in a corner even though I’m standing in the middle of the room.

my face wrinkles with giddiness and 

insecurity.

I look away.

I want to kiss her and slap her and 

hide her

from everyone else and never look at her again.

the blood in my veins breaks into my brain

creating the sweat that will ultimately become my need to 

leave. 

because I can’t compete with a woman who smells like that.

and if I can’t win, I’ll 

lose her. 

ultradian-rapid-cycling-bipolar2-mixed-features

i shift inside me.

day shift, 

night shift,

lunch shift.

the three of us wrestle, 

tussle,

then come to blows.

every one of us knows

how to fuck with the 

Other.

just another day in the life 

of 

mixed bicycles

colliding 

in opposites

refracting 

or 

retracting 

polar

icecaps

stating the 

obvious 

then 

flying through 

blood red 

clouds filled 

with rain

the damage comes from 

within

without 

my

knowledge 

permission

acceptance

guidance

love

hate

neutrals seldom come from

a brain 

on fire

barbed wire in 

my eyes

constant

hyperdrive 

reprise

of a 

death knell

in hell

the truth won’t make them come

because

from 

any other vantage

we’re fucked.

an unattractive offering no matter how silver the platter.

overidentified and undernourished. 

25 years undiagnosed and

without flourish.

the red brain 

undermining 

the yellow brain

undermining

the blue brain.

cyclical gaslighting.

rinse, repeat.

we have a volcanic experience, 

no,

existence.

roiling, molten lava

spewed into ashes

then hardened into stone.

rinse, repeat.

the red one bursts in

punching,

screaming,

kicking for 

Control,

throwing the papers

in the air,

all devil may care,

it’s about me!

i don’t care!

it’s not fair!

what a dick.

the yellow one is constantly

jarred, disoriented,

too consumed with righting the ship

to keep their grip.

unable to see the pattern 

or the cliff

or even mitigate the impact.

what a chump.

the blue one       longs        for          defeat  .

any reason               to          retreat  .

sweet         release         in        thick        dark         sleep  .

what a coward.

rinse, repeat.

then the math changes

and the variables trade places,

a mix tape featuring 

chaos on the B-side.

an interesting biopic?

only if you don’t have to live it.

there, there, take your meds & do your yoga & write your gratitude’s & you’ll be fine & if you’re not it’s 

Your Fault. 

it must be. 

they don’t know that the 

little blue pill 

does but a little.

it can’t even touch two of us. 

but I’ll swallow one of you whole.