I’ll show what I see & put in my notebook fast, but not what I write, in case anyone’s wondering why these often have erasures on them.
I remember being focused and immersed in playing with color making this, but today I’m scattered and weaving through dicey fiberglass shards of other, unwanted energies and dramas…the ones we fight constantly not to be vacuumed into, in every possible sense of the word. I need to go up the street, get something to make for dinner, cleaning supplies, hit that cluster of thrift stores two blocks away because we’re supposed to go to an event tomorrow for an art magazine I’m not in this issue but have been talking to the guy about being in future issues, and it has dress instructions on it, which I never got before on any art related stuff. So…no cutting up my outfit and writing fuck and anarchy on it…I need something with long sleeves now butitwassooooworthit I’ll look in the really cheap Spanish place and maybe see how the Office Ops thrift store is cuz in the whole time I’ve been living here I’ve never looked there. Haven’t clothes shopped much. I’m skipping the place that has added the word “Morgantown” to it’s front window.
I’m tempted to write about Justine Frank, who’s work I saw recently in The Book Lovers art exhibit, but I really have to get other things done.