Blackprint Series No.22

relieve yo'self

there's some noxious fumes out there with the smell of politics in the
air. so take a break from art life. time is running out.
goodbye edwards. hello obama. hillary, give the phones a rest.
you lost my vote when you passed all those right wing bills in the senate.
pining away for kucinich, the raging liberal who doesn't have a chance.
as always, compromise in the air...but we can only go up from here.

in my right mind

Blown away by the read through, crippled after sitting for three days at my desk. SEPTEMBER 10TH is everything I hoped for, imagination at work- my raison d'etre, family as unpredictable as it is, love, true love and all its traps and trappings, compassion for our place in the world as precarious as it is, clinging at once to individuality, that thing that defines us and defies genetic imprints and to our collective identity, that singular force that encompasses everything, more than our individual consciousness affords. No escape. It's that big beautiful velvet stew of life on the edge. Of what? Time, meaning, existence. Even history can be false.

Tank or not

I have to read through my novel tomorrow. Okay. I don't have to but I do. I'm dreading it. It's the big kahuna. It's the road to nowhere, to nothingness and then and then... I want to believe it's going to work out. I have to admit I feel this way every time.

FootShot

workShop