I'm struggling to clear my mind these last few days. That thing I thought about, how come this time I would be in need of a break is very present. I'm in the middle of moving. Talking with a neighbor, I revealed I wasn't accepting any help (other than paying a cleaning person) because I don't feel like getting pissed off at someone that's supposed to be helping me. It probably says more about me and my faith in people that I'd rather disassemble a couch or carry a mattress downstairs by myself than phone a friend. There is a bigger move coming up that I definitely will need people to help with. I'm a store of goodwill.
I've got a little less than a month to put together my thoughts for a few projects and applications. I think that would be good for me. I started out this wanting to get into where my critical mind has been. The rejections from phds are still working through my system. I had a moment the other day while listening to a podcast on the state of fame, influence, whatever you want to call it, however you want to slice it, that these kind, maybe not this kind, but these kind of captures becoming content have a signature of gripe turned gospel. Or those just asking questions and pregnant pauses that script a healthy dose of rage in a soundstage reflect a hollow state of being that clicks fill. I want this to be an archive and not something so entertaining as to sell what it is going through me to the public at large. You could always just buy some of my art. Anyways. There are a few articles I have slated to read in some time. If I get around to it, it's not so pressing that way.
I got asked at an artist talk what food would I be if I could be any food. I would be butter, very expensive butter. It was also suggested that I write less. I think I could be more efficient if I want to think of it that way. That if every line of a poem was an artwork, I could be satisfied with that. I've been thinking about boxes again. Also, some early life lessons. The cycles of life, really. How this all ties together. The song don't fence me in coming up again and again. And how the thing I want to make most is ultimately a kind of tomb. What boxes say when you change their name, maybe. There's a lot about the utility I'm working on. More people tell me I need to promote myself, but what's the use in that?
My partners dog is dying. I don’t even like dogs. I feel a lot for her loss. She gave him a great life, and a lot of people are going to be very sad in his passing. All dogs go to heaven anyway.