I decide something radical – I decide not to decide.  All the possibilities are left soft and open, unfolded, unsewn.  Don’t give it a future.  Today’s the day to hang the coyote head over the door of my studio, and the lucky playing card, and write, ‘Don’t Give it a Future,’ again, in graphite cursive over the door.

We give and we get, but number A, we make them both up ourselves, and number B, thinking of what I am giving creates momentum and joy, and thinking about what I am getting creates stress and anxiety. Simple instructions for living.

I look at the shadows of this piece, like the edges of shells.  And think about what it means to introduce movement.  When they are still, the simplest fact presents – the shape of the shadow is not the same as the shape of the object. Actions make the piece… here is clubfooted English, again, with action and movement.  Process progress hot potato

 Later again, always Later, the now with respect for its roots.

Just for fun, just for it, imagine the story is something the self is making – by hook or by crook, the self is making it, imagine that – the Nabokov and the Bach (radical and hard to swallow, but remember boys and girls we are only having fun) math and neutrinos, and the way a goat smells.  Ever-last-damn language, and what outer space looks like when you see it through these infinitesimally teensy wet little pinholes.  All of it made, every which way, unseen from here, also made by self.   Pardon me if I press the space bar too many times.  And how it teaches itself through individualtion, differentitation, deef-air-ahnce.