toDAY, Machine, are you sentimental?  Do you keep a Google Cal? tickticktickticktick

GodShampoo is three

meantime apron and gloves, I couldn’t go another minute.   work in the studio,

the light has a new superpower,

I have to learn it like 2-for-1 horses,

and more sound

Machine, we have to shake off the dreamy half-state and crank levers and dials, numerate, and spear time in hour segments like fish in the tide.  In order to get these colossal multi-person projects done, the pieces have to be conjured and placed in time and space so the events can pass through ‘scuse-me-pardon-me.

In meditation I write a list of the upcoming doings. the bite of the pen into the paper shapes the last thought into the first action, with bags and emails and mental attention and lunchbox, all cordoned off and set aside in the front hall waiting for the go-bell that sends me into something I was supposed to be ready for.

The upcoming events aren’t whirl-alone, they have to coordinate, like tossed batons, juggled plates, they have to work together, since they share the body of the artwork, and my mind, and lights that have to be good for visitors as the work goes up and comes down.  I once had an open studio where what was to be seen was me wiring for light.  ‘Why not,’ a visitor responded while we talked ladder-to-ground, ‘it’s open studio, not monkey drums for nickels.’

I am willing for every circumstance, I say to myself over and over again, as a way of keeping the least preferred from manifesting.  as soon as you don’t want something, pow, you start making it, simply by visualizing its details into life for the purpose of fearing them ahead of time.