i keep going, paddle paddle with my dry hands, okay, i can let go, it can be, snap snap just closed now, and i settle it so like the final shake of the dishtowel, and forever I am turning around in the kitchen at the stove and forever no matter what seems to have been the condition, the next I see is M. I reason with myself about it a little, will the real dual nature please stand up, of course it’s going to look like nothing but the shimmer, nothing but the impossible, hypnotizing shimmer, so I say M like a fig leaf, a fan, and purse my lips, looking slideways through slitty eyes, I have to think of things from scratch when I might have just asked someone in the know.  Slideways??  SLIDEWAYS?  Typos as invented writer’s words like that make it difficult to remember that Dick is an idea.  Avec typos.

The stainless steel travel mug? Yes, Machine, it’s a work day. The studio has to get cleaned.  with the travel mug and the radio. What is more poignant than Janis Joplin singing, ‘get it while you can?’ cleaning  with fierce Keepers of the satellite radio Flame like Tom Petty Himself as Bodhisattva of Rock, staying in the sticky heat of the music to be with the listeners, pointing to the seismic underpinnings of what’s making your foot shake, to the wiry old blues singers nearly lost in the brittle grooves, and recordings Zappa made as party pranks to himself alone in a closet.

Muse must be followed, as lead or inspiration, $2 U Pick Every One A Winner.  And so I will be making to allow for light in space. I write a note … i write it and roll it up and drop it into the Hole, never knowing if it was really the right one, except in that ultimate sense.

Holding light, not to constrain it, but to allow it, holding light in space

this is no time to sabotage myself with Deep Thoughts.  Just make the environment.   ‘absolutely,’  says M, curling up like a fox inside my mental picture of it.

I am always shown, Muse is always setting up the route, which is why it’s important i listen all the time, hang that here,  bring this huge ikea garage organizer galvanized aluminum hook to the studio, and hang it in an impractically high place (yesh, mashter, I climb up the step ladder in flip flops obediently and it is done) In the clean up and re-file from S Fortune Matrix, Muse said 2 days ago of the one remaining scrim panel still strung with glass, at the last minute, nowhere to be lifted off the floor except!  The new strange hook.  There it hung all night, until just now  Muse showed me the glass and the fabric and the spatial relationships, about catching the light, about what compels us forward.  About emptiness.  Emptiness i try to say when the buckets come around again, but it’s too fast no matter how I time it.  The scrim on the hook is a sketch of the room I am to make.  While it thunders outside in the city and I pretend maybe that’s the sound of emptiness.

I work backwards from the vision of the room, what would have to be in place by the end of the day for the room to address the vision on Sunday… and if it doesn’t fit then elements are to be removed from the vision which stays intact.  And there can never be too few elements of a work of art, which exists entirely without its own elements in the electrical minds of the viewer-maker, so tightly spring loaded to tell itself a story that it uses scratch marks not much bigger than iron filings to imagine a whole, living picture of the world.  As long as my hand is mindful, muse can use the barest expression, the most unexpected accumulation.

I want to see the summer people, the outlandish handlebar moustaches and obscenely insectile sunglasses, I want to see the dudes who like to be uncomfortable to look at.  Calendar…summer calendar…

It’s going to be a good windows down summer, with adorable radio like Boy and Bear, which I can unsweeten with some Levon Helm and Liz Phair and Greg Allman