Friday, February 10, 2006


I am sick of everything: internet forums, blogs (including this one), folk, cars – not only SUVs – toast, whining toddlers, do-gooders, neck pain, grandfather clocks, Baby Einstein, Walt Disney, shiny pennies, romantic comedies, Hollywood video, brick and mortar monopolies, poetry, peanut butter, stale pancakes, public and private schools, oil slicks, pot holes, refried beans. The list, of course, goes on ad infinitum. Periodically, I enter a fog of dense misanthropy, which hovers around my head for a week or so. When it lifts, I feel refreshed, ready to blaze back into the world with an open, hopeful heart once again.

If I were to read the newspaper on a regular basis, the fog would never lift. I don’t know how newshounds live with themselves and the other 6.5 billion people on earth.

Maybe they only live with themselves.

1 comment:

Pinky said...

I had a dream that you and David lived in an art supply store. Your studios were actually sections of the store, so people could watch you work, kind of like bakeries where you can watch the cake decorators behind a glass partition. And in my dream, you were working on a piece about 1996. You had collected lots of 1996 calendars, and you had found a mish-mash of address numbers and typesetters blocks and arranged them all as "1996." You arranged everything on the display shelves around you so that everywhere you looked it said "1996." You were wearing a pants suit, black I think, and you arranged things on the shelves and looked very serious.