August 2005 Archives

not sure i could have ever imagined that what is happening now could ever happen. And i do not want to write too much about it, because the project is not completed yet. Oh, it has been such an incredibly busy bunch of weeks...

the longer i wait the more important the next entry somehow becomes and then it is not important enough to actually make it here and so then time passes and the next entry does not happen and this is an excuse as bad as any of the ones found in calendars that sold as diaries to those who hope to fill them by the end of the year and yet barely make it beyond january 10th. my caves are still littered with bones and sculls and there are plants growing at the openings. i give them to drink. outside the birds are hardly happy to see me, though the chirping does sound like a joyful series of hellos. cicadas make some of the moments here appear truly exotic. am i somewhere in the wild? was this a dragon moving past the neighborhood or is it just the miracle of a safely landing plane? it was good to leave the air conditioner off last night. the open windows are quite good at creating a calm draft. it almost feels like september today. and september will soon be here. it will just roll over me before i will even know where exactly i am. and i will be on a plane, coming back from the west coast then. and i hope that there will be some sense of accomplishment somewhere deep in the depths of my belly, which right now makes me feel as if i were carrying some sort of offspring in me. my nausea started about two hours ago, it is a mix of nervousness and emptiness and quite possibly a lack of sleep. the open windows, the cicadas, the birds, the landing planes, the draft, the emptiness of my caves, the mid of august melancholia just stuck its gloved arm into my guts and is shaking the hand of the inside me, ready to create the next me which will then sit in its belly waiting to be fed the next day. maybe some parts of me feel like the smoked furniture by Maarten Baas... and maybe these exact parts have to be that way because they are created to be here to stay. who gives a **** about a happy child? : )

Can I describe a good morning in 10 minutes? (As this is about how much I have before I will run out of the house and to the train and so on?) There were tiny things that made the morning good, I think? Maybe it was the peppers on my surprise pepper plant turning into a decisive red maybe? Perhaps it was the hopeful survival of one of the avocado plants which I cut far to close to the ground? (Can plants utter curses? Maybe this one actually should, because what the hell was I thinking?) Maybe it was the shadow of the black squirrel in the branches just outside of my living room window? Maybe it was the light from the sun hitting the walls just right? Or maybe the relieved chirping of three sparrow families living with me above my windows because of my turning off of the air conditioner? (Will they be angry with me if it turns on around 9PM again tonight?) Perhaps I was happy to discover that my airconditioner does no longer drip onto my neighbour's windows, but somewhere into the proximity of a blooming flower box? Could the happiness stem from the fact that I was able to just say hello to the dry cleaning lady, dropping off the many wire hangers she will be able to reuse for my endless stream of used to be clean blue shirts? Was it the lucky coincidence that the 2nd Street Café opened just the minute I came by with the new paper under my arm? I could have also been in a good mood because the waiter had some good ideas as to what he liked to have for breakfast and what I might equally enjoy? Or, because he was dead on? Or because the paper had some really good news on the cover, of people actually surviving a plane crash and such? Or because there were interesting news in the arts section as well, of Barry McGee and Swoon showing at Deitch? Or because the coffee hit the right spot?... Or was it the Russian news on the radio at the laundry place that was overwhelmed by the disturbances from the washing machines which made the transmission sound as if it were announcing the return of the bolshevik army to the aurora destroyer just in the harbor outside of new st.brooklynburg? Or maybe none of the above?... Maybe I am out of time, but today will be a great today? Can I say so? What else? Who Else? where Else?