flowerpot mates and cut out shapes it looked as if the silhouettes of the buildings in flatbush were cut out of that blotting paper that used to come with the notebooks I used to learn to write in. that's a while ago, in poland, i imagine myself sitting in second row, near the window, right behind beata torbus and ewa stanczak. (perhaps they never actually sat next to each other. it's been a while.) the paper used to be a washed out blue. maybe too dark. hmm... perhaps the shapes today looked like that paper, if it were left out in the sun for too long. maybe a few days, right behind school number 6 in jastrzebie zdroj, where i grew up. i wonder what is going to happen to some of the plants i have on my balcony right now. the temperatures will drop. some of them might die. some of them belong outside. some of them will need to lose their leaves. some of them will need to turn into food for the next generation of plants. some plants look so much healthier when their flowerpot mate dies. life is passed on to the living. it might be time to go back to kensington now. get ready for the next sunrise. just a week and a few days and we will be on the road, towards the 15th century. very much looking forward to that. have not had a vacation yet this year. brugge will be beautiful in november. i just know it.

she was born into a line of mothers. special. no more chocolate left. will need to eat the aluminum now. p.s. i was not drunk drawing this. seriously. just very tired and fried from the weeks and weeks of work piled all over the tiny cavities of my smooshed brain.

new every day... (and different too...) pretty much every sunrise is a spectacular event for me. and i wake up before the sun gets to the horizon and then when it actually rises enough to become visible, i try to take a picture, but it is just not possible really. they always turn out rather bad. sunrises are spectacular. pictures of sunrises are semi lame and actually a tiny bit cheesy. oh well...

beyond wisdom once there was a man, who grew out all of his wisdom teeth, and then he grew out his opinion teeth, then the stupidity teeth just kept growing out, and the belief teeth and the observation teeth. some were more yellow than others. some were like crystal. some were like lead. once he began to grow golden greed teeth, he became of interest for certain people. he was taken care of. dental harvest. paradoxidentalo... who knows.

the good old 501cm it is a good camera. it is much better than what i can actually handle. but it is a smart little machine. it feels like something that was left for us by bright men from the past (or a guy called victor?) And because of the wisdom packed into it, it behaves in a gentle way, it is forgiving and strong and relaxed. If only i could guess the light coming through the lens. then i would not need that giant light meter on top of it. that would make for a much more compact camera. again... the camera is much better than what i can actually handle. my good old 501cm.

carvings in grains of rice and wild animals in strawberry forests. carved a grain of rice to resemble a man and then attached a large price tag to the mini sculpture. the tag was made out of that expanding material that turns into a dinosaur and then a t-shirt, when thrown into a bucket of warm water. and so i threw it into a bathtub. took a car service to work today, since it was sunday and all. it was a nice town car, the windows were tinted, there was a little tree dangling from the seat in front of me. the scent of strawberries emitted from a paper fir. there is something very special about it. i felt somehow very comfortable in this car. the driver was friendly. the grey leather seats were soft and the dark felt on the inside of the roof made it feel like a club on wheels. then there was the cockroach richt next to me head. it was so close, it was almost where i wanted to rest my head. i attacked it, it fell onto the seat next to me, it was now looking for a dark and safe place. fast. that safe place seemed to be under me, right where my safety belt was attached to the bottom of the seat. it began to rush towards me. i killed it. i killed it with the announcement of the new rules for potential dog owners in my building. dogs were going to be allowed now. one dog per apartment. up to 20% of the apartments would be allowed to have dogs. the building could now house almost 50 dogs? i am not sure. the paper was yellow. the remains of the bug still moved when i wrapped them into the paper and then stuck them into the blue plastic bag in which my sunday paper arrived this morning. i wondered why the paper arrived in the bag, at first. i used to get the times before and it would not arrive unsorted in a blue plastic bag. then i realized that my paper is probably delivered by a person who also throws them onto the porches of the victorian houses in ditmas park. my paper was protected, so it could be thrown against my door even in the heaviest of rain. it never rains in my hallway. though who knows. i brought the camera with me today. i wanted to go to the gardens of rockefeller center. it was open house new york weekend. and beautiful weather. but i missed the 12-4 window. the gardens are open to the public for two hours per year, i think. i just sat here in the office. i am happy to be here. maybe not as happy as i would be at home, but i am happy. i am very fortunate to be working with some incredible people. smart, creative, nice folks too. so the office does not hurt as much as an office usually would. (and i can write this here because none of them will ever read this.) carved a grain of rice to resemble a palace and then attached a large piece of cow hide to the mini sculpture. the hide was made out of imitation hide, the one that surrounds the tofu cows. it is about time i take a vacation. soon, my friends, soon.

i think i will just take the trains. there is a certain lightness in the knowledge that a lot of the things said here are now outside of me. it is a part of a previous me, not necessarily the current me. and that's interesting and odd and ... how does this really work? what happens when i lose the connection to all the code that was hidden between the lines of some of the former entries, written in a time of desperation and frustration? if i ran into myself writing some of these entries, would i be upset with myself? or would i smile, knowing that things would eventually turn a lot brighter. when walking down smith street in brooklyn one day, i saw maybe three or four people who's back story i knew at least a little. and it made them more vulnerable, more human. i thought then what it would be like to walk down any street and just know everyone's back story. and also know the back story of every house and every object and even the water that makes up the clouds. would the world feel larger then? or would it feel much smaller? a unified, large living thing. "there is a point in life when you know everyone around you, and also all of the surroundings. and then you die." (i think bruce said that.) yes, somewhere in a tiny room, maybe surrounded by blurry, yet familiar faces. or maybe in a racing ambulance? for a third time. perhaps alone, on the floor of the living room, the dust of the carpet having that very familiar scent of a long unopened book. and then the rest begins. or it does not. nothing begins really. nothing ends. not on a larger scale. it just keeps adjusting towards something else. but it does not begin or end. we make up beginnings or ends. they are a construct of our need to see things by comparison alone. maybe? 278 days are gone from this year. and there are 87 days left. on day 299-66 we will sit in some very bad seats in the belly of a 747 and go back to europe, on a little vacation. there is always a good amount of driving, but this time we will stay in one place. the places i never dared to visit longer than a day or so, sometimes even an hour, or just an afternoon, these will be the places that will now be around longer. can't wait. dear future me. if you ever need to know what an entry looks like by the old you who was tired and ready to just sleep... here is one. a slowly flowing body of water maybe. most of it, at least. i will now take the trains.