Friday, August 28, 2015

Wm. Notes

This guy is American as hell.  I mean, more American than me.  THE FIRST WORD HE LEARNED WAS ‘MONEY.’  He’s lived here longer, anyway.  Got a Mark Twain mind, but boy do his stories go on; is there a point? 

Yes, I began to nod off & he called me out on it.  Called me out for that weird mullet or whatever thing I have going on, too.

Dishwashers as sterilizers—

Snakes in the jungle; a pedal-operated sewing machine; striped scarves; alpaca hair; altitude, slope.

Do you know anyone who has worked at the airport?  I don’t.

Assemblage sculpture(not dada): truck bed:(wing)bird::plane(wing):Clippers
Literature & philosophy led him to barber.  His allusion to Marquez was of overt racism I edited out.  A black man shot his daughter multiple times at the post office & she was the only to survive.

Regular haircut clients, some balding; order, play with order by cutting into the hair at specific patterns; an international rigidity that allows for chaos//Prosperity of pension, of when a good, honest living wasn’t a rip-off.

The stitching will sew the hair under the mountains for clean lines.  The stitching will patch everything together in sacred cut-up, will be left undone, inviting the audience to continue it—dangling, menacing & sharp.

Let’s continue, assuming that ‘art anymore’ is unfinished & that there’s not enough time for a beginning, middle & end—it’s never that clean.  & so his meander makes sense in its negative capability.  You still think time is linear?  It's coiled like a snake & people get sick & forget things.

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