endless shit 

Picture of the Day
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March 5, 2001

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ken from kenya, a gift from cindy, broken in shipping from new york city, both pieces stand well alone, an optical illusion appreciated by those over 7 feet tall blue arm from eddie dog's torn octopus, a strap-on for felix the cat with his head turned around so his tail resembles a you-know-what french playing cards, channukah glasses which make all points of light refract like miraculous, a tiny cermaic svejk from childhood's dusty bookshelves, and a mennorah b/c we're closet unitarians broken wineglasses, one with dried wine in bottom like a scab, handcarved peasant figurines handed down from a great-grandfather i never met, becherovka shotglasses, a prelude to romance mcdonald's muppet caper glass, miss piggy crashing through window, appropriately broken, spent shotgun shell found on a hike along gravel path old grapevine cluster minus the grapes, i think of WWI barricades basketful of wine corks, one day i intend to fashion them into a bathing suit paperbag mask, assorted jars and cans, a curious george band-aid box with tiny pencil and pad and mystery herb in it, a gift from mike palaia in baltimore beautiful bar garnish yellow see-through plastic giraffe, a gift from Dr. Katherine Noe empty booze bottles (pretty) and mister oh-know-it's-empty who made it to our new place and fell to the bed in the earthquake where he sat poised and erect just like the buddha we know he is my mother's sunglasses, i think from 1973, featured in annie hayden's press kit pic and 1999 fremont solstice parade nude bicycle adventure (sadly broken not long after this picture was taken, sitting up in back of jed's station wagon at burning man with them model-cool atop my head) matchboxes from fabulous places where i probably got too drunk to remember
My camera is still broken and they can't get the part. You could call it junk. In our old apartment, on top of the kitchen cabinets, we curated a museum of beautiful junk--knick-knacks, packaging, broken wine glasses, and other trash and treasures we found. When we moved, we took it down and a lot ended up in the garbage. Good riddance. Had the earthquake hit it would it have made a difference? Last week I felt agitated about not having a "real" job. As if to allay my fears, that same day the latest Yes! came, an issue about work with a lead story asking, "Who needs it?" Nonetheless, I spent last Tuesday perusing online classifieds. I scanned 1,210 ads and applied for 2 jobs. I haven't heard back from them yet. On Friday we went to Jason Puccinelli's "In Your Face" opening, a fun show but what I noticed most were Greg Lundgren's self-publications under the imprint Artists for a Work-Free America. And reading The Power of Place gets me thinking about the necessity of living in harmony with the rhythms of the outdoor environment and how indoor work is deadening. If the earthquake had lasted just 10 more seconds it's possible that I'd be homeless now and ALL my possessions reduced to junk. What would I have done then? And then I think, the choice is always there.