Picture of the Day
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October 21, 2002

my bone
Have I mentioned that I broke my wrist? It's been about a month now. My first cast,
after a couple of weeks it feels like part of me. It's got me theorizing about identity, how
who I think I am is largely the product of short-term memory, a 2-week window framing personality.
And, yes, it's driving me crazy. Just when I found something I loved doing, suddenly I'm back in front
of the computer--or anywhere but here--procrastinating. I'm reading interviews with Burroughs, more
short stories by Bukowski. Spent an afternoon in the Seattle Art Museum with Sarah, looking at Mexican

modernist paintings (yawn)
, then wowed by Do-Ho Suh's holographic assemblages (holographic in the sense
that the whole is contained in the
particle and vice versa). I can get lost in the culture, content not to zoom out
trying to take in the big picture (y
ou know, the one that has humankind spiraling towards annihilation). Spent a bitter-
sweet evening with Greg Lundgren at
Vital 5, picking through remains destined for Goodwill. (Vital 5 was a fine art
gallery and performance space occupying what had been the Japanese pavilion in the '62 World's Fair. The building is
being knocked down before it can turn 50--and thus qualify for historic status--to make way for luxury condos and a QFC
supermarket, another victory for the Haves...). Sometimes it feels like everything's broken, or breaking, and the only way
people are going to change is by going through extremes, TV having squelched the ability to think and see....