THE MEDIUM

80 years late.......it's no longer meaningful......on it's dangerous demise in the parking lot of the old Georgia Mental Health parking lot:......up in flames! No time to scoop up the ashes before Parson's Ministry Of Truth's Junior Spies blow their plastic whistles......So the Funeral Urn of the last Mid Century remains empty.......Perhaps I should just fill it with wet paint that will never dry with its 'lid on'......There was the option of rolling it up and smoking it, but there was surely lots of lead and cadmium in the dry pigments.....Don't even think about there having been any other options!...Well, perhaps, some plasticky razor blade-cut flat sculptured glossy latex. My call! The dried paint could be dissolved, somewhat, in paint thinner, then mixed/combined with old, wet cat litter....and be sculpted before it re-hardens.....{Wear a gas mask, however......the cat urine and kerosine combine to produce an odoriferous, vomit-provoking odor.}........

95 years after 1930 changed the random associations of drunken flappers to the structural shoulders of another World conflict and the subsequent drug-showering of American Youth's brain synapses, Tom Wolfe exited with little applause...his fashionability having lost its runway footing as pants legs again narrowed, revealing some big feet, now on the ground.......Tom showed us that Durer, on acid, was Picasso, after all......The Merry Pranksters were On The Road , but Wolfe was not on the bus....he was writing the Story of the Bus Trip, and taking us into a brief orbit, before crashing into the Big Sea; or, have i just butted up the circuituous memory trail from those brain connections to stored Hamilton Morris' PHARMACOPEIA .....to 20th C. novels about drug intoxication and hallucinatory experiations....(yet, still, i know that 'experiation' is a neologistic word....but were not just about every word, at some times in History....just developments from primitive Man...

 

has evolved into an odd space.......the collage/painting, in the corner, by my friend Hill Irving, really bothers many of my friends......it's just "Art" to me, however......and the large, reversible painting by Ellen Grobman takes the otherworldliness even further......and, of course, the Vandersteen speaker that i just couldn't leave in the basement, now partially blocks the doorway.....The oval table, by Von Stuck, used to belong to my friend Mark West, who sold it to me so that he could purchase a Gothic-revival set... the chairs were once stored in Bruce Woodruff's boathouse.......i had them restored and love their scale in this room......I traded a retro-modern ruby and diamond ring for the French crystal chandelier that once belonged to John Allen Davis, the antique dealer for whom i was once a buyer...

Camus's philosophy of absurdism is based on the idea that the universe is incomprehensible and indifferent to our desire for meaning, purpose, and happiness.  He believed that people should not try to create meaning where it doesn't exist, but instead accept the absurdity of life and live in spite of it.

  125 Drafts....to work, toward 'completion'.....This morning, or one of many past mornings, working on a dozen, or a thousand, of these writing/imaging Projects....I fell into slumber, from not having slept the night 'away'......During this brief tourney between awakening consciousness and slumberland 'dreaming' .....it 'seemed', to the 'always awake' part of my brain, that the 'always asleep' part was trying to erase the prestidigitations of Art, and replace these remunerations for creative Thought...with more mundane considerations.......In the Dream, within a dream, contained by the 'freezing' of my body's involvement with sleep-walking and semi-conscious scribbling, by the light of a 2 1/2 watt yellowish light, coming through the galley windows of a childhood metal ship's portholes.....enough interplay between light and shadow passed through my thin upper eyelids to initiate a sequence of 'dream images' and fa...