Picture of the Day
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December 27, 2000

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Maybe it's because the sun broke through for a precious few minutes this afternoon. Maybe it's because I long for the ability to create working order from chaos I witnessed watching Junkyard Wars for the first time at Travis and Kelly's. Maybe it was my inability to find the needle-nose pliers Monte left behind when I wanted to make some anything for Sarah who returns from her nomral family life in Ohio Thursday night. Maybe it's just because time is running out on an old year and I don't want the next one to be again an obstacle course of useless kitsch and half-finished projects. Maybe it's just because I finally got sick of sitting at a computer half my life and welcomed any 3D distraction. Maybe it's a Kwanakahmas gift for Sarah, a present that's more an absence rather than an addition to the tangle of possessions that owns us. Whatever the reason, I started cleaning. Among the unlabelled cassettes, boxes and boxes of photographs, and the disconcerting cubic foot of notebooks notebooks notebooks filled with pathetic rantings from my angsty youth, was this dream, recorded on a visit to my mother in Minneapolis a couple of months before she died. I don't know why this fragment among all other fragments caught my eye, but here it is for no reason in particular, the first step perhaps towards redemption from the crapheap.