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back in seattle and i don't know what to do with myself. have
been posting stuff on ebay, determined to liquidate a lifetime of obsessive
collecting (it started when i was a child--those coins, baseball cards and
comic books are still with me). /// the clutter is stultifying after having
had so little in my european apartment. /// last night i went to Jason
Puccinelli's
"Dazzle
Camouflage" art opening where i was recruited to model in a
"sexy-wall-street-bomber" diorama--I was a sweaty, strenuous stockbroker,
screaming and gesturing, pure greed
and aggression. /// today was rehearsal for Greg Lundgren's coming play,
"I Am
an Artist," where I portray a slick and cynical sell-out. /// what
do these roles mean? where do they leave me? /// how about drinking 34-oz
beers with jesse p. at
the sloop
discussing the futility of acquisition and then feeding 2 a.m. at
beth's where we doodled
on napkins? /// i overhead the waitress say to a patron just leaving his
table: "...only 2 things I don't lend out--my name and my knife." /// and
that was final. |
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