I’m at Barnes and Noble Café drinking the bottom of a frappuccino and feeling super jazzed. That sound and that feeling! The cafè is also where Oprah has a print shop/water cave. I had all these photos that I had printed on a big roll at the back of a dollar store “in the ghetto” (google maps), but when I saw the Oprah Water Cave, I threw my big plastic bag asunder and jumped in the water. It was a relief to swim as always, and I am happy. Tiny was eating cookies the size of her palm, but they were too small, they are usually the size of bigger palms. Tiny’s mom rolls her eyes and talks about shopping. While I was swimming my print roll got wet, and the ink started bleeding, and I think, damn I am a blue ribbon idiot.
But at the same time, I got excited about how it looked, especially the black ink separation, the way the paint falls easily off the pastiche in the water it’s the best.
I mean pastiche is plastic, it falls off the plastic in my hands. It’s the best. And my finger is a horizontal weight pushing downwards, and that’s a diagram of life.
I describe my plans to David at the gay ball and he uses his hands in the air distractedly saying “fabulous” and the general feeling of waiting/being in line.
Are we alike or not? by David Salkin
There was an old Indian that lived in a brown long house. There was an old Indian that lived in a black hogan, and one that lived in an orange wigwam. They all wore soft moccasins. They all had the same pattern on their blanket. They all had the same things except houses. They had the same black quartz arrowheads and the same dependable stallions. One day one man found a buffalo footprint on the ground. One found a broken cradle, and one found a piece of pottery. Then one Indian said, ‘We’re different in two ways now.’ From that day on they were happy. Except for one thing one Indian said. ‘We’re different in three ways. I’m a girl.’”
-1993
But then I fake wake up and it’s not Friday and I find 3 hot sandwiches on a lower open drawer in my old room in my parents house and I’m like oh these sandwiches! They are so hot and soft and perfect! And three different flavors of sandwich too! And the first bite is wonderful, and I sing the flavor song and I wonder how’d this drawer get such perfectly hot sandwiches in it, I haven’t been here in weeks! And then the next bites of the other sandwiches have too many pickled peppers in them, like it seems a lazy amount, and I can’t find the first flavor sandwich song again, like maybe I missed my chance, and thats why they are there, and that’s what they are teaching me.
And it makes the trio of hot sandwiches their presence more sinister, like a prophecy.
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until 18 July 2014
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Above and below – Mouth, 2014
Baby, 2014
Sand right outside my door, 2014
Guano, 2014
If these walls could talk 2, 2014
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