Der Show

Before I forget. I have to write before I forget. The days are sliding together, into one another, museum tectonics. We hung 44 paintings today, a personal best, 28 to hang tomorrow and the 3D stuff to set, pedestals to repaint, plexi bonnets to clean, wall patches to finish, a ceiling repair, 94 labels to dry-mount and cut, vinyl signage to apply, THEN janitor stuff and set up for the party, lighting, remove our tools and hanging hardware (since the advent of the Job-Box, on a dolly, this is a much easier task, though requires half-a-day in the basement, sorting things out). The show is going to pop when we get it lit, it's good, a solid show, having a smoke with Sara, just before closing time, we agreed, it is a strong show. I was a little confused when I got to work today, because the message seemed to be that we needed to clean up after the carpet layers. God, I haven't even mentioned the carpet-layers, during the last three days all of the carpet in the museum is being replaced, fucking zoo, really too much going on, but it is the end of the fiscal year and the carpet, in traffic zones (desire paths) was awful. I kept after it, as well as I could, but I entered the scene too late in the carpet cycle to effect any change. I'm not 100% satisfied with the carpet job, but wonder if I'm being too picky. I tend to be really picky about work I'm doing for someone else, bust my chops (my personal surrounding, my house, where I live, I tend to let things slide, I know I could finish most of those projects, I easily do it for other people, for pay). Where was I, right, then Sara arrived and asked what I was doing, and I said, you know, cleaning, and she said -but you've got a show to hang- and I realized I had interpreted a sequence of events in the real world incorrectly. What D and I have to do (I was sure of this from the git-go) is hang the show, somebody else can vacuum, though they won't do a very good job, and I'll have to vacuum after them. There are standards, after all. Ran out of paper, I had made a note, but I never got around to reading the note. Was actually in Kroger and forgot. I need to print out hard copy, need to read it before I start writing the next day, it's a habit, and I find some sheets in the First filing cabinet, that are only printed on one side and we could reuse them, sure; I like making a record where I can, it helps, talking to you, still, it's difficult.

Tom

Three crows and the fox,
frog eggs to tads,
fucking tracks.

Carma is killing me here, like Nadal on clay. The only place he can beat that other guy. It's a small ball, they volley, when I get confused I ask someone. I've never been that proud, that I would stay lost. I always ask directions. What the game is, how big is the ball, these are central issues, my wrack self responses a certain way, where does the floating shit fit in? Love, listen, better you should invent the fox, than I should keep time.

Tom, finis.