Acetate

Third of the four wine tastings falls during set-up for the Wrack Show and I need to get the little books assembled and sewn. D out sick, came in to format the newsletter, looked like shit warmed over, we sent him home (after he'd gotten the newsletter ready for the printer) so I'm on my own. Two qualities of acetate, it is clear and it is slick. I've bound thousands of books, literally, but these are the most difficult I've ever dealt with. Only 36 of them, I keep reminding myself. The booklets are collated and folded, but I need to fold the acetate, first, there is a fingerprint problem, which I solve by wearing white curator gloves, second, the bone folder marks the acetate, so I use my thumb, which works fine, except for losing several layers of skin even through the gloves: it's hard to fold acetate. We're using nice paper but it isn't book paper and is very hard, so I have to punch holes, which is fine, but the acetate slips; finally I punch just the booklet, and poke holes through the acetate with the needle. Consider that a hole is a void and acetate is clear, try to find that hole, visually impossible, I work like a blind man, finding the hole, by feel, with the tip of the needle. To my credit, I get faster, Pegi takes sympathy and threads my needles (the linen thread is too thick, the paper is too hard, pushing the needle through is almost painful, and there is a point, when I'm bringing the thread back through the center hole, that I push the book against my chest, and, of course, I stab myself, twice. Little punctures, and fortunately I'm wearing my black Obama Tee-shirt. Don't get them done until after lunch. Why acetate? Because for the white wine tasting we used white covers, for the red wines we used a red cover, so it seemed correct to use clear covers for the sparkling wines. It's not a cardinal rule, but I seldom reread myself, I remembered getting cut, black-out, last Friday, then sending a longer piece Saturday and Sara mentioned she liked it, so while dinner was heating, I reread it. I like it, it covers some bases. The tenses don't match but it says something. In narrative. Doing and telling are almost at odds, things are present and past, for me, in a very loose way, it's the way I remember, to be able to tell you, later, what I thought I saw. Kim is actually coming, to help with the installation, I still can't believe it, but I send him directions. My stove isn't quite right, I need a consult with B; I build a small fire and damp it under control. Glenn left a napkin, with a quote from Bachelard, on top of the pile: it's still there, I lift it with my left and take a napkin, underneath, with my right. As far as I'm concerned, this napkin will always be on top. Object indeed, what's the fucking subject? His point exactly. I know him, he's weird, but makes points occasionally. I'd want him on my team. If I was choosing. I guess I demand a certain amount of control, this installation will be a test of that, what I need, small change, if I find a penny on my daily rambles I feel lucky, making my nut, balancing things. It's a penny after all. Copper mostly. Recycle. Nickle, fuck me, white metal. They're on top of this, what they mean, what I meant is lost in translation.