Simplified Hydraulics

What ends up where. Glenn's Drainage, of course, which extends to everything. The quote he left on the napkin pile, one of you asked, was from Gaston Bachelard, "The Psychoanalysis Of Fire", "We have only to speak of an object to think that we are being objective. But, because we chose it in the first place, the object reveals more about us than we do about it." So the show reveals more about the preparators than about the objects that make up the show. I can live with that. Take down the Turning Show tomorrow, "Far From The Tree" and start clearing the space for our show, "Not Far From The Tree". Start hauling sticks to the museum on Saturday, another load on Sunday, meet Kim at the museum. Tomorrow B has agreed to help me solve the stove-pipe mystery, not a mystery, really, as it is clearly a clog of creosote somewhere in the system and must be excised. I don't often need help, but help others enough that I can call in favors. There's a work-station at the museum that's not being used, sort of out in the Carter Gallery, and there's a computer there. Thinking I might start using it, open a working file "Flow Patterns In An Art Museum", keep notes there, immediate notes, might be interesting, interest me, at any rate. As the station is in a gallery, I could record snipits of conversation, museum sound-bites. I could do a survey of everyone at work, work out an average for how much personal business everyone on the staff does in a day, and take that many minutes to write. The janitor should have personal time too, he has a life. Just because he doesn't have a desk doesn't mean he's not a person. What? maybe thirty minutes? I have occasionally written 42 of my single-spaced wrapped lines in thirty minutes. Not often, but it has happened. I could write a large book in a year: "The Janitor's Chronicle", "Behind The Mop", "Everyone's A Critic", "The Curious Case Of The Dirt In The Corner", and I could glance over my right shoulder and see my favorite Carter painting, his Mona Lisa, "Serendipity" at will. It leaks a kind of innocence that screams of sexuality, like dear sweet Emily. I love this painting, I need to write a post about it, that would be in the book. Sara and I had a brief conversation about commas today. I use too many of them, but I'm trying to draw distinction, and commas are a tool, I use whatever is at hand. Decide I'm going to cut back on the commas and leave more up to you, three or four a round and I could be shooting par. You shouldn't have any problem with this (going to HD) because you get me from the start, just another... and I stop there, "just another" and I pause, just another what?... I meant for this to be transparent. Sorry if it's not.