Spontaneous Eruption

That Mega-Volcano under Yellowstone, whatever turned the Mississippi backwards, the sand-flats still belching. Look at this from an overhead vantage. GPS, all that, the calming female voice telling you to turn right. How far along are you willing to go? I turn left, as a matter of course. A sore spot I try to make actual. Here's a thought, what if everything you see is in a mirror. Backwards. But you don't know that, you think it's forwards. Beating against the wind. You can't even pee off the poop deck, because it flies back in your face. Reduced to a kind of nausea you might experience on a fun-house ride. Or, again, you're standing on the banks of the mighty Ohio; it's flowing at a goodly rate, a million cubic feet per second, four knots, you figure, using an algorithm that is probably incorrect; and notice a backwater, an eddy, where the water is flowing upstream. There's an half-assed jetty, poking out into the river, and it takes part of the energy and turns it back on itself. I don't understand fluid dynamics, but I can see. Kim and I talked about theater, how it was the best possible education. do a couple of seasons of summer stock, at a really high level, and you'll never again doubt what's possible. Working with Herb and Helen, it was never a question of whether, it was only how. With that particular team, in that place, at that time, we could do anything. It was years later that I realized how good we had been. For a few years in there, we were probably the best. The impossible was merely a difficult thing, no sweat. Like when Herbert requested we destroy Troy and reassemble the whole damned thing for another performance the next night. Impossible, on the face of it, but if you break it down into discreet units, it might be done. You have to remember, we were the best. We could take a sheet of plywood and turn it into the birth of the universe. Herbert would make these drawings, on waste scrapes of upson board. They were exquisite. We'd do whatever it was that needed to be done. Not a problem. The difficult was merely a hurdle. Simply lift your foot a little higher. Nothing was too extreme. Finally back to sleep. Lovely drive in this morning, but already warm. I remove the rest of the hardware and the walls look like Swiss cheese. Spend hours patching. Days of painting ahead. Mindless work, and my brain is mindlessly firing. A delightful flippancy of questions and answers. Psychotic art is always subjective. Jordan, at the pub is slightly outree and subtly wanton. An aedicule is the niche in Roman houses, from which the lares and penates watched over the place. Anamorphosis is a distorted projection. Haphomets are grotesque stone figures covered with symbols of the sun and moon. Camel hair is completely unsuitable to make brushes, camel hair brushes are usually made with squirrel hair. German word for the day: Gesamtkunstwerk, which is the idea that certain universal characteristics transcend time and place, and are common to all works of art. I'm not sure I buy this. But I think about it. Regardant, in heraldry, is looking backwards. A sallyport was an entrance to a castle from which defenders could rush out on their attackers. The main gallery is on the ground floor and I take my breaks in the library; a normal day for me, I look up a dozen things, one place or another, in the museum library, or upstairs, where there's a pretty good dictionary, or after I get home, where dictionaries seem to be breeding. Still 90 degrees at eight o'clock but I finally get the house cooled down to 82 and can turn on my computer. Now it's 81, a couple of hours later, and stripped down to a threadbare sleeveless tee-shirt and my boxer shorts, I'm really quite comfortable. Kim was comfortable at 83, but he's from north Florida. Comfort is just a matter of a few degrees. Another check, on the positive side, for tree-tip pits. A few feet down the temperature is quite stable. In winter you might have to run one incandescent bulb to heat the place, in summer you would accept the relative cool. You could grow greens on the roof. Think about it. I've built several of these houses and they work just fine. We should all live underground, but we still have that cave image in front of us, and we want to be out in the open, to see the stars or whatever. I live above ground and have 27 windows. My house is impossible to heat and impossible to cool, but I like the views. I'm not willing to compromise anything, what I see is what I get. I like it that way. An implied connection. What do you mean, exactly.