Confused

Sent a posting out of order, from Friday or Saturday I think. Consider it a flashback. Good hung up, somehow, in the Send mode. Finished installing the high school show. Struck again with how difficult it is to hang pieces that are exactly the same size. One of the measurements comes from the floor, and floors are always uneven. I just get the centering correct and adjust the height by eye. My tolerance level is under a quarter of an inch for high school art, an eight of an inch anything more serious. I use broken off wooden matches in the nail holes to make very fine adjustments. At a certain level, you shoot for perfection, knowing it is impossible. TR said today, and I knew it was coming, I thought about it this past weekend, that he needs to hear Linda reciting some of Emily's poems, to find the key and the cadence. So I'll call her tomorrow, on the museum's dime, request some recitation. I don't know how to handle the letters yet, I've been thinking about it. In two or three cases, I'm thinking a voice-over, while Emily is shuffling papers or something. Or maybe it could a guy, not unlike the janitor, walking down the aisle, passing out free beers, and reciting Higginson's letter to his wife after his first visit with Emily. A great letter, it could provide a spring- board into the second half of the program. TR needs to shift into a looser mode. I see this as a jazz riff, not a classical composition. Notes struck where the hyphens appear. I could do this, if I knew a goddamn thing about music, with two tin cans and a stick. Emily goes African, or Emily goes Asian, or she sticks close to home, and reports the world according to Calvin. That fucking door is so peppered with holes it's like an entry into another dimension. Doing a double back-spring off the three meter board, I can dive with the best of them. I could, I'm very good at this. But is it even relevant? If my ex-wife fucked everyone she could, it's still a finite number. What I'm looking for, is an algorithm, something that would allow some insight, Everything is suspect. What I tend to believe.