300
Confidence in their flesh (and blood).
The purpose is wealth and kindred.
Everyone has stopped working.
"I'd like to be unhappy, but, I really haven't got the time."
"Trying to think of lots of things not to do." repeat ad infinitum.
God is beaming right outside that window.
Bindu Sarovara.
In my forehead.
My soul flies in this huge cavern like a ball of dust.
We artists are pretty self-indulgent.
I am an attentive audience. The bird's subtle virtuosity really makes it.
My body feels heavy against the hard floor.
When I write, I'm not as I should be. At least, those times are well documented.
PROBABLY ANY SOUND WOULD DO SO LONG AS YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN FOLLOW THE OTHER INSTRUCTIONS. IT'S EASIER FOR ME TO HEAR THE OVERTONES, ETC. OF A SUSTAINED SOUND. THAT MAY BE BECAUSE I PLAY CLARINET.
Chad asked a question.
I look out the window and the trees seem to sway with my breath. I think about Adam and Dave being with nature. It doesn't make much difference where I am. The machines seem a part of me too. I finally feel like I'm in a similar state to when I have chanted four hours of Hare Krishna.
Jim had to register for an Art Business seminar. I wonder how he did it without talking.
I had an image of a huge spear going through me and into the concrete behind my back.
By this time, Stockhausen should know what we are doing.
I wonder what John Coltrane would be doing if he still were alive.
Zen and the Art of Shooing Flies.
This warehouse is a spaceship. I just went for a walk in space to pee.
I'll drink my third half cup of juice for the day. That will probably finish off what I have. Maybe someone will bring some more.
The light changes in a beautiful and graceful way.
This ship moves so quickly!
Jim has wakened the dead. So, I finally put my license plates on; a brief appearance of the Mockingbird.
I'm back in the spaceship, one with a maintenance man working in it. Rockets are blasting at hyperwarp. The skylights are blinding.
Chad's resting in Adam's space. I'll bet he's hot. I'll get the fan. It's a little small to go around. Chad's moving closer to it. I think I put it in a good spot for Jim and I'll benefit as well. I'm not too hot on this floor. Chad swept and there's a fog of dust a yard wide and one foot off the ground.
The door is up after Kim came in again. He and Jyl are always coming and going. I wonder if he has an extra beer. He mimed that he only has a six-pack. He's working on his signature for the signs. He had us sign one of his signs.
Jim is having some great successes in finding new sounds.
The mosquitoes took some big chomps this time.
Cars are whizzing by. It must be about five.
Poisoned my feet again. Chad's getting eaten alive.
My mom could live on Coca-Cola. She could.
One of the skylights is much brighter than the others.
Jim's testing his instruments is kind of like having someone practice their scales or tune a piano while you are trying to meditate. I can do it. It's just more of a challenge.
MY INTERN HAS TOTALLY FLAKED OUT. COULD YOU CALL SUNANDA AT KALACHANJI'S ABOUT BRINGING FOOD TO THE BREAKING OF OUR FAST?
The skylights seem like glowing coffins now.
Jim and I had a written conversation about security.
The breeze from the fan strokes my body as I go back.
I feel like a king on this motley bed.
If I were home I'd order a pizza.
Chad and I are sharing the fan. The alone part is falling apart, though our new found intimacy makes us one unit alone and away from the rest of the world. I wish Adam and Dave were here. At least they're here in my thoughts.
Chad's probably got enough mosquito repellent on to keep them off me.
Preaching by being is the only way to fly.
This reminds me of nap time at kindergarten.
A white cat or dog seems to be imitating my laziness across the street.
NO BIG DEAL, BUT, THE LIGHT, COMING AROUND YOUR FRAME REALLY SHOWS HOW THIN YOU'VE BECOME.
IT'S SO WEIRD NOT BEING ABLE TO PLAY.
WELL I GUESS THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STOP THINKING; YOU START PLAYING.
I'LL START IMITATING CHAD, BUT I DON'T DRAW VERY OFTEN. TECHNICALLY, I'M NOT PLAYING.
Kim kept playing but left quietly; like an over-anxious bridegroom. These new toys of Jim's are our brides. The environment dominates now. Jim is sensitive to it while he repairs what we broke; just breaking things left and right. We're too greedy for a hoped for new state of awareness. Now, I almost feel like I'm tripping.
Now I can just listen. I listen like we are surrounded by speakers hearing a tape of our own creation; only in the forehead.
Ah, Lady-Guest of Heaven, my forehead cleaves to you. Undertakings bring misfortune for me.
We're just getting ready to play. It just takes us a long time to set up and we never eat before a performance. Well, we had to "stop and smell the roses."