Friday, August 03, 2001
It finally begins to rain, the shower smells good, soft summery and earthy. Sleepily, I spend this older hour of the day on the back porch typing away on the keyboard. Coffee and a piece of pie, momentarily, life slows down. Playful banter falls, from above, down a few stories, catch me. It sits in my lap and I type it, my paint covered dirty hands type it and it feels good. Leaving sedimentary elements of stain to peel feels righteous if not surprising. I've sulked long and hard, so many times tripping over myself, seeing complexity where there is only simplicity. Somehow, I now see the prescriptives, I hold a new hermeneutic and for the first time, answers. I relish what (Marguerite) Duras would say 'The film would begin here, now at this moment...just as the light fades', and so it does, as I step back into the house, and l'amour looks something like you.
9:59 PM :

We are the futurists, we are Imagina 2000, see what happens when all goes as planned. Stream videos of art performances and interviews with tech saavy visionaries. Architecture and Urbanism Laboratory's hyperdesign. Flavia Sparacino's MIT wearable computer/perceptual intelligence fashion accessory and interactive media unit. A zen garden designed by a machine and what happens when reality and virtuality collide to form a hyper kooky augmented reality.

2:48 PM :

Thursday, August 02, 2001
Gauguin and Van Gogh's cohabitation was a quarrelsome affair. The severing of Vincent Van Gogh's left ear in an apparent fit of madness may not have been the act of self-mutilation it has always been presumed to be. Instead, Paul Gauguin may have done it. 'Everything we know about what happened is from Gauguin. But Gauguin was an inveterate liar. He was also armed.' Rita Wildegans constructs an alternative theory. Does anyone else find this virtual tour a bit eeire? Aromatics anyone? Green wormwood flavored liqueur? Absinthe? Going going gone!
10:03 AM :

Tuesday, July 31, 2001
'Your future dream is a shopping scheme' screamed the Sex Pistols. Blogdex is wired vox populi. Recently created by Cameron Marlow, 24yr. PhD. candidate at MIT's Media Lab. The dex is a search-engine like crawler that will index the hottest of the hot content of over 9,000 weblogs a day. The most popular content will bubble to the top of the blogdex top 10. I always wanted to be a one man Nielsen Family; Track me, crawl in my pants and see what I'm posting, aggregate my ideas, mine this baby! I post therefore I am? I am what I blog? Sure I like it, I can't help amalgamating content, in fact doesn't it sound like more fun to manipulate that data?

11:19 AM :

Monday, July 30, 2001
I want to be your toy 20th century boy I want to be your toy
I want to be glam fucked on desolation boulevard. A Fox On The Run hypnotized by the majestic sleaze and tease. Picked up by an implicit sexuality, seduced by the 4 on the floor. I walk my walk across the room, all the young dudes stop and stare. Oh all you pretty things, ain't you ever seen a glam warrior before? Faggots and killer queens aim to please spotting chicks, trannies, freaks. Lets take a walk on the seedy side of this runaway town. In the dark your cigarette glows and glitter drops as you give em a New York Dolls kiss and twirl. That's not a mess, that's a menace! Lets stay up and menace this town. Lets live this life on the edge of a knife. Your lip schtick smears and you take a slug of your wine cooler, you're white trash honey bun, but I love you for it. Drive on Miss Cocks, lets have a little music. All The Young Dudes- Mott The Hoople/Bang a Gong- T-Rex/Sweet with Ballroom Blitz and Fox on the Run/ New York Dolls sing Personality Crisis/ Cherry Bombed by the Runaways/ some Alice Cooper, what I cannot say./Queen and my personal favorite T-Rex with 20th Century Boy. Hours later, I smell of aftershave and girls perfume, candy cigarettes and beer. Tonight a sort of girl band kicked my ass.

10:25 AM :

Sunday, July 29, 2001
I'm a thief and a shitkicker and I'd like to be famous!

I often call you Arbus, exchanging a few vowels, arranging the consonants, deleting the proper letters of your name Akron. An economy of prose is in order to vivify a wicked series of imagery. Trust me when I rename you Arbus after the brilliant photographer, you'll like it, it suits you. Don't pretend anymore, you're not Walden and we can shift a few words around, Thoreau won't mind, we can create new travel brochures, you don't have to be Concord any longer: I have traveled a good deal in Akron, and everywhere in shops, offices and factories, the inhabitants have seem to me to be doing penance in a thousand curious ways. a thousand and one curious ways; waiting for John Waters. Stop chanting that Pretender's song, that was before my time, how dare she take an artistic liberty with the word Cuyahoga. While I'm at it, let me indulge in some ultra short term nostalgia for Peggy Sue's, I mean Pegasus, Pittsburgh's finest gay establishment. The Peg attracts a varied lot of gents and freaks awash in a po-mo gay bar interior extravaganza, heavy on the chain link fence. Be on the look out for beefy dark haired working class boys and CMU nerds ready for action. 2 a.m. bar closing might deter the hardcore but a spirited leap across Liberty Ave. will land you in the House of Tilden. A private after hours establishment with a lax door policy, cute and muscular brings free admission. This ripe to be raided establishment is a damn landmark, rumored to be a one time hang out of Andy's (Warhol) and apparently there's a mural somewhere waiting to be restored.
4:47 PM :