Today I will fly to Austin, Texas for a tiny vacation and to visit one of my favorite women. Until this moment I’ve been anxious to do anything aside from work on this project and am as excited as a child to have time away. A novice at most of these processes, I’ve been in a constant state of frantic obsession leaving phones in cars and house keys locked inside. Looking at these photos I took yesterday before leaving the studio, I am slowly finding myself at peace and in love.
I hold each paper in my hands, find the location of the block, and the shape of it. I scan it mechanically and then visually for the most informative rectangle, of sentences or sections of paragraphs with a rhythm apparent. Like “the brutal puncture wounds an’t find a parking space fo culprit” “Becoming a Doshinji monk” “Meter was fast or broken” “NUMBERS 920, STR, 1.00″ ” “a lot for your understand my friend” “The White Clinton is” “Small ground finch” These sometimes mysterious fragments from a whole are tiny representatives of infinite numbers of narratives. The pissed parallel parker, the tiny student, the graphic designer, the construction worker, the errand runner, the small business owner, all roles shifted as quickly as the moment passed.
In November, I will move to Brooklyn indefinitely until completion. Once settled, this work will be just a part of my weekly routine and not some crazed month of walking. I will be an east coaster again, a California ex–pat, a trash collector- and always, obsessively, a cartographer.
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