Well, ladies and gentlemen, things out here in Redford have been going well; if it doesn't bother too many gramatical wizards using "well" at the beginning and ending of a sentence. You'll probably tell me I should have used parenthesis on that last part aswell, but, no matter, as my eldest brother always says, in his hardest strike at sarcasm, "Care".
Once the heat barrier is adequatly adapted to, and the body and mind overcome the lack of sleep incurred by this ruthless environment, ideas and aspirations of the mind begin to function with more clarity and focus. The realization that this sort of condition, this time to art alone is exactly what I've been working towards yet unable to grasp again for at least the last three years. When one finds the perfect drug of life, the human mind and the action, the belief is that the "high", the action, can be sustained without interuption. This is the concept of some utopian ideologies. However, the universe is flawed, and I with it; therefore, a sustained homeostatic relationship with my art or anything of this earth for that matter, is hereby unattainable. What a great weight this understanding removes from my shoulders! And a lesson in the growth of art, in living, in the human experience. That nothing on or of this earth should dominate our existence.
The Actual Blog Entry
Our apartment studios here in Redford have individual butane canisters which set about 20 yards away from each apartment. I think that all the hot water heaters run off electricity but the stove top ovens are gas powered, which always makes for a better oven, in my opinion. The fifteenth of July marked my one month aniversary of coming out to the desert and since that time I have been able to keep my kitchen relatively clean and free of ant infestations. However, in the last couple of days, my neighbor to the south has run out of natural gas in his canister (Chicken George) and has come over to cook on my stove every once in awhile. It seems tonight, he has brought his legion of ants with him. They are like his soldier ants. A mighty chicken king with many slaves who follow wherever he goes to simply clean up after him. Trouble is, he left them over in my kitchen, and they are after whet ever secret ingredients he uses in his recipes. No worries. I find it a bit comical.
As for my other doings, heres the latest video about the natural spirit of the desert and the great pains it delivers upon the art makers who choose to fall into her snare. Enjoy.
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