they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
an enormous amount of space: humanized + 1/17/04 = 11:41 p.m.
* in spain with the boy from norway, circa 1999. august. madrid. it was dastardly hot outside and we spent all day listlessly making our way from the crazy hosteria we had left our bags at and the Buen Retiro Park. we sat on the stone ledge of a fountain for hours unable to move. we sat on a park bench forever while j. tried to figure out how to score something. we stayed in Museo Nacional Reina Sofia for h o u r s trying to escape the 102 degrees. We spent an inordinate amount of time in front of Guernica. anyway, still nothing like our extended stay at the Moma this past saturday. so cold outside and we got to skip the long line due to membership pass. we spent hrs+ staring at the architecture alone. odd moments when my mother's illness strikes me as fact and not fiction. stood in front of jasper john's Diver for twenty minutes just overwhelmed by the idea that she isn't ever going to be able to be present in my life... something about the handprints/lines by hart crane/dark surface and i didn't think i was going to recover from the sight of it... "Diver', 1962-63, a charcoal drawing mounted on canvas which has foot-prints on the top and hand-prints at the centre and bottom (looking like a skull), it takes the viewer to the depths of the self-diving to death. It is said to pay homage to the poet Hart Crane, who dived to his death from a ship."
all the trains coming at the right time but everything feels off and its too cold in the subway stations anyway.
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