MARCH 2024
TUESDAY MARCH 26
I WAKE UP AND GATHER INFORMATION ON WHICH VERSION OF MY SELF I WILL BE CARRYING THAT DAY. MY ASSESSMENT USUALLY FALLS WITHIN ONE OR MORE OF THESE FRAMEWORKS: BRAIN FOGGY OR CLEAR; THOUGHTS POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE, MOTIVATION HIGH OR LOW.
I GET OUT OF BED, TAKE MY VARIOUS SUPPLEMENTS AND MEDICATIONS, STRETCH A BIT. I WASH THE MUG I USED THE NIGHT BEFORE FOR TEA, THEN PUT BOILING WATER AND FRESH LEMON, SOMETIMES GINGER, IN IT.
I SIT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE CORNER OF THE COUCH, WITH AN ARMREST TO THE LEFT THAT HOLDS ALL MY ACTIVE READING AND WRITING MATERIALS. RIGHT NOW, IT HAS TWO ACTIVE JOURNALS, ONE COMPLETE JOURNAL, TWO DAILY MEDITATION BOOKS, A SMALL SKETCHBOOK, MARKERS, MARCUS AURELIUS’ MEDITATIONS, JULIA CAMERON’S THE ARTIST'S WAY WITH A NOTEBOOK FOR TASKS TUCKED INSIDE IT, AND DANIEL EATOCK’S IMPRINT.
I WRITE, USUALLY FOR AROUND AN HOUR. THE CONTENT VARIES, BUT I TRY TO KEEP IT STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND VERY HONEST. I FINISH WHEN I FILL UP THREE PAGES OF MY NOTEBOOK, OR MORE IF I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS I FEEL THE NEED TO WRITE DOWN.
I CHECK THE WEATHER, DRESS APPROPRIATELY, GRAB ONLY MY KEYS, AND WALK THE SAME ROUTE AROUND THE PARK. IF I GET THERE BEFORE 9A, THE DOGS ARE STILL OFF-LEASH. ON GOOD DAYS, I TALK TO MYSELF OUT LOUD OR SING TO MYSELF. SOMETIMES I’LL HAVE BRIEF CONVERSATIONS WITH STRANGERS, OR EXCHANGE JUST A SMILE.
I’M USUALLY SWEATING BY THE TIME I GET HOME, MAINLY BECAUSE I WEAR LAYERS. I SHOWER, JUST A BODY RINSE, THEN PUT ON THE CLOTHES I THINK WILL MATCH THE DAY’S VERSION OF MY SELF.
IF I AM TO COMPLETE THE MORNING ROUTINE, I MAKE BREAKFAST. I GRIND MY COFFEE BEANS AND MAKE A LITTLE LESS THAN A FULL POT OF ESPRESSO. I PUT ROLLED OATS AND ALMOND MILK INTO A POT, LET IT COOK DOWN FOR A WHILE, ADD ABOUT 5 SHAKES OF CINNAMON. I PUT IT INTO A WHITE BOWL, TOP IT WITH HALF A BANANA, AND ALMONDS OR ALMOND BUTTER. I EAT IT AT THE DINING TABLE, IN THE SEAT DIRECTLY FACING WHERE I SAT ON THE COUCH EARLIER IN THE MORNING, WITH A SMALL GREEN SPOON. I DRINK MY COFFEE OUT OF A SMALL CUP I MADE, IN SMALL INCREMENTS, SO IT STAYS HOT.
I GET OUT OF BED, TAKE MY VARIOUS SUPPLEMENTS AND MEDICATIONS, STRETCH A BIT. I WASH THE MUG I USED THE NIGHT BEFORE FOR TEA, THEN PUT BOILING WATER AND FRESH LEMON, SOMETIMES GINGER, IN IT.
I SIT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE CORNER OF THE COUCH, WITH AN ARMREST TO THE LEFT THAT HOLDS ALL MY ACTIVE READING AND WRITING MATERIALS. RIGHT NOW, IT HAS TWO ACTIVE JOURNALS, ONE COMPLETE JOURNAL, TWO DAILY MEDITATION BOOKS, A SMALL SKETCHBOOK, MARKERS, MARCUS AURELIUS’ MEDITATIONS, JULIA CAMERON’S THE ARTIST'S WAY WITH A NOTEBOOK FOR TASKS TUCKED INSIDE IT, AND DANIEL EATOCK’S IMPRINT.
I WRITE, USUALLY FOR AROUND AN HOUR. THE CONTENT VARIES, BUT I TRY TO KEEP IT STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND VERY HONEST. I FINISH WHEN I FILL UP THREE PAGES OF MY NOTEBOOK, OR MORE IF I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS I FEEL THE NEED TO WRITE DOWN.
I CHECK THE WEATHER, DRESS APPROPRIATELY, GRAB ONLY MY KEYS, AND WALK THE SAME ROUTE AROUND THE PARK. IF I GET THERE BEFORE 9A, THE DOGS ARE STILL OFF-LEASH. ON GOOD DAYS, I TALK TO MYSELF OUT LOUD OR SING TO MYSELF. SOMETIMES I’LL HAVE BRIEF CONVERSATIONS WITH STRANGERS, OR EXCHANGE JUST A SMILE.
I’M USUALLY SWEATING BY THE TIME I GET HOME, MAINLY BECAUSE I WEAR LAYERS. I SHOWER, JUST A BODY RINSE, THEN PUT ON THE CLOTHES I THINK WILL MATCH THE DAY’S VERSION OF MY SELF.
IF I AM TO COMPLETE THE MORNING ROUTINE, I MAKE BREAKFAST. I GRIND MY COFFEE BEANS AND MAKE A LITTLE LESS THAN A FULL POT OF ESPRESSO. I PUT ROLLED OATS AND ALMOND MILK INTO A POT, LET IT COOK DOWN FOR A WHILE, ADD ABOUT 5 SHAKES OF CINNAMON. I PUT IT INTO A WHITE BOWL, TOP IT WITH HALF A BANANA, AND ALMONDS OR ALMOND BUTTER. I EAT IT AT THE DINING TABLE, IN THE SEAT DIRECTLY FACING WHERE I SAT ON THE COUCH EARLIER IN THE MORNING, WITH A SMALL GREEN SPOON. I DRINK MY COFFEE OUT OF A SMALL CUP I MADE, IN SMALL INCREMENTS, SO IT STAYS HOT.
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READ MY DIARY
FEBRUARY 19 854A - MARCH 13 754A
PEN ON ACCORDION PAPER, TAPE
281” L X 8” H
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FEBRUARY 19 854A - MARCH 13 754A
PEN ON ACCORDION PAPER, TAPE
281” L X 8” H
“These graphisms are original forms. They are ‘signifiers’ with no ‘signified,’ though that does not mean that they could be described as arbitrary… They serve as support, as ‘empty structure,’ so that the other, the one within, might fill each empty signifier with his own signifieds and build his own story…
I ‘write’ (inscribe) my books, which are perfectly illegible, and that tenuous structure of ‘emptinesses’ is filled when the ‘reader’ comes along; it is not until that point that it could be said that what I ‘write’ constitutes a ‘message’ and the ‘empty signifiers’ signs.”
- Mirtha Dermisache
“The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.”
- Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 1922.
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THURSDAY MARCH 19 1222P
DEATH IN V PARTS
I
II
III
IV
V
I
HOW SMALL CAN I GET (?)
BEFORE I DISAPPEAR (?)
I LOOK AT DIRT
I LOOK AT COFFINS
THE END IS ALWAYS NEAR
(SEE FATE WITHOUT FEAR)
II
EVERYTHING IN TIME
EVERYTHING IN COLOR
TO LIVE, TO LEAVE
TO NEVER HAVE ANOTHER
III
DID IT SO IT’S DONE
NOW IS IN THE PAST
TOO CLOSE TO THE END
AFRAID WE CAN’T GO BACK
IV
DON’T / WON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS
UNTIL IT HAPPENS
DON’T / WON’T KNOW WHAT WE HAVE
UNTIL IT’S TRAGIC
V
I HAD TOO MUCH TO THINK TODAY
I FORGET TO REMEMBER
THEY NEVER STOP COMING
MAYBE SEE YOU TOMORROW
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