IN THE REIGN OF THE IMAGINATION THERE ARE NO YOUNG FORESTS

color portrait

WHITE

CHEESECLOTH

LARGE THIGHS

LAYING DOWN SOMETHING ONCE FOLDED AND SMOOTHING IT WITH THE HAND

i do not want to write my german paper. i do not want to write my german paper. i do not want to write my german paper. 

herr schulte simply could not be evaded. nearly every day at a quarter past eleven he rang the bell downstairs and burst past else as soon as she had cracked the door, exclaiming that it was completely unnecessary to announce him, that we were close friends, that he'd just head right on up. then he'd bound into my room without knocking, pulling at his hair and grinning in the morning light, arms akimbo as he caught me once again at some unpleasant task. 

i have not decided yet what this blog is to be about, whether it be a particular theme, some attempt at self representation, or in the same rickety boat, some attempt at self concealment... or self production? i just read my dear friend parker's blog for the first time and think that maybe it is precisely his eloquent, gestural style and keen insights into the perplexing perplexities of our world and the condition of man that have rightly inspired me to pursue a higher form of expression: that is, to blog. and blog i will. about...something.