At both liquid, where I currently work, and CTNY, where I used to, I haven't had a proper desk. I have, instead, a door. Yep. An unfinished wooden door. At CTNY it was held up by two filing cabinets, and here the door is on sawhorses. It must be a NYC internet company thing. I kinda like it. I think I'm going to replace my proper desk back at home in Williamsburg with a door soon. Nice and minimalist I think.

Erm so yes. I got blueprints today. I'm making a sculpture and I needed some blueprints for it and believe you me, tracking down blueprints is no easy task, even in a city like this. I had to call roughly 30,000 people before I found out where to look even. But today my labors paid off, and in abundance: the blueprints I managed to aquire weigh about 12 tons. I have no idea why architects everywhere aren't walking around in back braces; just getting myself from uptown to liquid with that shit nearly destroyed what makes for my spines' curvature.

So anyway yeah, I needed blueprints for a sculpture. In asking people if they knew where I could get some blueprints they would almost unilaterally ask me why I wanted them, and I would then have to tell them that it was for a sculpture, which I hated doing because I can't stand people who shoot off their mouths about their artwork or whatever and never actually produce anything, and so I am loath to talk about that shit (except here of course, cuz no one whatsoever reads this). Yeah. Anyway so I'd tell 'em, it's for a sculpture, and the truly annoying part about all of these discussions was that the person I'd be talking to would ALWAYS, as in completely without exception, ask me if it was for a school project. Even though a good many of these people were aware of the fact that I am out of school. As if doing art just cuz you wanna was somehow against the natural order of things.

Well you know what I say to that? BLAGH. that's what I say. Yeah.

On a related note, my old online journal was titled 'rants', the reason being I would very frequently get relentless on some meager point, as per the above few paragraphs. I am far more happy with this title, 'eat shit' as that's exactly what I can tell myself to do when I go on these irate little textual spazzes.

Geez. Even though no one reads this it's so fun to pretend that there is a reader, out there, bent over their glowing screen in the dark, perusing the page. Walter Ong wrote an essay about how just as a writer fictionalizes their reader in their mind, they also create a fictionalized writer to write to the fictionalized reader. I haven't actually read this essay so I can't really explain that shit but it does sound terribly fascinating. Erm yeah. At least to me. Maybe not to you. Whatever. Just fuck off.

No no no... just EAT SHIT. Yeah. There we go. Rock.

-fish