2004-05-05 - 7:06 a.m.
Hewn from the very earth my basement was born. Sweat and toil from nameless laborors 106 years ago. If they had even the slightest inkling that it would now be the eccentric cave of an individual whom almost redifines individualism, a man so twisted and obtuse that any semblance of normalcy is lost by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, they may re-consider those ancient, rash shovel stabs.
I spent a long time down there last night. Tweaking my colored lights, adjusting sculptures, placing crazy little tit bits of wierdness here and there for the unsuspecting visitor to bemuse themselves upon.
I imagine that any one visiting or doing work in the house would instantly say " Wow, your son really has gone to town down here hasn't he!?" To which my reply would have to be " YOU BURN IN HELL, DIE DIE DIE AND BURN YOU.... Oh, wait sorry, I mean, um, actually, um, it's errrr, it's me that did this. he he"
I have finally and finitely defined my status as a 17 year old trapped in a 32 year olds body by expelling my creative juices in this room. I feel like I have unleashed something inside that may or may not actually need to be unleashed. Fear not. As soon as I deem it moistureless enough for my instruments, then and only then will my life be complete. I will have my studio. ALthough it will still be lacking the 250,000 dollars worth of analog and digital machines neededd for true artistic freedom, I will suffice. I will conquor. I will drink beer.
I have to thank my Delicious, she must cringe at how to explain our basement to family and friends alike. Well, most of the house actually is permeated by pieces of my estranged mind. My art, by definition, is odd. I am on a mission to explain, through many media, a "happy inward fear". My delicious she loves me totally. And I her. We have Ying and Yang out the WAZZOO. I am "crazy - sensible" and she is "sensible - crazy". a see-saw of harmony.
anyway, enough.
I must grind coffee beans. delicately dripulate hot water through them and then refine the collected water in a small paper cup, shrouded in yet another paper cup to prevent burns. Congregate 4 sachets of sugar (YES, I PRONOUNCE THE T IN SACHETS) and pour them, anticlockwise, into the black liquid. Stir the evolving brew and pour in the milky milk milk. Watch intently as (and I quote a passage from Neal Stephenson's Diamond Age) "the milk ricochettes off the surface in a turbulent fractal bloom".
Don't think I've ever quoted anyone before.
Hope my spelling is not too bad.
I have not the energy to spell check.
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