words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Wednesday, October 09, 2002
I visited the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts again today, with my friend Vincent (listening to Cassius on the way). Japanese architect, Tadao Ando designed the incredible concrete building, which is more impressive than the art, even though there are distinct spaces where the art feels as if the artist designed it for that space. The first stun happens on the waterfront. A small outdoor patio extends between the two lengths of the building but is cut off by a long expanse of shallow water, covering small rocks. The water and concrete form your horizon as a smooth mirror, an unnatural peace. You can sit on the carved stone bench and watch the water ripple a bit, or stare back into the building with windows that on the right only show the feet of visitors walking by. The water looks like it goes on, over the wall, but it stops, level with the concrete border, on the opposite end of the building. Back inside, there is an enormous stairwell decorated by a long rectangle of black and then blue on the opposite wall, directing you downwards, carrying you down the dramatic steps, large enough to be on the outside of a capitol building. My last favorite part of the foundation lies outside, the Richard Serra sculpture of what looks like rusted metal, with an dark orange tint, a leaning spiral, leaning in and out as you walk to the middle, disoriented by the lack of vertical surroundings. In the center, all you can see is the sky, extending from this rusted orange circle. I have long thought of the sky as the largest piece of beauty we commonly know; Serra's structure celebrates that passion. What is life for, but celebrating?
7:50 PM
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