my body is becoming segmented and wiry. i carry great loads on my back that would crush lesser insects. kafka has nothing on me. i believe i am turning into an ant. a large black worker ant that moves about fast and furious. into the taxi i crawl, my many legs vacuuming, checking fluids, opening doors, tossing in ski's and luggage. suddenly i am becoming gregarious and able hold conversation with a van load of strangers.
that's about all I'm doing. driving. i can see i am going to have to totally re-adjust to my life as i know it. if i wait for the time to make art again i probably wont for years so i'm forcing myself to go into the basement when i think i might have a free hour. the phone rings alot and i have to be ready to leave NOW. not good when you are adorned with ear/eye/mouth masks and drilling or cutting something. tod is out of town and i was hoping for time and space but once again more people are staying at the house and there is an obvious gap at work with tod being gone. all i can do is look up at the big ball of chaotic fusion and let it crush me. get it over with and keep moving on. i've never been so happy to make so little in all of my life. i have grocery money now, although little time to go and buy food let alone make it or ingest it. i have become and ant. two newly grown antennae manages to get me to all the unknown destinations that i am told to drive to. i have become subservient and useful in the eyes of society.