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11 June 1997
Sabine Diptych
I made the original photograph of Sabine a year ago. She thought it was horrible. I wonder if she'll like it better after I repeated it and deleted half. Probably not.

12 June 1997
Scanning Compost Vapors
Phoebe was explaining her nine compartment composting system. One bin was for acidic compost, another for organic waste, and I forgot what the other seven were. (I'm worthless when it comes to that sort of thing: if making boring artwork is my forte, then gardening is my pianissimo.)

I wasn't particularly interested in the compost bins. The vapors, of course, were another story. (Why is there always another story?) I decided to slice the vapors and scan the cross-sections but I never got around to it. That's too bad; the vapors were quite lovely.

13 June 1997
Friday the Fearteenth
Nick said I could probably find a seat on today's flight, and he was right. Here I am on a plane ten kilometers above the ocean with lots of empty seats. Nick said today would be a good day to fly because superstitious people are afraid to fly on Friday the thirteenth. I'm skeptical about the relationship of Friday the thirteenth to anything since I'm not aware of any other relationships such as Tuesday the twentieth, Thursday the third, Friday the thirtieth, et cetera.

I've mentioned this to a lot of people, none of whom are superstitious about Friday the thirteenth. Actually, that's not quite right. Several people associate the day with positive developments. (I'm not sure if that means they're superstitious, positively superstitious, or anti-superstitious.) Julie's the best: she said that since she was born on Friday the thirteenth she was a thirteenophiliac. (Actually, that's not exactly what she said: she used a Latin name I can't remember. I don't know any Latin, ergo the English approximation.)

14 June 1997
Waste to Art and Back Again
John Random and Ed Leeper wrote a letter to the editor of the Coast Weekly describing their recent art work.

    We bought 91 used bicycles and bicycle parts and turned them into a work of art that is an 11-foot by 18-foot framed free-standing jumble of bicycles called "Homage to Henry Miller and Jackson Pollock." Now we are trying to peddle it to the Monterey Peninsula Waste Management District as a public art work called "Recycled."

There's a lot to be said for sending art work directly to waste management officials instead of using the traditional circuitous route. These lads are on to something.

15 June 1997
Running Water After Drinking
Suzie said I could spend the night in the living room or in the studio down the hill. I said I'd prefer the quietness and privacy of the studio. (I didn't mention my phobia about dog oil.) She said that was fine, but that I should remember there wasn't any running water except in the house. I thought it would be polite not to mention that, in my experience, there's always running water after drinking.

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16 June 1997
Sultry Bliss
I saw an ad in a San Francisco newspaper illustrated with a photograph of a headless woman in a bathing suit, long gloves, and high-heeled shoes. In another San Francisco newspaper, a woman placed a similarly uncommon ad:

    SWF seeks young studs for spanking and pie-eating fantasies. Have own butt plug. Bring pets. Willing to be tied up while I hurl watermelons.

San Francisco is a caricature of San Francisco just as Paris is a theme park on the theme of Paris; that's why both cities are so comfortable; knowable, and popular.

17 June 1997
I'm Dead
Bad news: the Gordon Biersch Brewing Company estimates that there are only "14,682 beers in your lifetime."

I am a dead man.

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©1997 David Glenn Rinehart