Stare.
 
2004 Notebook: Weak II
 
   
gratuitous image
9 January 2004
No. 3,919 (cartoon)
I can’t go on.

No one asked you to.

10 January 2004
Poor Diane
I didn’t think much of the Diane Arbus show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern [sic] Art. I’m not sure if it was Arbus’s work, or just the way museums make every artist’s work smell like rancid trout suffering in purgatory. Or, perhaps, salmon.

Having said that, I did appreciate the fake darkroom the curators installed in the exhibit. Dead technologies and dead institutions belong together; that’s amore!

11 January 2004
Learning To Forget
Some Stanford researchers have concluded that people can learn to forget. I don’t know why this is, but these studies never tell me anything I didn’t already know.

I forget very well. I’m such a reasonably happy person because I forgot most of the horrible things that have happened to me. I savor all the wonderful experiences I’ve had, and only remember my myriad mistakes to the degree necessary to not repeat them.

Here’s drinking to remembering and forgetting, not necessarily in that order.

12 January 2004
On Modesty
Randolph told me he appreciated my modesty.

“Thanks,” I replied. “I do try to be self-effacing.”

“I shouldn’t think that you’d have to try terribly hard,” Randolph replied, “given the greatness of your accomplishments.”

I didn’t know now to respond, so I said nothing.

13 January 2004
Possession
I rarely make art that’s not infinitely reproducible. That allows me to give away everything I’ve ever done yet keep all my work. As a result, I’ve almost forgotten how precious physical possessions can be.

And so it was that I was grateful to Aaron for passing along this inscription he came across in a Spanish monastery.

“For him that steals, or borrows and returns not, a book from its owner, let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck with palsy; and all his members blasted. Let him languish in pain crying aloud for mercy, and let there be no end to his agony till he sing in dissolution. Let bookworms gnaw at his entrails in token of the Worm that dieth not. And when at last he goes to his final punishment, let the flames of Hell consume him forever.”

Possession always brings out the worst in people.

14 January 2004
Unstable of Artists
Shannon suggested that I contact the art dealer who represents her. She said I’d probably do well in “the dealer’s stable of artists.”

I didn’t take her suggestion seriously. After all “a stable of artists” sounds like an oxymoron. I shall happily remain in my unstable of artists; that’s home for me.

15 January 2004
The One Tray Rule
Vincent recently broke the one tray rule. In his defense, not that he deserves one, he may not have heard of the one tray rule.

The one tray rule dates from the old days when people used slide projectors instead of computers. One tray held eighty transparencies, enough to always bore almost everyone.

In these digital days, the physical restraints of the slide projector are irrelevant. And that’s a problem for idiots like Vincent, who don’t realize that more than eighty images of any one thing are just too damn many.

Although I don’t miss most of the analog world, the one tray rule needs to be observed, with or without trays.

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©2004 David Glenn Rinehart