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Weak XXV|

26 June 2019

No. 3,255 (cartoon)

Some things can’t be expressed in words.

For example?

27 June 2019

Nondescript Undefined

Evelyn gave me a succinct, three-character critique of Alexia’s show: bad.

“How bad was it?” I asked.

“It was just a dog’s breakfast of nondescript crap,” she replied.

“Example, please?” I continued.

“If I described it, then it wouldn’t be nondescript, would it?” she explained.

I haven’t had enough coffee to think about whether or not nondescript is a description, so it’s time to head to the espresso machine ...

28 June 2019

More Fun Than Athlete’s Foot!

One of the few things Hubert and I have in common is that we’re both very cheap, er, parsimonious. That’s why I couldn’t understand why he paid for gas and water to shower at home instead of doing the same thing for free at the gym.

He explained that athlete’s foot is a silent killer. No, he did not say that, but he did strongly suggest that might be the case. Perhaps athlete’s foot is a silent annoyer—it never killed anyone—but that’s not nearly dramatic enough for Hubert.

I’m glad he told me about his phobia; he’s going to regret it since he frequently complains about being on the verge of being bankrupt and homeless. When he does, I’ll remind him that he’s rich enough that he can afford to pass up free showers. This should be even more fun than athlete’s foot!

29 June 2019

Withered Shrubbery?

“The weather’s nice today!” Toni chirped.

“Maybe,” I grumbled, “but I’m under it.”

“You should drink more water and spend more time in the sun, not in your dark cave of a studio,” she advised.

“That’s what you said when I sprained my ankle,” I replied.

“Of course it’s the same,” she agreed, “you’re essentially just a withered shrubbery with a messed up mind.”

I was unnerved when that made a modicum of sense. I wonder if my brain might really be that scrambled?

30 June 2019

Rainier Ale Muscle

I noticed lots of large, white flakes on the floor of my studio. It looked like a mountain gorilla with terminal dandruff lived here, but I’m the only ape on the premises. It didn’t take much of an investigation to discover the source: P Is For Paint, a piece I made a couple of years ago with paintballs. The cheap paint was disintegrating. I wonder if I can buy archival paintballs?

I was satisfied with my photographic documentation, so I didn’t hesitate to consign the decaying original to the trash. I decided to also get rid of other prints I’d made with a steamroller: Heinz 57 (2013) and Twelve Rainier Ale Cans Approaching Infrathin (2013).

I couldn’t do it.

I was glad to be rid of the flaky paint, and didn’t mind dumping the flattened ketchup packets; they’re freely available. I balked when I came to Rainier Ale cans, though; the company stopped minting them over three years ago, sigh ...

Twelve Rainier Ale Cans Approaching Infrathin is still in my collection; there’s only so much conceptual fat I can trim without cutting a muscle.

1 July 2019

Out of the Archive

I’ve been the artist in residence in residence at the Internet Archive for exactly seven years, and that’s enough time to remain at one conceptual and literal address. I just promoted myself to artist in residence in residence emeritus, and I’m outta here and headed to someplace where the Internet doesn’t shine.

I’m not sure where I’m going, but I’ll recognize it when I get there. I’m taking next week off and using reruns for filler; don’t say I didn’t warn you ...

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©2019 David Glenn Rinehart