I receive intermittent video text messages on the subject of validation, desire and separation. These take the form of short skits.

*

Conference participants are installed like Hollywood Squares in the wall. I can’t see or hear from my position at the base of the wall, looking up. If I had a seat in the stands I could.

*

We walk through a yard of smokestacks until we reach the cave where all the art materials are stored. We’re prying art materials up from the ground and he panics, “we’ve been in here too long.” The art materials are radioactive.

He likes me.

*

I’m in a pink tiled bathroom with a low ceiling and someone calls out an earthquake is coming, and oh also by the way, the last two women who were in this specific bathroom during an earthquake had to be removed with some kind of machinery, I’d better hurry up in there –

*

I enter and re-enter the classroom crawling on my stomach.


*

Everything is reported in the report of an unreportable dream. (a la, “when your arms are too weary”, I mean, this blog post sung to the tune of “Impossible Dream” from the Man of La Mancha.)


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“Everyone should try to make a chart of his weariness: at what moment, under what circumstances, am I ‘a tire that deflates,’ with on top of it the feeling that, if this is the case, I will deflate indefinitely?” (Barthes, The Neutral)