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[ 4TH OF MAY 2007]

the more time i spend in art school, the more i doubt the existance of art.

woman traveler on side of road, sign reads: "traveling. broke and hungry. anything helps."
i stop and say: "want some plums? i steal them from the dinning hall"
we smile and the world is smaller.
caryn later notes: "good think you always carry produce in your purse"

a man in art gallery notices my 'peace' purse: "nice bag" he says
me: "thanks, i got it at a march in dc"
man: "good job" he replies
ive impressed the locals with my bohemian ways

i buy a 'how to make a good impression at a bar' self help book at a used book store. i take a picture of the musty old aisles. ill shoot my movie here, it feels french.

there are only a finite number of personalities in the world. they are getting easier to identify.

during a scuffle on the subway, a man holds the beeping doors open as he begs a woman for her name, grasping his heart. she gives it to him, he inclines slightly and backs away. i see a glow on her face. the kind of glow only other women can recognize.

i found myself in an art gallery. all that is on the walls are huge back circles. the entire gallery. stepping back, i realize how silly we all look, as we seriously observe this roomful of huge black circles. but shockingly, i find myself not totally appalled. more concern for art ensues.

a panhandler on the street sees my dylan t-shirt and plays me a bob dylan song. i sing along. he has the words wrong.

that is all.