Completely forgot to mention that yesterday (2/2/02) goes down in epinw history as being one of thee happiest days of my life. In the midst of transferriing my energy from freelance to artmaking I received a phone call from a guy who works at the nearby mega music venue to ask me if I'd like a photo pass and review tix to see
*!*N*E*I*L***********D*I*A*M*O*N*D*!*this Thursday.
Never speechless, but I approached that state and then said Well I have put in a request for both, so, sure and... you rock.
He said he'll let me know fersher in the next few days.
I hope Neil's concert t-shirt designs have changed from last tour.

And who said that this artmaking racket is all fun & games & kissy-huggy art openings?
Why, last night I encountered (no, he encountered me) the guy who runs the gallery where I'm to be showing in May. Seems he's added a #3 artist and he was saying that he's called me 4x and I never called back. I said, Oh, (blank), that's not true, you called me once last month about something non-show related, I tried to call you back and you don't have an answering machine? On and on this goes until I felt the surge of a FuckYOU! emanating from the soles of my feet but practiced the most intense self-restraint ever. In the car I told a pal about my amazing feat of restraint and later I pondered driving my Outback through the gallery's front windows. My pal said You could tell him it was a performance piece. Does this architectural deconstruction fit into the show's theme of crumbling concrete grain elevators? You bet!