Beth Dearest phoned me moments ago, from the computer lab at good ol' Parsons School of Deism, where she was sitting next to Mentor Jim. Upon hearing that BD was speaking to me he said to relay the message that I was in big trouble. For what, I queried. For not writing, for not calling came his basso profundo response. For. Having a sabbatical of sorts from all things grad, for having a moment of introspection in lieu of making - a commonplace must in art making, fercrissakes. Meeting up with Good W later today for some party wares as it's the b-days of both Liz and Polly and a party is afoot. Note to self: turn heat up on a more regular basis as the green plants are waning. Note to self: when the mood is of a certain nature keep the soundtrack peppy. Note to self: continue to bother the shit out of Holy Crap why Me Elliott Caplan to work with me as mentor #2, despite his wonderings if this is for money, for furthering of his fame, for coffee comp.

Compensatory Love.

ps: gleaned moments ago from Internet that the veep of this very land has been rushed or taken to hospital once again, for Shortness of breath. But he has a cold, the sniffles, so it may not be Arafat cause for alarm. Whew.