One of the things I believe is that you cannot have too many mirrors. You can have too few mirrors.
They make a room look bigger. They’re good to make love in front of. They’re good if you suffer from narcissism. A lot of the Symbolist artists painted women gazing into mirrors or pools of water. As though they were making love to themselves, as though women were only weightless, symbolic, spiritual creatures trapped within an ouroboric cycle of existence and meaning, merely mirroring nature, self-absorbed, self-obsessed. Trying in vain to understand their inherent mystery. AS WE DO. I have a lot of old mirrors and some are so heavy you can’t hang them on a wall; you just have to lean them against things. One has a cream Bakelite frame, one has a faux gilt gold frame, one has a unicorn etched on it, one is a full length mirror. I have too few mirrors.
I smoked my first WHOLE cigarette last night. Usually I am with artists all the time who are broke and too cheap to buy their own cigarettes and everyone just bums cigarettes off each other constantly, but I was with G and I asked for an entire cig all my own and I smoked it so fast. It’s so glamorous when girls smoke. I know it’s bad though so I’ll stop. Everyone smokes right now though.
Have you heard of Bas Jan Ader? You would love him. As a performance piece he got on a 13-foot boat by himself to sail around the world, to see if he could do it, to achieve this great, Romantic feat. It was 1975 and he got lost at sea, somewhere in the Atlantic. He’s like the Amelia Earhart of the art world. The performance was called “In Search of the Miraculous”.
This is I’m too sad to tell you.
What are you doing? Can you tell I’m bored? I just ate more cherry jam and diet mt dew for breakfast.