Thursday

Why don't you ask security guard at the Art Museum something? Why don't you ask the janitor at the Art School? Ask them something about art. They've been lookin at art thirty years, cleaning up the residue of art, protecting art from the Booger Hand . . . . ask those in closest proximity to it, day to day - those exposed to it the most - the mutilated freaks hit by the radiation of it.

Then at the end when the floor's buffed nice at closin time, and all the doors are locked, and you run out of questions to ask about art . . . and he puts on some funky beats on his transistor radio, and he breaks out the bottle of 180 Proof Day Softener and starts to unfasten his utility belt - then sisters and brothers - then is when you might learn somethin about art.

Monday

The great thing about blogging is that you get to meet a person's thoughts before you meet the person - that is: if you ever even meet the person, in person. Know what I mean? You just meet their thoughts - those thoughts that are salient enough in their heads for them to key them in. You may never see what they look like, where they live - you might never know about their manner - any of that. It's totally different than meeting somebody in person first. Really - it is purer.

Sunday

my moment may have been the time when I came hauling-ass down 49th Street from campus, on a skateboard, fast as hell in the middle of the night, right past where that Dunkin Donuts used to be, and I went up over that big hump in the road like it was a massive ramp, and I popped an air over that fucker - high and fast - AND on the other side of that hump, was a real, live, drunk, college chick - - and I've just blasted this monster ollie, just a straight ollie - and I am up in the air right before her very eyes - three feet away from her - and my board was about at her chest level, and I'm on top of the board, arms outstretched for balance, flying. And she was loaded - I could tell. And I flew past her, and I landed that shit and kept on gittin it down the street fast as hell - and down the street, when I turned around, she was still standin there watchin me. NOW - I skated on and off in my youth - never was that good at it, played other sports, was better in other sports, did better tricks skating / did worse -you know- that very night there were probably scores of skaters out in Norfolk tearing it up, skaters that were ten times better than me - I think I had just come from a session where this kid was doing this kick flip to nose wheelie to this ledge and then heel flipping off of there - I was nowhere near what this kid could do, worse than some, better than others - I was - I don't know why this particular moment stands out for me, this straight ollie - no flips, no varial, no shove-it or anything to it - not a fancy trick, but kind of high and fast - and for some reason, I have a feeling that I'll never match that level of Absolute Cool ever again. Not that TYPE of cool anyway. And I don't want to. More than ten years ago. What's next? Something, I hope.