July 4, 2014
I arrived shortly before nine, excited to set up my lab. I wanted to read 2 new writings.
Two rolls of fabric lay on the length of the gallery floor. One red, one blue. Micah was intently stamping them with the Kia logo. Blotting the cloth through cardboard stencils with a sponge soaked with white paint.
I decided that I could work in the small corner on the other side. I placed a single black chair in front of the naked black wall and set up to film. Everything was in place, but I could not do my reading. I was checking on the bookstore also a friend had come to 'catch up'.
I realized that the instability of my life had permeated the LAB.
I set up in the bookstore instead. My attention was still divided but at least concentrated in a single space.
My friend would man the camera and flip. I would read. Bashfully.
My friends rarely see me in a creative place.
When I finished I felt relief cooling the heat behind my ears. I have yet to overcome the fear of exhibition. It is easy to do virtually. Safe. Sterile.
Even as I was writing this, I had to drop everything to take my grandmother to the hospital. She was 'groaning and moaning on the floor' the messenger said. 'They were trying to call you.'
I could not find my phone.
Outside a young man is tapping on the glass, he wants to sell me cold panades and dreams.
All I could think is that my life is so unstable and I wish I had submitted a stronger piece to the LAB.