Fragments of A Dream
Today was an official spring day. The weather was temperate, the pollen count high, the sun not setting just yet before I entered the bus tunnel to take this whimsical photo. If birds were contracted to start singing, they probably would have, but due to noise ordinances, they can only play in certain stadiums before the hours of dusk and shortly after 7pm.
I was checking out the Whitney and wanting to see it when I get to NY, along w/Matthew Barney at the Gugg, and a score of other museums that I must see. So much to do, so little time. I also have to do taxes this weekend. Ugh. I have scads of other activity this and next week. Seems like there is a rush and blur about April - which is good. I need rush and blur right now. I don't need time to deliberate and agonize. Typically, April is the cruelest month, so sayeth Eliot:
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
I guess winter does keep us in a drunken oblivion, but then again - which month doesn't? April seems to be the month where you're working your ass off in a general direction. Let's hope the direction is going somewhere... In the meantime - have you ever created a Date Tape?, can you guess which one is mine?
