progress
I really am making it...progress. Despite appearances.
Rules for packing up one's office/studio/make-stuff room:
-- don't look at/through those boxes of old photographs (really, naked pics with the tattoo guy?)
-- don't be distracted by diaries from when you were a tweener (Steph and Mike broke up!!! I hope it's my turn next!!!)
-- fifteen years of W mag might be excessive to keep and pack (and Interview, and Artforum, but totally going to keep those House and Gardens from the 50's)
-- buying any form of paper for the next two years is totally forbidden (my love affair with Kelly is so over)
-- even though you're really proud of those term papers you wrote in the late eighties, maybe don't need to keep them anymore (comparing Friedrich Nietzche and Emily Dickinson, for example) (but how the Prof gushed:"This is really a fine--indeed an elegant--paper. Your close readership of selected passages are extremely perceptive, and you are able to illumine a great deal about each author with such readings. This is my favorite kind of paper. Well done!")
-- don't be distracted by diaries from when you were a tweener (Steph and Mike broke up!!! I hope it's my turn next!!!)
-- fifteen years of W mag might be excessive to keep and pack (and Interview, and Artforum, but totally going to keep those House and Gardens from the 50's)
-- buying any form of paper for the next two years is totally forbidden (my love affair with Kelly is so over)
-- even though you're really proud of those term papers you wrote in the late eighties, maybe don't need to keep them anymore (comparing Friedrich Nietzche and Emily Dickinson, for example) (but how the Prof gushed:"This is really a fine--indeed an elegant--paper. Your close readership of selected passages are extremely perceptive, and you are able to illumine a great deal about each author with such readings. This is my favorite kind of paper. Well done!")
-- etc.
Anyway. Two weeks of a really effing full recycle bin and I'm calling it progress.