Last night I watched Misery, which is a fine film that demands repeat viewings. I just can't get over Kathy Bates' fine nuanced performance. Maybe "nuanced" isn't the right word for a woman whose leg-breaking and zealous reciting of country proverbs bring to mind Pat Robertson or even John Waters' muse, Divine. Maybe awesomely melodramatic is the word. Or just awesome. Or kinda fat. Whatever.
Today, Carling took my installation shots, and I am very excited to have a talented photographer documenting my stuff. She took greats shots of Zimmermans show, and her own photos are really impressive medi-scapes, which I got to see at Southwestern yesterday.
Here is her flickr account:
I bought some cleaning supplies today and a bottle of resolve spilled everywhere, now my life smells spring-fresh.
I also began the massive process of cleaning my studio and filled 12 trash bags full of foam-core, cardboard and other non-nameable refuse. 12. trash. bags. Jesus.
Risa has basically moved out and now I am alone in a semi-furnished house and it is kind of eerie. Luckily, Ms. Sasha Dela is coming to stay sometime this week. She is also including me in some kind of movie, hopefully it's dirty so I can give myself a porn moniker. They say you just have to fuse your first dog's name with your old street name, in which case, mine would be "Dolly Woodride". No joke. Or, if we count my other, older dog, and my other, older street, "Sheba Sir Richard."