Blurrrrrrg, sometimes I feel like such a fuck-up.
I'm making a lot of art and drinking less, but still manage to be tardy and forgetful. I just bought a second alarm clock from a Turkish market that is probably a hooka and not an alarm clock at all. I guess I'll know when my morningtime smells of cummin and tobacco.
I would attribute my flakiness to the the whole "artist mythos" thing, feigning Terence Koh-ness and flaunting my otherness, but I think that's bullshit, so I'll attribute it to my Freudian child love; chaos. Which is totally not bullshit.
This morning I brought Nicky O.J. (he's got a case of the sniffles) and watched a video of his performance in this absurdist "trilogy" of dance at the National Kunsthalle or something. It was fascinating. I heart absurd narratives and the dance that accompanies them.
Tonight I'm going to some acting school in F-hain to see my roommate, Lucia, perform her carrot scene. It should be interesting.
I'm also going to re-czech out Troy's show at Capitain-Petzel so that mayhaps I can write a thing or two about it.