Sunday, July 25, 2004

Just a couple of minutes ago I was sitting in front of my easel, putting light blue paint onto a cut-out magazine picture of a crumpled condom wrapper. I stopped to look at it, and my mouth, apparently independent of my brain, said to myself "I should cover that wall with New Yorker covers!"
Now. There's a wall in my apartment that I've been thinking about painting, but I'm pretty sure I can honestly say that I've never even thought about covering it with anything but paint or fabric. The whole little episode makes exactly no sense to me, and I'm beginning to think I should be medicated.

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