I probably looked like a lunatic. The large tent that I was staying in sat raised on a base of cement blocks that I was furiously molesting with the end of a 3 foot stick. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and the sun was still high, turning every rock on the ground into a skillet. I was hunched over, trying to get a good view of the cracks and nooks that formed under the base of my tent, stick in hand, prodding away. "Hey man. What are you doing?" He s...
- blog entries
My appreciation for art, for the most part, is limited to my preference for the 'Wish You Were Here' album cover as opposed to the one for 'Dark Side of The Moon'. Most people can accept art as something that is peripherally important to the growth of civilization. But beyond that is usually the silent understanding that, in the modern world, art is something that you do if you aren't good at anything worthwhile, or don't mind living on the dole. Insofar as th...