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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


11.06.04, early saturday morning

Dear diary, I would rather not talk about last night except to say that it is very nice to find friendly faces in a crowd. I am also very relieved that I am no longer between the ages of 20 to 23 but annoyed that I am still in my 20s. Furthermore, making art is funner that showing it.

Creating = sublime, for you, the creator, the invigorator of deceptively dead objects, the dreamer idling in things that do not make "common sense", assail the prefabricated world. Even if you do so quietly, even if you do not mean to, even if you create with such seemingly modest materials as plastic grocery bags and discarded house paint.

Yourself making things = reaching sublimity as a freely dreaming remembering obsessing channeling being, even if what you create will never be as beautiful or interesting as that humming machine that is you.






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