went to see the armory show today.

damn you thomas ruff.

can't sleep.

used to have words.

not anymore.

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It's funny how vague images are starting to drive me now. A home and bookshelves, iridescent light bulbs and a chair, sofa. A view of the street. A slightly rainy day, cars passing by, the sound of tires curving up and leaving wet asphalt, rolling resistance at work, and in the midst of that a process of growth, books, reading, proceeding. Studying. The simplification of effort to just one, directed inwards, perhaps more purified. A lack of: qualities, rates, hours. just a home with bookshelves (with mostly read books) and haphazardly painted white cabinets. Domesticism or groundedness, some internal base to build off of, bounce ideas away from.

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5:54. still can't sleep.