what's a ten-year theatre? where does plausibility without buildability lie on my map? what's a structure that functions as a thesis, or a diagram, or a book? what's a solid space that's generated out of thin flexible impermanence, all fred sandback-like?
at one point tonight it really struck me for the first real time that I was here, really struck me that I was in this program, that I was in graduate school, that already nearly a sixth of it had passed by. parts of it trapped like amber in the wee hours of the night, the endless subway commutes, the sleepovers, hazy mornings, cups of coffee. and I think: these are the moments when action happens, when change is enacted; there is no grandiose movement except for the moment of epsilon where you twitch your finger, or the lift of your voice when you get just a little bit more excited about a concept, or a space, or a diagram, or a representation, or a technology, or a vision, or an aesthetic, or an image. and the rest is just to amplify that lift outwards and spread it throughout the space, let it propagate. make that poster, start that group, initiate that conversation.
sense of deepening night. tomorrow's thanksgiving, and I'll eat something with friends and roll around. bonfire bonfire bonfire. maybe I'll teach myself how to forge. I'll melt blue foam with acetone and watch the napalmy drippings slide fattily away, and look at the darkening sky (look, how quickly it slips into night) and be thankful for much, for friends, family, for people, for this city, for the windows of rooms lit with incandescent bulbs viewed from the ground, perspective skewing them into parallelograms.