Polyps in the form of actual events are forming in my throat. I am whitest of the white for summer, today I will sweat into a puddle of myself and leave a pale trembling jelly behind me. I am being pictured amidst an abyss that exists between two buildings. It is time for lackadaisical units to transform into ourselves for the heavy open days.
I am aware that this is vague. I have something more specific to admit, it is heinous. I do not want to hear any of Coldplay's new songs. Also, yesterday I witnessed the Max Ernst show at the Met. Although I was not really moved by any of his larger paintings, preferring the tiny ones and the collages, I left with many ideas for new relics. I need to remind myself of thin strands of lightly curling hairs, fleshy flora, chunks of flesh matter like glyphs or monoliths, and anonymous, half buried sheds and shacks. I recommend a journey to see the strangeness.