Yesterday I did a performance. It was called My dirty skirt. There was a little bit too much drama in it which I intend to take out for the one to come. Thank you. Stop. Music. I didn’t. True. I am not a musician. I very much like certain sounds, sequences of sounds. We wait. We wait until it is certain you are on that bus. I thought I was innocent. I always thought I was innocent. Touch the wall, take some steps, touch the directed person. This morning. This morning my appointment seemed to be unscheduled. So I heard at the place where the appointment should take place. I thought I didn’t mind. It is a very human thing to forget to schedule appointments. I went for a long ride on my bike. And bought tons of clothes on the secondhand market. Wrangler, Dickies, Levi’s, Ralph Lauren, The North Face. Tsssss. I will do. I will do everything slowly. Especially the thinking and the doing. Especially the knowhow and the knowing. Ha. With the heart. Ha. Stop. Teaching is not a friend of art. It’s been a week since I did the performance. Without any last number. No last number. No love last number. No number to be last. No number to love and last. Because we are coming. In long sleeved shirts. With some uncertainty.
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