(S): “Turn off the stove.”
(R): “The stove?? The TV??”
(S): “The stove.”
(S): “The stove in the Living
Room…Isn’t there a stove in the
(R): “No, in the Kitchen, but it’s off now…”
(S): “I guess so…..”
C.’s fantastic!! stoned mat immediately reminded me of the frontyard Pepper Tree (Sgt. Pepper Tree??) in Sherman’s Jokes……the seedpod ‘stones’ raining down night and day/an endless supply…..embedded in my sandals, torturing my feet…../
…….which turns out to be an after-the-fact version of Duchamp! (of course!)/or, according to the OULIPO, the Duchamp would be an ‘Anticipatory Plagiary’ of my ‘Pepper Tree’??
I was getting slightly impatient with C because he kept dawdling where we parked the bike, when I wanted to go inside. He was looking for and collecting what he calls “stones”, but what in reality are mutant hazelnuts. They are falling from the trees in any case. And when I finally got him in the door he would do more lingering in the doorway. But then I realized what he was doing. He was working on another toddler objet trouvé piece.
The stones had to first be sorted by size: Only if they did not fit through the grate in the entrance did they make it into the doormat.
Most of them were too big.
Over the past few weeks I tried to document his progress.
It is possible to take pictures with my phone without entering the access code (it is also possible to make emergency calls!).
Today I found this rather intriguing picture series, no idea how C. did it. Here a selection:
Ron, I know how you feel. . . I mean about your mother dying.
When I think about C. dying I cannot even begin to describe my devestation. Of course it
is different: we (C+J) are one the opposite end of the bell-curve that is life. (Me dying first is a better analogy, though a different perspective— until I saw how well C. does without me the thought of leaving him while he still needed me was even more devestating!)
On the other hand—this week of freedom from C. has been amazing. It feels like I got my life back: friends, art, performances, work, parties, sex—suddenly all that is possible again!
Or even just watching a movie or reading with the light on. . . or sleep. . .
We will reconnect in two days time and in a way I cannot wait. BUT I am still producing milk (some)! What to do? Will things just go back to me be his cow? Will it never end?
But since he seems to be fine with getting comfort and nourishment from other sources, I might have a solution: Maybe I could order a large busted sex doll and put some milk in her breasts (in bottles maybe?). If he goes for that it would be a great leap forward in terms of me being allowed adequate amounts of sleep.