This day, today.

Today was rain and Dadaism. I was highly amused to find out that Marcel Duchamp gave up art to dedicate his life to chess. I cannot imagine being so fully commited to a cause. I suppose that is when the boundaries between art and life bleed into each other, like a street artist's chalk in a deluge.



Readymade



  This day was a happy one. It was walking out of the history class while my peers absorbed nonsense about the Illuminati, like sponges soaking up vinegar... until they become satiated with sour, foul thoughts. All it really does is add bricks and mortar to already vainglorious bloated egos. Does it really matter, anyway? Conspiracy breeds panic. 

 This day has been not getting any of my Maths done and screaming at my saxophone.I need a new reed.  

It has been plans to educate the ematiated masses as to what reading material is nourishment to the malnourished intellect.

This day is now finished. To bed...a lost boy chased to the vast realm of slumber by Wendy.

Peter Pan