oh the irony …
i walk into the studio,
after ava has spent the night there alone
(her choice)
and find that a box of…
stuff
has been overturned.
On a good day,
I consider myself an archivist,
on a bad day,
a pack rat,
so this whole thing of new cats in the studio
begs the question of what to do with my various “collections”
that are somewhat precariously housed
in little boxes on most surfaces.
i start fantasizing
that the introduction of baabar & ava
might just be the impetus i need
to embark on a major purge.
and then,
i go to see “The Keeper” at the New Museum,
which basically seals my fate,
thoroughly reinforcing my innate inclination
to keep every dried flower, found marble or piece of bone
that crosses my path.
and
it's back to square one…