I spend a lot of time on the computer now.  Bought myself a new one. Aluminum unibody.  Dual cores.  2.66 GHz, 8 gigs.  Clean.  De toute façon.   Turn it on and the first look is blue like the real regard is up or out there.  No such luck.  Like being buried alive. Schlafwandeln. Awesome Cassette Tapes From Africa.  45 Projects.  Russian Museums List.  The Travel Film Archive.  Art Critical.  The Eames Collection.  National Portrait Gallery.  Museum of Lost Organs.   The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh.  Gallery of Tape Inserts.  Minus Space.  Mini-Gallery of Synthesizer Manuals.  Classic Camera Profiles.  The Nine Days.  The Museum of Found Photographs.  The Reel-To-Reel Tape Recorder Museum.  Art Treasures from Kyoto.  The Essential Vermeer.  Restless.  The Grocery List Collection.  Gun Manual Cover Gallery.  The Berlin Museum of Letters. The Architectural Photography of Julius Schulman.  MOMA.  The Bauhaus Archive.  SFMOMA.  Right.   And… Dear Madam… I would like to recommend an art piece for your forthcoming exhibition… and …in order to fairly represent art that deals with boundaries between real and virtual….  And notes.

I would like to recommend an art piece for your forthcoming exhibition Real Virtualities… you bash and you bash and you bash against the door until suddenly just as you are about to give up in frustration you charge through… in order to represent art that deals with boundaries between real and virtual… falling through cobalt blue emptiness while the sun flashes brilliantly off the slowly somersaulting facades… art process is equated with art piece and it is performed in the moment that is unique and unrepeatable… a content that would lift you and provide a vehicle for the transcendence of banality and complacency of everyday patterns… with the introduction of the new technology the focus of attention of the modern artist has been dramatically shifted towards relationships between human and machine… dumped uselessly somewhere near the middle of a vast desert salt flat… to me art has to be disturbing… the blindingly bright room… I don’t like the idea of aesthetic beauty… a place where a vertigo of potent experiences melt into an inexorable sensual blur… it raises the question of the position of our natural state of being within artificial society norms… the embalmed transexual… she is using her body as well as her mind to examine and push the boundaries of her own love and freedom and strength… the untethered poly-referent colliding indiscriminately in a linguistically code liquid amphitheater… none of her performances should be observed as a separate art piece but as the puzzle-fragment of one art story about what is the most valuable within us… symbolic and sterilized spoonfuls… everyone of her performances was intended to push boundaries of freedom… as you move through your luxurious time on your conveyor belt… in her performances she has been wounded and frozen on ice and nearly suffocated lying inside burning five-point star… far beneath the catastrophes of exploding suns and out the window on the other side….