April 2nd, 2003



i spend my days tracking down catchy jingles i hear at the corner store, tracing production credits and pondering the rise of rap's charismatic criminal elite. an image of some ancient video game will emerge from the mist. i replay conversations and reword emails. my consciousness is framed by a perpetual ambient soundtrack but the subject matter varies. if i'm walking through the parking lot i work up healthy outrage about the bush administration; if it's lunchtime i daydream about trysts recent and bygone. depth of perception varies inversely with familiarity but occasionally some stray detail suddenly imprints itself: the color of a slice of ham, the hum of air conditioning. finally i mold air into something firmer. the floating center / coordinates i give you :