b L o o m d a i L y

02/27/05 what becomes of me? Anxiety, sloth, confusion this morning and cannot wait to end this work as long as I can stay safely in the middle.

Masturbating more frequently to calm my nerves: what a great distraction.

However, the task at hand is the only means to live with fear: to continue as I began as I end. Continue to walk, continue to be as I began and as I end; artwork remnants of the moments of continuing, discarded snapshots of an entire being in a moment; an orgasm, an ecstasy, a disappointment; all played so I can continue playing.

Walking yesterday was beautiful, and I am paying the physical consequences today. My body is exhausted.

I arrived at art6 unsure of what to do. I am scared of the police now. I am scared for my safety not from citizens and from people “protecting” citizens. I am not a threat though I feel I have been made into one, by my “difference.”

During my walk when individuals approached me to talk; “may we speak to you?” they would walk off; “okay I guess not” when I did not respond. Indifference is not the position, just a new difference, a communication without words and actually requires more listening; silence, turn inward to find the outward.

I was very moved that M----, C----, A---, L--- and L--, H---- and W-- arrived for my departure and arrival. Hell, I was shocked M----, W--, and L-- stayed with me the entire journey. We followed my preordained path for my safety, rather than follow the city guides of previous experiences; bLoom affected by its environments. This could be interpreted in different ways.

I learned how beautiful this city is; on foot, this comes to experience and opens the visuals. The visuals are not simply 2D or 3D experiences. Wes offered his personal history of the spaces, M----, and L-- shared their views and I continue to walk. Hopefully, the images compare. However, the real composition is with the entire dimensionless experience of being part of these visuals, sounds, taste, touches, smells, thoughts, and feelings.

The real composition is beyond dimension and offers a glimpse of a final power, higher power, complete power, however, you’d like to define it. The real composition is with this humbling exhaustion of walking, wanting to quiet, afraid of stopping, confused about now and needing to break down and cry.

We received the usual catcalls, photography, stops and stares and we continued. I feel more intimate with the city.

Crossing the Manchester Bridge, God provided me warmth; arms raised, fabric flowing, I felt like running into the city and being held in her arms like a child. I walked, calm and steady. Reaching the city anew, I covered and comforted myself again; paying tribute to 4 th St. Café, Times Dispatch, Jefferson Hotel, and the Precinct with my arms bound by fabric.

I fell into the gallery space, exhausted, worn.

Today is left. 2 hours? to shine and I am perplexed because I forgot to have a sitter for today. What to do?

Walk with me.