rinue | won't you be fair

I've been feeling unattractive lately, although not when I look in mirrors. When I am looking at myself, especially full length, I think: dressed down, but the raw material's not bad. When I am not near a mirror or camera, goblinish. I don't know what to tell you. I'm a little out of my mind.

Things are going well and badly. I'm worried about Ciro and the Ciro paperwork, and go on crying jags daily - usually in the morning, but sometimes just after getting home. On the other hand, I have been going on a lot of social outings with friends, including today's trip with Lauren to the Tate Modern, and am finally swept back up in the goings on of film school, crewing a half dozen films and acting in another. It's exciting and fun. Convincing myself to write is still difficult, unless I let it be silly and unimportant and not brave. I'm writing a goofy radio show, for instance.

I saw a Doris Salcedo sculpture, an armoire filled with concrete. I'm now obsessed with things filling up things, ominous destruction of internality and spaces for living. Salcedo will have an instillation up in the turbine hall starting in about a week and a half.