summer time

two months since my last entry and i am fighting evil sore throat no doubt passed to me by some octogenarian who swears she ordered the ravioli whilst i and my youthful short term memory (as well as the little scrap of paper in my pocket) know the truth: at the last minute she said, "oh, i'll have the soft crab instead" despite the feeling they give her of chewing on fingernails.

needless to say, i have given my notice at the restaurant.

my days off reading the wind-up bird chronicle and scrubbing mold off my studio walls have taught me that there are much more pressing issues to a grad student than what type of tea "regular people drink" (as opposed to the type of tea the laurie anderson look alike young curator from new york drinks day after day)

for example: is my professional life really going to be determined by schmucks who think that english breakfast is not a common tea? why can't the art world be more like the robot fest?

not knowing the answers to these questions, i have gone forth and ordered some manikin mouths: