I am a lifeguard at the community house of horrors. I enjoy the translation
of modernity in relation to public bathhouses. We say culture and what
we really mean is beauty, carved out in the curator's rendition of sadness:
hound's tooth and ivory buttons,liberty in the choice of commodities. I
am interested in the beauty of humor. I describe my work in relation to
others only because I'm in a room with you and you can't keep your eyes
off. I am taken by threats at eight in the morning, grappling with swaths of
graffiti, I'm really interested in you being lonely, waking up to a windstorm
slamming pottery. We are walking, how is this not like the blade that cuts
through the voice of an other? Extant theories of exotic birds, exotic
scenery, I'm immersed in the production of beauty, phonecards of domestic
rates and many countries. I am happy, overwhelmed when I touch your
shoulder and so keep my hand there, extending a large territory. I carry a
burden on the road, on my back, at the waist and pause at the recycling bin,
breathing moonness across disciplines. I am struck by ethnicity.