I started in January. As of today, I've finally finished writing. Now all I have to do is revise my manuscript before Tuesday to get it bound to hand it in by Thursday. Simple enough.

Then I'll have my Masters and a 322 page post-modern book called Drowning Hermey.

I'm very tired people.

When do you truly know someone though. What is the time limit. A half an hour. A day. A week. Or do you go with your gut feeling?

My manager used to tell me that the hardest thing in the world to do is to talk to someone for an hour or two, take him out to lunch and then decide whether or not you should offer him $60,000 a year to work with people he doesn't know.

Call it judging but seriously, people judge all the goddamn time. It how it works. Take relationships . . .

You're getting know someone. Hell you might even have a girlfriend or boyfriend at the time. He/she seems cool enough. You get another cup of coffee.

Wow, he/she likes to merengue. Wow, sweet. Wait my he/she doesn't like that. You get another cup of coffee.

I just finished reading Camus too! Amazing! Wait, my he/she doesn't read Camus. Maybe I should leave my he/she. You get another cup of coffee.

NOw that's just going to far . . . you mean to tell me that you want to end up in New York too! My he/she hates New York! Your's does too! Wow! You get another cup of coffee.

My point is, it's all a gamble and it never makes sense. So you must go with what you know which is unfortunate because speaking for myself, I don't know shit.

Judgement happens instantly, and there is nothing you can really do about it. And I'm talking nothing as in, if you did do something, it wouldn't be you, so fuck em'. But then, you can't blame them either.

If anyone can define when the exact moment to commence movement would be, I'd call you a fool. No one knows. You can fault ignorance I agree, BUT you cannot fault someone for not opening their eyes. Like Dyaln said, "I mean no harm, nor put fault on anyone, that lives in a vault, but it's alright ma, if I can't please him."

That last part is my utlimate sickness with people. I have yet to find the way to not fault a person for shutting themselves off. I wish I was truly as self-centered as people made me out to be.

Then I wouldn't get physically ill talking to certain people.

so with all the shit talk I was doing, would you believe that I might not go to the shoot?

I just have way to much shit to do. And the way I figure it, if I can't even give God an hour a week, Tunick ain't getting any.

Who knows. We'll see. I'm just tired.

On a side note, I saw Sartre's [c] No Exit [/c] tonight. An amazing performance at Buff Sem by the way.

The words, Hell is other people, are lingering in my head. This has to stop or else I should really get to balls to become the recluse I've always dreamed of being.

Well okay, not a recluse persay, but a cowboy. Definitely a cowboy who has no home. That would be something.

So . . . P a [inlink]paul,1789[/inlink] u l . . . .

Sounds to me like someone's a bit afraid to show off his pee pee. We wouldn't want to get a rise out of you so . . .

and as Dick Cheney would say, Hey, I dare ya.

OOOOOOOh SNAP!

Shiiiiit.

I hear you Paul [inlink]paul,1787[/inlink] and once again you provide a great example of a persuasive arguement.

But okay, Tunick might be making some money off this shit, but he'll do it with or without you or I because yes, sex sells.

But dig this clappa . . . really, what about the experience of being completely nude with people you see everyday, walking around, giving you coffee, fishing with you, etc... . What of that? Am I doing this for Tunick and being a part of art? Nah, not really. It is interesting though, I will say that, but my kind of art is not of the performance kind, but I digress . . .

I do feel a bit odd about saying, shit guys, let's all go get naked, and I swear to God, I won't look at you in that way. Whatever about that. There is a difference between losing an article of clothing piece by piece before entering the kitchen (counters people, counters) and hanging out with 1,600 people in their most vulnerable form. It's completely garden of eden here.

Who knows what it will be like. I've promised myself to go, so I will. I'd like to go with a couple of people, or I could play the, hey-look-at-that-naked-guy-reading-Beckett-by-himself. I'm not sure.

Will this be a sexy thing, and will it alleviate all curiousities? Depends on your imagination. But I will say this . . . imagine if people became comfortable with their bodies? Imagine if guys and girls could talk, naked, fresh, and natural? Imagine people were open enought to say, Jesus you have very nice breasts ______, and I'm talking in the I would love to paint them way. Or . . . God Terry, nice six pack, were you a swimmer? Or, you know stickboy, you're pseudonim is accurate, wait . . . no it's . . . wait . . . um, okay, what are you thinking about?

It won't happen by the way.

As I've said before, nothing's more non-sexy than just hanging out, naked because you have to be.

It's not a very persuasive case, but it did do this . . . i needed to figure out why I wanted to do it anyway, so thank you Paul.

I will ask, that if anyone wants to go, or meet up, I don't know, let's meet up maybe?

I would really like to see all of you naked, I have no qualms.

I'll show you my bod, if you show me yours . . . and about a thousands other people's bods . . .

and just to add . . . as the great Woody Guthrie once said, talking to a bunch of critcs and tightwads

" . . . you are gathered here this morning to burn my finest papers. You are here in this room in this very hour to tell me that there is something ugly, vile, vulgar about me somewhere, somehow, someway, I excuse your ignorance. I am not ashamed of me, nor ashamed of myself. My body is naked now, and it was born naked."