In the studio all day fooling with enamel and stretching canvas and drawing over Hitler and Chaplin making him a sad faced father self portrait with a strange inward looking cross eyed philtrum hair lip yarmulke depression. I spent a good hour looking back at him. I think I sort of like this drawing, even if it looks like a Macasso. It captures something dead on about how I was feeling. Ran out of batteries on the camera for my Fakooning, but it looked good as a start … the anxiety of influence dictates that I some how escape the liquified cubism and come up with something new, but still it’s a nice start to look like deKooning. It certanly could be worse. The meat of the story is the homecoming and the two loud explosions heard in the distance again around nine; followed by sirens and again no news on the t.v. about it. What if they had war and no one reported it? Seriously, it’s duck and flinch time… could have sworn it was a bomb in Manhattan… I mean they don’t sound like firecrackers, or gun shots… just single rumble reports….with more concussive strength than any firework… and isolated.
