:: The Blurst of Times ::

:: 9.15.2003 ::

Gad, I'm fucking sick. I haven't felt this bad in such a long time. I always look for the precise reason "why" I am sick, and frankly, I'm just not finding one.

So because there is no explanation, I can only assume this is going to kill me. Thought in the shower: "Dying from some undiagnosed, yet easily preventable disease is a pretty shitty way to die." I am even skipping a soccer game in case that improves my odds of living through mid-week. I wish this kid was of some use yet.

In other news, I am creating a memorial for the September 11, 2001 World Trade Center Incident. Nay, I am being blackmailed (with my acedemic design cred hanging in the balance) to honor this horrific event, in memoria. To quote a Mr. Koolhaas: "In spite of Bloomberg's pragmatic sobriety, the transnational metropolis is enlisted in a national crusade. New York becomes a city (re)captured by Washington... Instead of the two towers - the sublime - the city will live with five towers, wounded by a single scything movement of the architect, surrounding two black holes." So the design is taking a decidedly unpleasant genus loci.

"I'm ashamed to mention my anguish but silence lies empty..."


:: Freddy F. at 9:29 PM [+] ::