October 30, 1978
This is the story of my life. I'm writing for the first time on ruled lines. Holding within boundaries, writing down parallel lines. Normally, I have trouble reading my journals, a hodge-podge of angles, directions and moods. This book is an attempt at going in one general direction. Following the lines as laid out by the Mead Corporation of Dayton, Ohio, not to mention years of American tradition.
I have avoided this kind of book, because as an artist, I always felt it necessary to have blank pages, for those pictures that invariably spring to mind while the artist strolls down Market St. My most recent journal, on blank pages, contained fourteen "illustrations". a large majority being pasted on pictures which would be affected by blue horizontal lines only by placement, image not impeded to any degree. And there is [not] no question to the fact that an artist;s "sketch" looks more authentic when it is on this form of paper. It is almost as validifying as a textured surface, ie napkin, oilcloth, etc. Also, I no longer feel any great desire to be an artist. I would like to hole up somewhere with my 45s and write about being forecefed art rhetoric, about the lack of forcefeeding, about the need for forcefeeding, & the undeniable thrill from forcefed.

broken 45 rpm on graph paper

My computer died, I had a foul week--that's what I get for sending negative energy White's way! "Golly," this corpse says, "a guy can't kill two people and serve only five years but some jerk has to go and smear me twenty-five years later. Heck, they were elected politicians. What'd'ya expect?"

Dan White's Demon

A different face, this one for Oct. 21, 2009, 24 years after Dan White took his life, having served what, five years, for killing San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk.
photo taken in San Francisco, Pierce Street off Duboce Park, 1978

I was trying on clothes at the time, lots of them, trying on outfits, see what fits, being trying. Thought I'd try on several at a time.
I didn't like the images and scumbled the emulsion, in the sway of Lucas Samaras and the Samaras Album.
Published by Whitney Museum and Pace Editions in NY, I have been intrigued, influenced and of course humbled by Samaras's self-exploration. The AUTOINTERVIEW, AUTOBIOGRAPHY, and the AUTOPOLOAROID turned me on as budding homo, novice artist, and raging narcissist.

I think this is mine, there's some whiteout on it that makes it seem original, and I used this outline image in a much later poster--vase and horse rider--but still unclear on this image's provenance.

the suit makes the man