Success can be liberating or it can be penetrating.
By this I mean put one in shackles.
Like for instance, another painting done could be either.
Another reality would be success right?
How can I transfer all my things from one to another?
And where is the time? I lost the car? Painting is absurd.
Painting in suburbia. I watch this movie, “Labor Day” on TV.
I can’t imagine how all there is and all I do. How it’s doing?
Going to Florida? Gone to Mayur’s. This space; more with less.
Beyond all that, I don’t know the state of mind is more confusing
than…like how can I feel a moment of reasonable peace now?
Where did it come from and why?

If only the real wasn’t so oppressive. I don’t know if this is coming
from luck or what, but it seems too late to convince myself.
Things just have this heavy quality. Donald Judd is smart
like that, doesn’t try to outwit this fact, but uses that too his advantage.
Of course we want light to be interesting! I don’t know why other ppl
think Judd’s work is good, but for me it reminds me of painting. If not for
that, I’m not too sure what I would find so appealing. If not to think of
the object from the painter’s vantage. Too find beauty is a cube or something,
not really sure if that’s so interesting to me.