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Thursday, September 02, 2004

Moleman, Your Rageaholic Sponsor Called... 

Perhaps he’s too filled with shame, an emotion of which I believed he was incapable, or he crossed the wrong person FINALLY, or he’s going to a court ordered 12 step program for anger management, but for some reason Moleman has not set foot in the library since his last big fit. Maybe he is on his way to becoming one of those “disappearedpatrons. In any case, we are under orders to notify security immediately if he darkens our doors because they would like to have a little talk with him.

I was telling my stepbrother about the blood art book and he said that in art school one of his class assignments had been for the students to paint a picture of their ‘essence.’ In the studio he watched one of his classmates take a pocketknife and slash his own leg, milk some blood out of the wound, and then use it as paint. That art teacher was really asking for it, in my opinion, and was lucky that the student used his blood instead of some other, less painfully harvested bodily fluid to define his essence.

Tales of Russia are to come soon when I get my pictures together to serve as visual aids. I'm still bitter that a certain family member forgot to bring my camera after borrowing it so I couldn't get any pictures of myself prostrate and weeping in front of Lenin's Tomb.

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