.
Thurs. a.m. Headache mental insensibility heaviness oppressed. That acid feeling.
Tues. extremely late. Few improvements no advancements. Citizen of no nation. Stupefaction, shortness of breath & c.
Sat. night, call it morning. Done nothing need of doing pressing time of doing short.
Mon. Sounds, late. Little mice if I am not wrong. Or something. (Cats hear this.)
Sun. Day of darkening drips then night. Indolence indifference. Mind encumbered. No plan pursued or formed. Want of rest. Nor ad nor product.
Tues. Survey past life many faults many deficiencies much to be repented very little reformed. Time not expected to be long. Dark stain shadowed ceiling.
Wed. Misspent time infirmity of body perturbation of mind. As ever, tea. When p and ~p have a common boundary.
Sat. Seventieth year. Mandrill. What can be done ought not to be delayed. Delayed reaction. Left the p out of swimming. It is NOT ENOUGH to point to ~p's lying outside p. Relentless peaks & valleys & c. Whereas p and ~p have a common boundary. Already presupposing the existence of a whole world of propositions.
Thurs. Again. As before.
Sat. after long unquiet and perplexing thoughts. Thoughts not my thoughts ways not my ways much to be done little to be known. Unprofitable and dangerous enquiries. Curious doubts impossible to be solved.
Mon. too late.
Obverse fog Tues. early. Stood silent on the iron trellised balcony crept over by shining white flies.
A GREAT MEMORIAL NEARS COMPLETION: Life, 09/30/1940
Your engine makes this much acid every day: Boris Artzybasheff, Life, 04/30/1951
Now -- All America can have JESTS: Life, 09/30/1940
Do you ever awaken like this at night?: Time, 08/17/1953
Appointment in Electronia...: Life, 12/20/1943
angry young computer: Newsweek, 10/12/1964
His wife is right... the blowout wrecked the party!: Time, 08/17/1953
ELECTRONIC "FINGERS" to speed up today's automation!: Life, 06/24/1957
Why we chose the NCR computer: Time, 2/23/1962
(All images via Graphic Design Gallery Labs)
This post dedicated to Angelica
2 comments:
Gutzon Borglum's dilemma is all of ours, I think (certainly in my house everyone awakens exactly like that at night), but his story is uniquely his own and puts to shame the claims of so many others that they "think big". I enjoyed reading the critic's comment: "As a sculptor Gutzon Borglum was no longer a rumor, he was a fact." We can all dream of attaining facthood one day, I guess. Currently, I dwell mostly in Rumorville. I love the words, pictures and ideas here and, for some reason, especially, "mandrill".
Delighted to hear you enjoyed this, Curtis.
It's a little-known fact that while working on Mount Rushmore Gutzon Borglum was plagued by a curious malady which caused him to awaken in the middle of the night, bewildered, asking himself "Am I a mandrill?"
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