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Fifth day of habit making

It's almost perverse that I wait all day to make an entry. I could have taken a minute while I was in a coffee shop listening to a meeting of young probably women (but who can tell these days) planning revolution. One said, "I want this year to be the year I burn it all down with gasoline."

I think just burn it all down would have been enough. But it's been a while since I thought about taking revenge on the Upstate Art Week (there were a few other targets in the art world, but Upstate Art Week was the most reviled).

I went to get some work done, it being my believe that if I remove myself from home and the assorted distractions and desires of home, and plonked myself and my computer down in a place where distractions are less distracting, I'd accomplish a host of things. Weekends are when real estate agents conduct a good portion of their business so I've decided Monday, the day of following up on the weekend, would be a good day to start this new project of actually leaving the house on a regular basis.


So I listened to these women who were upset for numerous reasons some of which may well have been actual grievances but were dependent upon narratives of personal grievance. They were discussing how to make the world better so much as their fury with institutions. With rich people. With the establishment. They spoke of older women who they said were obsessed with power and were not allies. Meanwhile one of them sat down at my table while I was in the bathroom when I moved to another table and had to entake the untangling of power cords and transportation of coffee cup, coat and computer, said nothing about the encroachment.


It felt ever so much like part of their ire was directed at me, an older white woman with paint on her hands and canvases stacked next to me. Clearly also an artist. But, I think, I was a perceived enemy and not a natural ally. Or perhaps I was just invisible.


I listened while wishing I could avoid it. And I felt (perhaps defensively) sad for them and their anger. And even more sad that they had no ability to even see me at all.

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