I left this red folder in the middle of a street in Northampton. The packet contains a note from 'Francois' to 'Joseph', proprietors of an unnamed coffeehouse, complaining that a customer used too much sugar in his coffee: "Joseph- I saw some guy pour sugar into his coffee for like ten seconds! Doesn't he know it's bad for him?! He won't even be able to taste his coffee! I'm making a new sign. -Francois". I imagine Francois paying sixty cents for his new red folder in order to get it together, get more organized, for his new coffeehouse business venture. His disorderly nature prevails despite this rebellion: Francois loses the folder in the street. The new sign (above) is laminated, cheesily colored, and containing the quotation marks of mysterious purpose one often sees in public: we're "open"! Tips "please"!
Various anxieties are encouraged.
Note that "is for the convenience of" has grammaticalized (the process in linguistic history through which a word changes from conveyor of meaning to a grammatical function) into meaning just, "exists," thanks to obsequious commercial language.
Posted at 06:11 PM in Fiction | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I left this jug of Kambucha fungi under a thorn bush in the woods last Spring. Before that it sat for almost a year in the room of a friend of mine, who had lost interest in it and stowed it behind something after breaking up with the DIY enthusiast who gifted it to him (Kambucha being used for the creation of a certain kind of tea). The original was the size of the disc that you can see hanging at the bottom. Now there are 5 or 6 of them. It is a bit outside the 'mimetes' category, since most of these items are crafted so that someone will find them and feel they have gained pure access to a stranger who does not actually exist. But, since these awful creatures (who I have returned to their thorn bush since shooting this video) are not going to offer any explanations to anybody, I bet that whoever eventually does find them will still have to invent scenarios to explain to themselves how they got there.
Posted at 08:50 PM in Fiction | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
The names of commercial colors are often very flowery. A few I found just now on the Sherwin-Williams site: Impressive Ivory, Echelon Ecru, Cork Wedge, Earthen Jug, and Wheat Penny. This sample sheet may be suspect to the discerning finder, since most bear the company name and are printed on cardboard. Notice the exuberant handwriting and message contrasts with the atmosphere of the rest of the page.
Posted at 10:42 AM in Fiction | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
(Click to read)
A fragment of a nonexistent academic paper on the architecture of a housing village on my college campus. As far as I know, it is not true that its buildings could be reassembled to form a cube. There are many factual errors in this paper fragment and have pretty much nothing to do with anything the actual architects have written.
Prescott is a group of tall buildings which I think resemble paper milk cartons. The crimson metal fire-escape style walkways, crimson doors, reflective rooftops and tar balconies are repeated throughout space in various arrangements. It can be disorienting to visitors. People delivering food always ask for directions.
I made a few pen edits to the page, stapled it and removed the staple, folded it in places, and have left two copies on campus and several others in town and nearby campuses.
If this page appeals to you, I encourage you to print it out and leave it somewhere. In case you would prefer it, here is a copy without line edits: Download anagrammatic_space.doc.
The geometry of Prescott Village's architecture evokes a fractured continuity, longing to be reassembled.
Posted at 03:51 PM in Fiction | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack (0)