No. 139. His Master's Voice. He wanted to listen to something that wasn't music and wasn't other people, and so he built himself a big conch shell from chicken wire and plaster of Paris. When it was dry and he had sanded it smooth, he sat expectantly beside the shell, hoping to listen to the distant, booming organ-voice of the sea. In fact, all he could hear was the whistling and hissing in his ears of the Tinnitus that plagued him every minute of every day... His shell sounded like cars passing by on a wet street.
No.138. Wedding Boots. Having had nothing whatsoever to do for a few moments last Thursday afternoon, he leafed through a few olfactorily oppressive pages of Fashion magazine and, dizzy from the combined fragrances secreted therein, found himself absurdly smitten by this gigantic pair of mirrored boots resting, constellation-like, on one of the magazine's perfumed pages. Two good friends were going to be married in a few weeks, and now he desperately wanted to give them each a pair of these evanescent Wedding Boots as a present. Seven League Boots for Honeymooners. The only difficulty was, he had no idea at all how to go about making them. What he needed was a celestial cobbler..
No. 136: Reviving the Red Rooster. It was probably his rereading last week of Paul Theroux's hugely enjoyable 1988 book, Riding the Red Rooster:Through China by Train, that got him thinking again about his own Art Train project--which had got a bit sidetracked over the past few months. Theroux, whose one-year journey, took him through Mongolia, Xinjiang, Manchuria and Tibet, clearly knew where he was going and what he was doing. As for his own sense of well-being in art, he needed to get back to his trains, He felt his life had too little direction lately. No clear destination. He was definitely off the rails. He wanted to get back on track.
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