Dummy Jack
The dummy jack was a sound art readymade.
Making visible the "aesthetic envelope" that expresses and shapes feeling, belief, and moral conviction.
The dummy jack was a sound art readymade.
When I look at the fish scaler, I see my family’s frugality and ingenuity.
The paper wallet still makes me laugh. And cry.
“How about you, Dave? Have you been baptized?”
Model building was considered nerdy, but I didn’t care.
Nabokov wrote a poem about her. Rilke mentioned her in his only novel.
I started flashing my teeth like a cheerleader in a yearbook headshot.
I refuse to get rid of the Hand.
My name was on the registration found in the getaway car.
You could slam the receiver down to hang up on someone.
“Dude,” he said to me, “you look ridiculous."
I sought to be as normal and unremarkable as a John le Carré spy.
Helena’s gang was the cream of 1970s Hollywood.
“Wow — that’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”