infinity_mirror tender_square my reflection echoes into an elongated paper chain, each dimmed parallel serving the same blank face. hands reach toward my own in antithesis of receiving: a thousand pulsing fingertips against glass. i search for semblance in side-cast eyes, inside the shadows of their emerald corridor. so willingly i step into their violent whispers, and the shriek of their limbs pulls me deeper into an avalanche of doubt. 211230 ... unhinged yayoi kusama the documentary about her made me start to uncover all the women of the 50s 60s 70s that cocreated the earth shattering ground breaking happenings of the times only to be erased from the history books also the sometimes deadly entanglement of art and mental precarity mirrored in my own life i create to restore sanity but what i create can be straight up bleak sad agonized (i am no unique snowflake in this regard) here's to yayoi saving her sanity one polka dot at a time 211230 ... kerry [yayoi is amazing. have you read her autobiography, "infinity net"?] 211230 ... past as a boy, we went to a barbershop in a hidden mall pieced together from a half block's worth of downtown buildings, the corridor punched through formerly exterior walls while mid century cladding formed a uniform appearance from the street. we entered from across from the drivethrough dairy store, took a staircase down a level just past the restaurant that everyone knew was a front for a biker gang, and ran to the twisting cane. inside we waited patiently, each boy and our dad taking our turn to have our hair trimmed by the same barber, even if the other two chairs were empty. dad said she did good work well worth the wait. he was always a bit fastidious about his hair, a mix of his upbringing and a reaction to the excesses a few of his inlaws revelled in during the 1960s. the shop had a kind of magic that reached beyond its location: all the walls were mirrored, with framing used to segment it into geometric patterns. the occassional shelf held knickknacks. together, an infinite number of scenes played out an infinite number of times, bending my young mind and absorbing the at time endless waits. 220802 what's it to you? who go blather from