i soul tired. my throat is kinda scratchy and my head is thick with clouds. or dirt. maybe dirty clouds. hope i don't have corona. i'm suppose to find something to put in the curriculum cookbook of life manual and i'm too tired to search. maybe layta i say, but my brain kind of shies now from trying to think of art and me and i remember it always did except when i wasn't thinking of art just living. life is what happens when you're busy surviving and trying to make life art. fuggit duggles i say to myself you'll come up with something even if it's just the next post in black and white.