I went to bed cranky about "Spontaneous Combustion" being too big to enter into the Paducah show and woke up with creases across the bridge of my nose. Jimmy said I grunted and tossed and turned all night. So now I contemplate the folly of Botox and walk around with my eyebrows cranked up into my hairline and goo on my face trying to trade nose wrinkles for forehead creases reasoning it's a good trade since I wear my hair in bangs that I cut with the rotary cutters on the bathroom counter once the ends start obscuring my vision. My constant companion, the Spirit of Rebellion, got me up and working early, wrinkles and all, and in twenty minutes I had discovered two of my recent hand-dyes appear to have been conjugating in the basket. They looked all glowy and self-satisfied so I snatched them up and put them to work. I really like working this way -no plan or design in mind, ripping and tearing, juxtaposing and the like. The giant sheets of styrofoam Jim brought me are the best design wall. It beats the hell out of laying stuff out on the kitchen table and standing on the chairs to get a good look. Here's what's cooking now, as yet unamed but you know it will come to me.