the beach at Arbroath, Scotland

10 January 2004
guess what i bought

a kiln.

a bizarre starting point for a journal that has not been seen nor heard from for two and a half months. But not really. see, if i had ever taken a creative writing class, i would say that, in the function of this piece of writing, the kiln is symbolic of my new life as a non-student.

so i hear about this kiln from a guy at school, i call up this bloke, who lives in Voorhees, New Jersey. so i drive across the northeast and over the Tacony-Palmyra bridge for the very first time (hard to believe). past weird medians and jughandles (i shall never understand NJ roads), past cheap gas, a joint called The Stripping Post, and lots and lots of discount fireworks warehouses.

i love little tiny glances into other people's lives. the guy let me into his house, which smelled strongly of various animals (in this case, a shitload of parakeets and two very small yappy dogs). the kilns (there were five) were all out in a small shed. they all looked to be in fairly good condition, though the downside was that they were all very very small. so i decided on the largest of the five, which was still small enough to fit in the backseat of a 1990 Toyota Camry. the interior space may have been 30 inches tall by 18 inches wide. very small, but i got with it a ton of kiln furniture (that's the stuff to stack and make levels inside the kiln), stilts for setting pots on, and at least 10 boxes of sitter cones (which are the things that melt and make the kiln shut off at a certain temperature). all this, and he asked me for what i thought was a fair price.

i thought it about it for a few moments. seventy-five? seventy-five.

look ma! my first kiln. small, but still something.

so that's it, then. the transition out of college has been probably the least painful it could be. i mean, i'm still going to live in the same house (not like i'm moving home after four years of freedom), i still have the same friends, i still do the same things at the same places, and i still have the same bad habits. i'm still broke as hell. the only thing that really changed is i'm responsible for paying my rent. i managed to secure a job, not just any job, but a job in my field. bye bye Borders and lame ass retail hours. i now work like normal people. get in at 8, leave at 4. hot damn.

in the past week, i've spent most of my energy moving everything that was in my studio at school to my studio at home. i've rearranged endlessly, drilled numerous holes into the concrete walls, and hung enough lights to give my basement that football stadium glow. there's still a ton of shit that needs to be gone through and dealt with, but it's under control. meanwhile, i'm still working in the studio at school (i've decided i'm going to be there until the day before the semester starts), but it's very strange, since nearly everything is gone. my shelves are bare except for the absolute necessities. i feel like i'm sleeping on the floor in a near-empty apartment. but that's okay, because my mansion is waiting at home.

In other news: the notify list for this site is being disbanded. it's just too much to keep sending out an email every time i change something here. however, i am compiling my mailing/emailing list for more professional purposes. it will have updates regarding my professional site,, as well as announcements for shows and projects that i'm going to be a part of. if you'd like to join that, send an email.

Thanks for sticking by through my existential crisis. we will now resume regular programming.

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