Debating Sixty Seven and Sixty Six. Sixty Seven is the Summer of Love hence the pinnacle from there it all goes to hell. But Sixty Six is just before & you don't know yet how far it will go. Mod, psychedelic, pop--all the pieces are still in play. There's a freedom in Sixty Six.

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As if rising out of valley mists, i find my past ever more accessible with each new year; i recognize in my dreams now theplaces of my childhood, and begin to understand how a soul may be composed of a few vivid locations, from their infinite resonances, that the changed sojourner is always trying to discover or flee in the scenery of the nonce. But this only makes interpreting my art easier, not the making of it. The old forms have acquired such polyvalent power, such surpassing complexity of perspectives and sudden vistas, like mountains broken and rebroken by recent uplifts and ancient explosions, that when i manage to capture a single aspect i see in it mainly the failure of a thousand others. Then i turn to real-time [performance art], as if another dimension and closer similitude could further the impossible quest... But after all, this is just what my ego claims to be seeking, and why i really create remains a deeper enigma, which perhaps is being solved even by these perplexities and halting byways. And my art could be the least part of it...the visible one.

Untrammelled, our attempting to escape 2-logic results in: lying, imposture, denial, fantasy, gameliness, addiction, theory, criticism, collecting, idealism, projection, lateral thinking, art.

So much anger. What waterwheels could this force turn?