On Art, In Acetone

When I've ditched my crisp button-down for a white Hanes undershirt by 11:00am, I know that it's going to be a good day.

Nathan had me take nail polish remover to the walls of various offices that had been written on, so as to make the spaces presentable for a new month's set of potential occupants. Armed with three fresh rags and Duane-Reade brand 100% pure acetone, I precisely and systematically wiped away months' worth of personal note-to-selves, business statistics, and daily reminders. As I did it, I wondered to myself if any of the information would be missed. But, if the writing had any value, then shame on the author for leaving its sole recording in the form of dry erase marker on a window.

The man who occupied office 5S-09 had marked on his sliding door, "I write on walls." True to that, his space was covered from top to bottom in what seemed like arbitrary writing. It seemed oddly poetic to chemically eliminate "I write on walls" from his wall.

I spent the most time of all in that office. The door was closed and locked, and I enjoyed the momentary quiet; just me and walls of writing. My fingertips were dyed with colored ink, my nose burned with the overbearing scent of acetone, and I bathed in the sensation. I became lightheaded, high from fumes, drunk on nostalgia. I was taken back to the graffitied hardwood desk of my high school art room. Acetone. Tip the bottle, taste the scent in the back of your mouth. Let habitual breath-holding protect you. Only though the nose; and paint. Quiet, except for the sound of scratching and shifting. This office, too, was quiet. A lack of noise was the sound of focus in an art room and this room's atmosphere was an artist itself, so easily crafting images. An expressionist, to be sure. I can only feel the images, they hold no concrete aesthetic in my mind. The forefront of my thoughts was the canvas. My memories, the reference.

I miss it. I hope I don't fall out of drawing. I think my mind would explode from storing a few too many dark-cloaked lightsaber-wielding characters over capacity. Those guys come in hordes.

I met with Daniel again today. We've finally set up a system for me to start doing research for him. As I left his office today, he promised, "this project will give you the best education outside of college that you will ever get." And, I believe him. I can't quite say what exactly I'm doing for him. If I did, you'd know to much and it wouldn't be long until the assassins found you...

Today, I'm tired. I only slept for three hours last night. In the words of Regina Spektor, "it's coffee and coffee and coffee and coffee and coffee and coffee, some more." True to that, I'm on my third cup of the day. I'll make sure to sleep earlier tonight. Like, right when I get home. Goodnight all. It's been a pleasure.