Tuesday, Jul. 01, 2003 - 3:58 p.m.

3:21 p.m. I�m contemplating buying a painting I saw whilst vacationing in San Francisco this past weekend.

3:22 p.m. I�m contemplating spending a significant number of Benjamins on a piece of art, on a painting that does nothing except demand to be looked at, on a large swatch of canvass with a few ounces of paint splattered about in such a way as to suggest form highlighted by positive and negative space all the while whimsically entertaining and delighting the viewer with unrealistic hopes and promises that a painting just can�t deliver regardless of the artists.

3:23 p.m. I�m contemplating buying a painting.

3:24 p.m. I�m contemplating buying a painting that I feel is ridiculously over priced, that I most certainly don�t need, can easily do without and that will only ever so slightly benefit my life in terms of social status and or increased popularity from those I deem the right people.

3:25 p.m. I�m contemplating making a frivolous purchase at a juncture in my life that is, at best, volatile and, at worse, flippant. I must surely be insane to spend hard-earned savings on a mere wall hanging, an abstract pictorialization, a representation of still life. In fact I can�t think of one good reason why I should buy this or any painting.

3:26 p.m. My mind is made up. Without a single superexcellent and sound rationalization or argument I am not investing in the procurement of artwork.

3:27 p.m. Aren�t �they� always saying, "Support the arts."?

3:28 p.m. Op, there it is. Buying the fucker.

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