there are days when the only thing right is how much actual wrong i remove before nothing is left. the days when sideways should be a movie but not about wine but about these days. these days of making when steel and precision fixtures and hand tools laugh out loud. in a language that doesn’t need google translate.
i get it. the metal doesn’t wanna be what i have in mind. and then i live in that time window when i scrape away the wrong, and the wrong before it. so much wrong. and make a decision about how many letters from my name to paste on this thing before wrapping it up. there are twelve. maybe i’ll use seven. or none.
All This By Hand
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