kyle cassidy (kylecassidy) wrote,
kyle cassidy

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bust my knuckles in a junk yard scuffle, whippin' adversaries with a brass belt buckle

I had some pieces up at the Contrast Show at the WilJax gallery -- I didn't make it down there for the opening, but Chris Williams sent some metaphotography:

one weird and wonderful thing about the Interwebs is although I've had big art shows that lots of people came to and that took months to put together, the truth of the matter is that when I post a photo of Roswell gnawing on a lump of tofu here, more people see it in 48 hours than have probably EVER seen any of my pieces in a gallery. Which is, on the one hand, awesome, and on the other, daunting and humbling. When there were 12 people reading my blog I could post goofy stuff willy-nilly and not worry about it, but now I have to take into consideration that if I do that, I'm wasting the time of more people than live in the town I was born in. Collectively you have spent 6,000 minutes reading just this sentence. How much time have I stolen from the world? It's frightening. So I want to do well, because I'm grateful that you're all here, watching.

I've been away from teh blog lately because over the past few days I've been working a lot on the Top Secret Kyle Cassidy / Michael Swanwick project, which is going well, but it's not as effortless as it looks when someone else is doing it.

It's a little daunting watching people like Swanwick or Elizabeth Bear who just work -- they sit down, and they work and then some little story pops out and they move along and do it again (and it's a little puzzling to watch someone like Neil who always seems to be running about being on television, guest conducting orchestras, gadding off with movie stars and then plop! while you were off to get a bag of carrots from the fridge he's somehow written two books, a graphic novel, a biographical sketch of H.P. Lovecraft, two radio plays and the introductions to half the novels published in english during the month of July) I, on the other hand, sit down to work with the afternoon laid out before me like a yellow brick road and nine hours later find that I've updated my blog, photographed the cat with his head stuck in a container of ice cream, and found that AC/DC album I just knew I'd bought but couldn't remember where I put (it was in a box marked "notebooks from college").

I'm going to finish this Cassidy/Swanwick thing. Now. I promise.

Right after I check my email.

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