Today I will tell you something concrete, which will not be like the milksop sky I am oppressed by, which has neither concreteness nor form nor color nor end. Today I will tell you that I cleaned my studio. I cleaned my studio, and it is very much like cleaning my mind—I hope. Frankly I would like to clean it so much that I have cleaned it out entirely, and then I am on the heels of all my boxes going elsewhere, moving being the great distractor, the great friend to people who feel stagnation like a bludgeoning.