If you're in DC, see Leo Villareal's Multiverse. It is really, really terrific. One of the most beautiful things I've seen in a long time.
[T]he work features approximately 41,000 computer-programmed LED (light-emitting diode) nodes that run through channels along the entire 200-foot-long space. ... His programming both instructs the lights and allows for an element of chance. While it is possible that a pattern will repeat during a viewer's experience, it is highly unlikely.If you're looking for somewhere to stay, Donovan House is very lovely. I got a great rate through Expedia, and the hotel upgraded me for no apparent reason, which got me a very fabulous room at about a third of what it was supposed to cost. Their new restaurant Cha was soft launching; Todd English's sushi chef makes a mean eel roll. If you're looking to eat cheap, there's a Whole Foods a few blocks away.
My last morning in DC, I went to Arlington National Cemetery, home of infinite sadness. The trees were very stark, and it was very cold. I saw the eternal flame and wondered why John-John wasn't buried next to his father. The headstones stretch for miles -- and still they are running out of room. When you climb a ridge and look back you see that on the backs of the gravestones are the names of the wives and the children buried with the men.
What's past is prologue.That's what the giant woman in front of the National Arhives with the open book on her lap says. When I wandered around, I thought about what the main character in my novel would think and see and do, and that was very helpful. I thought of an important scene that would happen on the National Mall.
But, I don't know, something happened on the trip, between the road trip and the city and the cemetery, something sort of went wrong in my head. I haven't felt unwell in a while, but there it was again. This churning itself up in my head again. I guess it's like relapsing, but without the booze. Maybe it was the kid in the jar, maybe it was the pushing, maybe it was the losing three stories in a week, maybe it was the things I don't understand, maybe it was the being alone.
The worst thing about losing it is that once it happens it becomes possible, and once it becomes possible, it is always possible. It's like being on a seesaw stuck in the middle, and you can't tell if anyone's sitting on the other end, it's like the other end of a phone call where no one says anything, and you can't tell if it's dead or silence, it's like being somewhere inside yourself, and you can't figure out where the ground lies.
When it does happen I probably won't believe it's true. -- Bruce Barnes, son of George "Machine Gun Kelly" Barnes
