After an inert life of bumming around cafes, beaches, and bookstores for months in Buenos Aires, I'm suddenly entering full force into the working world of New York City. Well, actually, Long Island City, but y'know. As of September 4th, I will be working full time at Takashi Murakami's New York studio as a painter/studio assistant. Basically, I will be working on/doing his multi-million dollar paintings, and when they're done, Mr. Murakami will visit the studio, sign the back, and jetset away.

This new life development will hopefully add better text (and I guess pictures as well) to the blog, as the studio is, needless to say, pretty unique and intense. Yesterday, I was offered Kanye West's month-old fried chicken. See, when he visited the studio a month ago putting his album art together, he requested an order of fried chicken and doughnuts, and left most of the chicken in our fridge. I thought about it for a bit, and wondered how much the chicken would fetch for in ebay, until I inspected it closer and smelled it. I'm hoping this isn't some kind of pithy metaphor.

THE GOSPEL OF DAFT PUNK
(Obligatory, though tardy, post on the amazingness
of Daft Punk's Coney Island show on August 9, 2007)

Chapter 1. ROBOT. HUMAN. TOGETHER. (End)

Tim tells me of a man who has successfully changed his sleeping patterns to 20 min of sleep every 4 hours. This might be impossible, and a little masochistic (I love sleep), but the idea doesn't sound half bad.

This monkey brings good news to the online Miguel world! Migueljiron.com is very close to launch, and will be operational soon. And, that is all really. I have moved back to New York, I work 9-5 for two art studio internships, live in a small green room, in greenpoint, and will probably never get rid of all the sea-green paint off my hands. It's also hot. And I'm pretty sure I got ripped off buying this lazy window fan from these sketchy polish guys. The fan though, unfortunately, is not green.

So with the heat and sudden responsible scheduling of my life (read: waking up early), sleep is hard to come by these days. But when it does happen, the dreams are a little disturbing. The latest of my ongoing deep-rooted nightmares of being plunged into a large body of water in a car involved Bill and Hilary Clinton arguing (Bill driving, Hill shotgun). I don't remember what was the dispute but it was definitely petty, vaguely Michael Scott-ish, and all of a sudden, boom, water rising. What to make of this? Especially when a few days later THIS happens. There are times when I miss my beloved CRV (R.I.P.) but these days I'm enjoying (or acclimating to) the solid, smelly ground beneath my feet.