Date Night, a requiem

Ooosh. Heavy clean-up today. The gallery is completely, utterly trashed. Well, not that bad; just looks bad. Piles of paper. A spilled bouquet of fake flowers. Two dead sturgeon costumes. White flecks of sawed styrofoam. A banner reading: "tonight is your hot date with crank sturgeon". A papered-over window, with characters featuring smiles and pointy heads and yes, well, orifices and obscene holes (but with smiles mind you, SMILES!). A very wet red checkered table cloth (and table piled in damp electronics). A few markers, knives, bottles, plastic tubing, little contact mics everywhere, coils of tangled guitar cable. A basket woven to resemble a stag head. Fish eyes... where are my damn fish eyes? String. Rosin. Duct tape. Red plastic lips that you blow into and a little reed emits a beautiful shriek. A little jar of "noise putty" which basically sounds like bad flatulence. My favorite squeezy blowfish toy. A plastic table top soccer game. Newspapers everywhere. Veritable nightmare to pick through and hope to trust to find all my needed ingredients for the next program of events; to stuff the stuff with any luck back into Pandora's backpack. 

That's the physical side of things. 

Mentally, still processing what a large gulp of activity does. Build build build build build build, then SCHWVVVOOOP! Done with in 20 minutes. Plus, what an odd crowd of onlookers... I've performed here countless times, all over Germany, have many friends here (including last night's audience), yet they're soooo stoic. Stroking beards quietly while an absurd paper fish man tells them a silly story of his invisible hot date, gets water everywhere, then proceeds to copulate with drawings on a window. 

Well?

Oddness treated to more oddness, I suspect. Hee hee. More on this later.