Long Days, Long Months: 31 July

Finished watching Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff? - but mostly listened to, and read and wrote about, Punk-era artists for the essay I'm working on. Clinton Heylin's From the Velvets to the Voidoids is essential too. The postlude for the recent edition of the book offers the devastating critique of Legs McNeil that Mr. Punk surely deserves.

Beginning to feel the kind of sensory mental overload these diary entries were supposed to work against. Went to the Salvador Dalí museum, and Haslam's bookstore, both in St. Petersburg. Forget Jack Kerouac, forget Dalí even (since the main attractions of the museum are the "monumental" paintings towering over their human viewers, far different stylistically from his Surrealists works, and exploring different thematic ground as well). Yes, forget. Just constantly forget, over and over again. Try to, at least.