I’m in Vietnam reading Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle and various blogs by geniuses on the internet. I’m listening to Tool, Pharoahe Monch and PJ Harvey at violently high volume levels. I’m watching David Blaine make me weep and I’ll sometimes even catch a random college football game. It’s far too warm and relaxed here for it to actually be the holidays. Regardless of how many thousands of miles I am from my house and bed, what media I haven’t brought with me I manage to scour and find those American artists that remind me of who I am.
I resolve to never take for granted the diversity, immensity and availability of American art.