I went to visit George Forss in his Ginofor Art Gallery yesterday and he showed me his new George Forss Theater Of The Arts, consisting of a green sofa he got off of the street, 14 speakers he salvaged from garbage cans and dumps, and two flat screens he has assembled, one on top of the other. In between lessons on light, settings and focus, George used a shepherd’s crook I gave him to adjust the sound volume on the speakers – he has to do it one at a time.

We listened to Haydn, and then to Elvis, a sometimes jarring but eclectic mix. George is planning for readings, talks, film showings in his new theater, I am proud to have suggested the name. George and I are different in many ways, a lot alike in others, we make sense to each other. Neither of us cares to be told what to do by other people, we are both given to impulsive leanings and enthusiasms. It was a great lesson as usual, George gave me a photo portrait of himself and Donna Wynbrandt, he is in his underpants. I have it on my wall. Red came into the gallery, saw there was no serious work to do, and went to sleep.