PRINT February 2020


Pope.L, Choir (detail), 2019. Photo: Ron Amstutz. © Pope.L.

POPE.L WALKS INTO A ROOM. Hair looks good. Everybody knows Pope.L’s hair be looking dry and wild but maybe Pope.L’s supposed to be unkempt. Pope.L walks right up to me, has something to say important, not conversational, not in a conversational tone he starts talking in an urgent manner. I do take note of people’s appearances, most everybody’s in the way when they come up to me to say something, I don’t pretend not to look. Pope.L starts talking to me like we’re familiar so I figured I forgot and knew Pope.L from before but I never forget a face even though since I gave birth I can’t remember shit I can’t recall words like I used to. I like to characterize my thinking as orderly if baroque recklessly minute in its particularity so being unable to recall words feels like psychosis but is just aging. I asked my mother about it and she said you should get some sleep. Pope.L starts

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