“He has yet to complete a single pushup, though he has been attempting for a while without interruption to perform one from start to finish. Embarrassingly, his arms seem content to maintain an involuntary shuddering motion that only affects the rest of his body along a horizontal plane, rather than aid in accomplishing the task at hand. Is this uncontrollable vibration in fact a perpetual motion, or is it a friction? It resists progression, yet remains ceaselessly frenetic (or so it seems to Nathaniel, who cannot currently conceive of a conclusion to his discomfort and toil).”
2011. Ink on paper. 3.75 x 3.5 in.
“All the while his pet project (still a work in progress) is playing through the terminal’s speakers. The sounds of double bass, trumpet, and xylophone are completely unrecognizable as they play overlaid but artificially extended chords. The track reaches the point that exceeds the portion Nathaniel has been manipulating, and immediately the playback returns to its native and unaltered tempo. This sudden change of melodic flow steals Nathaniel’s focus from the perceived almost-eternity of wobbly exertion, and he drops limp-armed a few inches down to the ground (his body would have given up right about now even if he hadn’t been distracted by the music).”
2011. Ink on paper. 3.75 x 7 in.
“He is lying on his stomach again for the second time this evening. To the left of his head is a glob of saliva half-absorbed into the carpet. It fell there from his mouth while his efforts were absorbed in defying the gravity tugging at his entire body – under the circumstances, oral spillage was a necessary concession. Once he stops feeling so weak in the arms, he will get up, find his shit sponge, and clean up the little, watery mess on the floor.”
2011. Ink on paper. 3.5 x 3.75 in.