I once got my foot caught in the chair in my dad's bedroom

chair/foot

I once got my foot caught in the chair in my dad's bedroom.
It was a nice chair.
I think that you could perhaps read this as some kind of proletariat struggle against the overbearing nature of design. Both conceptually and aesthetically.
It denies it's own organic form by becoming a cerebral process. In essence, it stops becoming a physical creation and descends into a attempt to replicate or induce physical or emotional responses whilst remaining distanced from both of these things.
I think that my brother helped me out of it.


i once got my foot caught in a chair too. or rather in the string that was tied around the back of the chair, which i was pretending was a horse. i had gotten up on the chair to reach for a pair of scissors on top of a bookcase, and as i was jumping down my foot got caught in the string. i landed on the edge of the chair right on my fanny and started bleeding. later that night when one of our housemates came home my mother showed her my bloodstained knickers and told her that her 8-year-old daughter had had her first period. the next morning both my parents were watching me as i paid my first visit to the toilet after the accident. needless to say it hurt like hell.

http://blog.fabrica.it/tomasleach/archives/000354.php