As a freshman in college, I was goofing off in the college library, running down the isles for no apparent reason, like an attention-deficit dog. Stupid. Then, out of hundreds of books, a yellow flash caught my eye as I ran by. What was that flash? Some instinct made me turn around, walk back, and look at the book. The book was called, Dada: Art and Anti-art. "Cool title," I thought, and author's name was Richter, "even cooler." I found the book like Hands Arp's Dadaist painting, According to the Laws of Chance. It was synchronicity. I picked another Dada book off the shelf and found a picture of Hugo Ball in a futuristic lobster outfit reciting the nonsense poem Karawane, fuckin' A! The German Dadaists blew me away. I put the books back on the shelf and forgot about the picture. Years later, this picture would come back to haunt my performance art DNA.