only pretty pictures from now on

2009-01-09T16:18:00.000-08:00

this one was taken with my holga 120 (which broke this week, one of the shutterblades popped off and was rattling around inside) with a canon flash, which, surprisingly worked really well. it was pretty funny because the flash weighed like 5 times as much as the camera. this is meeghan on her front porch in columbia south carolina just after the sun went down. it's a double exposure as well.

2009-01-09T15:59:00.001-08:00

this was taken outside of an abandoned post office somwhere in the middle of south carolina on a drizzly day in november. taken with my canon rebel xti.

pictures from now on

2009-01-09T15:52:00.000-08:00

i am sick of writing. i am going to mostly post pictures and write about the pictures from now on. but don't expect any kind of smartypants art critiquey bullshit.

walking through cassanova

2008-05-03T00:54:00.001-07:00

Jonas and I visited his hometown of Cassanova, Israel, which is built into a rocky seashore. His fathers house, crumbling unbelievably for how old it is not, is right there on the water. Our first night there was also the first storm of the season. The waves began crashing against the wall and quickly broke it down, flooding the house and causing us to evacuate to the street above. I took a few of my favorite items in a hardshell suitcase – not necessarily the most useful for a situation like this, but things that I was sure that I would need throughout my days in a place like Cassanova: a pair of silver chunky heel ankle boots, a few flowery tops, a black hoodie, and several books.
In the morning Jonas's father dispatched us to the insurance company to get some insurance for the house so that he could be compensated for the damages caused by the sea. It was still raining lightly and the house crumbled periodically, pieces fell off and floated peacefully away into the sea. Jonas's father was not concerned at all with this, in fact, Jonas informed me on our way through town to the insurance company that his father did this every year – waited until the damage of the first storm, payed for coverage for the three months up until the last storm and then cancelled the insurance until the next year. He saved money that way. That's why the house looked so strangely old for it's age – every year it was being partially destroyed by the forces of nature and rebuilt by this human's hands, which could be considered neglectful, given this seasonal process. However, in Casanova this way of dealing with things was the norm. As we came to the insurance office I saw that there were many of us, hundreds of sons and the visiting friends of sons being sent on this very same errand by fathers refusing to keep up the payment year round. We shared with the others stories of houses being ripped apart in the night, hardshell suitcases opened to display what we had considered to be our prized possessions. Many were impressed by my boots.
As I was showing my boots off I lost Jonas. I wandered around Cassanova looking for him and looking at the people. Since we had arrived at night it was the first time I had been able to explore. There really were very few roads, as instead most of the ground was covered in rubble – rocks and broken bits of cement, metal scraps, etc., which did not make for an easy stroll in the boots.
The people of Cassanova were a hairy bunch. There were many afros and long bushy beards on the men. The women were fashionable in an offbeat way and many seemed to make their own clothes. There was a commotion on one corner. I saw a girl walking who looked exactly like an acquaintance of mine named Annie. She wore long fingerless gloves stitched up the back with thick red yard, or were they a sweater-less sleeve? And then I saw two of Annie – she had doubled, replicated herself exactly right in front of me, same clothes, same hair, same person, just another! As I began to round the corner I saw that the two had turned into four and coming fully around the side of the building that four had squared, and there were sixteen Annies all arguing on the street corner, all wearing the same clothes, all exact replicas of one another, and they were arguing over which one of them was the original. I decided not to involve myself, really there was no place for me in the discussion, and anyway it seemed as though they only saw each other and were capable of only talking to each other, and only in order to have this one conversation regarding originality, over and over throughout their own forever, however long that lasted for them. So I stepped away and continued walking through Cassanova.
After a time I became tired of looking for Jonas and sat down on a pile of rubble. I was hungry. A boy came and handed me a Roma tomato. He was a teenage boy, maybe younger, and he was wearing a grey muscle tee. I thought maybe that he was Palestinian. I thanked him and looked at the tomato. It was split as if someone had thrown in against the pavement, and there was white mold growing from out of the split in the skin. I looked at the boy and he gave me a look, urging me to eat this rotten tomato, showing me the rotten tomato that he was holding and biting into, making faces like it was so delicious. I then saw that there was a gash on his upper arm, about the size of my Roma tomato, and there was white mold growing out of it. I wondered if this is where the tomatoes came from, perhaps he grew them out of his arm gash and walked around handing them to people sitting on piles of rubble looking hungry. Or maybe it was poison? I did not eat the thing, even though he continued urging me. I thought about throwing it at him to make him go away, but didn't. I was nice, and he eventually left me alone.

I decided to go back to Jonas's father's house. Maybe he had gotten the insurance and returned by now, I thought. I sat on the rocks below the house as the waves came in. the storm was over and the sea was back to its usual gentle behavior. As I got up to walk back up the hill towards the house a landslide begun. I was walking up, but getting farther from the house. Rocks were sliding down all around me, and I was sliding down with them towards the sea. It wasn't a big deal because the sea, being back to normal, wasn't exactly the scariest place to end up, it was just annoying because I wanted to get up the goddamn hill. I then realized that I could walk in a zig-zag pattern and easily traverse the rocks, as they were going straight down. I ascended the hill quickly, happy and proud to have figured out this problem of how to get oneself out of a landslide situation.
I saw my friend Jilberto, he had shaved his head completely bald. I have no idea why, or what the hell he was doing in Cassanova. He did not see me and I did not stop him. His bald head reminded me of Engadiner, and I thought of al of the things that I saw in other people that 'reminded me of Engadiner'. Because actually, the fact is not that everyone else and everything else has a little bit of Engadiner inside, it is Engadiner that possessed certain qualities that were of the world around him. Maybe he had a high concentration of very special things that I love of the world around (me) and that is what I love about him, but the point is that those things originate outside of him, and I am finding it easier to love those things outside of him, and finding also that those things have nothing to do with him, only that he has to do with them. like, for instance, once Engadiner sang to me, over the phone, for several hours, every top 40 hit of every year in the 1980's and some in the 1970's and even some before. He knew the words to all of them, even the ones I had never heard of before. But he didn't write those songs! So what if he just knows everything there is to know about everything. It is fun trying to stump Engie, even if it can't be done.

sunday mornin' comin' down

2008-03-16T11:04:00.000-07:00

so i went to the flickr 4th anniversary party last night which was pretty fun. i went with Irina and Jackson. there are some pictures on my flickr account (how appropriate).

there was a drunk man with a beard in a wedding dress who was very sad because he had just been layed off from yahoo, and he kept telling me to lower my eff stop.

i told a guy who i thought was really hot but probably most definitely gay that i loved smoking cigarettes so much that i would choose them over sex. he said, no, i think i'd rather have sex! and i was like, girl, i have had to choose before and let me tell you i could not stop smoking. and he was all, oh. and then later irina told me that he is straight and single. goddamnit. SF has crashed my gaydar for real.

i need a hero!

2008-03-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

i don't care what anyone says. i know he's a man. i know he's a politician. i know he's rich. i don't care. i have always loved eliot spitzer.

this is a great article

which deserves attention.

pig pops

2008-03-13T23:40:00.000-07:00

tonight i had bacon and maple flavored lolli, and it was pretty fantastic, and they are from lollyphile. and i told jackson that they should re-name them pig pops. so if they change the name, they totally stole it from me. anyway, i'm fairly certain this shit's probably gonna take off and the people will become millionaires. either that or it will gross everyone out.

On the street and in the store

2008-02-18T21:46:00.000-08:00

at the corner store which is not only a liquor store there are 3 men. one is from yemen and he has incredible eyes. i would bone him in a second. he's not smooth or anything, just really nice. one time the other 2 men were arguing about something over by the deli area, yelling, really getting into it in arabic. he kept looking over and i asked him what they were arguing about and he listened for a moment longer and then told me, "sandwiches."

the second man is a very sweet father-like type gentleman and is usually working by himself. he blushed when we spoke tonight. i said that the cereal was way too expensive, that i usually buy cereal in bulk, and that really the only time i ever go into his store to buy food is if i am so desperate because i haven't done my real grocery shopping. he said i should come in more often and i was like, don't you get it? that would mean i'm not taking care of myself. of course i didn't say that though.

the other guy i feel kind of bad for. he is big and dumb looking, although i'm not sure if he is actually a stupid person. he's just an oaf. and he always fucking things up and getting in trouble. like one time i went in there and asked for a half pound of smoked turkey and he signaled to me to wait, as he was taking singular cans of coca cola out of a case container and putting them into the refrigerator. he had 2 and a half cases to go. i was like, seriously? can you just do that after i leave? and guy #2 told him, i can only assume, to get to the turkey slicing now and leave that shit for later, because he jumped up and helped me. he gives me dirty looks, maybe because of that incident, or maybe he thinks i am a filthy white american whore, or maybe his face just looks like that. i like him anyway though. i think he probably has the best intentions.

i was waiting for the bus on the corner of 14th and mission just a little while ago, right in front of the Armory, which i love. i always try to see in the windows thinking maybe i can catch a glimpse of some action. (it's the kink.com headquarters....fucking machines!) i never, ever see any sex, but sometimes just standing outside of the building where soooo much sex goes on is totally exciting. it appeared to night as if someone may have been shot in front of the busstop. there was yellow police tape, a large dark puddle on the ground and the glass bus stop wall behind it was smeared with some circular scrubbing action and was all cloudy. there was a sign instructing people to catch the bus 100 yards up towards 15th street instead, and then a corresponding orange traffic cone where the alternative stop was. so maybe someone didn't get shot. really i have no idea what happened there, but that is the description of the scene.

there was a guy standing at the original busstop. i said to him, 'hey i think we are supposed to wait over here' and he laughed and walked with me, telling me that the last bus had blew right by him and he didn't understand why. but now he knew. also, he said that it was because the driver was 'a chinese' and that chinese don't care about anybody. he pointed to his heart and said, "you know why? because chinese have no mercy in their heart. and you know why that is?" he asked. no, i said, please please tell me why you think that chinese people have no mercy in their hearts?! " because they have no religion! not like you and me...they have no god or jesus or anything! they worship animals, like pigs!" evidence he offered for his claim was that if you go to chinatown and asked for help you would not get any from the shop keepers. i suggested maybe because they don't really speak english in chinatown? i asked this man where he was from. egypt. i had to say that he had come to quite an amazing conclusion about chinese people, and i asked him if he thought it was anything like when white people assume that 'all arabs are terrorists'. he did not answer my question, only went on to say that have i ever known a chinese? i said that as a matter of fact i was just hanging out with a friend who is chinese earlier today, and she helped me a great deal. he asked if she spoke english, i said of course! whatever. i t was an absurd conversation. really pretty interesting. he was nice. he didn't seem to understand why i wouldn't just fess up to hating chinese people.

on a similar note, when i got to the zen center i was a little early and so i went across the street to the cafe to get a light for my cigarette, which i hoped, as i hope all of them are, would be my last. there i found julia and tarumi sitting having coffee. they came outside with me, tarumi wanted to smoke too. julia remarked that i looked nice. yes, i said, i am wearing the sweater that you gave me. she said, look, i am wearing a a sweater that sarah gave me. sarah is my friend whom i had just been shopping with, the one who is chinese. ha! it all comes full circle now!
no.
so anyway, we started talking about how sarah is working for these rich people, she's a nanny, and she was trying to find out exactly how the husband's family got their piles of cash so she googled him and found out that he OWNS JCrew! and she was always wondering why the woman that she works for (heidi) wore jcrew sweaters because they are really not very good quality and the heidi is pretty rich...so we started talking about how heidi runs a non profit, and i was laughing as i explained it to tarumi. i said, it's a 'rich people non profit' - for people who have lost family members in plane crashes, and r. guliani is on the board of directors, as is g. newsom and sean penn and i'm sure other such luminaries. and it's just funny to me because: 1)9/11+ guliani is so funny ha ha!, and 2) rich people and their fucking causes! fucking plane crashes! so tragic! and julia is like blathering on about how she thinks it's so great that heidi is 'helping people' and how lovely that is and how SAD THAT PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE IN PLANE CRASHES! and i was like, "ha! i think it's funny, you know, rich people dying, i can't really be sad about that." and julia got really offended and said that "YOU NEED RICH PEOPLE because they have the money and you need to make money!" and i was like, whoa, this girl does not understand how the world works? why am i friends with her? and i went on to explain to her that, well, see, poor people die all the time because of rich people, like, as a direct result of rich people's shitty actions. and they die because they don't have things that are very basic, like water and they eat fucking DIRT CAKES because of rich people, and the rich people don't fucking care about that, and they go and instead do things like starting non profits for people who's families have died in plane crashes...which i'm sure is a traumatic experience or whatever, you know? and she was super angry at that point and tarumi was silent and then julia also added that i didn't know who i was friends with and what their backgrounds were and i was like, yes, i know, i am not friends with any rich people (her family totally has money). whatever. so now i think she hates me and thinks i am a shitty person, but i think i have a good point and also a right to not give a shit when all of a sudden there is one less person on the planet to head up a multinational corporation, say, or give money to the right wing think tanks, or support nuclear weapons development, or who rakes in profits from tearing up rainforests so that they can eat steak while people in that deforested country eat DIRT.

and then we went to the zen center and listened to a talk about how death is only a transition etc.

your problems

2008-02-15T12:43:00.000-08:00

so shut the fuck up about whatever already. people in haiti are eating dirt.

Surviving on mud cookies

by Wadner Pierre, HaitiAnalysis.com
Wednesday, 06 February 2008
To stave off starvation in Haiti, women buy clay trucked in from the Central Plateau, then carry buckets of the dirt and water up ladders to the roof of the former prison at Fort Dimanche. “They strain out rocks and clumps on a sheet, and stir in shortening and salt,” reports AP. “Then they pat the mixture into mud cookies and leave them to dry under the scorching sun. The finished cookies are carried in buckets to markets or sold on the streets. A reporter sampling a cookie found that it had a smooth consistency and sucked all the moisture out of the mouth as soon as it touched the tongue. For hours, an unpleasant taste of dirt lingered. … Marie Noel, 40, sells the cookies in a market to provide for her seven children. Her family also eats them. ‘I'm hoping one day I'll have enough food to eat, so I can stop eating these,’ she said. ‘I know it's not good for me.’” Photo: Wadner Pierre

(article in full at www.sfbayview.com)

inside/outside/upsidownside!

2008-02-02T14:04:00.000-08:00

i went to the oakland art murmer last night, which happens the first friday of every month. i had expected it to rain and so had worn my yellow rain boots when i left the house yesterday morning. i did not get a chance to come home before going across the bay, so ended up wearing them all night, and it never rained. they are cute though, and besides it was oakland, where no one really cares about that shit. it kinda made me want to move back over there. it's just way more comfortable and people are so much nicer. at any rate, it seems like the whole town shows up for this event. it was a total cute boy parade and most of them were pretty wasted because of all the free wine.

i saw some old friends. my friend irene who just bought mama buzz cafe and is also the hottest dyke on earth gave me several kisses on the cheek . eli came up to ever so obviously meet my other girl friends and said he was looking for a ride to a theater in castro valley where they were screening weird science at midnight. he said he might ride his bike but i seriously fucking doubt that happened.

so the art! my favorite was this person martin webb who had poured cement and then inlaid all kinds of metal and brass and chains and then i guess sandblasted or something? there was some oxidization going on there, and some common motifs were ninja looking figures, leafs, chains, and circles! i'm probably not describing it too accurately, but anyway it was the best thing there. the gallery was esteban sabar over off of telegraph and 23rd street. all of the galleries at that corner on telegraph were decent. amanda hughen had some nice wood carvings with geometric patterns etched or carved or whatever into them as well as more organic lines. the above draw-ring is one piece which was there called CONSUMPTIA. i grabbed it off her website.

fucking and then there were some incredibly disappointing galleries which upon entering my eyes glazed over and i wanted to vomit on myself. these were mainly on grand avenue. there was seriously a whole gallery filled with very crappy pencil drawings which had been mostly erased. i was like, is this for real? there was another craptastic installation next door of a mop head spread out on the floor with a blue rubber ball placed in the middle of it. i saw a piece of correagated cardbord simply cut with scissors into a few circles, the circles were glued on top of each other and doused in pink glitter and that shit was going for $900. um, maybe if you were retarded and had a family of other retarded people to support, and only if i were very rich that $900 was like a drop in the bucket, i would consider paying that asking price for something that obviously required a minimal amount of dexterity or thoughtfulness to create. and i am not usually about being down on other people's creative endeavors. was that mean? it was. i do feel mean. well, i just think it's unreasonable to charge so much for something that didn't cost more than a coupla bucks or take like an hour or two to throw together. i guess i don't understand...so is this insider art? or outsider art? is in an insider trying to be an outsider, or an outsider trying to look like an insider getting down to the outsider roots, or any other combination? well, whatever, because i hated it! fantastic.

i ate a slice of pizza across the street and went over to the burlesque/variety show at the stork club put on by the belles du jour and that was incredible. free cover, and it is happening after the art walk every month. my roommate alyce was there and also lisette, both taking tons of pics... i did not have my camera dammit! lisette had come with uni and her ukulele from the deyoung museum where she had performed earlier.

afterwards we were all hanging around outside and some drunkencute named connor came up to my friend jen and said 'heh', (rhymes with 'meh'), and they started talking and then he asked if i had "a thing for his thing" and i told him i had lots of things for his thing. since he was pretty much incoherent jen dismissed him despite his bicycle and his easy-fresh-faced-young-man-ness.

we all rode home in a CAR (!) because lisette drives one and we went to taco hell where uni insisted that the 7 layer burrito would be fabulous in a very satisfyingly bland way, so i ordered one and, well, she was wrong. that shit was gross. thanks uni! she's so goddamn adorable though, so who cares.

and once again i did not get to bed until like 3 am.

When i said "canadians" i meant actual people from canada

2008-01-28T11:25:00.000-08:00

not this. yes, at the olafur eliasson show at MOMA there were, in fact, tons of people with very pale skin ridiculously dressed in bright, loose-fitting clothing adorned with 'fanny packs', staring at the exhibits with their mouths open and top front teeth protruding. walking slowly. smiling! based on my expertise on this subject gained while living in florida for nearly 25 years, i think that these were real live actual people from canada. ok.

chelsea & me

2008-01-27T17:47:00.000-08:00

how did chelsea clinton's hair all of a sudden turn straight?

we were on the same path, chelsea and me, for a while. we had braces together. we endured that awkward phase with curly/frizzy hair together, when all of our peers were able to stand it up straight and make little muffins out of hairspray in middle school. i would sometimes fantasize that i could go to DC and somehow force her to switch places with me and i would get to live in the white house and she would be stuck in florida in the green house with the dirt lawn. we totally looked so much alike it was weird and i still think it would have worked if i could have stopped dropping acid for one night and had any follow-through.

in the early 00's pretty much anyone who knew me then could attest to the fact that this could be a picture of me at the hub:

holy shit, right?!

but now that moms is running for pres, she went and got her shit all relaxed.

in case you haven't seen it:

what up with that?

my friend julia was over last night and asked for a brush to spruce up before we went out to see sonya cotton play at the bike kitchen, which was pretty amazing. and i was like, "i don't have a brush" and she was all surprised and possibly a little disgusted. i explained to her that curly-hairs don't brush well, that i end up looking like a big frayed cotton ball.

SO THEN i had a dream last night that i was straightening my hair with a brush and a blowdryer and it was all smooth and natural looking. i haven't tried to do that since middle school because i know it doesn't work.

so how have you done it chelsea? don't sell me out sister! how ?!

raingear

2008-01-26T13:07:00.000-08:00

i am getting some rain gear today. boots, jacket, umbrella. this shit is fuckin ridic.

2008-01-26T00:43:00.000-08:00

classy

2008-01-23T16:58:00.000-08:00

update on my classy existence:

i am taking an editing and design class and on school magazine and newspaper staff. yes i am a total dork. i always kinda wanted to be on yearbook in high school, so there you go. i am taking a class called 'the politics of sexual violence' which is full of stuff i already know about but it's nice because i get to be righteously angry all over again like when i was 16. and 21. and, well, pretty much 25 through now! what else am i taking? i can't even remember. oh - a women's studies/anthro class 'culture, gender, and sexuality'.

i am back to looking for work again. i am volunteering for a freelance grant writer for some experience in doing that. i am teaching myself excel and hopefully soon will learn how to build basic websites so that i can get a job that actually pays my rent. all of a sudden i am super busy again. yay! and no more fucking cleaning up after people. theda was pissed, but it's over.

Rosewita

2008-01-23T16:20:00.000-08:00

On my flickr page i have gotten mostly 5 or 6 hits on each of my photographs, the portraits, of course, being the most popular. people like to look at other people. lots of people like to look at my brother apparently. for some reason though, this one of Rosewita has gotten over 100 hits. maybe someone linked to it. i honestly don't know what the fuck is going on. is it a great picture? i met Rosewita on plaka beach (the nude beach) on naxos in greece. She lives in Gratz, austria, and has spent the summer on plaka beach every year for the past 30 years. She remembers in the 6o's when everyone lived in bamboo huts and then the police came and burned them all down (same story as everywhere else) because they weren't bringing money to spend on the island. also probably because no one likes hippies!

anyway, she was awesome. we slept on the beach for two weeks until one night someone tried to rob us. for the next few nights she let us sleep under this huge tree on the property her broken down old bus was parked on - this tree itself used to house dozens of people. she came by our beach encampment (which consisted of two beach umbrellas and a broken windsurfing board) every day and gave us tomatoes that she had stolen from the landlord's field, and also introduced me to the idea of slathering myself in olive oil, since i could not afford sunblock. i must say i looked fucking great when i came back from that trip. she referred to greek men as "macho's" as in, "oh, great, here comes another fucking macho..." and taught me how to say 'we are not slaves' (we as in women) and 'get away from me' in greek, and demystified all of that "ELLA! ELLA! ELLA!" bullshit (it means 'come here') and hated it as much as i did. greek men yell this as you walk down the street. it's like their 'HOLLA' or whatever.

this picture was taken the morning i left naxos. i was so happy to be able to say goodbye to her. i found her to be a tremendously welcoming and giving person. she also said that whenever i was in gratz to look her up and gave me her address and phone number. The reason the horizon is blurred in the background is because this just happened to be the first day of the sirocco, the wind from the south that brings humidity, and we awoke to these conditions. Rosewita said that we were lucky, it was the perfect day to be leaving naxos, because the sirocco makes people miserable and paranoid and act crazy. there was something else she said about the wind being from africa, and about how that is why the greek people hate it so much. i guess they don't like the blacks! i was more than happy, by then, to get the fuck off of that island. i asked her if i could take her picture, and this was one of only two that i took.

i quit

2008-01-20T21:12:00.000-08:00

ok. i'm clearly not going to work. i guess i quit? i haven't quit like this in a long time. years.

when was the last time i quit in this particular way - the old"no call no show"? i seriously cannot even remember, but i bet it was the last time i had to work somewhere that i either had to a) wear a uniform or some other type of clothing than i normally would feel comfortable wearing, or b) was forced to interact with the public in a humiliating way. wait! all of my jobs have been one or the other or even both! jesus.

well, poor theda. she's such a nice person. except that every time i go out into the cold cold wet SF night she makes a pile of money for sitting in front of the fire with her stupid boyfriend. fuck that shit. my feet hurt and i am not going to get on the 14 with my vacuum and backpack full of cleaning supplies, and i won't go to the place even around the corner.

those people do not deserve a clean office. they are pigs.

HOW TO TREAT THE HELP

here are some pointers if you want your cleaning lady to retain at least a small amount of dignity:

- if you're playing basketball with the trashcan all day and your aim is bad, get up and pick all that shit up at the end of the day. there are 50 desks in that office alone , can you imagine your mom or grandma stooping under desks all goddamn night just because you were too lazy to wheel your little wheelie chair a couple of feet over and PLACE your post-it's in the bin?

- if your office kitchen garbage can starts to overflow, start a new bag instead of cramming more and more into the overfull bin so that slimy rotting food falls onto the floor and must be picked up...try having someone come in twice a week maybe if it's an ish.

- don't call the supervisor/owner of the company/etc and complain that the cleaning person missed a spot. how fucking rude. get over it.

- DO leave: sarasa gel pens, frozen reeses pb cups, bagels and cream cheese, and other assorted treats free for the taking.

- it's ok to talk to us. i don't have TB. i'm not going to shank you.

- leave your dogs at home. i mean, are you serious? how Co- can you be?

- bonuses at Christmas. It was all I got this year (from anyone). $20 from Pivotal labs, and they spelled my name correctly on the card. it warmed my heart, for reals.

i guess i will tell her after all. it feels so mean not to. bleueghcf. hate. it.

Pictures

2008-01-20T19:11:00.000-08:00

so i started a flickr account here and it has been real, but i was supposed to go to work like 5 hours ago.

today i finally busted someone out for coughing on me. on the bus of course.

i channeled stephanie tanner:

and he continued to cough, except he would ball up his fist and hold it like 3 inches from his mouth. what do people learn from their mothers if not to cover that shit up?!

olafur eliasson

2008-01-14T17:57:00.000-08:00

i went to dude's show at le musee yesterday. the 360 degree color part was my fave. i stood really close to the wall and filled my entire frame of vision with it and it felt like i was floating in whatever color was happening at the time. yes, one could probably do this with any wall, but this wall changed color. get it? it was fun to watch other people's reactions to the installations, and it was family day - oh goodie! - and so there were tons of munchkins running around, which usually gives me the urge to press extremely hard on (hard on!)both of my temples until my head collapses in on itself, but i have to admit that in the MOMA it was refreshing. also there was one room with a fine spray of mist falling from the ceiling and people were walking under it and looking up like it was the damnedest thing, and as they did a soft light fell on their canadian faces and it felt like i was watching them in their own dreams, all full of wonder, but also with their mouths hanging open. anyway, any of these installations, taken by itself - not so impressive. but all together it was totally worth it. well, not like i paid to get in.but if i had.

4 years later

2008-01-14T17:37:00.000-08:00

so a friend started a blog recently and that made me remember that i actually have one. so i found it and read through my previous posts, which i expected to be a little embarassing. oh, i was such a little firebrand, wasn't i? anyway....

i am not squatting anymore. i like being clean now. and i have a fireplace.

i got all my teeth fixed!

i still hate the NYT and the cops etc.

i removed my old blogs. they felt so clunky. i left the best one though. (the last one)

Nov. 3rd

2004-11-03T10:56:00.000-08:00

OMG I can't believe it! Bush WON!

Just kidding. I can totally believe it.