.on the floor.

I know it's been a while, actually over a month. There is now something missing in my life that I will never have back but I have warm memories and a family that I'm not only stuck with, but I would actually pick if I had the chance.

So, here's another list, just to cover what I've missed.....

1. My left 'shift' key is broken and i can't possibly tell you how fucking annoying that is.
2. at work, I was sent this by my boss and I love that she knows me that well (i also love that while the entire department was looking at the site, the ED walked by, looking....confused)
3. Similar note; inky loves german cat beef jerky. Thanks German intern!
4. I made my gazpacho (now totally organic and from farmer's markets) which may not seem that important to you, but it's my unofficial marker of summer.
5. Oh, Republicans, you sure know how to keep things interesting and different! (I liked seeing Lindsey Graham and Mitt Romney dodge David Gregory's questions about the party and go on to say that the most important thing is for Gov. Mark Sanford and his wife to stay together - fuck loving or liking each other, protect marriage by staying together in quiet desperation!)
6. Check out this sweet blog: unconsumption
7. Fuck you to the girl (note: not some old hag, but a girl my age) on the subway the other day who I was trying to go by, unsuccessfully because her and her two huge purses wouldn't move. I said "excuse me" and she still didn't move until she turned to me and snapped "You could say 'excuse me' instead of just pushing pass me!!" I turned to her and said, "I did" as she let me go by. I mouthed bitch to her but I wish, oh how I wish, I would have said, "I did say 'excuse me', maybe you would have heard it if you got off your high horse". Oh but I thought of it too late, as is always the case. But seriously, it's rush hour, in New York on the damn subway, fuck manners, I just want to make it through this horror. It was just the tone that did me in. God! I want to see her again and punch her in the face.
8. Need a new wallet. The zipper to the change pocket is stuck immobilizing my change-getting-ness.
9. Do you know how much I would have paid to see Sasha Obama slam Rahm Emmanuel in the dunk tank? Seriously, like ALL OF IT. Every. last. Penny. Why is there no video of this? Come on YouTube!
10. I love this photo.
11. And the wisest thing I heard in the last month was from Curtis, my doorman (yes, I know, I live in a doorman building, shoot me, okay?), Laugh while you still can.
    

.he collapsed.

Francis Bacon was one of the first painters I remember being intellectually intrigued by. I loved other artists for their ability to represent beauty via an artistic medium but it was Francis Bacon who I (troublesomely) almost couldn't put a finger on. The violent brush strokes and the frantic, distorted figures that are on display his paintings just raised more questions than they answered. I often saw the violence in his work, not necessarily blood and gore but rather the animal qualities that live just below the surface inside us as human beings.

Seeing the Francis Bacon: A Centenary Retrospective at the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday made me more aware of not just the violence in his images but also the sadness that inhabit them as well. His Three Studies for a Self Portrait (see above) always bordered on heartbreaking for me to look at. He exaggerates his features and cuts into his own flesh but also paints himself with better detail than is seen in many of his other work. As other figures have mouths wide open (grinning, laughing, screaming? The question is raised in the show. I always thought of the Pope in Study after Velazquez - on the left - as screaming from inside this cage when it could very easily be him laughing with sick pleasure on his thrown) his own mouth is barely open; meekly breathing in for air with a dullard look. He is sad and pathetic and self-loathing but also seems immensely aware of just how talented he truly is. He often spoke about how he painted himself because there was no left alive in his life but even that statement reflects both misery and ego.

As always, the show was impeccably curated (again, my love and fascination of the curatorial staff at the Met show on bonds, well maybe not the people who put together Model as Muse but that's another tale) and the detail in research reflected a love of the artist's work. I learned about how he almost exclusively painted from photos or other source material and I was delighted to see his fascination with Eadweard "ask me about my tattoo" Muybridge. Bacon's Paralytic Child Walking on All Fours (from Muybridge) (see right) is directly copied from Muybridge's 1887 motion experiments of a child with CP. The original photograph shows a child almost happily walking forward, facing the camera as if showing off and completely unaware of the fascination an outsider might have. However, Bacon takes that figure and with sensuous brushwork makes it into an animal; something only vaguly resembling a human being that looks more apt for Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights.

With any retrospective, you can't enjoy every piece of work and there are later paintings that seem half-hearted and without the emotional attachment that created the myth-like status of Francis Bacon. But all-in-all it's an amazing exhibition, showing the work of a painter whose work doesn't seem to reflect any interest in making anyone happy. This is especially noted in the reactions of the tourists who have just wandered in the show; I feel like their disgusted reactions would have made him both amused and angered by their need to try and explain his very personal paintings. My final thought is this: no matter what, every time I look at a Bacon it makes me want to paint and hit brush to (raw) canvas with that passion but I realize I can't for the life of me paint so I can just violently release the shutter of my camera. Well, we all can't have painting retrospectives at the Met.

.Bore.

Three Stories in Stupidity

1. Organic gardens are bad (aka: I guess we know for what lobbying firm Dick Cheney is working for)
   
2. I love my child but what a pain in the ass (aka: just because people know who you are and you have money that doesn't give you class)
   
3. Jeff Goldblum is stalking me (no real link I've just run into him more times than is normal - any more than one is weird)
   

.here comes Johnny.

I honestly
love
the Snickers ads
(Master P-nut makes me laugh)

but
<----this
takes the cake.



Based on the Dr. Zizmor
tv ads (from forever)
and subway ads

.and can't be scared.

New Yorkers
(well, in my case)
never seem to do
big grocery shopping.
Rarely that Sunday trip with
ten or more bags.

Too much schlepping.
Not enough space on the subway.
Silly.

Because of this, I tend to
shop just about every day
picking up this or that.
Whatever fits in my purse.

So that led me to realize the random
combinations
that have appeared at the checkout line:
Beer, kitchen cleaner and buttermilk.
Broccoli, Fabreez and Doritos.
String, People magazine and Japanese candy.
Dumplings, scissors and cheese.

All in a day's work my friend.

.she's got no bones.

I have updated in a while
so, to hold you over
here's an axolotl!

.in the air.

3

the amount of people
I've seen (surgical) wearing
masks
in New York.

but one was in
my 'hood
and that doesn't count;
they wear those
things
all the time.

.white powder.

Really enjoying Callie Shell's
photos of the first
100 days in the
White House.

So I broke
down
what I saw:

• # of photos where Obama looks totally spent: 14
• # of photos where Robert Gibbs looks completely surprised to be there: 5
• # of photos of the First Family looking sickeningly cute: 7
• # of photos where Rahm Emanuel looks like he wants to kill you: 5
• # of photos where Reggie "I have the coolest name ever" Love is featured: 1
  
• # of footballs, basketballs and other sports objects: 3
• # of photos where you wonder if the White House looks a little too much like a British palace or museum: 11
• # of Barack Obama for President signs in Hebrew: 1
• # of photos where someone is fixing the president's outfit: 2
• # of photos where you question Joe Biden's sanity: 3
• # of photos of meals served with a side of classified information: 1

And that's that.

.her sick.

I had the
best
train conductor the other day,
among his gems were,

(pulling into the station and no one getting on since the train was too crowed)
"Good, we didn't want them anyway..."
(moments later pulling into the next station)
"...oh wait, here's the rest of New York"

only moments later to say the
greatest line
I have ever heard on a subway,
"Don't worry folks, this experiment in human sardine-ary will soon be over"

and I wonder
how
to use
sardine-ary
every day.

.has made.

Maybe I'm on this weird
Japan kick
after watching
Katsuhito Ishii's
Funky Forest
and
The Taste of Tea
'cause I can't get
enough
of these
Kikori no Kirikabu
and their counterpart, the
mushroom-shaped cracker
that taste
exactly the same.

Yum
in my face.
(she says after working out - *shrugs* life is still good)

.amphetamine.

I don't know who
this
is, but I really liked his
last answer
to New York Magazine's
21 Questions.

What makes someone a New Yorker?
Well, for every New Yorker there are at least five or six crucial doors. There is the door to their residence, their business, their bedroom, their bathroom, and that private door behind which they keep their hidden selves. How they balance their public persona, their family responsibilities, and their hidden, truest selves is what defines them as people and ultimately New Yorkers. The most remarkable people in this city are those not afraid to express that private self (be they writers, community leaders, musicians, dancers) and, in so doing, give all of us a great insight into the human condition. There are many New Yorkers — to me the people who can do that are the truest.

Amen!

.she's in a fix.

Here's an update,
this is the only
I wanted
anything
to do with yesterday:













And also yesterday,
waiting there at 23rd street F
for 30 minutes
with 25 lbs of
kitty litter with me
I stood there
(in 4 in. heels)
with my eyes closed
Pachelbel's Canon playing
in my
ears
and wasn't on
that platform.
I was
so
far
away.

.dropout.

I was
going to talk about
Bo
(hey there Bo - name that movie!)

but now
after a
"sick rider at 34th street"
I just want to say
I hate all people
you've all annoyed me today
every
last
one
all, what?
5 billion?
yeah
boo on you all.

Screw this
I'm ordering a
big
greasy
pizza
that can
barely
hold the weight of it's own
cheese.

.Susan in a ball.

If this doesn't teach you not to judge a book by it's cover, nothing will

(and titles for my posts are just taken in order of song lyrics - this one was a beautiful coincidence)

.she rolled.

I would have scoffed
at this
a couple weeks ago
but after realizing the
awesome power
of Entourage,
it just proves how
cool
Obama really is.

ALSO!
How do I get invited to the
White House
seder?!
Will Rahm and Axelrod be there?
I'll sit at the
kids table
with Sasha and Malia!
I'll share my charoset
and I promise not to
down
Elijah's wine when no one's looking.

.her light.

Thoughts from the last week

(since I've been semi-MIA):

1. I have yet to be on a normal running train since Friday night.
2. My mom told me about this clip from the nightly news and I've seriously been teary-eyed since watching it.
3. What is this?
4. Newest Bonko Blago news: he actually tried blackmail Rahmbo. He'll be dead in six months.
   
5. I like this video as well.
6. Sarah Silverman made cookie parties sound like fun, but they are not. No one can consume that many cookies. I desperately wanted a salad.
   

.she can't turn out.

The trailer for Spike Jonze's
Where the Wild Things Are
is now up (see here).

Super excitement.
So much that
October is
too
far
away.

Much unlike the
trailer
for Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
Fail.

.she's uptight.

The story that made me (almost) cry at work.

.poor mary.

Today's the day.
MTA "doomsday".
$108 for a monthly pass
25% increase in all fares.
(and I heard) even for the student passes
on express buses.

Great.

Because Mr. Bloomberg -
Nothing says I
care
about my self-appointed position as
head of city schools
like closing several Brooklyn schools
and hiking up fares for
students.

And you're "blessing" us with
the idea
of another term?

Gee, thanks.

(see previous rant)

.to be solved.

Was everyone in New York
stoned
this weekend?
Seriously.
Greenpoint, you have
a stoner problem.
It's freaking me out.