Friday, October 14, 2011


A cup of peppermint tea, and the apathetic revision of the Purgatorial Paper, glad that I cut class today to be outside in the October sun, that there was art making and art-walking. Looked at paintings so well-executed and generic. The conspicuous consumption innocuous status symbol, like cracker jazz but executed in oils and framed expensively instead of bloodless guitar and Kenny G saxophone. Still lifes of wineglasses and saxophones in luxurious settings, landscapes or seaside villages stripped of mystery and patina.

I find myself smirking at the artist descriptions, like oh you're so unique because you paint half naked women with a palette knife. Deep, man. I did that in my art major days. Everyone else is wearing suits except for me and my sister and her friend. They ignore us. He's snarking about "rich people" and itching to tag every street sign and lamppost before he moves away, she doesn't say much, because upstairs is the apartment of her friend who got murdered this summer. I try to pet the little foofoo dog and it shies away from me, afraid of my janitor keyring and leather jacket. We part ways.

And so I'm here in the corner, too brain-drained to write creatively, nothing to really say, because I've come home every night this week and gone to sleep. A birthday party for the bro-in-law tomorrow, Rival Schools on Sunday night. I haven't gone to a show every weekend since I was a grad student. I still don't know how to plan, but life seems to go on just fine.


Randal Graves said...

Was there really a still life of wineglasses and/or saxomophones, and if so, what was this place so I can be sure to avoid it with gusto.

So, the Purgatorial Paper didn't fuel the creative juices. Might have to rethink your theory.

Word verification: shroo, an eating mushroom, because all that's left is the mmmmmmm.

thatgirl said...

that last bit made me chortle. Also found a book at the bookstore about how mushrooms are going to save the planet, or something. I'll shelve it next to Prince Charles' Organic Garden of Silver Bells and Cockle Shells.

Yeah, there were several, and sundry other I'm A Cultured Rich Cracker Who Likes Sting kind of works there.

I suppose in my own way I frown upon non-troo-kvltery don't I?

Actually I did come up with some writing ideas on the way home. I'm going to write the notes down so they don't fly away.

Randal Graves said...

I hope it teaches how one can learn to talk to fungi, too, because these plants sure are mouthy.

Dream of the Blue Mushrooms.

We all do to some extent, except me of course, but in this case, I think it's a matter of you frowning on suck.

You better have written them down or it's oringle* for you.

*word verification, Orville from Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things eats Pringles, or something.