Monday, February 23, 2009
Last night K and I made chili and watched the Oscars. I thought Hugh Jackman did an excellent job, especially on the dancing/singing numbers.
I was thrilled that Sean Penn won the best actor award for Milk. He definitely deserved to be recognized for the great job he did.
I sense that someone is mad at me, that something has happened, but I don't yet have confirmation. It's just one of those gut feelings where things seem to not match up quite like they should.
I've been very wrapped up in a great deal of stress with my family, much of it is completely out of my control, which just gives me this overwhelming sense of helplessness.
I feel optimistic today, like it is the first day of the rest of my life and that I can just put one foot in front of the other and gain much needed momentum that at times it feels like I've lost. I guess I just feel bogged down or as Kate Bush Would say, "Suddenly my feet are feet of mud. It all goes slow-mo. I don't know why I'm crying. Am I suspended in gaffa?"
I need the soundtrack in my head to switch to Robert Smith singing Doing the Unstuck. It is time for that shift in my perspective.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
"The first man who, having fenced in a piece of land, said "This is mine," and found people naive enough to believe him, that man was the true founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars, and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows: Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody. ”
— Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on Inequality, 1754
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I am by no means an artist in the aesthetic sense.
I draw stick figures and have horrible handwriting.
On Sunday K & I went over to Marc's to watch a marathon of Six Feet Under.
Claire, played by Lauren Ambrose was trying to draw a perfect circle as one
of her assignments for art school but ended up blowing off her work to bone
a slutty tattooed musician who she meets at a crematorium while delivering a person's ashes. Lauren frequents the restaurant where K works, so he has probably seen her more times in person than on television. I am told she is very sweet. Back to art. I was over at Beverly's listening to old vinyl on the record player. Her collection is amazing, some of it going back to the 1930's. Laura was there and had begun drawing on one side of a coffee mug with chalk. I felt compelled to pick up the chalk and release what I was feeling. This is the result. As, I said, I am not an artist. (excluding music)
Friday, February 06, 2009
I have a softspot for old lesbian pulp novels, educational films(especially sex ed) from the 1950's and a plethera of other odd objects from the past.
There has been so much going on lately that I don't know where to start, though I suppose the best place would be with an apology for neglecting my duties here at the Rant. As many of you may have noticed, Chester Devonshire's image and name never left the blog after he was so suddenly fired due to the economic downturn. After a week, without Chester, I found myself sinking into a slow paralyzing depression. I found myself down on my hands and knees begging Chester to come back. Some of you will be very pleased to know that he has accepted on the condition that his return was to begin after a 4 week vacation to the Virgin Islands.
It is cold in New York, that kind of cold that seeps through your skin and into your bones, making your fingers red and numb, your skin cracked, your toes pulsating with tinges of pain.
K went away to Canada for a week. During his absence aspects of my life began to fall apart, completely unrelated to him, but rather connected to my family. Many hidden thing came forth and my parents separated.
My father was in another car accident, totaling his truck on the way back from a therapy session. He was unconcious when they found him. I'm not sure what happened. The details still seem to not add up. He is in the hospital with a broken sternum, some bleeding in his brain that seems to be headling and an extremely broken leg.
Despite being in a whirwind of stress that has bounced me around from crying to hysterically laughing, I decided to stop smoking cigarettes. I have only been smoking for a couple of months. I wave goodbye to nicotine and spend long stretches without it in my system and then suddenly welcome it back like an old friend only to say goodbye again. I have felt a bit tense the last couple of days, but I am breathing deeper and smelling more, some of which I wish I weren't smelling.
I am feeling very rundown from everything. I don't fully know how to process all events and emotions. I have fear of things to come. Life goes on, but it changes so often in unexpected ways.