+ you are #
4:04 pm | 25 June 2004 | the shifter car
Anxious Yesterday I had this adorable exchange with a friend of my sister's who IMs me sometimes:
Yesterday I had this adorable exchange with a friend of my sister's who IMs me sometimes:
I was reading a health-advice column in the Long-Beach Press-Telegram and somebody actually wrote in asking this: "I have read about the possible health benefits of nuts. I presently eat seven almonds per day. Is this too many? Also, are walnuts acceptable to eat?" To which question I will happily circumvent the usual respondents and their no-doubt gentle nutrition information to instead say succintly "LADY: Get a goddamned GRIP." Urgh!
Okay, so apparently today's genius government move is Schwarzenegger deciding that a smooth way to save California a whopping $14 is killing strays faster--under his genius plan, dogs and cats would get only three days instead of six, and other animals (including birds, hamsters,turtles, and rabbits) could be killed immediately. Hi, what? Yes! Let's continue to imprison people for consensual crimes, paying $25,607 per prisoner per year for their keep! 'Djoo know that California leads the nation in the number of technical parole violators it returns to prison? Well, it does! It tosses over 60,000 back in the slammer every year, at a cost of more than $1billion annually! Totally sweet! By all means, let's not crack down on puppy mills, either, or more firmly enforce pet licensing and spay/neuter programs! And don't get me motherfucking STARTED on dogfighting! Let's just kill 'em all! GodDAMN!
It just wants your attention please
I was thinking more about yesterday's post and I am dead serious about my project to bring the fun of art to you, the people. To that end, I am going to make and distribute a series of broadsides dealing with certain movements, people, and works that I think are rad and inspiring and thought-prodding*. The first one is Ancient vs. Modern, of course. After that, the queue (upon which I have already begun to work) is: Tristan Tzara, Chris Burden, The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even, Joseph Cornell, On Karawa, Abstract Expressionism, and Lou Salomé. Does anyone have any special requests? I know I, for one, grew up in a city with the giantest Calder stabile ever, and until THIS YEAR I was like "Damn, dawg, that big orange shit be FOOGLY!" but now that I spent some time thinking about it, we are totally pals! I mean, I'm not gonna get it on a shirt or anything, but I no longer want to destroy it with a helicopter. Send your concerns & artfears to claude le monde @ g mail dot com and I will do my best to help.
Things I do want to destroy with a helicopter
1. Mr. (Lord?) Dewar, for the pain inflicted by his delicious Scotch Whisky
Dudes, at the swap meet last Saturday I saw the very sweetest Army-looking bike (WWII Army) and I passed it by because I was all brokersville, but Momma's getting PAID today and so I hope it's still there tomorrow. However! The real heartbreak is that I remember looking at it and thinking "Hmm, tires are flat. They are...uh...big fat tires. Jesus Christ I have NO IDEA about fixing bikes." It is a freshly terrifying sensation, realizing I know zilch about something that would take hard practical skill. Not that I know everything or whatever, but things I am interested in I have usually made an effort to find out about over my lifetime. Even with the car I have a rough idea of what's going on. But bikes? Wha??! I have no clue. I don't even know where to go or who to ask about it! Pantalones is all hardcore with being a hott bicyclist chick, turning her Schwinn into a "fixie,"** wielding wrenches with her faux-hawk and tiny frame, but I just want my bike to work so I can go to the Farmer's Market or whatever. Also I intend to put cow horns on the front of it. Gearheads are not so down with my ridiculous, hobby-mocking plans.
I do have a proven track record of fool-rushing-in action, though, so there is no doubt in my mind that I will be buying that bike first thing tomorrow morning and then watching it collapse in a heap of rotten rubber and rusty spanners on my back porch.
I get paid once a month, which means that the first couple of weeks I am all jolly and active and organic and everything, but that the last week, when things get tight, I'm totally eating bullshit like 7-11 nachos and box rice mixy things. I have to work on that. I feel like shit. Just a little note to self. Ignore me. Move along.
Don't do it
Don't get all, "You are not logically valid" when I'm telling you my opinion, Plato. I'm not here to be logical. I'm here to aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAW FREAK OUT! Catatonique: c'est chic.clm.
*I don't have to provoke thoughts about art. You are already having thoughts about it. I just want to poke them along further.
unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is © claudia sherman, 2002-04.