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02.09.2003 - 1:12 p.m.
Sunday
The house is in dire need of
some domestic aid. The dining room table and coffee table need
a major polish job, the carpet needs to be de-pet-furred, and
kitchen needs, well, a LOT of help, and there's a honking shitload
of laundry to do.
Bah. So I'm ignoring it all
and writing to you instead. Not that I have anything to say,
really. But hell, that's never stopped me before.
We watched Vanilla Sky last
night. I'm not sure that I would say it was a really good movie,
but it certainly kept my attention - and man, the last 5 seconds
left me completely bewildered. The vat of vodka tonics I consumed
during the movie may perhaps have contributed to that, I can't
be certain.
We also visited the Seattle
Art Museum, where I saw a video of a bunch of naked people throwing
food at a naked man. This is, apparently, "art". I
stared openmouthed and suddenly felt very aware of the fact that
I was looking at naked people in a room full of strangers, which
while that may sound titillating, was in fact, not.
The appeal of conceptual art
or performance art or whatever it's called completely eludes
me. The Sedaris book where he talks about doing massive amounts
of amphetamines and becoming engrossed with performance art is
one of the most hilarious things I've about ever read. He writes,
in part:
Watching the performance
of my former colleagues, I got the idea that once you assembled
the requisite props, the piece would more or less come together
on its own. The inflatable shark naturally led to the puddle
of heavy cream, which, if lapped from the floor with slow, steady
precision, could account for up to twenty minutes of valuable
stage time. All you had to do was maintain a shell-shocked expression
and handle a variety of contradictory objects. It was the artist's
duty to find the appropriate objects, and the audience's job
to decipher meaning. If the piece failed to work, it was their
fault, not yours.
Although, now that I read that again, the mention of heavy cream
reminds me of a video I used to have. It was of those Wegman
Weimaraners,
and one scene involved the camera taping from underneath a glass
table, where the dogs were lapping up a glass bowl of milk. From
below, you could see their tongues smooshing along as they licked
up the milk. I found it quite entertaining. So maybe I do have
the capacity to enjoy naked people being pelted with bananas,
I just haven't tapped into it yet.
:::
Have you ever gotten yourself
into one of those vicious laundry circles where you don't take
the stuff out of the dryer right away, and it lies there in a
heap and gets all wrinkled, so you turn the dryer back on to
get the wrinkles out, and then you forget about it, and then
the stuff's all wrinkled again, so you…you know? Also, the
other day I washed a load that contained one jacket with approximately
2974028501496021 tissues in the pocket. Take it from me, you
want to try and avoid that sort of thing.
:::
And now, because I can't think
of anything else to say, I give you - recent MP3s I've
downloaded from LimeWire legitimately purchased online.
That Elvis "Little less conversation" song? Impossible
to listen to without performing a supremely retarded-looking
dance involving massive amounts of rump-shaking.
go back :::
forward
0
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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