The Petite Bourgeoisie

While on the metro north train yesterday. I was reminded of how much I dislike wealthy white people who live in Connecticut. They are gross snobs and they all look completely uptight. I imagine having to spend an evening with even one of them and how I would spend the entire time consumed by insecurity and shame. The air of judgment circulates them like flies circulate Pigpen’s head. Of course I know that their judgment comes from their learned fears, but either way, they can be kind of scary. I am generalizing I admit, and I know that once in awhile there is a special egg who is totally eccentric and wise and fun and intelligent in all the right ways and has used their wealth and privilege to help others and is not a judgmental uptight waspy arse. And I like them. A lot even.
Anyhow whiile on the train these people intertwine with the rest of us. And it is different than a subway car in NY where different people all ride in peace.
Not to hate. But honestly, my dislike is sometimes grand scale.  Anyhow this is not a very nice post for TG.   But I can say I am truly thankful for every single non-asshole in the world at this moment
I grew up in CT, and faced some major snobbery in my years, and was sometmes at the receiving end of serious judgement which can leave a kid feeling lots of unnecessry shame and fear. So, I am seeing these people now and I am 40 and they remind me of when I was 12 looking for a place in the world and sometimes learning the hard way that their place was not for me. I am of course glad for the place I now have, and all of the places I found myself over the years which allowed for creative being and freedom.

When I was young my experience was usually “What doesn’t kill me makes me cry.”

Now it is more like, “I am glad I don’t have to deal with too many assholes. Thank you Jesus”.

 

Alien baby

I know that constantly putting up pictures of my kitten on this blog is kind of ridiculous. But here is just one more that I have to post because he looks like a very hairy alien baby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyhow. Things are almost back to normal here. Barricades down, doors open. I think they are almost playing, there is a lot of chasing and peering around corners. Things will be fine.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Sweet like pie

Poetry Day

A SONNET TO HEAVENLY BEAUTY
JOACHIM DU BELLAY, 1550.

If this our little life is but a day
In the Eternal,–if the years in vain
Toil after hours that never come again, -
If everything that hath been must decay,
Why dreamest thou of joys that pass away,
My soul, that my sad body doth restrain?
Why of the moment’s pleasure art thou fain?
Nay, thou hast wings,–nay, seek another stay.

There is the joy whereto each soul aspires,
And there the rest that all the world desires,
And there is love, and peace, and gracious mirth;
And there in the most highest heavens shalt thou
Behold the Very Beauty, whereof now
Thou worshippest the shadow upon earth.

Combustible Edison

One of my favorite mysteries is that of Spontaneous Human Combustion. After a long and rather trying day, I just came home and turned on the television. Bones is on, and it is about Spontaneous Human Combustion! I am excited to collapse onto my couch and watch it. Especially because today, in acupuncture, I had that thing happen where a needle went into my wrist and I had a massive lightening electricity zap into my whole hand. I expressed my shock and misery but did try to stick it out. When I moved a finger a few minutes later and I got another zap, we decided to take out the needle. Probably for the best. But the experience reminded me about everything being made up of energy. And electricity. And how strange that seems since we appear mostly as clumpy fluid filled vessels. I plan to read a little tonight about why lightening can shoot into your hand during acupuncture.

The treatment by the way, made me feel ten thousand times better after a very hard day. Needles, plus a massage from a really thorough, kind, gentle and intelligent practitioner was a recipe for goodness. I will wash it down with sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts roasted in the oven.

Off to spontaneously watch television.

 

My Buddy

Figaro is obsessed with Samson. He follows him everywhere. Samson is being pretty tolerant under the circumstances, except when lines are crossed. For example, I tried to give them both treats at the same time, which was recommended on a kitten cat website. But Figaro lunged to eat Samson’s treats and was taught a lesson with a giant paw swipe and a growl. This is good I think, so he can learn the ropes of sharing with others. (He also needs to learn to wash his butt and not bite my hands, which I am working on.)

Later in the night, Samson decided to stick it out and sat on a chair in the living room even though Figgy was being a maniac in there. So what does Fig do? He jumps up on the chair, and literally gets right in next to Samson, who naturally is like You have got to be kidding me and hisses growls swipes and runs upstairs. Figaro follows him.

It is hilarious and cute. I am hoping Figaro’s crush on Samson will endear him to the old man, who will then accept him, and Billie will follow suit. Figgy just wants  everyone to play with him. Man and beast alike. He wants to do somersaults and run into walls and bite everything in the universe. Including an 18 pound polydactyl cat. Who can blame him.

Worry Wart

I am getting tired of the stressors that have arisen with the adoption of Figgy. Samson is growly and hissy fitting and Billie is terrified. I am going to start by getting some Bach’s remedies for them to try and straighten things out. I do hope they help. I am ready to let Little Fig out of his little room on a permanent basis. I feel like two weeks of transition time is acceptable. I feel like they have to just get used to him being in the house and they will then get over him being in the house. I am just afraid Samson will hurt Fig and I am afraid Fig will get trapped in something and drown or choke because I am a worry wart. It is probably best that I don’t have children of my own. They would have leashes as well as those arm floats and helmets and giant sunglasses even if they were at rest and it wasn’t sunny out. So yes I worry a lot about tiny Figlet roaming the giant house with no human supervision, just two cats who are NOT into him being there. What to do?

When I was little, my grandmother Nony, she used to always tell me I was a worry wart. She would say, “Don’t worry Dolly, everything will be alright” and feed me Italian food or ginger ale and peanuts and hold my hand. I remember one day when I was in about second grade we were allowed “free dress” instead of wearing our Catholic school uniforms. There was some kind of special event at which I had to read something into a microphone. I had recently gotten a pair of clogs. We were not allowed to wear clogs to school in any way shape or form. But since it was free dress, I wanted to wear mine. I asked my Mother 20 times if she thought it was okay and every time she said “Sure it’s okay”. But I was so afraid I would get into trouble I was up half the night thinking and worrying, and I spent the whole day nervous about wearing my clogs, especially when I went up to the microphone and everyone was looking at me.

Nothing happened.

So. Maybe I should stop worrying about Little Fig so much. He is growing. He is still clumsy though, always falling down. But he is resilient like any cat is resilient. Maybe they will see him just wanting to play and sleep and they will realize there is no reason to be mean or scared. I dunno.

Plus today I am wearing an old sweater and when I got to work I realized it has Hamlet hair all over it. Aw Hammy. I miss that boy so very much.

Cats and Kittens

Kittens and Cats

I’m such a lesbian sometimes.

Oh also, here is a photo essay I made to represent my discovery from last night. Figgy and I have the same haircut! In the front, it is short on one side and longer on the other. We were definitely meant to be.

Baby Genius

Figaro is being kittensat by our upstairs neighbor today. He just sent me this photo. I am glad to know Fig is learning about Quantum Psychology while I am off at work.

 

K-Turn

Since this is a blog that is supposed to be about art, or at least my life trying to make it (art), although I am constantly distracted by things like kittens and the occasional thief, I thought I would post the press release for my show.

I just wrote this:

“Yet I am fairly certain nobody in the press knows who I am.  So it is sort of funny to me the whole thing. But I tend to belittle myself and my accomplishments so perhaps I am not the person to ask. I just kind of think that no one really cares about what other people are doing unless it directly effects them. And unless someone in the press says you are important and valuable and effective, and that people should care about what you are doing and that they should wish they had done it, no one will care.”

Then I reread what I wrote and decided I should delete it because some people do care about my work, people who aren’t even my diehard friends or family members. And there are people who buy my work and support me and cheer me on. So I first spoke from my fear place, and then I realized I was doing that, and wanted to revoke it, but I didn’t because I think it is important to share that whole process.Which is thematically very related to my show.

Anyhow here is the release. You can click on it then blow it up to read it.

ODE to a FIG

There once was a kitten named Fig

Who ate kitten food like a pig

It would go into his stomache which would turn into a basketball and everyone would want to pet it.

Then he would poo and it would get stuck in his long white kitten hair

And he would leave dingleberries here and there.

Sometimes he would fear a shadow

And go mental as if it were a ghost

And his people would think he was suddenly whacked-out and brain damaged

From the tons of falls he took each day while being a maniac monster kitten.

Then he would get tired like a little baby and fall asleep on the people

Purring like a vespa motor.

And even though he smelled like a homeless man on the subway

The owners loved him massively because he was a very good boy

Who had been the last of his litter

Sickly and alone and pooing

And he probably wouldn’t have made it

But now he is loved and growing big and strong.

And everyone except for Billie and Samson are very happy about this.

 

Thievery

This morning as I was exiting Starbucks with my grande decafe, I stopped at the filling station for a sugar. A woman walked in and stood next to me and took about 30 packets of Equal and rammed them into her bag. She had not bought a coffee. I realized I was witnessing thievery. I know she was stealing pennies worth of stuff from a wealthy corporation,  but it was still stealing. She was not  homeless, she was well dressed and squeaky clean. If she had taken 4 packets of Equal, it wouldn’t be much of a big deal. But she took at least 30.

If she had taken 30 packets of Equal from an independently owned coffee shop it would have been much worse, this I believe on many levels.  But stealing is stealing isn’t it? How am I supposed to feel about this? Would it have been worse if she stole 30 Sugars in the Raw instead? They seem so much more valuable and special since they don’t cause cancer. I feel confused inside.

If a large corporation wants to buy your art will you sell it to them? What if they are a corporation with a mediocre reputation regarding human goodness?  What if you are not sure if they are good or shady? What if they are good but they are still a large corporation with millionaire white male CEO’s?

What if you are piss poor and they are offering you  thousands of dollars? Would you do it? Would you steal the sugar from Starbucks? Comments welcome.

 

 

 

B FLAT

B Flat and Black Holes – NPR

“In September 2003, astronomers at NASA’s Chandra X-Ray Observatory found what can be described as sound waves emanating from a supermassive black hole. The black hole can be seen in the Perseus cluster of galaxies located 250 million light years from Earth. Andrew Fabian of the Institute of Astronomy in Cambridge, England, analyzed the waves and announced, “We have detected their sound….” The sound he found (which is really the waves passing through gas near the black hole) translate to the note B flat. But this is not a B flat you or I can hear. It is 57 octaves below middle C. A piano, by comparison, contains only seven octaves. So if a black hole hums, it hums at a frequency a million billion times lower than you can hear.”

 

This, I believe, is really super cool.