Sometimes no matter what happens you just have to walk around with a smile on your face all day long.
Sometimes you have a really good meal, preferably seafood, which tastes so much better because the boss paid for it.
Sometimes you find a band and love it so much they can do know wrong. Everything they play sounds new and totally amazing. In the last couple months I have found two. Sick Puppies and Blue October. Lady Gaga be damned.
Sometimes the city seems so much clearer, the air cleaner, and the sky blue. The people seem happier, polite (now that’s amazing), and smiling. I suppose spring works wonders.
Sometimes the cabbie is being honest and he really can’t speak good English. And he has no idea where the hell he is going.
Sometimes painting seems like a natural extension of my brain. The colors are vibrant, the canvas smooth, the paints mix perfectly. At times like that I feel like I feel like I can literally think what I see onto the canvas.
Sometimes you have an orgasm so amazing it grabs you by the arms and seems to shake you than leaves you stunned, breathless, and just a limp mess in a tangled bed. See the first one above.
It was a good day
tuneage
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Observations from the Window, thoughts of Spring
Sixty degrees yesterday, spring is in the air, those magic words. The sound of birds, the smell of fresh mown grass, and the scent of wet plowed fields surround me. Ah nope, not a chance. OMG! Where am I and what have you done with my spring?
I sat on the sidewalk outside the gallery yesterday and the sounds of traffic, horns, and blaring music filled my ears. The smell of diesel exhaust mingled with the scents from the Chinese restaurant down the street. Not exactly the sounds and scents of spring as I remember them.
Still it was a warm and beautiful day and spring is in the air. You can feel it, sense it isn’t far away now. People were smiling in the streets again, wandering, carrying fresh flowers just flown in from South America. All of them looking like they were just released from the shackles of winter.
Soon my thoughts returned to State College, the mountains and my brother. I wondered if he went to class or bolted to enjoy his last ‘first warm day’. His big graduation day fast approaches, May 15. I’m so excited for him but sad at the same time. He has to join the real world and, for me, it’s just another link to the mountains gone.
I was always so bad when the weather got warm at school. Good thing Art isn’t exactly a major you have to show up for every day. Any warm weather, especially the early warm days, called for an unplanned trip to the beer distributor, the liquor store, and the grocery for limes and ice. Than it was a quick drive to our nice secluded spot in the mountains not far from campus. With big flat rocks to sit on, a mountain stream to keep the beer cold, and the warm sun. It all combined for some pretty memorable lazy days in the sun. Now isn’t that what college is for?
Still no sign of the sunscreen vendor but i think ill wander across the street and buy some of those Brazilian flowers.
I know this weather won’t, it can’t, last. But for now it will do.
tuneage
I sat on the sidewalk outside the gallery yesterday and the sounds of traffic, horns, and blaring music filled my ears. The smell of diesel exhaust mingled with the scents from the Chinese restaurant down the street. Not exactly the sounds and scents of spring as I remember them.
Still it was a warm and beautiful day and spring is in the air. You can feel it, sense it isn’t far away now. People were smiling in the streets again, wandering, carrying fresh flowers just flown in from South America. All of them looking like they were just released from the shackles of winter.
Soon my thoughts returned to State College, the mountains and my brother. I wondered if he went to class or bolted to enjoy his last ‘first warm day’. His big graduation day fast approaches, May 15. I’m so excited for him but sad at the same time. He has to join the real world and, for me, it’s just another link to the mountains gone.
I was always so bad when the weather got warm at school. Good thing Art isn’t exactly a major you have to show up for every day. Any warm weather, especially the early warm days, called for an unplanned trip to the beer distributor, the liquor store, and the grocery for limes and ice. Than it was a quick drive to our nice secluded spot in the mountains not far from campus. With big flat rocks to sit on, a mountain stream to keep the beer cold, and the warm sun. It all combined for some pretty memorable lazy days in the sun. Now isn’t that what college is for?
Still no sign of the sunscreen vendor but i think ill wander across the street and buy some of those Brazilian flowers.
I know this weather won’t, it can’t, last. But for now it will do.
tuneage
Monday, March 15, 2010
Violence and Art ????
'Whats done, is done'
Lady Macbeth
Originally I didn't see Sam Tanenhaus's article but it was this quote that caught my eye, 'Art imitates nature, but few artists observe like scientists. Especially in the United States, art is dominated by political correctness, which turns a blind eye to realities that aren’t supposed to exist. Both men and women are Homo sapiens, dangerous animals indeed.' It was a response to the article in the New York Times Book Review.
I wont quote it the article but read it if you must. I’ve now read it three or four times and I still don’t get what he is trying to say. Is art supposed to see the future? Artists pretty much record what they see, hear, what they feel. There are plenty of movies and books about violent women. Photos of babes with guns are all over the internet, not that I consider that art, oh maybe I should. But to say art has failed to see what is going on around it, has failed to see what is happening to women, is ludicrous. Maybe the world in general has failed to see what is happening as it does in most cases. And now I’m making no sense so I’m just as bad as him.
I mean, I thought it seemed pretty obvious that this was an open and shut case of a violently mentally ill woman who had just happened to be together enough to make it through a PhD program. Trying to generalize from it (‘feminist progress leads to violence’) just seems like grasping at straws for a story. Statistically speaking, women are much less likely to kill, and much less likely to have the sorts of violent mental illnesses that play out this way, but less likely does not mean never.
It reminds me of article I read about the shock around the world when the first female suicide bombers hit the streets of Iraq. The author concluded that, OMG, women make the same judgments and follow the same path of reason that men do! No way!! Somebody alert the psychiatric community that women can be anti social too.
Tanenhaus is what some people like to call a ‘smart conservative.’ He probably is. But being the smartest conservative is like being the best downhill skier in Tonga.
I think Tanenhaus is what some people like to call ‘full of shit.’
Obviously he doesn’t watch the show ‘Deadly Women’
tuneage
Lady Macbeth
Originally I didn't see Sam Tanenhaus's article but it was this quote that caught my eye, 'Art imitates nature, but few artists observe like scientists. Especially in the United States, art is dominated by political correctness, which turns a blind eye to realities that aren’t supposed to exist. Both men and women are Homo sapiens, dangerous animals indeed.' It was a response to the article in the New York Times Book Review.
I wont quote it the article but read it if you must. I’ve now read it three or four times and I still don’t get what he is trying to say. Is art supposed to see the future? Artists pretty much record what they see, hear, what they feel. There are plenty of movies and books about violent women. Photos of babes with guns are all over the internet, not that I consider that art, oh maybe I should. But to say art has failed to see what is going on around it, has failed to see what is happening to women, is ludicrous. Maybe the world in general has failed to see what is happening as it does in most cases. And now I’m making no sense so I’m just as bad as him.
I mean, I thought it seemed pretty obvious that this was an open and shut case of a violently mentally ill woman who had just happened to be together enough to make it through a PhD program. Trying to generalize from it (‘feminist progress leads to violence’) just seems like grasping at straws for a story. Statistically speaking, women are much less likely to kill, and much less likely to have the sorts of violent mental illnesses that play out this way, but less likely does not mean never.
It reminds me of article I read about the shock around the world when the first female suicide bombers hit the streets of Iraq. The author concluded that, OMG, women make the same judgments and follow the same path of reason that men do! No way!! Somebody alert the psychiatric community that women can be anti social too.
Tanenhaus is what some people like to call a ‘smart conservative.’ He probably is. But being the smartest conservative is like being the best downhill skier in Tonga.
I think Tanenhaus is what some people like to call ‘full of shit.’
Obviously he doesn’t watch the show ‘Deadly Women’
tuneage
Sunday, March 14, 2010
a Nite Out
Before I start I need to pass along the most important lesson learned last night. Kamikazes are, and always have been, bad bad news. Those innocent little shots that bring with them the utter disregard of rational thinking. I love them, I hate them, and I normally stay as far away as possible from them. They make me crazy and the next day they make me pay.
Now, you might ask, how did I relearn this important lesson?
My roommate’s girlfriend went to the theatre Saturday night. Now Ashley, who just said ‘use my real name damnit’, absolutely, hates the theatre. So she decided it was time for one of her so called nights out. You could say we are out every night but when she gets this look in her eye it is something special she has in mind. She first came up with this back in our college days and we have been doing it off and on ever since. Put on our best black, pull on our best boots, and roam from bar to bar looking for nothing more than the sheer entertainment found in the minds of our fellow human creatures. OK I’m pretty much talking guys here.
It’s not that we pick on people or anything like that. More like careful observation of our surroundings. I like to think of it as being psychologically playful. Now, like me, Ash has never been with a guy and has pretty much always known that she was gay. But she attracts straight guys like a moth to a flame with about the same result. I, on the other hand, seem to give off a ‘touch me and you die’ vibe.
Even with my hair down and my best bartending smile on my face, when I am with her I get nothing but ‘excuse me but who is your friend?’ type comments which put a nice scowl on my face. Or I get hit on by the middle aged soft-core porn producer in a JC Penney suit guys.
So in the end I feel like the jilted lover and now I’m pretty adept at playing that part. And that’s where the fun comes in. But that’s another story!
I think I'm burning a chicken ....
tuneage
Friday, March 12, 2010
Observations from the Window
Just some random thoughts and than at the end, in honor of Keith Olbermann, a special thought for the state of Mississippi.
After a couple of warm days that had thoughts of spring running rampant I look out onto an exceedingly dreary street. It’s cold, wet, rainy, damp, or bleak. Take your pick. Still no sunscreen vendor on the street and now none needed. Normally I take mostly b&w photos but I have a sudden urge to take color pics of this b&w world. Than again they would probably look the same.
Last night the bartender I work with told me I’m not the ‘chattiest person under the sun’. This is something new? I think I'll have a button made that says ‘will chat for tips’.
A response to Sam Tannenhaus’s essay, in the New York Times Book Review, on the depiction of violent women in the arts, “Art imitates nature, but few artists observe like scientists. Especially in the United States, art is dominated by political correctness, which turns a blind eye to realities that aren’t supposed to exist. Both men and women are Homo sapiens, dangerous animals indeed.”
Now for Mississippi ….
It seems Mississippi needs a minority to hate and it doesn’t care who it is. Cute lesbian high schoolers are next up. Rather than let a student attend the prom with here girlfriend the Itawamba Agricultural High School canceled the prom. The school district's bureaucratic non-excuse for the cancellation is that it's ‘due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events.’ I guess they are just afraid to state the obvious, ‘we scared of the gehs!’
And in Copiah County, Mississippi a 17 year old high school student was denied a spot in her yearbook because she wore a tuxedo in her picture. She happens to be a lesbian but also a straight A student, goalie on the school soccer team, and a leader of Students Against Destructive Decisions. But damnit she is a cross dresser!
I have some choice things I could say but, being the calm mellow understanding sensible lesbian, Ill just leave it with Mississippi yawl suck!
On the lighter side I found this comment reading a blog post about the prom. ‘Why do heterosexuals have to "announce" their sexuality? They do so by holding hands in public or kissing each other. How DARE they do that where my gay child might see that and think it's normal?! Who do they think they are, flaunting their affection for one another for all to see. My gosh, it's horrible.”
I just have to smile sometimes
tuneage
After a couple of warm days that had thoughts of spring running rampant I look out onto an exceedingly dreary street. It’s cold, wet, rainy, damp, or bleak. Take your pick. Still no sunscreen vendor on the street and now none needed. Normally I take mostly b&w photos but I have a sudden urge to take color pics of this b&w world. Than again they would probably look the same.
Last night the bartender I work with told me I’m not the ‘chattiest person under the sun’. This is something new? I think I'll have a button made that says ‘will chat for tips’.
A response to Sam Tannenhaus’s essay, in the New York Times Book Review, on the depiction of violent women in the arts, “Art imitates nature, but few artists observe like scientists. Especially in the United States, art is dominated by political correctness, which turns a blind eye to realities that aren’t supposed to exist. Both men and women are Homo sapiens, dangerous animals indeed.”
Now for Mississippi ….
It seems Mississippi needs a minority to hate and it doesn’t care who it is. Cute lesbian high schoolers are next up. Rather than let a student attend the prom with here girlfriend the Itawamba Agricultural High School canceled the prom. The school district's bureaucratic non-excuse for the cancellation is that it's ‘due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events.’ I guess they are just afraid to state the obvious, ‘we scared of the gehs!’
And in Copiah County, Mississippi a 17 year old high school student was denied a spot in her yearbook because she wore a tuxedo in her picture. She happens to be a lesbian but also a straight A student, goalie on the school soccer team, and a leader of Students Against Destructive Decisions. But damnit she is a cross dresser!
I have some choice things I could say but, being the calm mellow understanding sensible lesbian, Ill just leave it with Mississippi yawl suck!
On the lighter side I found this comment reading a blog post about the prom. ‘Why do heterosexuals have to "announce" their sexuality? They do so by holding hands in public or kissing each other. How DARE they do that where my gay child might see that and think it's normal?! Who do they think they are, flaunting their affection for one another for all to see. My gosh, it's horrible.”
I just have to smile sometimes
tuneage
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Observations from the Window
Sixty degrees in the Village! The end is near, well the end of this god awful winter anyway. I had such awesome plans for my day off. I was going to take in the Whitney Biennial at the WMA and than hit the Union Square Green Market for much needed foods. But alas both are closed on a Tuesday so I find myself in the window as my blacks wash. Maybe, as somebody suggested, I should just make my bed.
But I have made an invaluable discovery. The window, with some prodding, opens to the outside world. This is earth shattering for me. I feel like I’m back in the dorm with the window open and music blaring. And no it is not Lady Gaga, I don’t want everybody on the street to think I’m gay.
The sounds of the street flood in and I just have to smile. People seem to notice you more with the window open so I suppose I have to wave back. How am I supposed to read? And where the hell is snow shovel / umbrella man with the sunscreen? God I need to find out if I can get the beach house at this summer. I called a garage today and maybe Ill have my ‘foxy’ here in time to put the top down and head out of town when the mood hits. Funny what a little warm air can do for you. Makes the mind run in warp speed.
I got a text from my brother saying 'holy hell that was a long trip!', I guess it was considering that was the first i heard from him since he left for Vegas almost 24 hours ago. I'm not even going to ask.
Just reading odds and ends here, catching up on the world after my long weekend. Today gay and lesbian couples were married in DC for the first time. I just have to smile at that. But, as always, it seems to be one step forward and another back. This from the San Francisco Sentinal ….
“Last year, a member of Uganda’s Parliament, David Bahati, introduced a bill that, if it becomes law, will further criminalize homosexuality in Uganda. “Aggravated homosexuality,” according to the bill, will become a capital offense, and anyone who doesn’t report a known homosexual within 24 hours will be subject to punishment of up to seven years in jail.”
So not only would it be a capital crime to be gay but a crime not to report gays, or those you think are gay, or those you wouldn’t mind getting rid of, or or or. Must be how it felt to be Jewish in Nazi Germany.
Rep. Eric Massa called White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel “the son of the devil’s spawn”. Even in politics a line doesn’t get better than that. Just make me like Emanuel more than I did already. But even better Masa goes on ….
“I’m sitting there showering, naked as a jaybird and here comes Rahm Emanuel not even with a towel wrapped around his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me because I wasn’t going to vote for the president’s budget. Do you know how awkward it is to have a political argument with a naked man?”
For the record Masa is a congressman from New York who resigned today because he is under investigation by the house ethics committee for alleged inappropriate behavior with a staff member. He claims he only shared a hotel bed with a male staff member to save money. He also claims he was setup by Emanuel because he was the deciding vote on health care reform (he is against it) and Emanuel wanted him out of the way.
Truth is always stranger than fiction.
Life goes on.
tuneage
But I have made an invaluable discovery. The window, with some prodding, opens to the outside world. This is earth shattering for me. I feel like I’m back in the dorm with the window open and music blaring. And no it is not Lady Gaga, I don’t want everybody on the street to think I’m gay.
The sounds of the street flood in and I just have to smile. People seem to notice you more with the window open so I suppose I have to wave back. How am I supposed to read? And where the hell is snow shovel / umbrella man with the sunscreen? God I need to find out if I can get the beach house at this summer. I called a garage today and maybe Ill have my ‘foxy’ here in time to put the top down and head out of town when the mood hits. Funny what a little warm air can do for you. Makes the mind run in warp speed.
I got a text from my brother saying 'holy hell that was a long trip!', I guess it was considering that was the first i heard from him since he left for Vegas almost 24 hours ago. I'm not even going to ask.
Just reading odds and ends here, catching up on the world after my long weekend. Today gay and lesbian couples were married in DC for the first time. I just have to smile at that. But, as always, it seems to be one step forward and another back. This from the San Francisco Sentinal ….
“Last year, a member of Uganda’s Parliament, David Bahati, introduced a bill that, if it becomes law, will further criminalize homosexuality in Uganda. “Aggravated homosexuality,” according to the bill, will become a capital offense, and anyone who doesn’t report a known homosexual within 24 hours will be subject to punishment of up to seven years in jail.”
So not only would it be a capital crime to be gay but a crime not to report gays, or those you think are gay, or those you wouldn’t mind getting rid of, or or or. Must be how it felt to be Jewish in Nazi Germany.
Rep. Eric Massa called White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel “the son of the devil’s spawn”. Even in politics a line doesn’t get better than that. Just make me like Emanuel more than I did already. But even better Masa goes on ….
“I’m sitting there showering, naked as a jaybird and here comes Rahm Emanuel not even with a towel wrapped around his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me because I wasn’t going to vote for the president’s budget. Do you know how awkward it is to have a political argument with a naked man?”
For the record Masa is a congressman from New York who resigned today because he is under investigation by the house ethics committee for alleged inappropriate behavior with a staff member. He claims he only shared a hotel bed with a male staff member to save money. He also claims he was setup by Emanuel because he was the deciding vote on health care reform (he is against it) and Emanuel wanted him out of the way.
Truth is always stranger than fiction.
Life goes on.
tuneage
Monday, March 8, 2010
the Rape of the american soldier
I received an essay in my email a couple days ago that made me do some thinking and a little more reading. I’ve been thinking every since what I could write about it. I wanted to say how it made me feel as a woman, as an American, or simply as a human being. But I can’t get past one simple word. Disgust.
So just some facts ….
The Pentagons own figures show that 3,000 women in the military were sexually assaulted in 2008, up 9% from 2007. In Iraq and Afghanistan the figure rose 25%. The Pentagon also reports 80% to 90% of assaults go unreported.
In civilian life you get support from doctors, lawyers, and advocates. In the military you get a chaplain and nothing more.
Women are typically removed from their units ‘for their own protection’. Only 8% of cases reported end in prosecution or are even investigated. This compared with a 40% prosecution rate in civilian life. Amazingly 80% of those convicted are honorably discharged. In other words you can rape but don’t be gay. Talk about don’t ask don’t tell.
A Duke University shows that military language reveals an “unabashed hatred of women” all the time. Even with a force that is now 14 percent female, and with rules that prohibit drill instructors from using racial epithets and curses, those same instructors still routinely denigrate recruits by calling them “pussy,” “girl,” “bitch,” “lady” and “dyke.” It also cites a Naval academy chant “Who can take a chainsaw, Cut the bitch in two, Fuck the bottom half, And give the upper half to you …”
Typically the victim is a junior ranking woman whose average age is 21 and her assailant is an NCO whose average age is 28. She will have to face her assailant every day and risk being punished by her commanding officer as a ‘troublemaker’. The very fact of reporting the assault will make her look weak to her unit.
Women in Iraq say they don’t drink anything after 7 PM so they don’t have to risk going to the bathroom during the night.
Like I said disgust.
No tuneage
So just some facts ….
The Pentagons own figures show that 3,000 women in the military were sexually assaulted in 2008, up 9% from 2007. In Iraq and Afghanistan the figure rose 25%. The Pentagon also reports 80% to 90% of assaults go unreported.
In civilian life you get support from doctors, lawyers, and advocates. In the military you get a chaplain and nothing more.
Women are typically removed from their units ‘for their own protection’. Only 8% of cases reported end in prosecution or are even investigated. This compared with a 40% prosecution rate in civilian life. Amazingly 80% of those convicted are honorably discharged. In other words you can rape but don’t be gay. Talk about don’t ask don’t tell.
A Duke University shows that military language reveals an “unabashed hatred of women” all the time. Even with a force that is now 14 percent female, and with rules that prohibit drill instructors from using racial epithets and curses, those same instructors still routinely denigrate recruits by calling them “pussy,” “girl,” “bitch,” “lady” and “dyke.” It also cites a Naval academy chant “Who can take a chainsaw, Cut the bitch in two, Fuck the bottom half, And give the upper half to you …”
Typically the victim is a junior ranking woman whose average age is 21 and her assailant is an NCO whose average age is 28. She will have to face her assailant every day and risk being punished by her commanding officer as a ‘troublemaker’. The very fact of reporting the assault will make her look weak to her unit.
Women in Iraq say they don’t drink anything after 7 PM so they don’t have to risk going to the bathroom during the night.
Like I said disgust.
No tuneage
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Observations from the Bar
The lunacy continues.
So a reggae band was the main band last night. What a difference the style of music can make. Everybody looks like they just spent a long day in the tanning salon. And all the leather is, for the most part, gone. Replaced by Bob Marley shirts, rasta hats, and even some damn dreadlocks wigs. How the hell you spend a night in one of those is beyond me. I thought we should be selling those crocheted rasta beanie things from under the bar but everybody looked at me like I was intoxicated on something other than Red Bull.
And I know, I know, I saw some of these same people last night. I mean some people just order the same weird things no matter what they are wearing. Can't fool me with a wig and some jafakean accent. I'll tell you what if I had heard 'yah man' one more time it would have gotten ugly.
I have never been one to dress the part for a show. I went to a Jimmy Buffett show with my dad once and was amazed. If you have ever been to one of his concerts you know what I mean. ‘Parrot Heads’ ?? Seriously. It all boggles my tired mind.
To complete the atmosphere somebody evidently starting burning leaves somewhere. Oh wait I know that smell, believe me I do. I guess those laws about smoking in a public place only pertain to tobacco products.
And by the way, I didn’t fall asleep in my breakfast today. I’m so damn proud!
tuneage
Something I have totally come to enjoy. A combination of breakfast, the Sunday NY Times, and dawn. I can learn to live with that.
So a reggae band was the main band last night. What a difference the style of music can make. Everybody looks like they just spent a long day in the tanning salon. And all the leather is, for the most part, gone. Replaced by Bob Marley shirts, rasta hats, and even some damn dreadlocks wigs. How the hell you spend a night in one of those is beyond me. I thought we should be selling those crocheted rasta beanie things from under the bar but everybody looked at me like I was intoxicated on something other than Red Bull.
And I know, I know, I saw some of these same people last night. I mean some people just order the same weird things no matter what they are wearing. Can't fool me with a wig and some jafakean accent. I'll tell you what if I had heard 'yah man' one more time it would have gotten ugly.
I have never been one to dress the part for a show. I went to a Jimmy Buffett show with my dad once and was amazed. If you have ever been to one of his concerts you know what I mean. ‘Parrot Heads’ ?? Seriously. It all boggles my tired mind.
To complete the atmosphere somebody evidently starting burning leaves somewhere. Oh wait I know that smell, believe me I do. I guess those laws about smoking in a public place only pertain to tobacco products.
And by the way, I didn’t fall asleep in my breakfast today. I’m so damn proud!
tuneage
Something I have totally come to enjoy. A combination of breakfast, the Sunday NY Times, and dawn. I can learn to live with that.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Observations from the Bar
OMFG !!
Nothing I have ever done in either life quite prepared me for last night, my first weekend night bar-tending. Just yesterday i said to a friend that I might not know what I was in for. And in the end I really didn’t.
I had to rush over from the gallery because the first band started at 7:30 and I wanted to be there by 7. Now I have been using the front door but I saw right away that wasn’t going to happen as people were already lined up outside. Problem was I never took the time to find out where the back door was. Just me being a dumbass once again. So I had to call my bouncer to get me in, which he did like i was somebody important and not the bartender's assistant. I have to admit that felt kind of kewl.
I was told from the start that it was best to wear earplugs during the weekend other wise your ears are ringing till the end of the night. I didn’t quite understand how you could do this and get people's orders at the same time. Well the trick is to wear one at a time and switch them every half hour or so. The problem is trying to remember which way to turn your head. I found myself saying ‘huh’ quite a lot.
Now the bar being full it was loud enough. But the bands sound fills the background. The bass especially echoes through the walls. And than there were five bands last night, the last one not ending till almost 1 AM, so like I said 'huh?'.
And talk about your characters. The main band was a Guns & Roses tribute band so the bar was full of leather clad Axel Rose wannabes and assorted groupie types and fanatics. All of whom looked to be underage and all of whom had proper ID proving they weren’t. Thank god that isn’t my area. If they made it as far as me, well, speak into my good ear and ill try to get you what you want. Even I have never seen so much black leather, studs, and assorted silver chains in my life. Almost like somebody decided to have a frat party at a BDSM club.
Finally there was a lull after the last band. It calmed down long enough to breath without somebody yelling something unintelligible at me. But than a whole different after hours crowd seemed to file in. I finally decided that these were all NYU students getting close enough to home to finish their drunken Friday night and be able to make it home by just falling forward repeatedly.
After cleaning up I met my friends at a coffee shop, ordered breakfast, and proceeded to fall asleep in the booth. There is nothing quite like waking up with a plate of cold eggs staring you in the face.
Sleep, shower, repeat. Hopefully tonight is a bit calmer.
But somehow I doubt it.
tuneage
Nothing I have ever done in either life quite prepared me for last night, my first weekend night bar-tending. Just yesterday i said to a friend that I might not know what I was in for. And in the end I really didn’t.
I had to rush over from the gallery because the first band started at 7:30 and I wanted to be there by 7. Now I have been using the front door but I saw right away that wasn’t going to happen as people were already lined up outside. Problem was I never took the time to find out where the back door was. Just me being a dumbass once again. So I had to call my bouncer to get me in, which he did like i was somebody important and not the bartender's assistant. I have to admit that felt kind of kewl.
I was told from the start that it was best to wear earplugs during the weekend other wise your ears are ringing till the end of the night. I didn’t quite understand how you could do this and get people's orders at the same time. Well the trick is to wear one at a time and switch them every half hour or so. The problem is trying to remember which way to turn your head. I found myself saying ‘huh’ quite a lot.
Now the bar being full it was loud enough. But the bands sound fills the background. The bass especially echoes through the walls. And than there were five bands last night, the last one not ending till almost 1 AM, so like I said 'huh?'.
And talk about your characters. The main band was a Guns & Roses tribute band so the bar was full of leather clad Axel Rose wannabes and assorted groupie types and fanatics. All of whom looked to be underage and all of whom had proper ID proving they weren’t. Thank god that isn’t my area. If they made it as far as me, well, speak into my good ear and ill try to get you what you want. Even I have never seen so much black leather, studs, and assorted silver chains in my life. Almost like somebody decided to have a frat party at a BDSM club.
Finally there was a lull after the last band. It calmed down long enough to breath without somebody yelling something unintelligible at me. But than a whole different after hours crowd seemed to file in. I finally decided that these were all NYU students getting close enough to home to finish their drunken Friday night and be able to make it home by just falling forward repeatedly.
After cleaning up I met my friends at a coffee shop, ordered breakfast, and proceeded to fall asleep in the booth. There is nothing quite like waking up with a plate of cold eggs staring you in the face.
Sleep, shower, repeat. Hopefully tonight is a bit calmer.
But somehow I doubt it.
tuneage
Friday, March 5, 2010
Observations from the Gallery
Some days go fast at the gallery with people actually talking, shopping, and buying. I, meh, so far I do more talking than selling. Other days are totally a social affair. The same assorted ‘regulars’ hanging out all day drinking coffee and discussing the latest shows and other topics of interest. Other days are slow, usually weekends, with fewer people coming in and Ash and I playing card games and reading magazines. This is our secret.
Than there are days like yesterday.
There comes a time when you just need to tell off somebody. Tell them how much you dislike them, their opinion, and the very ground they move on. Yesterday was such a time.
In comes this guy. I would like to say he is straight and just misinformed but sadly I know this isn’t true. Dressed like the rakish gay rogue he chooses to think he is, right down to the flower in his lapel, he looks like a gay fantasy version of the godfather. Not on one of the regulars but a friend of one, he considers himself quite the art critic and proudly gives his opinion on piece after piece. Style doesn’t matter, he hates it all. I think he just likes to hear himself talk.
But than he spied my portfolio sitting on a table.
He proceeded to spit forth his venom and as he did I’m told my face got redder and redder. Now I don’t have a temper, in fact I’m a very calm person. Really I am, oh come on, ok I have a temper that gets the best of me sometimes. Granted he has a bad opinion of everything but the more he talked the warmer the room felt. Normally I couldn’t care less what he has to say and actually have to laugh sometimes. Just to see what new descriptions he can come up with. But this was my portfolio. A little piece of me.
In the end, me being me, I didn’t tell him it was mine and egged him on, letting him dig his grave deeper and deeper before I finally lost it. I won’t get into details but I went on a five minute tirade loosely sprinkled with words like fuck, pompous, ass, pretentious, and I think fuck again. He huffed and puffed like, well, a pompous ass and stomped out. I stood and fumed as he walked out claiming he will never return. Than I had to laugh as scattering of applause filled the room. Even he friend said ‘well done’.
I’m sure he will be back today drinking coffee, giving his opinions, but maybe just a bit more respectful.
I felt bad. I felt good. It was one of those days.
tuneage
Than there are days like yesterday.
There comes a time when you just need to tell off somebody. Tell them how much you dislike them, their opinion, and the very ground they move on. Yesterday was such a time.
In comes this guy. I would like to say he is straight and just misinformed but sadly I know this isn’t true. Dressed like the rakish gay rogue he chooses to think he is, right down to the flower in his lapel, he looks like a gay fantasy version of the godfather. Not on one of the regulars but a friend of one, he considers himself quite the art critic and proudly gives his opinion on piece after piece. Style doesn’t matter, he hates it all. I think he just likes to hear himself talk.
But than he spied my portfolio sitting on a table.
He proceeded to spit forth his venom and as he did I’m told my face got redder and redder. Now I don’t have a temper, in fact I’m a very calm person. Really I am, oh come on, ok I have a temper that gets the best of me sometimes. Granted he has a bad opinion of everything but the more he talked the warmer the room felt. Normally I couldn’t care less what he has to say and actually have to laugh sometimes. Just to see what new descriptions he can come up with. But this was my portfolio. A little piece of me.
In the end, me being me, I didn’t tell him it was mine and egged him on, letting him dig his grave deeper and deeper before I finally lost it. I won’t get into details but I went on a five minute tirade loosely sprinkled with words like fuck, pompous, ass, pretentious, and I think fuck again. He huffed and puffed like, well, a pompous ass and stomped out. I stood and fumed as he walked out claiming he will never return. Than I had to laugh as scattering of applause filled the room. Even he friend said ‘well done’.
I’m sure he will be back today drinking coffee, giving his opinions, but maybe just a bit more respectful.
I felt bad. I felt good. It was one of those days.
tuneage
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Observations from the Window, the Bar
I worked off and on as a bartender/hostess at a club near my dad’s before I moved back to State College. I really enjoyed that but it in no way prepared me for bar-tending at a bar just blocks from the NYU campus. There is a big difference between a small Pennsylvania city and the Village and NYU with its 50,000 students. That’s 6000 more than Penn State and dropped smack in the middle of New York City. It’s as real as it gets but surreal at the same time.
I guess technically I’m not even a bartender. Officially I’m a bartender’s assistant. Only in New York do bartenders have assistants! All that this means is I can take your order, take your money, and pray you get your drink. Oh and I can tap you a beer too. If it’s one of over a hundred varieties of draft and bottled beer we have. But I need a map to get through the taps.
I also did security for a club in SL for most of last year. I enjoyed that too, the feeling of power as I ejected people. Sometimes I would do it on a whim or because I was in a bad mood and they the audacity to say the wrong thing.
What’s funny is the SL job may have prepared me more, at least for part of the new job. The feeling of sheer power is at times awesome. With a wink and a tilt of my head an
ex-offensive lineman from Syracuse, all six foot six inch and three hundred pounds of him, will not so gently escort you from the building. Talk about power corrupting!
But if you play by my rules I’ll be kind and just pour your drinks. Unlike Fight Club I don’t have many rules, but I have a few. I think the list will grow over time.
Rule #1 – Do not, DO NOT, touch the bartender, or their assistant for that matter.
Rule #2 – Please do not order with your mouth full of food. Its gross and I can’t hear a thing you just said.
Rule #3 – No matter how pissed you are do not call me a dyke. Even if am one. My friends may call me that, I may call myself that, however you may not.
Rule #4 – Do not explain the use of your ‘manhood’. Quite honestly I couldn’t care less what you do with it. See rule #3.
All these rules came into play during my first two nights at the bar. I’m going to have to buy my lineman dinner soon.
Stay tuned.
tuneage
I guess technically I’m not even a bartender. Officially I’m a bartender’s assistant. Only in New York do bartenders have assistants! All that this means is I can take your order, take your money, and pray you get your drink. Oh and I can tap you a beer too. If it’s one of over a hundred varieties of draft and bottled beer we have. But I need a map to get through the taps.
I also did security for a club in SL for most of last year. I enjoyed that too, the feeling of power as I ejected people. Sometimes I would do it on a whim or because I was in a bad mood and they the audacity to say the wrong thing.
What’s funny is the SL job may have prepared me more, at least for part of the new job. The feeling of sheer power is at times awesome. With a wink and a tilt of my head an
ex-offensive lineman from Syracuse, all six foot six inch and three hundred pounds of him, will not so gently escort you from the building. Talk about power corrupting!
But if you play by my rules I’ll be kind and just pour your drinks. Unlike Fight Club I don’t have many rules, but I have a few. I think the list will grow over time.
Rule #1 – Do not, DO NOT, touch the bartender, or their assistant for that matter.
Rule #2 – Please do not order with your mouth full of food. Its gross and I can’t hear a thing you just said.
Rule #3 – No matter how pissed you are do not call me a dyke. Even if am one. My friends may call me that, I may call myself that, however you may not.
Rule #4 – Do not explain the use of your ‘manhood’. Quite honestly I couldn’t care less what you do with it. See rule #3.
All these rules came into play during my first two nights at the bar. I’m going to have to buy my lineman dinner soon.
Stay tuned.
tuneage
Monday, March 1, 2010
Observations from the Window
"The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool."
William Shakespeare
For the first time since I moved to the Village I’m torn. I look out my window and can’t see. I don’t see the street or the people, the cars and buses. All I see is what I thought I wanted my life to be. But somehow things always seem to go wrong.
Wrapped in a blanket, the window is cold. The world outside just seems a raw gloomy place this morning. The street dirty, trash blowing, the people rushed. The gloomy underside of the city showing itself. Everybody seems rushed but to what end? Just to get there? But what than? Why?
I made a decision I felt I had to make. Maybe as drastic a decision as the one I made to move here in the first place. But it changed everything, and nothing. I hurt the last person I ever would want to. I still don’t know anything.
I moved here because I had to. I had to know. But two months in I don’t think I know any more than I did. I’m not even sure what it is I needed to know. I miss the mountains so much and now I miss even more. And now I have to wonder if I can ever go back. I would be sitting in the mountains looking at the sky and not seeing it. Writing this very same thing from a different place and missing the city.
I belong here yet I don’t. Sometimes I wonder if I belong anywhere.
tuneage
William Shakespeare
For the first time since I moved to the Village I’m torn. I look out my window and can’t see. I don’t see the street or the people, the cars and buses. All I see is what I thought I wanted my life to be. But somehow things always seem to go wrong.
Wrapped in a blanket, the window is cold. The world outside just seems a raw gloomy place this morning. The street dirty, trash blowing, the people rushed. The gloomy underside of the city showing itself. Everybody seems rushed but to what end? Just to get there? But what than? Why?
I made a decision I felt I had to make. Maybe as drastic a decision as the one I made to move here in the first place. But it changed everything, and nothing. I hurt the last person I ever would want to. I still don’t know anything.
I moved here because I had to. I had to know. But two months in I don’t think I know any more than I did. I’m not even sure what it is I needed to know. I miss the mountains so much and now I miss even more. And now I have to wonder if I can ever go back. I would be sitting in the mountains looking at the sky and not seeing it. Writing this very same thing from a different place and missing the city.
I belong here yet I don’t. Sometimes I wonder if I belong anywhere.
tuneage
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Observations from the Bar
Yes I am a hockey fan.The Olympic Gold medal game. Canada vs. USA ....
First Period
Just minutes into the first period and I need a drink. This sure as hell isn’t that oh so purty euro-hockey.
Penalty! BS!! Is this a PG rated blog?
A cheap shot to the head ends the first period. Canadian team is full of lowly scoundrels.
Canada 1 – USA 0
Second Period
Second starts off with a Danica Patrick ‘Go Daddy’ commercial. There are worse ways to start.
Another penalty and I’m starting to get a bit worried, a bad feeling in my gut. I order another drink.
Our power play sucks big time.
YES! Goal USA !!
Text from my brother ‘o thank god’. Yes thank god.
Canada 2 – USA 1
Third Period
Shot after shot fired at the Canadian goal but he stops everything.
I can’t take this and order a pitcher. As time drains away with my beer I start to feel resigned.
Two minutes left in the game and the US goalie is pulled. Game is all but over my friends.
Twenty seconds left and the US scores !! I spit beer.
We go to overtime.
Canada 2 – USA 2
Between periods NBC’s Jeremy Roenick (an ex-Flyer) gets close to the emotional state of meltdown. Through a choked voice Roenick said 'Someone tonight is going to be a national hero.' Followed by 'I’m going to cry. I can’t believe this is happening.' I sit with my mouth hanging open.
Overtime
OMG I can’t hear what is going on.
I have no idea if this is sudden death or not. Four on four sudden death I am informed.
Over 60 shots in the game so far and only 4 goals have been scored.
Up and down the ice.
Sydney Crosby, a damn Pittsburgh Penguin, scores 8 minutes into ot. Canada wins.
I’m spent.
Canada 3 – USA 2
Medals are awarded after the game, tears shed, silver for USA, O Canada is played. This kind of sucks but yet it doesn’t.
Even in the loss US goalie Ryan Miller is named MVP of the Olympic Tournament. Canada has now won Olympic gold in ice hockey 8 times. The USA has been second to them 6 of those times.
I have been an ice hockey fan all my life. Blame my dad for that. I guess he wanted a son but had to wait a couple more years for that. He took me to my first Hershey Bears minor league game when I was four or five and I have been a fan of the sport ever since.
This may have been the best ice hockey game I ever saw.
tuneage
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Observations from the Gallery
photo by Jean-Baptiste Mondino
Earlier today this dude walked into the gallery today and handed us ‘promo’ copies of tomorrow’s New York Times T Magazine. I really have no idea what a said ‘promo’ copy is but I think it might be an FBI sting operation to out closet fashionistas in the Village.
And what is a fashionista? Is this person a trendsetter or a trend follower? Do they even believe in trends? Why am I asking these questions? I plead temporary insanity.
So in the T Magazine I saw this photo. I have never been into fashion photography. I guess there is a stray Vogue or Elle in my pile of magazines. But I never read them and the copies of Australian Vogue are only there because it’s the trendiest version. But I saw this photo and totally love it. I figure if I did do fashion photography this is what it would look like. I only hope the outfit is available in black too.
All you have to do is look in my closet to see I have no fashion sense. Basically we are talking black, black, and more black. Be forewarned, bring a flashlight because it is dark in there. It is as if the more color I put on canvases the less color I put on myself. You could say a kind of reverse osmosis of color. Maybe, just maybe, if I stop painting my fashion sense will return. Than again who gives a ….
Seven black leather jackets now, ranging from some fairly new ones to one I have been wearing since I was and undergrad. Four pair of black leather pants, each pair having a lower and lower waist. And, for the record, why do we call it a pair of pants? Black boots, sweaters, vests, two black suits, and my little black dress. omg what’s that in the bank? It looks almost pinkish but I’m not sure and I’m not going in.
I don’t have a flashlight.
tuneage
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