Art Attack Central
Fixing stuff, myself included…
Moving?
I stayed with my parents in their retirement community condo last night. Standing out in the parking lot smoking (no you can’t smoke here) this morning, I saw a large, yellow moving van pull up. My first thought was, are they moving in, or moving out? But, then I realized people only move in here. If the person that lived here is moving out, it’s not under their own power, because the living has stopped. The move outs are conducted by loved ones and friends.
You are so morbid.
No not really, I’m just saying/seeing how it is; although it’s true I do tend to notice things about dying.
So, I’m standing there finishing my cigarette scanning the side of the truck, and the advertising screams out “Moving by Sudden Death,” but then just as my eyes are popping out of my head, I see that it really says, “Moving by Suddath.”
See you are morbid.
What does sudden death mean? Sudden means unexpectedly, or unforeseen. We have a syndrome called sudden death syndrome in infants and young adults meaning death unexpectedly in otherwise healthy individuals. In some way all death is unexpected. Yes, we all know the saying about “…death and taxes,” but even when we’ve been though the experience of losing someone we love, we forget. Maybe getting older increases our awareness of it’s inevitability. My parents are more aware of it, but mostly I don’t want to see. Sometimes I see it when I don’t want to, like this morning. My unconscious mind showing me the last horizon: yours, mine and their’s.
Diet?
Now I know I’m in trouble; I actually clicked on one of those [spammails] to lose weight in my sleep. Are you dreaming now? Just because it felt like spring yesterday, I’m imagining myself putting on shorts, or rather trying to put on the shorts, but they won’t fit!
Testzone Testing
Yes this is a test; it is only a test. You may need to adjust the volume of the sound on your computer. What you are listening to is a description of a lucid dream.
Do you think this Audblog software will catch on, or “fade away?”
Spelling
Spelling, who gives a flying *%&*!, about that?
For some strange reason, I do. I hate it when I read one of my posts with a typo, or find I’ve forgotten to run it through some kind of spell check. Since I don’t have blogger pro, I usually run my post through my mail program, before I publish, or if it’s one word I’m unsure about I type it into google, and it comes up with the correct spelling as an alternative. The last month I’ve been getting to my mail through Mozilla, and quite frankly the spell check stinks [pu].
So?
I don’t know, I guess I’m just rambling, trying to get a threat going, but failing miserably.
What’s really going on?
I’m taking a painting and a drawing class this semester, or rather I’m supposed to be taking them, but for reasons ranging from back aches to just plain old procrastination, I have fail to show up for class. Thus at this point I have no other recourse, but to withdraw. Hmmm… I’m withdrawing from drawing; that should count for something. I found the quote below on Leah’s blog yesterday, which gave a brief moment of relief.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your life and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms or books that are written in a foreign tongue. The point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will gradually, without noticing it, live your way some distant day into the answers.”
–Rainer Maria Rilke
However, upon refection I find my circumstances don’t really qualify. This is really about the BIG QUESTIONS of life, not the nagging sticky attic door that was never locked in the first place. I will not be fooled by my own propensity to elevate the trivial to the spectacular.
1.) Do you know about GeoURL? Check it out to find your neighbor’s blog, or the web page of a restaurant near you. Find your house with a satellite photo map, and put your self in the database if you’re so inclined.
I haven’t added mine yet, because the whole idea spooked me; maybe I’m just a wee bit paranoid?
2.) How many times have you redesigned, or chosen a new template for your blog/journal, and are you content with your current look?
Only once, and I’m content enough not to fool with it for quite some time.
3.) From The New York Times February 11, 2003: “…The federal appeals court in St. Louis ruled yesterday that officials in Arkansas can force a prisoner on death row to take antipsychotic medication to make him sane enough to execute. Without the drugs, the prisoner, Charles Laverne Singleton, could not be put to death under a United States Supreme Court decision that prohibits the execution of the insane.” The prisoner referred to was convicted of murder, and sentenced to death for in 1979. You’ve probably already heard about this, but what do you think/feel about it?
This is a difficult topic, and I’m almost tempted to delete the question, because I have more questions than answers for this. Was he insane when he committed the murder, and if so why wasn’t he found not guilty because of insanity? However, even if he was not insane then, but now is, it seems to me there is something fundamentally wrong with using medication to enhance the mind, in order to end it. On the other hand…
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Signs of Spring?
The long time broken third floor window glass (one of my early attempts) is about to come apart entirely, even after many futile fixes/attempts to make it last till spring. It makes me think of Duchamp’s Large Glass in some funny way; however, the accidental cracking of his glass worked in his favor.
This year it has been hard to remember that winter is not all there is, but tiny crocus shoots, popping through the remains of the blizzard in my postage stamp backyard, remind me that’s not so. I’m sure most of the blizzard in Baltimore ended up in my basement last weekend brought in by the thaw, accompanied by the drum beat of torrential rain. This weekend the water level was manageable/ignorable (only about a half inch coming in through the cement basement floor.
“Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed.”
–Kahlil Gibran