Results tagged "Art"

In 1997 my best friend and I visited the Château de Versailles.

And, yes. That is me… running around like a weirdo in front of Le Petit Trianon. “Petit” because of it’s tiny scale next to the other Trianon, the “Grand”. It is also important to note that Versailles is referred to as a “château” — not because it is a castle, but because it is located in the countryside. Got that… NOT because it is a castle. Because, CLEARLY, Versailles is NOT a castle. NO. You’re WRONG.

I told you. NOT A CASTLE.

Now you are confused. Not in the sense that I’m a weirdo that likes to run around like a goofball in front of historical grandeur, but because you thought this post was going to be about Versailles. Which it sort of is, but not really.  No. This post is about Birth Control.

Yes. That’s right. Another annoying post about Birth Control. And people calling each other sluts and whores. And advertisers pulling contracts out from under ugly words that should never have been said. And the Jehovah’s Witnesses I just kicked off my front porch. Because, looking back at the world and all of the things that have gone on over and over again… Marie Antoinette was only 14 when she was expected to produce an heir to the French Throne. Her husband was only 15. And, oddly enough, the very last thing that either of them were interested in was sex. It took them YEARS to figure it all out. Freaks.

So, while I understand that the news is news — and we live in 2012 where the media RUNS SOCIETY, I’d really like it if for once, when I turn on the the tellie in the hopes of catching a glimpse of this week’s forecast — I’d REALLY LOVE IT if the end result wasn’t my FOUR YEAR OLD asking me about BIRTH CONTROL. I mean… One can only assume that if there were teenagers out there NOT thinking about sex — they are clearly lying, but with all this talk about birth control, WHAT ARE THEY THINKING NOW? As we sit around hoping that they aren’t thinking about IT, while all we do is talk about IT. No. They didn’t get any ideas from us. HOW COULD THEY?

So — can we tone it down a bit on the whole TALKING ABOUT IT stuff? Clearly we aren’t getting anywhere anytime soon. And lots of people are getting really angry….. Slamming the door in the Jehovah’s face as she said “These are really angry times…”. NO KIDDING. But I’m not going to sit around TALKING ABOUT IT. No. Instead, I’m going to just sit here thinking about those poor kids at the Château…. that never really even stood a chance.

((Huge Sigh))

There she is. Taking my picture again.

Can’t a dog just take a nap around here without interruption? I mean — I already wag my tail around these kids that she allows to stay in the house, can’t I just have one moment of peace? I know, I know. She’s all happy and proud because the vet said that I lost nine pounds. As if that’s anything to be surprised about… My last appointment was 6 months ago — What? Doesn’t she know that unlike a certain 3 year old around here, I listen?!

And she’s happy like ALL THE TIME.

Remember when she worked in an office? How whack was that? All the screaming over the telephone about press proofs and color matches…UGH – and the money. I mean it smells nice but I never did get the point. I did all I could by laying my head on her lap to calm the crazy down. But now. Taking my picture again. Hopefully this time she won’t go and post it all over the internet like she did last winter when I was “fat”. Hasn’t anyone ever heard of a “winter coat”.

And yes. I get that she loves me…. Despite the fact that she moved my dogbed four inches to the left…. Not the one in the TV room, the other one that I sometimes remove the stuffing from. Because, if that “new one” is going to scream about absolutely nothing, can’t I let out a little frustration every once in a while?

But I’m not some pathetic character dog that enjoys social media and internet attention. Because. I’m stout, stoic, and if being eleven years old hasn’t taught anyone around here anything — I’m in charge.. And I’m not going to stand for all of this laughing and playing around all the time. Don’t people know how to control themselves? Just the other day that 3 year old had a water pistol and thought it would be fun to test it out on me. And you know what? I let him. And I smiled the whole time. Dammit.

All I want is for everyone to behave. And bacon. I’d really like some — Did she ever think of that?

One would think that taking a little trip North would be easy enough by now… a simple road trip… no flights to worry about — we don’t even bother with the Cross Island Ferry. Instead, we act as die-hards, driving like maniacs along the border of New York City and Westchester County, braving the possible delays due to traffic build ups and congestion of competitive road ragers. You’d think that after NINE years of traveling throughout New England we would have learned our lesson. But no. We haven’t. Not to mention that within the nine years we have always traveled with the Bluedog who refuses to be kenneled; We added a child in carseat — AND are currently in the last three months before we have to add YET ANOTHER carseat for the pending babe. Next thing you know, we’ll be traveling with one of those HUGE clam shells on the top of our already oversized SUV — like a meteor sized status symbol that not only exacerbates that we ARE the spitting image of the yuppies that we made fun of until this very point in out lives, but also, downsizing is not an option for years to come….

AND SO, with flying by the seat of our proverbial pants NOT being as WOOHOO ROADTRIP as we’d like it to be or as it once was — coming home and settling back in takes about a week or two…. But this trip was special, so aside from the regular getting back into IT, there was the euphoria of reliving our lives before nine years ago… of finding things changed, but still the same. You know, SPECIAL. Almost, but not really as special as this hideously hot aired introduction… Because nine years is a really long time.

Portsmouth, New Hampshire is too cool for us. Really. I mean — there’s a good chance that it ALWAYS WAS, but when we were living there — participating in daily life, who’s to say. AND, I do have to mention that this was our 2nd trip back in the past nine years — the first return in 2005 was clouded by my career that was in the middle of slowly melting my brain… so I can’t remember very much other than copious amounts of vodka and stress…. Things are better now.

The weather was perfect -  – you know, not your usual 30° below zero for a weekend in February…Tugga tugga tugboat…

The whale wall by Wyland — the famous muralist… we think it’s time for a retouch, but it was kind of comforting to see that the scrubbing of graffiti is only resulting in exposed brick… When we were residents– walking by the wall several times a day, someone was obsessed with spray painting a giant penis on the mother whale… Not that I’m against graffiti art or anything, but there are TONS of unpainted walls to take advantage of — let alone a lesson in anatomy wouldn’t hurt. Let’s keep it real, people.

The city is as eclectic as it is historical… A lot of new construction has taken place — but it was much needed AND it is all very appropriately keeping in character with the rest of the town… Character which is oozing from ever crack in the pavement… every building — old and new. And dirty. Portsmouth is a scrappy place — grunge is comfortable here… vagabonds, seriously hard core — if its too cold for you then GOOD, get out. Smoking was banned in bars and restaurants since we’ve moved, but the live music and art scenes are still as strong as ever…

And we were such tourists! If only for a night — less than 24 hours in time where we ran around with our camera exposed. Soaking it all in as much as we could, knowing that it would only be a matter of time until we were back to New York — Long Island… where the ultimate cool is only for pretend. I took pictures of our favorite restaurants, bars, shops — But only as we were walking out the door… the sound of the locals grunting and rolling their eyes following us like a red flag through the cobble stoned streets.

(I love this window)

And then we stayed at the Wentworth which was rebuilt and taken over by Marriott — but still just as haunted as can be, I suspect — without a straight line to be found… the building was fabulously broken down and near extinction while we lived in town… I can’t decide what’s more suitable, but the stay was lovely…

Needless to say, Portsmouth remains our haven… A place where we lived for years among friends and irreplaceable memories. I can only highly recommend — and while summer is still considered the season for all of coastal New England — a visit this time of year is almost more appropriate for those of us that like to really live in our surroundings…

Have you ever stood so close to Lucifer that you can sort of smell the cigarette ashes that are embedded in the decades old paint?

(detail)

I have…
Just before every alarm at the San Francisco Museum of Modern art went off sending hoards of armed guards to the painting’s rescue… and while they attempted to frisk me for razor blades and sharpies, I broke free and screamed SAVE ALL THE LOBSTERS… because I’m allergic, so why should anyone else get to eat them? But then I thought better of myself and made my way out of the situation by peeing on the floor and yelling obsceneties at onlookers… because that’s what Pollock would have done.

Jackson Pollock died today in 1956.

And, don’t get me wrong… I’m not sitting here holding a white candle pretending that he was a gift to us or anything… I didn’t really even know about it… Facebook told me. And then I slipped into another dimension where I have to wonder what Pollock would have thought about the internet and all of this social media nonsense… a remembrance of his untimely (but maybe not) passing. If he was as cool as I imagine him to have been… then no. He wouldn’t have cared… but then he would have had a fit had no one said anything. A mean, somewhat sexy and yet still gruesome and gruffy artist that drank and drank… He even held a disdain for the work he created, not really wanting to explain himself and therefore we only have the explanation of others.  Like a man that relies on everyone else to tie his shoes… but still thinks he’s better than you, and still, wishing that he hadn’t gone out that fateful night… Warped and twisted with all kinds of mental issues playing out…. And aside from the whole.. WHATEVER of Ed Harris and, like, totally inventing Abstract Expressionism (can you hear my gum smack?)…

Is it just me?
What was, and still is, IT about this guy?

What was the point of Facebook? I mean really.
Is it safe to eat the mussels that you find on the beach? Not that I’m about to because I’m allergic to shellfish — just sayin’.
Magenta makes me physically ill.
He completely missed his diaper and wet the bed.
OH… he’s FLYIN’.
Her head was next to my mailbox.
It really is nice that the dinosaur has a New York accent.
DRINK.
Me, a secretary?
My GOD he’s big, what do you feed him? “Soy.”
Why bother apologizing to all of us? You didn’t cheat on us… it was all kind of amusing, actually.
Does anyone know where Phil Lee is?
Pardon.
What I really feel like doing is running around creating Aggravated Mayhem.
If you drive any slower, I might drive over you.
I’m 34 until June.
let’s crush on them together! 
ACTUALLY.
You must skate in the same direction as everyone else.
If I were a digger, I’d have a HUGE bucket.
My tooth always hurts this time of year.
Peace be with you.
I know it’s fun and cute, but please don’t laugh when he calls you a f’ing idiot.
Lisbon, Maine has a population of 9,077. How on earth is that possible?
We have a job to do.
Much like riding a bike, you never forget how to dance on a table.
Is a Water Chestnut really a nut?
I’m really into amateur.
I’m a wacko?
Resurrection is overrated.
He still has a speech impediment? That duck needs a speech therapist.
Who needs pants?
Citidiots.
Ry has a Native American Dorian Gray. I don’t think anything can match it.

I took it down.
 
Yes – this is the first time that I have deleted a written For the Birds word. Several Words – actually. Words that, after publishing, made me kinda sick to my stomach. If you missed it, you’re lucky – but if not — I apologize. I am not going to do THAT anymore. And, by that, I mean write weird cryptic empty thoughts about the THINGS that land me into a funk every once in a while. Things like “I am the most selfish person alive.”… and “I DON’T CARE”.

Because, even though this is all about me–which might still make me pretty selfish–I do care (insert big pounding heart). And many many many gobs of oozing love hugs to those that emailed me… I LOVE ALL OF YOU. sniff sniff. okay – now get off of me.

So what happened? Well – several things… things that I am not going to talk about at this particular time and place… because what is important is that THINGS can only get better… And with that, I promise this… Only fun. Only real. Only true. But never THAT.

Can you find me?

1. Find me in this picture.
2. Name the city that I am in.
3. Guesstimate the closest year this picture was taken.
4. Guess as many times as you would like.
5. If you answer correctly, I will interview you for an upcoming For The Birds “Bird Watcher Profile” post.
6. Then I will promote the hell out of your story for a week.
7. All about you. 
8. I am no joke about promotion. 
9. Game ends with the right answers.
10. If you were with me when this photo was taken, you can’t play.
11. Mom, Dad… You can’t play either.

Photography by Photog Melanie Zobian

Meanwhile, I’m guesting over at Guest Bird Robin’s blog.. I like her, she’s spunky.