Woke up fron another strange dream: the better half’s sister had dragged us out to L.A. to attend some “church” meeting… We were deeply afraid it was a cult, but when my sweety saw all the cute young men and women administering strange, magic bone massages (using an x-ray ring that went right through the flesh and carressed the calcium) she seeemed to lose her anti-cult resolve to tantric longings.
The brawny-paper-towel-man-looking-surfer-dude-messiah gave me the name “Zeustra”.
I said, “Do you mean Zarathustra, or Zeus, or Zeustra?”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
“One is Nietzche’s mountain profit and one is a Greek god, and the other is some stupid bastardization of the other two.”
“Oh,” he said. “We’ve got a smart one here. You think intelligence is important?”
I said, “It can come in handy sometimes.”
I had to get these girls out of here, was all I was thinking, or soon they’d be concubines of Mr. Brawny, or worse.
It was an odd dream and so I woke up early and was reflecting on the weekend, during which me and the better half got on pretty splendidly. We only had one fight and this was on the last day (yesterday… love was such a tricky game to play) when both of us were trying to get used to the fact that this is the last day we get to be in the blissful spring Idyll…. We have never been good at farewells to all that… so we tend to fight at the anxiety of loss… we tend to do it with our family too…. I went for a long walk in the park yesterday (see below for some photos) and watched the theater of the boat house (where Woody shot a very funny scene in Bullets Over Broadway) and tried to chill out, but in the end I kept coming back to how she’d made fun of my blog and my belly… these are the two things I work hardest on! I sort of am enamored of my middle age pot belly (I was more or less anorexic in my teens and it was no fun and I was a moody bastard)…. but I also saw what she was saying, even if she said it in a less than kind manner (and that, my gentle reader, is putting it nicely) so today’s experiment involves wokring on the Super 8 Daze script, and making some large pictures on Arches paper and the rice paper we bought in Korea town… it is beautiful stuff …. one for floor, one for wall… one for text and one for all and one for WIlloughby and Clark eating (read me) and one a hot Asian chick (figure that out for yourself dear reader) for the large marblized fram I found with Donna Cameron while the cherry blossoms were drifting in spring streets.
Don’t fret too much, I’m not giving up on the blog, but using it to document the chages of each picture and if I have time and the sun holds, I’m going to go walk under the Veranzano Bridge.
The point is this, I woke up and dragged all the the big stuff out… move the ink and paint… move the body… change my mind, as Elvis put it.
Phase two:
So one of the nice things about living with my better half is the influence of Korean calligraphy. Her Grandfather was a schollar and this means he was also a painter in some respect (so different than the West). He had to practice the messy art of calligraphy and he knew characters to the distance that the Sweety’s mother’s teachers couldn’t recognize the character for her mother’s name. Hi calligraphy was used by the mazons carving funeral stones for the local cemetary. The few examples that made it to America, mostly sat rolled, or folded up in drawers and so it was so great to get this stuff framed and live with it… it tends to humble me at my every turn. The energy and thought that he got inot a gesture kills me… and we probably don’t have anything like his best work.
So then I went out to explore the calligraphy of the street and see what the man with the door has done for Memorial Day: he added impasto….
My other project is to scan some David Conrad pictures onto some vellum paper as part of the Little Gnostic Witch project and make him the love interest for our little broom rider with a cervix… (I owe him… trust me)…
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