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My hound hath no nose
Nov. 2nd, 2003 08:07 pmI changed my calendar to November today. I've been reluctant to do that...I want time to quit moving foreward until I have things figured out. I just think everything should pause for a little bit and let me catch my breath.
November's Dali painting is The Persistance of Memory. I always thought it was odd as a kid that the museum in St. Pete has the Disintigration of the Persistance of Memory but not Persistance itself: that one's in MOMA. I remember distinctly the first time I went to the Dali museum (with a transsexual named Dee which isn't part of this story). I was probably about 11 and walked around the corner only to end up face to paint with The Hallucinogenic Toreador which is a massive canvas. I stared at it and it stared back at me and ever since then I've been convinced that that painting and I have a cosmic connection.
I want to go to Europe and wander for a couple of months, to be in a different country full of people that speak a different language. But I worry that the opportunity to opt out of all conversation for months would be too strong a temptation, that I would retreat back inside my skull and never come out. I would just become an eyeball, all seeing but never returning anything that I saw. And maybe I wouldn't ever leave, I would just become flotsam in Europe's tide of visitors.
In what is easily one of my favorite Seattle experiences to date, Jeff and I went to see "Die Mommie Die" last night. I was wearing a short skirt and tall boots and was with a cute guy in a theatre full of gay men. And the movie was so campy. I really love this town. That should be enough.
November's Dali painting is The Persistance of Memory. I always thought it was odd as a kid that the museum in St. Pete has the Disintigration of the Persistance of Memory but not Persistance itself: that one's in MOMA. I remember distinctly the first time I went to the Dali museum (with a transsexual named Dee which isn't part of this story). I was probably about 11 and walked around the corner only to end up face to paint with The Hallucinogenic Toreador which is a massive canvas. I stared at it and it stared back at me and ever since then I've been convinced that that painting and I have a cosmic connection.
I want to go to Europe and wander for a couple of months, to be in a different country full of people that speak a different language. But I worry that the opportunity to opt out of all conversation for months would be too strong a temptation, that I would retreat back inside my skull and never come out. I would just become an eyeball, all seeing but never returning anything that I saw. And maybe I wouldn't ever leave, I would just become flotsam in Europe's tide of visitors.
In what is easily one of my favorite Seattle experiences to date, Jeff and I went to see "Die Mommie Die" last night. I was wearing a short skirt and tall boots and was with a cute guy in a theatre full of gay men. And the movie was so campy. I really love this town. That should be enough.
