Welcome Charley, my new little nephew.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
This is one of my favorite pieces of art.
Yesterday I went with my friend Sarah, who was my undergrad roommate, to the Smart Museum in Chicago to see the show Heartland. There were 3 pieces in the show I enjoyed.
Cleave, Greely Myatt
Ziggurat East/Fisher Body, Detroit, Scott Hocking
and Dear Trusted Associate, Deb Sokolow
The inspiration came from my general dislike of the show outside of these 3 pieces. The concept was generally to take an American road trip and come back with a response, a collection of artists from various heartland cities. (The show was co-curated by and shown at a Dutch museum as well.) But- it felt more like a haphazard scavenger hunt. Not the best or most interesting selections, no sense of longing or desire to linger and determine relationships between the works - some of the Kansas City stuff was just really awful. It was as though they set out and grabbed the first of what they found: black art, check. gay art, check. bad installation art, check. lots of art that looks like dry documentation, check. Actual documentation of process of curating that was expressly not an artwork, interesting. It was the kind of show that makes one feel, or maybe just me, that I could do this. I would do it differently and I would like it better my way. The formally educated woman with good ideas rustled a little under her homeschool mom hat. (Please visualize the hat as a sort of four foot diameter straw number, and the rustling me as that muppet character from Fraggle Rock who was like a compost pile.)
Ah, there it is:
Yesterday I went with my friend Sarah, who was my undergrad roommate, to the Smart Museum in Chicago to see the show Heartland. There were 3 pieces in the show I enjoyed.
Cleave, Greely Myatt
Ziggurat East/Fisher Body, Detroit, Scott Hocking
and Dear Trusted Associate, Deb Sokolow
The inspiration came from my general dislike of the show outside of these 3 pieces. The concept was generally to take an American road trip and come back with a response, a collection of artists from various heartland cities. (The show was co-curated by and shown at a Dutch museum as well.) But- it felt more like a haphazard scavenger hunt. Not the best or most interesting selections, no sense of longing or desire to linger and determine relationships between the works - some of the Kansas City stuff was just really awful. It was as though they set out and grabbed the first of what they found: black art, check. gay art, check. bad installation art, check. lots of art that looks like dry documentation, check. Actual documentation of process of curating that was expressly not an artwork, interesting. It was the kind of show that makes one feel, or maybe just me, that I could do this. I would do it differently and I would like it better my way. The formally educated woman with good ideas rustled a little under her homeschool mom hat. (Please visualize the hat as a sort of four foot diameter straw number, and the rustling me as that muppet character from Fraggle Rock who was like a compost pile.)
Ah, there it is:
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
School's been going well. I have the girls keeping new journals on history, etc. - topic of the day/week. Some are their words, some dictated by me. We finished Egypt and talked about Sumer today in Story of the World. Chris took the day off work yesterday and we all went to the Field Museum (to top off Egypt.) I was happy that he came with us - it felt like vacation. We spent the rest of the day with friends and had delicious pizza, apparently Obama's favorite.
Chris shaved off his beard. At one point I really dug that dirty hippie look, so I was OK with his giant face-hat, but I think he looks really hot now. I can't stop looking at him; he's a new man. He shaved off half of it one night, and the other half (right down the middle of his face kind of half) he left, partly because he thought the girls would like to cut it the next morning and partly because he thought it was funny. And that's why I love him - he thinks of his children and he is weird in a funny, creative way.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
I love the twilight this time of day, year -I love that the snow has continued to blanket the neighborhood, making it quieter, blue-er. I love the contrast of the cold blue light outside with the pink and yellow light inside, where my girls are in T shirts, painting together at the table. We had a good day today. We focused one at a time on Ancient Egyptian agriculture - they are reading, summarizing, and writing in their own words. Yesterday we did something similar with art history - they each chose a work from a book, drew it, and wrote a description and opinion. My friend Amy came over this morning and for the second day in a row we did the insanity workout. Its great - really challenging and so far followed by a healthy, shared meal. I couldn't ask for more. I like to laugh at my muscle exhaustion half way through. The girls and I played hide and seek today for quite a while. It felt magical, just the four of us focused on each other in the quiet house. I hid under blankets on the top bunk and they couldn't find me. I looked for yarn in the basement for nearly an hour so I could teach them how to knit... found lots of other interesting stuff. Also made the supply list for my teaching job. That's another hour.
My mom and Terry came over tonight for dinner and a drawing lesson. It was really nice family time.
The girls and I made our new house homier by taping up every painting they made and a world map and an ancient Egyptian timeline. looking more familiar. the last house was wallpapered in kids' art.
Friday, January 1, 2010
cynical rock-crowd anthropologist
Why the Black Keys New Years Eve show was supposed to be awesome but wasn't.
Chris LOVES the Black Keys, and so do I. Dan Auerbach has been my favorite of the year. I was really looking forward to meeting several other couples to see this show. I spent the afternoon with a friend, running around to stores, and got home a little late. This sets a tone because being later than planned - not even late, just not as early as anticipated, makes Chris upset. Fair enough. I was sorry, passive aggressiveness bounced back and forth from both sides. Very little residual consequences by the time we got to my dad's to drop the kids off.
Of course its freezing in Chicago on December 31. I wore my sleeping bag coat, only waited outside fifteen minutes - still part of the price to pay to enjoy the band. I should have known there was going to be a problem when there was no line for ladies and I had to wait inside for Chris to get through the men's line. (pat down) I had a nice little conversation with a girl about how this is a guy's band, while we waited for our guys.
We stood up front - my idea, I want the personal, visceral experience of being right there with the band. We waited an hour for the opening act. My back hurts before the band even starts. This Enormous man, maybe 400 pounds or so and 6'5" was next to me and for inexplicable reasons, kept inching me over, even while just waiting for the bands. I tried to stay my ground. My arms just sank into his hot flesh. I can't stand to be touched. Especially by gross, sweaty stoners. Our friends had a hard time breaking through the crowd to stand with us, even before the music. There seemed to be a lot of out-of-towners - sounded like Ozark accents. Lots of frat types too. And some girls dancing sexy to the cd's playing before the show, whipping their hair in my friend's face over and over. They looked like little kids trying to get the drunk frat boys to look at them.
The opening band was SO BAD. They looked like gross stoners at varying stages of aging. Greasy long hair, a bad leather jacket, not like a Ramones jacket, but like a your-dad jacket. Chris said the drummer looked like mama from throw mama from the train. The singer was young and his hair was quite bouncy, but his voice was something that shouldn't get past a dreadful teenage metal talent show, let alone part of a 60 dollar bill. Enormous was still pushing me and everyone, including the seven footer in front of me, started smoking pot. Enormous was also super mean, screaming at the band. I didn't like the band at all, but I felt bad for them because of this kind of heckling.
The Black Keys took another half hour to start after the opening band. Another part of the price to pay - so much waiting. When they did start, the crowd rushed the stage. For the first time in all my concert going experiences, I was crushed and for a moment couldn't breathe. I felt a sense of ownership of my spot and when yet another jackass rushed up, I screamed, if you stand in front of me, I'm going to stab you. He laughed and stepped in front of me and I shoved him as hard as I could until he kept going. There were way too many dudes, drunk, high, and all pumped up on new years and the beloved black keys. Aack! I am usually crabby at shows because I don't want to be touched and I am irritated by the other concert-goers. But this was worse. Some nasty couple, the girl with a cocked baseball cap, both on something way harder than I ever tried, pushed up right next to us and I told her directly that this was not a good place for her. (Because they were so irritating that I would punch them.) They actually listened. At some point though, the crowd was pushing so much, and I couldn't stop Enormous from touching me and his body heat was making me panic, and I kept elbowing him in the kidney, but he couldn't feel it because he was so fat and it was like my elbow got stuck in his folds, so one more lean on me from him and I shoved him as hard as I could and yelled, stop pushing me, and he said, I'm not pushing you, and I screamed, you've been pushing me for the last two hours you fucking fat ass, and kept shoving him , then just stood there, next to him, and stuck my spot. I think he looked at me slack jawed for a moment, but I was done with him. After a song, I moved over a few people, and hung onto Chris. I felt guilty that I called Enormous a fat ass. They had only been playing for fifteen minutes by now, I couldn't see the band, and I was just trying not to get elbowed in the face. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't worth getting a babysitter and $120 and all the waiting and the terrible opening act. I held on for the balloon drop/confetti canons, 18 more minutes. I started to get in to the music a little, but then at 11:58, they stopped. I was hoping they would be ripping into an intense part of a song while confetti shot out and the balloons fell, and emotions would be high and the music would be carrying us, but instead, they stopped, all momentum lost. We waited for 12. He said, any body got any stories or something? Then they counted down for us. Lame! Right, we get it, 10 seconds to midnight - but you are not professional counters, you are amazing musicians - just play us into the new year - don't dumb it down for us! All was lost. It was all so stupid. Chris kissed me. I just kept squinting, all tense and afraid to get breaking balloon bits in my eyes. I exited the crowd and got a water and talked with one of our friends. I was glad to see her out there. We went downstairs to get their coats before the rush. The bathrooms had standing toilet water and three people fell at the bottom of the stairs while we waited. I knew the Riv was a shithole, but it never seemed like such a ripoff before.
I didn't take this video, I was closer and having less fun.
Am I getting too old? Am I just too sober? Just a huge crab ass? I'm sorry if I took away from Chris' experience, but if he wants to go to a New Year's show next year, I will be happy to stay home and kiss my kids. I love to see live music, but I can't stop myself from being a cynical rock-crowd anthropologist. I inevitably become so distracted by the people around me that I just don't like it. Its not fun anymore. Moral of the story - stick to the balcony seats when you're sober and not in college anymore (and a huge crab ass.)
I still love the Black Keys.
Chris LOVES the Black Keys, and so do I. Dan Auerbach has been my favorite of the year. I was really looking forward to meeting several other couples to see this show. I spent the afternoon with a friend, running around to stores, and got home a little late. This sets a tone because being later than planned - not even late, just not as early as anticipated, makes Chris upset. Fair enough. I was sorry, passive aggressiveness bounced back and forth from both sides. Very little residual consequences by the time we got to my dad's to drop the kids off.
Of course its freezing in Chicago on December 31. I wore my sleeping bag coat, only waited outside fifteen minutes - still part of the price to pay to enjoy the band. I should have known there was going to be a problem when there was no line for ladies and I had to wait inside for Chris to get through the men's line. (pat down) I had a nice little conversation with a girl about how this is a guy's band, while we waited for our guys.
We stood up front - my idea, I want the personal, visceral experience of being right there with the band. We waited an hour for the opening act. My back hurts before the band even starts. This Enormous man, maybe 400 pounds or so and 6'5" was next to me and for inexplicable reasons, kept inching me over, even while just waiting for the bands. I tried to stay my ground. My arms just sank into his hot flesh. I can't stand to be touched. Especially by gross, sweaty stoners. Our friends had a hard time breaking through the crowd to stand with us, even before the music. There seemed to be a lot of out-of-towners - sounded like Ozark accents. Lots of frat types too. And some girls dancing sexy to the cd's playing before the show, whipping their hair in my friend's face over and over. They looked like little kids trying to get the drunk frat boys to look at them.
The opening band was SO BAD. They looked like gross stoners at varying stages of aging. Greasy long hair, a bad leather jacket, not like a Ramones jacket, but like a your-dad jacket. Chris said the drummer looked like mama from throw mama from the train. The singer was young and his hair was quite bouncy, but his voice was something that shouldn't get past a dreadful teenage metal talent show, let alone part of a 60 dollar bill. Enormous was still pushing me and everyone, including the seven footer in front of me, started smoking pot. Enormous was also super mean, screaming at the band. I didn't like the band at all, but I felt bad for them because of this kind of heckling.
The Black Keys took another half hour to start after the opening band. Another part of the price to pay - so much waiting. When they did start, the crowd rushed the stage. For the first time in all my concert going experiences, I was crushed and for a moment couldn't breathe. I felt a sense of ownership of my spot and when yet another jackass rushed up, I screamed, if you stand in front of me, I'm going to stab you. He laughed and stepped in front of me and I shoved him as hard as I could until he kept going. There were way too many dudes, drunk, high, and all pumped up on new years and the beloved black keys. Aack! I am usually crabby at shows because I don't want to be touched and I am irritated by the other concert-goers. But this was worse. Some nasty couple, the girl with a cocked baseball cap, both on something way harder than I ever tried, pushed up right next to us and I told her directly that this was not a good place for her. (Because they were so irritating that I would punch them.) They actually listened. At some point though, the crowd was pushing so much, and I couldn't stop Enormous from touching me and his body heat was making me panic, and I kept elbowing him in the kidney, but he couldn't feel it because he was so fat and it was like my elbow got stuck in his folds, so one more lean on me from him and I shoved him as hard as I could and yelled, stop pushing me, and he said, I'm not pushing you, and I screamed, you've been pushing me for the last two hours you fucking fat ass, and kept shoving him , then just stood there, next to him, and stuck my spot. I think he looked at me slack jawed for a moment, but I was done with him. After a song, I moved over a few people, and hung onto Chris. I felt guilty that I called Enormous a fat ass. They had only been playing for fifteen minutes by now, I couldn't see the band, and I was just trying not to get elbowed in the face. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't worth getting a babysitter and $120 and all the waiting and the terrible opening act. I held on for the balloon drop/confetti canons, 18 more minutes. I started to get in to the music a little, but then at 11:58, they stopped. I was hoping they would be ripping into an intense part of a song while confetti shot out and the balloons fell, and emotions would be high and the music would be carrying us, but instead, they stopped, all momentum lost. We waited for 12. He said, any body got any stories or something? Then they counted down for us. Lame! Right, we get it, 10 seconds to midnight - but you are not professional counters, you are amazing musicians - just play us into the new year - don't dumb it down for us! All was lost. It was all so stupid. Chris kissed me. I just kept squinting, all tense and afraid to get breaking balloon bits in my eyes. I exited the crowd and got a water and talked with one of our friends. I was glad to see her out there. We went downstairs to get their coats before the rush. The bathrooms had standing toilet water and three people fell at the bottom of the stairs while we waited. I knew the Riv was a shithole, but it never seemed like such a ripoff before.
I didn't take this video, I was closer and having less fun.
Am I getting too old? Am I just too sober? Just a huge crab ass? I'm sorry if I took away from Chris' experience, but if he wants to go to a New Year's show next year, I will be happy to stay home and kiss my kids. I love to see live music, but I can't stop myself from being a cynical rock-crowd anthropologist. I inevitably become so distracted by the people around me that I just don't like it. Its not fun anymore. Moral of the story - stick to the balcony seats when you're sober and not in college anymore (and a huge crab ass.)
I still love the Black Keys.
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