(no subject)
Because I've been listening to TAL again and because my morning commute served as my introduction to David Cross, I'm going to start this post talking about sexy male voices. There's something about those snarky men who are brilliant yet don't take their subject matter too seriously, who can say "What the fuck?" predicated by a word like "predicated." These are men in their late 20s or 30s who have been swilling PBR in the years since debate team, who tell it like it is and find humor and class in both the banal and the absurd. Words (not just words but the right words) just coast via this marvelously articulate manner of speaking that is so rare, so hard to pin down, ever so slighly pretentious yet so casual . . . it kills me every time.
In other news, the weekend was lovely. Yesterday I painted for the first time in a few months, perhaps the first time for pleasure. I thought I would hang it up after college but maybe I was wrong. All that bitching about "effing gouache squares" has since morphed into an activity that's calming and takes me out of my head for hours. I had wanted to begin sewing. I took my machine out, stared at it, circled it and ultimately closed in on it, but all it's buttons and levers stared me down and the intimidation factor was far too great. Maybe next time.
What else. Still need to find an art show to write about, but it's tough to find something on view on a Monday after work. Can't wait until payday. I'm signing up for a bookbinding class in July. I met the teacher at the Paper Source last week, and I think she'll be really great to learn from. So many good things are happening for me lately, I don't know what to say. I feel like a very lucky person.
In other news, the weekend was lovely. Yesterday I painted for the first time in a few months, perhaps the first time for pleasure. I thought I would hang it up after college but maybe I was wrong. All that bitching about "effing gouache squares" has since morphed into an activity that's calming and takes me out of my head for hours. I had wanted to begin sewing. I took my machine out, stared at it, circled it and ultimately closed in on it, but all it's buttons and levers stared me down and the intimidation factor was far too great. Maybe next time.
What else. Still need to find an art show to write about, but it's tough to find something on view on a Monday after work. Can't wait until payday. I'm signing up for a bookbinding class in July. I met the teacher at the Paper Source last week, and I think she'll be really great to learn from. So many good things are happening for me lately, I don't know what to say. I feel like a very lucky person.