Illustration Fox Pass

(faux-pas)

If you are on a plane, and Willy Wonka is chasing you out of the door, please leave your suitcase.

I thought we were supposed to take plane safety seriously. But how can I when the illustrator drew in a man in purple suit and top-hat?

Sometimes you feel like a nut...

And sometimes you just feel weird.

Bugs I hate

Giant, terrifying, buzzing moths are no doubt the scariest bug. I see these things and freak out. One attacked me last night, and it caused me to look over my shoulder for the rest of the night. They aren't my least favorite though, that honor goes to the house centipede. I woke up with one of these crawling in my ear once, and started crying. It was horrific. I still feel disgusting thinking about it. Gahhh.You see this picture? Why do these things exist? You know, the weird thing is, I don't mind spiders. Not at all. Unless it's super poisonous, I say, "Let 'em be." But whenever I see one of these nasty son-of-a-bitches I grab a broom, shoes, baseball bat, etc., and go to town smashing them to bits. What's worse, is they live a long time. Seven years. And they have an average of 63 babies a year. Let me break that down for you. In seven year, two centipedes have 63 babies. Half of those sixty three (assuming they are split male/female) have 63 babies, along with the original pair's sixty three. That's 2,050 centipedes... in two years. In the third year there are 66,611 centipedes. In the fourth year there are 2,164,865. The fifth? 70,358,124. And the sixth? 2,286,639,049. How would you like to be seven years old and have over two billion great-great-great-great grand kids?

So, whenever you have the chance, kill them. Because for each one you kill you are keeping millions, literally MILLIONS off the globe in a minor four years.

In closing, I am scared of moths. Why are they so frightening? They're hairy insects, and they can fly. They just look freaky. But I hate centipedes. Whenever I see one, I want to puke. That is all.

Things I want to write about without clever titles (AKA Quick and the Dead weekend)

A few weeks ago I went to the 'Quick and the Dead' opening at the Walker Art Center. It was sick. The last show to go up there was Elizabeth Peyton's 'Live Forever,' which has probably gotten more groans than any other show I've seen at the Walker. I liked it, the paintings were different and decent, and lent a familiarity to celebrities unlike other portraits, but overall it was nothing that got me riled up. I overheard someone say "It seems like she didn't necessarily have the most talent, but the best connections." Isn't that true in all arenas of life?

The QATD was super sick though. Conceptual art, which used to be the bane of my narrow minded existence, was a breath of fresh air. I went in, and my mind started thinking, and connecting, and thinking, and connecting. (Quick note, I just paused writing and took off my head-phones because I heard a really loud motor noise - turned out it was my dad, snoring, who is staying at my apartment for my sister's graduation). The Quick and the Dead is filled with pieces that deal with time and space, the type of art Einstein would have really dug (maybe). It includes a wheel which is frozen into a block of ice everyday, several time capsules, an interactive sound room, and on and on. It was curated remarkably, because it packs deep thought, aesthetics, humor and plain ridiculousness into a few galleries and then waits there patiently, ready to slap you in the face.

I've been planning on writing a critique on conceptual art and why no one likes visiting art museums, because I think that the general public hates it, as I did, before I learned anything about it, and I think that it is a valid point. No one ever wants to acknowledge that you have to be 'in he know' to understand and appreciate conceptual art, and therefore a lot of museum-types like to stick up their noses and pretend they're better for understanding the complex issues and concepts in the art, when really all they've proven is they have had a lot more of an explanation than the average visitor. Conceptual art is great, for everyone, but it is no good unless you know the history or story behind a piece.

Anyway, the point it, QATD is a good show because it has a lot of explanation (at last) which often does not accompany the artwork at my fine establishment. Therefore it is applicable to the masses.

So, back to me.

I went, saw it, it was sick, had a free drink, slammed two more because I didn't realize how early it closed, and got yelled at A LOT for taking secret pictures (like the film of that horse up there). Then I ran into my boss Witt at the coat-check on the way out, and he told me to hitch a ride with him to a Skoal Kodiak show on the Westbank. So, I said, "Fuck it, alright," and hopped in the Scion with him and his three friends.

Upon getting to the Westbank I realized I was going to look pretty stupid in a punk house/unlicensed venue dressed in my Calvin Klein blazer, so I took it off, along with my tie. Upon exiting the Scion, however, I realized I was now freezing. We walked through the ghetto-in-the-sky and hopped a fence, then meandered through a few yards and finally found the secret venue. When we got to the door we were informed that Skoal Kodiak was not playing, and Witt got really bummed, but then cheered up when he remembered we still had stuffed about a case of beer into our collective pockets, so we decided to have our drinks and watch the acts that followed.

At this point I made my way to the bathroom, where I passed my friend Anna from high school, said hello, and then stepped into this room, which was funny enough that it warranted taking pictures:
Have you ever been in the middle of taking a shit and wanted to start cooking waffles? Have you ever said to yourself, "You know what would be efficient of me? Taking a piss while doing the dishes."
That's correct. Toilet/kitchen, rolled into one.
Then this band played. I know you can only see this guy, but there were two others, played some pretty solid punk, but I was enthralled in overhearing a conversation a man behind me was talking about. So enthralled, that I Twittered it. Thank god, too, because it allowed me to remember this hilarious quote:

"Well, you know, not too bad for fifty."

"Yeah, I'm fifty and hanging out with all these teenagers. (Laugh)"

"Well, you know, I wouldn't guess you were fifty, you've got a full head of hair."

"Yeah, well, it's like, you can have a really big penis, or a full head of hair. And I've got a full head of hair."

And then we left the show, except slightly more intoxicated. So this time, when it was my turn to hop the fence over the parking lot, I ran up, planted my foot securely, vaulted over the top, and flew majestically through the air... and then landed on my tailbone on the concrete, while simultaneously twisting my ankle. At this point, Witt said, "Oh, yeah, I'm tired, I live in Nordeast, find your own way home."

Awesome. So he dropped me downtown, and I sat, cold, at the bus shelter, and waited. And waited. And waited. Then I checked the bus schedule. It turned out that the last bus stopped running at 1:11, and it was now 2:45. So I started walking.

I made it all the way to the Walker Art Center, before I turned around and spotted a taxi, which I flagged down, and it brought me home for a cool $8. When I awoke, I couldn't walk. The moral of the story? Go see the new exhibit, punk venues are not clean, and don't drink and jump.

I just finished that paper I was talking about

I think I've done more homework in the last two days than I have done in my entire college career.
1. I built a sculpture from start to finish. It is a crow's head that I wear on my head made out of 100 sheet metal feathers and wire.
2. I wrote four beginnings to short stories and then completed one. The rest are awful.
3. I wrote a research paper.
4. I created a presentation on Camille Corot.
5. I made a breakfast of toast, bacon and omelette at 1:00am last night to keep me going.
6. More crows


7. Have I mentioned I have an infatuation with black birds?

Now I'm about to start a painting, and hopefully finish it by 8:30 am.

I am really glad there are only three weeks of school left, I can't really fathom keeping up this schedule. Oh, I also forgot that I cleaned my house, did all my dishes, and washed all of my clothes. Caught up on this entire season of Breaking Bad...

Oh, yeah, I forgot. I finally got my stuff back from the courthouse after seven months. I cannot even begin to describe to you what dirty clothes smells like after seven months in a sealed plastic bag. But this means I have my old/new phone back, which means that my 1998 model will once again be retired.

One last thing, we're planning a super ill event at the Walker involving Burlesque Design, Hardland Heartland (or the other way around), Scott Stulen, Liz Miller, John Grider & Eric Inkala (and a surprise guest), Kristina Mooney, Chris Pennington and another group of artists that is slipping my mind right now... so on and so forth. 24 hour art-making cave. I will be there at least 30 hours straight. Oh, and it ends with a party. Oh, and it's offsite at the Art Crawl, which means you can probably booze it up (no, not really [I didn't tell you you could].). MAY 15h-16th. Anyway, reserve that spot and stuff, cause really, I'm excited, and you should be too. What's better than making art, insomnia, and parties?

Nothing. Absolutely not one thing. Period.*

...



*Things that are better:
Popeye's chicken, a decent night's sleep, drunk sledding, good music.