|
|
Sunday, August 17th, 2003
|
9:39a - Then kill me now. Go on, go, go into the ham, and take the carving knife. And stab me here, here!
What a busy week! I have more to tell, but maybe will post it in a separate entry.
Friday's art opening went well. The crowd was standing room only at Casbah, and I couldn't have been happier with the turn-out. The pieces of art I decided to display were from 1996 and 2000, and for the past several years have been hidden away in my studio. Many folks had not seen them yet and had good things to say about them.
I didn't realize until I got there that one of the matted and framed pieces had a chip in the glass on one corner. I discovered this after I cut my pinky on it, just under where the nail ends. Ow.
The reception went from five until seven, so that right after seven I could race to the Warhol Museum to see Mr. Murray Hill perform. Drove into the North Side into (P)irates traffic, found somewhere reasonable to park ($5 instead of $10), then proceeded into the Museum to see that the show had been canceled. It hadn't dawned on me that Murray would have trouble getting out of NYC because of the blackout. He did. Oh well, I saw a few people there I wanted to talk to, so it wasn't totally a wasted trip.
After I left there I drove around and put up some fliers for Monday Talk Talk this coming Monday. Simply put, this show is going to rock. Last Monday I couldn't be at Talk Talk because of a Mofones show, so I had an idea to create a Substitute Robot Mama who could be Talk Talk in my place. In my mind, she had a gorilla body and a tin-foil robot head. That didn't happen, but what did happen was maybe even better. Robot Mama had on sneakers, a sun dress that revealed a tin-foil breastplate, and a tiara/headphones/antenna combo headdress. I wasn't there for the show, of course, but I was able to watch the video footage of it. She danced like the automatron she was, and even told a story about growing up in Hattiesburg, MS with absolutely no inflection in her voice. Priceless.
But where do we go from here? Robot Mama worked well, but she cannot take my place. She cannot. If we've learned anything from John Henry, or from Godzilla, we know that I, Mama, must fight Robot Mama. To the death.
See Mama Vs. Robot Mama at this Monday's Talk Talk at the Lava Lounge. Thank you.
(comment on this)
|
1:59p
Richard and I are going on a picnic with some friends today. I'm not sure if I've ever been on a proper picnic before. I've been on school picnics to the park, and my family has a camp-out reunion every year where we eat in the out-of-doors. But I don't think I've ever been invited to eat in the out-of-doors on purpose. I've eaten on sidewalks of restaurants, or in their back patios, but that's only when there was no more room actually *inside* the restaurant. I never like it.
I generally just don't like the idea of eating outside in the world; heat, sun, ants, mosquitoes, sun, wild animals that could steal my food and run off with it, heat, no toilets, other bugs, sun, etc.
Guess I should go, just so that I don't develop rickets.
(comment on this)
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
mamarama's journal