today is
paul c�zanne's birthday. today my hair is bright yellow in a citrus kind of way. it is on its way to being red.
last year for c�zanneday i burst at the seams with Things Other People Had To Say About Him. maybe my favorite is this:
When Picasso looked at a C�zanne apple, she felt all the desire of Eve standing on the brink of the world, paradise falling away.
����Jeanette Winterson � Art and Lies
:::::or maybe it is this:
well paul c�zanne is famous now and i guess that's pretty nice / his melons look like footballs and his apples look like dice / so all you would-be painters, get out your brush and can! / you might be the next paul c�zanne c�zanne / c�zanne c�zanne the father of cu-bi-sm
����5 Chinese Brothers � �c�zanne�
my other favorite thing is my hair. not to focus too overly on appearances, which are after all fleeting. yes. right. my hair. bean is calling me �haystack� because all that bleach has really coarsened my hair. it is not usually this punkrock. neither of course am i.
some nuts, some bolts, some skeletons of events. bean has the flu & i am trying to take care of her which seems to be letting her sleep & cutting up oranges when she wants them. i have a whole carton of oranges & grapefruit because my sponsor went to florida for christmas. :::::my brother has a crush on a waitress & my advice to him was given in early faith no more lyrics. somehow he still thinks of me as a good sister. :::::yes i did mention my hair but did i mention that bean & i finally perfected vegan chocolate chip cookies? why, yes. with the help of anti-vegan alton brown, to boot. :::::oh something else but i forget.
���Virginia Woolf, Roger Fry: A Biography:
With pauses and spurts the world of spiritual reality emerged in slide after slide � in Poussin, in Chardin, in Rembrandt, in C�zanne � in its uplands and its lowlands, all connected, all somehow made whole and entire, upon the great screen. . . . And finally the lecturer, after looking long through his spectacles, came to a pause. He was pointing to a late work by C�zanne, and he was baffled. He shook his head; his stick rested on the floor. It went, he said, far beyond any analysis of which he was capable. And so instead of saying, "Next slide," he bowed and the audience emptied itself.
