something i've always wanted to do: have an exhibit with big signs saying
please touch the art. at last someone had sort of the right idea:
steal the art, which lasted all of six minutes, before gallerygoers
did, & then there wasn't any exhibit. (although i'd count the empty, stolen-out-of gallery an exhibit in its own right.)
of course, i'd also like to have a please deface the art exhibit. Take the Iconoclastic Movement into Your Own Hands! (sigh. of course i probably don't mean this. but maybe i do.) dennis hopper has an andy warhol with two bullet�holes in it, which he (dennis hopper) put there. boy oh boy does that get me fired-up in a leftist art history nerd kind of way.
oooooooooh. all we need is for ricka to be fired-up in any kind of way.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:happy anniversary.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:oh boy This American Life which is the best reason to be home in PJs on a saturday afternoon. Ira Glass says: "Today on our show: stories of the Kindness of Strangers and What It Leads To."
it would be nice if ira glass would say, "Today on our show: Hardly Getting Over It."
i don't know why (i have a strong suspicion that it has something to do with listening to addie's winter|birthday tape, which is half missing-you sad & half aren't-you-sexy cute) but today once again i am longing for her (or maybe it is lady J's heartache entries recently) as if she weren't in south america being brilliant & as if i didn't already have bean to rest her hands against my back while we sleep & as if i didn't have friends two blocks away.
oh boy.
You will never be sixteen again and you will never be in love again for the first time, and anyway, it was fairly silly and certainly not at all satisfactory. As to its injustice � I think that doesn't matter, because of my own innocence anyway. I did not conceive it was possible to do more than declare that I loved her, and give her one kiss. The misery afterwards was, of course, a luxury. It was all very well and very nice, but to want such a stupid kind of thing to happen again would be crazy. Stupid: not the being in love part, but all the dramatics and excesses and luxuries of sentiment that surrounded it when the object of my love was on her way to the other side of the earth.
Thomas Merton
1 october 1939
[[oh if i tell myself that enough, will it sink in? i've been reading that paragraph over over over for four years, maybe five.]]
okay so i used to make her tapes full of love songs, & maybe i should do it again. i should send boxes & boxes to her in southamerica. & beads. i just got these lovely tiny hand-painted italian numbers with mini mini faces on them, in goodnight moon-ish colors. who wouldn't want face-y beads?
