when all else fails.

In case you haven't noticed, I have been trying to post a piece of art everyday. Sometimes the commentary is lacking, but hey!

 

Sabo and I were just joking about taking Thanksgiving shots this evening. 

Bought cereal and expensive designer ice cream on a whim. Broke ass poor.

I think I want to go to grad school in either Los Angeles or San Fransisco, which are both in the USA- great. Some older friends of mine were saying that they genuinely believed that there would be a revolution of the working class in the states, sometime soon. 

Today in class I learned about the Pere Peinard idea of revolution through insurrection- the idea that doing small "illegal" things to mess with the status quo is more effective than an outright coup. The illustration was of a strapping working man beating the shit out of some shorter, fat, well done up man with coins spilling out of his pockets. 

Is it really so bad if a desperately poor man robs a wealthy man in order to say, feed his children? Laura's answer is "Yes," because stealing is illegal and the law is the law. But what if the law is written by the wealthy man with the sole purpose of staying wealthy? (illustration of a working class man buttoning up his pants after having taken a dump on the so called "code of law")

I'm only posting here, because everyone else did.

I'm exploding from lady cramps right now. I'm contemplating taking a potential bath at some point during this over-cast day, but the thought about water waste, and the fact I had a shower last night is something weighing down on the action it self. Most probably I won't have a bath tonight, but tomorrow morning. Thanks guilt.

As a result, I've been trying to ignore the fact that the exploding pain is exploding and keep my mind busy. I've done some serious work , ranging from cutting wood and stacking and then creating a  fire pit down at the beach, and making it look pretty with some stacked driftwood to the side- maybe my stoner brother will have some use to it. I've done some paperwork for my mother-dearest so,and now I'm thinking about whether i should finish my math review booklet in the next couple days (why not?) and potentially getting the last couple letters and mail them all off while participating in a coffee date later this afternoon. I've also cleaned the rabbits cage. You know vinegar dissolves calcium residue? It's a fun fact, true, but I know it won't help with a bleeding finger, or fatigue.

In between everything, I'm been reading a cook book. Oh have I been reading. It's been my procrastination of the day. The book is called " cookbook of the seven seas" and it's basically a story of recipes to go along this couples adventures. The couple to the right is Peter and Dagmar Freuchen. Peter being this dannish explorer, exploring the northern, cold landscapes. During his lifetime he had three wives. First one being an inuit woman, she died, and his dannish church refused to burry her because of religious reasons, so he was forced to do so himself. Because of that relationship, he later became the grandfather of the first inuk in canada to be elected as MP.

 Second wife didn't work out, and then he married a fashion expert, Dagmar. Match made in heaven I guess. Point is, I just had to tell you guys about this man because I was impressed with him.  I like his stance and the way he lived his life. 

I want to make a big batch of these for you two. Semla Semla Semla! I'm pretty sure they would put a smile and a cure to fatigue. They are cardamon buns, insides dug out, and filled with a filling that consists of the old  bread crumbs, almond paste and more. They are then packed to the brim with whipped cream and covered in powdered sugar. I think in the land where they are from (denmark, sweden, germany and more...) that it's customary to eat it in a bowl of milk. Either way it looks delicious and I plan on making it super soon. Maybe even tomorrow. I'll tell ye how thee turns out.

Today

I'm with Spinach. It's going to be a late night.
Difficulty concentrating. Just learned some magical words for my research proposal: Herschel Island. That's were the stuff goes down.
Anyway. Mildly pissy today because I had a shitty sleep and got absolutely nothing done last night.
Experimental taste test led to the conclusion that that is indeed a plum tree outside my window.
Kat cut her thumb open with an exacto knife last night and had to go to the ER. Was nearly locked out the entire night as a result. Luckily flagged down the Volvo as it was pulling out.
I wish someone would put me in the closet and forget about it.

If I do not get ahold of some tweezers soon, I will have eyebrows resembling the top left photograph

My fingers will not turn out the words needed to complete this paper, I have been on the same paragraph for an hour. Maybe a quick, effortless blog post will be the ticket to overcoming this essay block.

Today I doodled my way through a History of Science lecture, and the desks were far too close. The rather tall, bulky guy next to me seemed to think it was fine to rest his lanky arms on my writing space, and sigh a lot and jiggle his feet up and down. I began drawing angry, frowning people underneath dark thunderclouds, but I don't think that he got the message.

Sarah, that is the bear sculpture that was at camp! Isn't it wonderful? There are also pictures of doorways to nowhere that she set up in the street, and a nest created out of old tires with a sign urging people to "Please Sit in the Artwork". I believe she studied in an art school in Paris.

Tonight will be a library night, I can feel it in the air. 

Conor Langton did this. I have a similar sweater.

Didn't Catch This Name

I think underground means either anonymous or non-capitalist. Either way brother, this is the thing.
Woke up to Owen Pallett piano emerging from the living room.

Currently reading about the most hilarious artist to paint Realism. We're talking Courbet, baby. We're talking painting for the sake of making fun of certain other styles of painting, as in the one below. Tell me its hideous and I will tell you that you're right.

sunday.

underground arts magazine (as way of classifying it) sounds stupid. + I say we have an advice column. we can spilt it up on who advises on which area of life. I think it could be great. We could draw cartoon versions of our "what if therapist self" would look like, and use that as an icon of the person replying to the specific piece. nice nice nice

today we had a show on the topic of feeding african children.  the show more or less went off without a flaw, and i got to wear this pretty blue skirt. It was also really funny because we were introducing ourselves at the end of the show, and after my name was being called, the weird dj played an audible, pre-recorded crowd clapping clip... to say the least, he gives me a weird smile and i just turn to natalie and smile. It was funny.

since then i've talked to cyrus, pranked katelynn, and ate a plateful of  roasted potatoes covered in hummus and honey mustard. it tastes better then the mental image.

I'm A Lie Detector

So full its uncomfortable.
Sorry for being rude last time. It was tired and indignant times.
I am currently pulling that stunt where I don't get anything done at all.

Guess what Chez! Kat comes up to me yesterday and starts talking about this brilliant idea she's had to start an "underground arts" magazine- you know the type. And I was exhausted or I would have been like : SC and I have been playing with a similar idea for like 3 years. I think she may be the key to kicking this thing off the ground. Brainstorming to follow.

laura, this is chezick. And I know I'm not ritchie, but I looked at the link you told her about, and was that the chocolate bear that was at your camp?!?! I vaguely remember some chocolate sculpture being auctioned off or won because of something?