Postmodern Beauty and Love
^ A reader found this blog using that as search string. I love that. I would like to make it the tagline for my little empire here.
Things have been tough here in my little empire this week. February continues. David's tour schedule continues. The needing to pay hundreds of dollars for a punctured gas tank continues.
Yet, all is well. Our little foursome muddles on. The kids made extra money by scrubbing grout for me last weekend, so Z took her spending money to a certain discount fashion store up the road where she had seen an absolutely fabulous cropped black and white striped jacket before her birthday. Sadly this bit of new wave wonderfulness was no longer in stock, but instead she purchased a blazer-shaped jacket made entirely of mint green lace with lilac cuffs.
Color trends confuse me sometimes. How did we arrive at the Moment of Ice Cream Pastels? Who decides this and why do I find myself drawn into it? This is the color of unhappy ticky tacky housewives and TV dinners and cultural homogeneity. Am I too mired in the 20th century or what? Z looks fabulous in the jacket. Talk about postmodern beauty and love.
And while we are on the topic of beauty and love, David's touring show, Double Heart, is doing really well (nevermind how tired its execution makes me). And audience member reported this week that it was the most exciting piece of theater he had seen. So, you know, go see it ... It's at the Cleveland Heights library this Sunday, for all my east side readers. Full schedule here.
Reading & Writing: Work on the ToT is momentarily on hold while I work on another project. I have spent a lot of time this week think about why I think literature is important. This is, oddly, much more difficult than I would have predicted. I have lived my whole life immersed in literature. Defining its importance to me is like defining air. And thinking about the sickly state of English as a scholarly discipline within American universities vs what I perceive as the vigor of contemporary literary consumption and practice has been really interesting. Can I lead a one-woman crusade to revamp the discipline and save the English department?! Probably not from here.
In all of this, Junot Diaz is my guiding star. I fucking love Junot Diaz.
Dinner: Tonight was stir fried bok choy and tofu with Flying Cranes housemade teriyaki over rice. I fucking love bok choy, and Flying Cranes.
Wednesday was nachos with black beans and guacamole. The avocados this winter are just simply beautiful and perfect. It is rare to find such perfect avocados. I fucking love avocados.
Soundtrack: This morning, having lost two hours worth of work when my computer crashed, and made late for work by unremembered tour-related kid scheduling stuff, I was feeling rather ... shall we say, in despair. Then I turned on my car radio and the DJ on WRUW was playing a cover of "Be-Bop-a-Lula" performed by Chuck Mead and His Grassy Knoll Boys, followed by Chris Isaak doing Carl Perkins's "Dixie Fried." And I knew everything would be OK. I fucking love rockabilly.
Random thing: Pardon me for being dumb and mired in the 20th century, but what is Tumblr for?
Shiny Things: commonplace book of a magpie
Postmodern Beauty and Love
Things have been tough here in my little empire this week. February continues. David's tour schedule continues. The needing to pay hundreds of dollars for a punctured gas tank continues.
Yet, all is well. Our little foursome muddles on. The kids made extra money by scrubbing grout for me last weekend, so Z took her spending money to a certain discount fashion store up the road where she had seen an absolutely fabulous cropped black and white striped jacket before her birthday. Sadly this bit of new wave wonderfulness was no longer in stock, but instead she purchased a blazer-shaped jacket made entirely of mint green lace with lilac cuffs.
 |
| I feel like I have spent my whole life avoiding this color. And now I find myself thinking mint green wedge sneakers might be a good idea. Am I mad? |
Color trends confuse me sometimes. How did we arrive at the Moment of Ice Cream Pastels? Who decides this and why do I find myself drawn into it? This is the color of unhappy ticky tacky housewives and TV dinners and cultural homogeneity. Am I too mired in the 20th century or what? Z looks fabulous in the jacket. Talk about postmodern beauty and love.
And while we are on the topic of beauty and love, David's touring show, Double Heart, is doing really well (nevermind how tired its execution makes me). And audience member reported this week that it was the most exciting piece of theater he had seen. So, you know, go see it ... It's at the Cleveland Heights library this Sunday, for all my east side readers. Full schedule here.
Reading & Writing: Work on the ToT is momentarily on hold while I work on another project. I have spent a lot of time this week think about why I think literature is important. This is, oddly, much more difficult than I would have predicted. I have lived my whole life immersed in literature. Defining its importance to me is like defining air. And thinking about the sickly state of English as a scholarly discipline within American universities vs what I perceive as the vigor of contemporary literary consumption and practice has been really interesting. Can I lead a one-woman crusade to revamp the discipline and save the English department?! Probably not from here.
In all of this, Junot Diaz is my guiding star. I fucking love Junot Diaz.
Dinner: Tonight was stir fried bok choy and tofu with Flying Cranes housemade teriyaki over rice. I fucking love bok choy, and Flying Cranes.
Wednesday was nachos with black beans and guacamole. The avocados this winter are just simply beautiful and perfect. It is rare to find such perfect avocados. I fucking love avocados.
Soundtrack: This morning, having lost two hours worth of work when my computer crashed, and made late for work by unremembered tour-related kid scheduling stuff, I was feeling rather ... shall we say, in despair. Then I turned on my car radio and the DJ on WRUW was playing a cover of "Be-Bop-a-Lula" performed by Chuck Mead and His Grassy Knoll Boys, followed by Chris Isaak doing Carl Perkins's "Dixie Fried." And I knew everything would be OK. I fucking love rockabilly.
Random thing: Pardon me for being dumb and mired in the 20th century, but what is Tumblr for?
My daughter tumblrs (another idiotic noun that has been verbed.) and has tried to explain it to me. I think of it as Pintrest for teens but I don't get Pintrest either. And I think they don't want us to understand. Anyway, she fucking loves it.
ReplyDeleteTumblr is like a combination of livejournal, myspace and 4chan. It's a place to complain and insult and perpetuate some really unfortunate stuff due to the the ability to reblog others posts. It's also pretty cool, I've found some wonderful photos. I like it better than Pinterest, but it moves very fast. Lynda Barry has a tumblr.
ReplyDeleteOOOOOH! Lynda Barry! I'm there.
ReplyDeleteThis is Lynda Barry's
ReplyDeletehttp://thenearsightedmonkey.tumblr.com/
These are some other ones I follow
http://gothiccharmschool.tumblr.com/
http://fattiesincorsets.tumblr.com/
http://fuckyeahfatpinupgirls.tumblr.com/
http://omgthatdress.tumblr.com/