I recently attended a field trip with a friend of mine. She goes to Bard. She's taking a class on Decorative Arts, which is to say, in her words, "I'm taking a class on furniture." Regardless, all this meant was that she wished my company to go to the Met with her class, attempt to impress her professor with my knowledge of art history, and look at all the boring rooms while rushing through my favorite rooms. I found myself to be the oldest one the in group and also, the one telling the dirtiest jokes. Which makes me wonder if we really are innately the same people we have always been. Like since birth. Dirty jokester trouble maker.
For me, museum experiences tend to evoke all kinds of existential crises.
I only took enough philosophy in college to effectively screw me up for the rest of my life. Or at least thus far. Maybe you can help me figure out what it all means.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Nostalgia is a funny thing. Makes people all crazy like.
Sometimes I feel like we're all chasing some residue of a feeling that probably never really existed. Or at least not the way we remember it. There are those moments, though. The ones that as they are happening, you just know you'll be feeding off of them for the rest of your life.
Ima tell you about those times.
Sometimes I feel like we're all chasing some residue of a feeling that probably never really existed. Or at least not the way we remember it. There are those moments, though. The ones that as they are happening, you just know you'll be feeding off of them for the rest of your life.
Ima tell you about those times.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Conception and Context: representation and construction in Feminist Art
Dorothy Iannone's Lioness provides a personal perspective on female sexuality. In her raw, stubborn, fearless honesty, she gives a voice to the individual while Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party seeks to establish and legitimize the feminist movement by providing an altar to women and the basis for the construction of a western feminist narrative. Sexuality and spirituality overlap within these acutely different exhibitions while encouraging a discourse on gender representation.
The New Museum embodies the ideal environment to support Iannone's work. As the viewer enters off of Bowery and into the white, industrial ground floor, admission free, public space of the museum, the exhibition can be seen through large glass walls. A glance at the sign just outside the entrance warns of sexually explicit subject matter, but the airy feel of the well lit room, created through high ceilings and wide spacing of the work lends to an approachable, welcoming environment that allows the work to stand on its own, ready to receive praise or judgment with no pretense. The content of her work requires an environment such as this, ridden of any aesthetic distractions. The atmosphere of this area of the museum, surrounded by a café and an aura of causality and acceptance lends itself to discourse. Here, crowds feel comfortable talking, questioning and responding to the work. There is no air of authority, no condescension.
Iannone's work centers on her personal sexual experiences. The works included are four large scale paintings, displayed along the main wall of the exhibit confronting the viewer upon entry, small figurative sculptures encased on pedestals standing in the center of the small room, narrative drawings installed along the glass wall separating the gallery and the café, and a video box installation located on the wall adjacent to the introductory description of the exhibition.
This text panels relates the work displayed to Iannone’s long-term relationship with Dieter Roth. The large paintings depict Iannone and Roth in various sexual acts. Whereas these depictions would once seem private, her openness invites the viewer into the complexity of female sexuality. The depictions of her and her lover are used as both a means of self-expression and feminist declaration and in doing so Iannone achieves a personal feminist narrative. The works take precedence over the space. Labeling isn’t really necessary as the works must speak for themselves and the exhibition supports this by including only small white labels, which are hardly noticeable. Personal information on Iannone is provided giving a context for the subject matter of the work displayed, but the museum affectively removes itself from the equation in order to showcase Iannone’s innate ability to reveal the fluid nature of sexuality.
She manipulates gender by including testacies on representations of herself, not only in reference to the complexity and construction of gender but also as a means of socializing this symbol of masculinity; she asserts her power by redefining and challenging this symbol. Sex is no longer simply an act of lust or an act of intimacy; it is now, essentially both. Female sexuality is often constructed as an object of dangerous power, spiritual experience, or wealth to be purchased, but never some combination of all of these things. It is in this capacity that we can recognize elements of Fisher's arguments regarding the life of objects, or in this case, representations of female sexuality (436). Iannone challenges former notions of gender and sexuality, allowing for a truthful representation of the complexity of female sexuality and the re-socialization of representations of it. She is, at once, soft and harsh, feminine and masculine; she is able to be the Madonna and the whore. Each work displayed does not reference one another, but rather references Iannone’s individual experience and this simple, unassuming presentation within the New Museum allows for a neutral context that is relevant and necessary to the overall ambition of Dorothy Iannone’s work.
In contrast to representations of the individual, Chicago seeks to construct a historical female perspective in her work, The Dinner Party. The classical architecture of the exterior of the Brooklyn Museum complimented by an elaborate, yet modern entry pavilion provide an appropriate home for the exhibition of this work. The glass entrance to the museum projects a welcoming environment that also sanctions respect. This proclivity continues on to the fourth floor of the museum where the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art is located, a venue that was designed and centered on the long-term exhibition of Chicago’s iconic installation.
The Dinner Party is, essentially a massive, triangular shaped table, which provides an elaborate place setting for thirty-nine historical female figures. When entering the space, the audience is overwhelmed by an elaborate experience of the senses. The exhibit entrance is precluded by six tapestries, which proclaim Chicago’s vision, “And She Gathered All before her And She made for them A Sign to See And lo They saw a Vision From this day forth Like to like in All things And then all that divided them merged And then Everywhere was Eden Once again” making the viewer quite aware that The Dinner Party speaks to a higher social mission of gender equality and education. It is evident by the shear intensity of the display that this installation seeks to provide “a context for the objects inside to retain their authority, where their authenticity [can] be adjudicated, and where the historical testimony of objects [can] be heard” (Conn 194). Large glass walls encompass the table, mimicking the angular shape. Resplendently rich tones of red and gold highlight the exhibition, contrasted by a black floor and dramatic lighting, which illuminate only the place settings at the table. The effect of all of these ornate details leave the viewer in a state of quiet awe, creating a ritualized, spiritual experience thereby meant to require the audience to, "internalize the values and beliefs written into the architectural script" (Duncan and Wallach 53). The elaborate treatment of this installation speaks to its audience, telling of its importance. However, as Conn warns us, we must be aware of the possibility that whereas these objects may be presented so as to “continue to retain their ‘aura’” it is also possible that the subject matter displayed endeavors to be “invested with an aura they may not have previously had” (Conn 194). In stark contrast to Lioness, Chicago's work is essentially and intentionally not personal. She wishes to show the grandeur of all that encompasses the Female. Chicago works to construct a feminist narrative by way of "staging and reconfiguring history and for producing new social subjects for that history" (Preziosi 77). Chicago is able to literally stage history through whom she has invited to her dinner table. She controls "what is given to be seen, what is seen, and what is hidden by what we see"(72). The guests sitting at her iconic dinner table are now and forever included in the narrative of feminist art. While she includes another nine hundred and ninety-nine other women in the installation, whose names are inscribed on the floor of which the table rests, she is, at once, asserting the place and importance of these historical figures. Some are dinner guests, and some fall to the wayside, clearly less important. Some now surely contain an authority they had not had prior, and some women would seem to be silenced in their lack of representation.
It should also be noted that there are great efforts to place this work within a specific context. Information is provided through text, audio and video installation, which elaborate on the exhausting efforts required to produce the work from concept to execution. There are further acknowledgement panels depicting over three hundred individuals who assisted in the project. We are taught through this of a sense of importance and community regarding the work. Whereas Lioness desires self-expression, The Dinner Party demands consideration.
Both exhibitions contain certain explicit elements. Each place setting of The Dinner Party references vulva imagery meant to correspond to each guest; like Iannone's imagery, Chicago has also re-socialized sex organs. However, Chicago creates an ambiguous sort of stylized vagina; one with soft folds that often resembles as much a flower or a butterfly as it does a female body part. The symbol is no longer representative of a receptacle for men, but is redefined as something more, something innately feminine, intensely complex and specific to the individual. The sacred feeling of the entire instillation quashes any sense of vulgarity, which may otherwise be attached with this symbolism. Iannone's work speaks from the first person perspective. It is fundamentally less compromised because she is only speaking on behalf of herself. Chicago is burdened with harmonizing the cacophony of the voices of all womankind. Both of these exhibitions are grounded in their desire for equality. In their recognition of the incongruity of gender representation and their recognition of the complexity of sexuality, they both reveal specifically that femininity and sexuality are mutually exclusive. Iannone achieves this through removing all sense of shame from sex, creating a personal spirituality that not only isn't afraid of sexuality, it requires it. Lioness supports this through a neutral, unbiased display of the work while the authority The Dinner Party demands cannot be denied; the splendor of the installation and the elaborate and intensive efforts that have gone into such a project are evident. Iannone embraces the explicit nature of her work while Chicago redefines it and both exhibitions achieve the harmonious and appropriate conditions necessary to support the overall mission of their work.
The New Museum embodies the ideal environment to support Iannone's work. As the viewer enters off of Bowery and into the white, industrial ground floor, admission free, public space of the museum, the exhibition can be seen through large glass walls. A glance at the sign just outside the entrance warns of sexually explicit subject matter, but the airy feel of the well lit room, created through high ceilings and wide spacing of the work lends to an approachable, welcoming environment that allows the work to stand on its own, ready to receive praise or judgment with no pretense. The content of her work requires an environment such as this, ridden of any aesthetic distractions. The atmosphere of this area of the museum, surrounded by a café and an aura of causality and acceptance lends itself to discourse. Here, crowds feel comfortable talking, questioning and responding to the work. There is no air of authority, no condescension.
Iannone's work centers on her personal sexual experiences. The works included are four large scale paintings, displayed along the main wall of the exhibit confronting the viewer upon entry, small figurative sculptures encased on pedestals standing in the center of the small room, narrative drawings installed along the glass wall separating the gallery and the café, and a video box installation located on the wall adjacent to the introductory description of the exhibition.
This text panels relates the work displayed to Iannone’s long-term relationship with Dieter Roth. The large paintings depict Iannone and Roth in various sexual acts. Whereas these depictions would once seem private, her openness invites the viewer into the complexity of female sexuality. The depictions of her and her lover are used as both a means of self-expression and feminist declaration and in doing so Iannone achieves a personal feminist narrative. The works take precedence over the space. Labeling isn’t really necessary as the works must speak for themselves and the exhibition supports this by including only small white labels, which are hardly noticeable. Personal information on Iannone is provided giving a context for the subject matter of the work displayed, but the museum affectively removes itself from the equation in order to showcase Iannone’s innate ability to reveal the fluid nature of sexuality.
She manipulates gender by including testacies on representations of herself, not only in reference to the complexity and construction of gender but also as a means of socializing this symbol of masculinity; she asserts her power by redefining and challenging this symbol. Sex is no longer simply an act of lust or an act of intimacy; it is now, essentially both. Female sexuality is often constructed as an object of dangerous power, spiritual experience, or wealth to be purchased, but never some combination of all of these things. It is in this capacity that we can recognize elements of Fisher's arguments regarding the life of objects, or in this case, representations of female sexuality (436). Iannone challenges former notions of gender and sexuality, allowing for a truthful representation of the complexity of female sexuality and the re-socialization of representations of it. She is, at once, soft and harsh, feminine and masculine; she is able to be the Madonna and the whore. Each work displayed does not reference one another, but rather references Iannone’s individual experience and this simple, unassuming presentation within the New Museum allows for a neutral context that is relevant and necessary to the overall ambition of Dorothy Iannone’s work.
In contrast to representations of the individual, Chicago seeks to construct a historical female perspective in her work, The Dinner Party. The classical architecture of the exterior of the Brooklyn Museum complimented by an elaborate, yet modern entry pavilion provide an appropriate home for the exhibition of this work. The glass entrance to the museum projects a welcoming environment that also sanctions respect. This proclivity continues on to the fourth floor of the museum where the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art is located, a venue that was designed and centered on the long-term exhibition of Chicago’s iconic installation.
The Dinner Party is, essentially a massive, triangular shaped table, which provides an elaborate place setting for thirty-nine historical female figures. When entering the space, the audience is overwhelmed by an elaborate experience of the senses. The exhibit entrance is precluded by six tapestries, which proclaim Chicago’s vision, “And She Gathered All before her And She made for them A Sign to See And lo They saw a Vision From this day forth Like to like in All things And then all that divided them merged And then Everywhere was Eden Once again” making the viewer quite aware that The Dinner Party speaks to a higher social mission of gender equality and education. It is evident by the shear intensity of the display that this installation seeks to provide “a context for the objects inside to retain their authority, where their authenticity [can] be adjudicated, and where the historical testimony of objects [can] be heard” (Conn 194). Large glass walls encompass the table, mimicking the angular shape. Resplendently rich tones of red and gold highlight the exhibition, contrasted by a black floor and dramatic lighting, which illuminate only the place settings at the table. The effect of all of these ornate details leave the viewer in a state of quiet awe, creating a ritualized, spiritual experience thereby meant to require the audience to, "internalize the values and beliefs written into the architectural script" (Duncan and Wallach 53). The elaborate treatment of this installation speaks to its audience, telling of its importance. However, as Conn warns us, we must be aware of the possibility that whereas these objects may be presented so as to “continue to retain their ‘aura’” it is also possible that the subject matter displayed endeavors to be “invested with an aura they may not have previously had” (Conn 194). In stark contrast to Lioness, Chicago's work is essentially and intentionally not personal. She wishes to show the grandeur of all that encompasses the Female. Chicago works to construct a feminist narrative by way of "staging and reconfiguring history and for producing new social subjects for that history" (Preziosi 77). Chicago is able to literally stage history through whom she has invited to her dinner table. She controls "what is given to be seen, what is seen, and what is hidden by what we see"(72). The guests sitting at her iconic dinner table are now and forever included in the narrative of feminist art. While she includes another nine hundred and ninety-nine other women in the installation, whose names are inscribed on the floor of which the table rests, she is, at once, asserting the place and importance of these historical figures. Some are dinner guests, and some fall to the wayside, clearly less important. Some now surely contain an authority they had not had prior, and some women would seem to be silenced in their lack of representation.
It should also be noted that there are great efforts to place this work within a specific context. Information is provided through text, audio and video installation, which elaborate on the exhausting efforts required to produce the work from concept to execution. There are further acknowledgement panels depicting over three hundred individuals who assisted in the project. We are taught through this of a sense of importance and community regarding the work. Whereas Lioness desires self-expression, The Dinner Party demands consideration.
Both exhibitions contain certain explicit elements. Each place setting of The Dinner Party references vulva imagery meant to correspond to each guest; like Iannone's imagery, Chicago has also re-socialized sex organs. However, Chicago creates an ambiguous sort of stylized vagina; one with soft folds that often resembles as much a flower or a butterfly as it does a female body part. The symbol is no longer representative of a receptacle for men, but is redefined as something more, something innately feminine, intensely complex and specific to the individual. The sacred feeling of the entire instillation quashes any sense of vulgarity, which may otherwise be attached with this symbolism. Iannone's work speaks from the first person perspective. It is fundamentally less compromised because she is only speaking on behalf of herself. Chicago is burdened with harmonizing the cacophony of the voices of all womankind. Both of these exhibitions are grounded in their desire for equality. In their recognition of the incongruity of gender representation and their recognition of the complexity of sexuality, they both reveal specifically that femininity and sexuality are mutually exclusive. Iannone achieves this through removing all sense of shame from sex, creating a personal spirituality that not only isn't afraid of sexuality, it requires it. Lioness supports this through a neutral, unbiased display of the work while the authority The Dinner Party demands cannot be denied; the splendor of the installation and the elaborate and intensive efforts that have gone into such a project are evident. Iannone embraces the explicit nature of her work while Chicago redefines it and both exhibitions achieve the harmonious and appropriate conditions necessary to support the overall mission of their work.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I am Alive.
School is hard. Really, really hard. Turns out that I'm kinda stupid and don't really know how to read. I'm working on these things. Limping along really. But I've started research on my paper which is (attempting) to address the construction of a feminist narrative in both in The Dinner Part and The Lioness exhibitions. So, that's pretty cool I guess.
Also, dating in New York is fun.
Also, it's getting cold and I am so not ready for that.
I'll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me.
Also, dating in New York is fun.
Also, it's getting cold and I am so not ready for that.
I'll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
How do I feel?
It's incredibly strange being totally disconnected from everything. I certainly thought I'd miss my old life a hell of a lot more than I do. Because I honestly don't miss it at all.
I feel so calm.
In other news, I'm loading up my dad's SUV this morning with all that is left of my personal possessions and preparing to make the long drive to New York City. My apartment is there waiting for me and I could hardly sleep last night due to how excited I am to arrive. I guess part of me always thought I may return to Florida, but now I can honestly say that ain't happening. So, you know, see ya St. Pete. It's been grand.
I feel so calm.
In other news, I'm loading up my dad's SUV this morning with all that is left of my personal possessions and preparing to make the long drive to New York City. My apartment is there waiting for me and I could hardly sleep last night due to how excited I am to arrive. I guess part of me always thought I may return to Florida, but now I can honestly say that ain't happening. So, you know, see ya St. Pete. It's been grand.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
For Your Viewing Pleasure
My pictures are up on my flickr now: flickr.com/pammy_pam
Still recovering. Starting next week I begin the search for my new apartment and squaring away things for school. I plan on sitting down shortly to outline some of the better stories from my last weeks abroad, as well as current unfolding events as I assimilate to the big apple. Stay tuned.
Still recovering. Starting next week I begin the search for my new apartment and squaring away things for school. I plan on sitting down shortly to outline some of the better stories from my last weeks abroad, as well as current unfolding events as I assimilate to the big apple. Stay tuned.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Home Now.
I am back now. I ran out of money a week before my return to the states. I'd like to say that being homeless, broke and alone in Paris was romantic and added a certain layer of depth to my traveling experience. More likely though, it simply added a layer of dirt and a level of exhaustion that will surely seem more nostalgic once I've received a weeks worth of rest, a hot bath, a pedicure and a deep tissue massage. But, I survived. And survival is, after all, entirely the point. Henry Miller would be so proud.
In case you were wondering, the cold marble floor of Charles De Gaulle International isn't a particularly comfortable place to sleep. Standing in a phone booth outside of the Piere Lachaise cemetery on the phone with my mother, she told me about how as a child, just when she had turned her back for a second, I would be playing chicken in the middle of the highway with the cars. She feels like I am living my life in that same manner 20 something years later. So be it. It's strange when you realize how much you are the same person you were when you were young. Same plot, different characters. I gather you've plenty of evidence of my character at this point to view me as a mischievous child playing in the street.
I will be posting all my pictures and telling some back stories which include my ability to cook frozen pizza with a hair dryer among other interesting tid bits.
xo
In case you were wondering, the cold marble floor of Charles De Gaulle International isn't a particularly comfortable place to sleep. Standing in a phone booth outside of the Piere Lachaise cemetery on the phone with my mother, she told me about how as a child, just when she had turned her back for a second, I would be playing chicken in the middle of the highway with the cars. She feels like I am living my life in that same manner 20 something years later. So be it. It's strange when you realize how much you are the same person you were when you were young. Same plot, different characters. I gather you've plenty of evidence of my character at this point to view me as a mischievous child playing in the street.
I will be posting all my pictures and telling some back stories which include my ability to cook frozen pizza with a hair dryer among other interesting tid bits.
xo
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
barcelona
Was amazing. I bathed topless, swam in the medditerian, drank bottles and bottles of cheap sangria and soothed my restless heart. The sky is bigger in Spain. The sun is dryer, and all in all, this was exactly what I needed.
I fly to Paris in the morning. This is my last week, and although the trip was entirely not what I imagined, it was entirely perfect. I feel so, so something I haven´t felt yet. Something like assurance. Something like somehow, I am somewhat more who I never knew, I always was.
NYC on the 30th.
xoxo
I fly to Paris in the morning. This is my last week, and although the trip was entirely not what I imagined, it was entirely perfect. I feel so, so something I haven´t felt yet. Something like assurance. Something like somehow, I am somewhat more who I never knew, I always was.
NYC on the 30th.
xoxo
Thursday, July 16, 2009
My Last Day in Ireland
Life is so strange. Same plot, different characters. So, when you don't know what else to do. And the only thing you really know, is that you are in no place to make decisions for your self. Then you get your ass on a plane out of town and hope for the best. Hope for warmer weather and expect darker spirits.
Here's to my holiday in Spain.
Here's to my holiday in Spain.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I choose Dublin on a whim, because it was cheap to fly to and, well, the Irish like to drink even more than I do, so it seemed logical. I liked the city instantly. Not for any reason I can put into words, but I did. After a few days, I was out of my comfort zone, and slowly learning how to deal. It takes a while to learn how to be. How to be quite, and how to be loud. But slowly I began to feel more myself that I'd ever felt before, and more aware of my self. Like I could see the future. And that the future was good.
So, I got comfortable drinking in pubs alone. Got comfortable with drinking Jameson on the rocks, because it was cheaper than Old Fashioneds. Got comfortable making five minute friends. And so I
wandered into the Sheeban. It was during the day, and the bartender and I hit it off instantly. She adopted me and introduced me to all her friends. It was two days later that I was sitting in a pub on St. George's street when he sat down next to me. And so, in the rare moments I am so intensely aware of what I want, I go after it with unabashed integrity. And so I went after it. With there being no option but, well, to succeed.
And he asked, "Do you always get what you want?" As he was walking me home. And I replied,
"Yes." ; "So be it." He said.
We had the most unassuming and easy, good conversation of my life. But then, nothing. Nothing
until I ran into him at Hogans. A couple days later. When he told me we would have coffee, and he kissed my cheek. And I went home drenched in a school girl crush. When I saw him at the Bartender's wedding later on that week, he alluded to all sorts of complications, and did his best to exude an air of distance. Something like hesitation.Something I can't explain. All this about
someone that I've only known for ten days.
So, I got comfortable drinking in pubs alone. Got comfortable with drinking Jameson on the rocks, because it was cheaper than Old Fashioneds. Got comfortable making five minute friends. And so I
wandered into the Sheeban. It was during the day, and the bartender and I hit it off instantly. She adopted me and introduced me to all her friends. It was two days later that I was sitting in a pub on St. George's street when he sat down next to me. And so, in the rare moments I am so intensely aware of what I want, I go after it with unabashed integrity. And so I went after it. With there being no option but, well, to succeed.
And he asked, "Do you always get what you want?" As he was walking me home. And I replied,
"Yes." ; "So be it." He said.
We had the most unassuming and easy, good conversation of my life. But then, nothing. Nothing
until I ran into him at Hogans. A couple days later. When he told me we would have coffee, and he kissed my cheek. And I went home drenched in a school girl crush. When I saw him at the Bartender's wedding later on that week, he alluded to all sorts of complications, and did his best to exude an air of distance. Something like hesitation.Something I can't explain. All this about
someone that I've only known for ten days.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Today
I touched a stone for ten years good luck, received my whiskey taster diploma from the Jameson Distillery, drank from Jameson's personal stash (at 30 euro a glass, it was the most amazing thing I have ever tasted), met some amazing people and am, decidedly incandescently irrevocably on fire like happy. I love it here and am staying until I go to Barcelona on the 17th. I've made some incredible friends and feel more myself than I ever felt possible. I feel invincible.
I threw my ring in the Liffey and turns out that life is.so.good. after all.
I threw my ring in the Liffey and turns out that life is.so.good. after all.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
THINGS I HAVE LEARNED IN IRELAND SO FAR
I really, really like it here.
Dublin is small and rainey. It is super easy to walk around in circles for an hour trying to decide what pub to have a pint in. And then end up in the first one you considered.
However drunk you thought the Irish were, multiple that times three. I can, in fact, survive on only beer, water and the pathetic excuse of a meal that my hostle serves under the guise of “breakfast”. Despite my food intake being all most 100 percent carbs, I do believe I will quickly lose the couple pounds all that delicious French food had packed on my ass.
I “look quite Irish” (it is better if you say that with a very thick Irish accent.)
And, basically, in every sense of each word, I STILL EFFING GOT IT. Know what I mean?
ps. fax is the new email and I am only using disposable cameras from this point on. way cooler that way.
Dublin is small and rainey. It is super easy to walk around in circles for an hour trying to decide what pub to have a pint in. And then end up in the first one you considered.
However drunk you thought the Irish were, multiple that times three. I can, in fact, survive on only beer, water and the pathetic excuse of a meal that my hostle serves under the guise of “breakfast”. Despite my food intake being all most 100 percent carbs, I do believe I will quickly lose the couple pounds all that delicious French food had packed on my ass.
I “look quite Irish” (it is better if you say that with a very thick Irish accent.)
And, basically, in every sense of each word, I STILL EFFING GOT IT. Know what I mean?
ps. fax is the new email and I am only using disposable cameras from this point on. way cooler that way.
Everywhere I turn there are stacks upon stacks of kegs. If you walk down any given street around 4 pm, you can see the delivery trucks hauling them down into the basement of the pubs in preparation for the masses. This is, by far, the drunkest place I have ever been.
All the hostels around here are in Temple Bar, a huge tourist type area full of Americans and obnoxious Irish boys trying to pick up drunk American girls. Dublin is teeny tiny, though. So, yesterday I walked a few blocks north and came to an adorable little restaurant and bar. I treated myself to a pint of Carlsburg and made friends with the bartender. She was kind enough to give me a tour of the area on her break and introduce me to a couple of her friends who bought my drinks the rest of the evening. This place reminds me of an alcoholic Italian mother. Don't try and tell anyone you aren't in need of a drink. They'll get you one anyway. I was able to make an absolute fool of myself in front of the adorable bar back who was doing an excellent job of ignoring me.
I think I will stay here a little while longer.
All the hostels around here are in Temple Bar, a huge tourist type area full of Americans and obnoxious Irish boys trying to pick up drunk American girls. Dublin is teeny tiny, though. So, yesterday I walked a few blocks north and came to an adorable little restaurant and bar. I treated myself to a pint of Carlsburg and made friends with the bartender. She was kind enough to give me a tour of the area on her break and introduce me to a couple of her friends who bought my drinks the rest of the evening. This place reminds me of an alcoholic Italian mother. Don't try and tell anyone you aren't in need of a drink. They'll get you one anyway. I was able to make an absolute fool of myself in front of the adorable bar back who was doing an excellent job of ignoring me.
I think I will stay here a little while longer.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
amusement park kinda tired
I am about to shower, nap, and then board a train to take a plane and I am so exhausted. Good thing failure is not an option.
Saw the ballet this evening and it was amazing. In other news, I drank too much wine with dinner. Will report back when I am safely at destination. And tell you all about that time that Kieth and I drank 40s at 8am and talked about Pearl Harbor.
Saw the ballet this evening and it was amazing. In other news, I drank too much wine with dinner. Will report back when I am safely at destination. And tell you all about that time that Kieth and I drank 40s at 8am and talked about Pearl Harbor.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Let Me Tell You a Bedtime Story
So, last night a couple of my new found friends and I headed out on the town with the specific intention of not returning to the same pub I had been to the past evenings. The events that followed were something quite amazing.
We picked up a 5th of bourbon each from the tabac on the corner of the metro at Monamarte and walked up two flights of stairs towards Sacre Cour. It was already almost 2 and I was almost positive the bar I had in mind would be closed. We bought an overpriced cocktail at a place we ascertained would be open for at least another hour. The residue of the pride parade that had taken place in the streets earlier had left the dance floor stuck in 1972 and full of gay men, so we decided to keep hoofing it. We briefly entertained two dude while trying to find out where the after hours bar would be in the area when we heard very loud american music coming from down the road. We followed the sound. There was what appeared to be a full on rager taking place in an apartment on the second floor of a building in front of us. Took a swig of my bourbon and marched over to the gate of the building. After a few minutes someone left and we walked through the open door. Veronica knocked hard on the door and a guy answered. In broken French I told him that we liked to dance and raised a eyebrow. He waved us in. We made ourselves a drink in their kitchen and I put Kayne on the stereo. Made friends with a man from Berlin and somehow we killed three hours until the trains started running again. Ronnie and I ate a quiche from the open boulongerie while we waited for the RER B. We sat next to a gay dancer from Iowa. He told us he missed Americans. The sun was up. The man from Berlin had my number. I crashed at the dorms at Cite and woke up around 3pm.
We picked up a 5th of bourbon each from the tabac on the corner of the metro at Monamarte and walked up two flights of stairs towards Sacre Cour. It was already almost 2 and I was almost positive the bar I had in mind would be closed. We bought an overpriced cocktail at a place we ascertained would be open for at least another hour. The residue of the pride parade that had taken place in the streets earlier had left the dance floor stuck in 1972 and full of gay men, so we decided to keep hoofing it. We briefly entertained two dude while trying to find out where the after hours bar would be in the area when we heard very loud american music coming from down the road. We followed the sound. There was what appeared to be a full on rager taking place in an apartment on the second floor of a building in front of us. Took a swig of my bourbon and marched over to the gate of the building. After a few minutes someone left and we walked through the open door. Veronica knocked hard on the door and a guy answered. In broken French I told him that we liked to dance and raised a eyebrow. He waved us in. We made ourselves a drink in their kitchen and I put Kayne on the stereo. Made friends with a man from Berlin and somehow we killed three hours until the trains started running again. Ronnie and I ate a quiche from the open boulongerie while we waited for the RER B. We sat next to a gay dancer from Iowa. He told us he missed Americans. The sun was up. The man from Berlin had my number. I crashed at the dorms at Cite and woke up around 3pm.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
I picked up a copy of Topic of Cancer at the Shakepeare & Company Bookstore when I was in Paris. I had read it prior, but now I am eating it up like a kid in a candy store. Other than that, all is still well. Dehydrated, tired and in need of a massage. But otherwise very well.
These days I am feeling hyperaware of the fact that there is no one to whom I can communicate even a fraction of my feelings. I went out the other night, got my hair all done. Every drink was bought for me. I told all my best stories and everyone loved me. I haven't ever felt so lonely. It was this little Irish pub in Saint Michael. And when I asked the man keeping me company and refilling my Jack Daniels if that was a wedding band on his finger, he shrugged and replied that it was different in France. I laughed before walking away and said, "No- no it's quite the same."
Everything is so damned lost in translation.
These days I am feeling hyperaware of the fact that there is no one to whom I can communicate even a fraction of my feelings. I went out the other night, got my hair all done. Every drink was bought for me. I told all my best stories and everyone loved me. I haven't ever felt so lonely. It was this little Irish pub in Saint Michael. And when I asked the man keeping me company and refilling my Jack Daniels if that was a wedding band on his finger, he shrugged and replied that it was different in France. I laughed before walking away and said, "No- no it's quite the same."
Everything is so damned lost in translation.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
So, I had this crazy dream.
It was one of those super realistic ones.And it was the future. I was at dinner with some people and someone asked me what I did for a living. I told them that I had worked in art administration, and at this museum and that museum but that about five years prior I had written my co-memoirs with my best friend; mostly to get her motivated because she was such an amazing writer and we had so many amazing stories to tell. Well, the book was wildly successful and so I was given a deal to write several other novels, so I did. And I loved it. In this dream, apparently. Because I was using my all gushing and passionate, breathy voice.
Then, today I was speaking to one of my art history professors about my thoughts on Andy Warhol. I saw his exhibition at the Grand Palais (which I loved and will write more on later). Then we got to talking about the Robert Barry exhibition at Yvon Lamert here in Paris; and the long and short of it is that she thinks I need to be writing- that I have a future as a critic.
How about that? An art critic. I hadn't thought of that before. But, I kind of like the ring of it. So, I am going to start working on a writing a book with Corinne. That has been in the making since we were 17, and it's time. But, also, I am going to start thinking seriously about publishing art theory, too. What the hell, right?
Why Stop Now?
Then, today I was speaking to one of my art history professors about my thoughts on Andy Warhol. I saw his exhibition at the Grand Palais (which I loved and will write more on later). Then we got to talking about the Robert Barry exhibition at Yvon Lamert here in Paris; and the long and short of it is that she thinks I need to be writing- that I have a future as a critic.
How about that? An art critic. I hadn't thought of that before. But, I kind of like the ring of it. So, I am going to start working on a writing a book with Corinne. That has been in the making since we were 17, and it's time. But, also, I am going to start thinking seriously about publishing art theory, too. What the hell, right?
Why Stop Now?
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Now We're Cooking...
I treated myself to a day completely alone. And man, it was nice. I went to the Centre Pompidou and, well, it was amazing. I haven't enjoyed myself that much at a museum since the Hirshhorn last May. There was an incredible exhibition on Feminist works from the 60's until now and that took me almost 3 hours to get through. I was on my last wind when I wandered upstairs to their permanent modern wings only to be blown away. So that is where all this stuff is! I didn't feel like paying too much money o a cafe, and because I knew i'd have to come back regardless, I look my leave after nearly peeing my pants from seeing a wing of Duchamp. Only when I got outside and sat in the sun (which is finally come back!), staring at the building and listening to these immigrants lead the crowds in a rowdy rendition of Hotel California did I realize I had skipped out on at least another three floors of that place.
So, I love something other than the wine here. The architecture of it was a bit silly, despite what ever the progressives said.
So, I love something other than the wine here. The architecture of it was a bit silly, despite what ever the progressives said.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Last Night
I met Parisan volley ball players who were 7 feet tall and danced with a guy from Brooklyn for two songs before we realized that we were both Amercian.
Best night so far.
Best night so far.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Berlin Wall
Hey Ya'll. Did you know it's been 20 years since that shit came down? I saw this awesome exhibit of work done from pieces of the wall in a park area near the Louve. So far, it was the best thing I'd seen art related in Paris.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
I slept in today. I think all this moving about has me requiring a level of hydration that I'm not quite use to and that combined with all the wine; the exhaustion in general is having an affect on my engery and overall health.
This is so different than traveling with my friends, a la- bar and bathroom tours and sightseeing secondary to fun. Not complaining, I just don't have an overwhelming interest in most of the sights that everyone else is into. That came out wrong. I am so interested in all of this, I just can't shake my attraction to the 20th Century; cubism, dada, the surreal- the political atmosphere surrounding this city prior to the Spanish Civil War, WW II- Paris in the 60s...
I guess what I'm getting at is I don't want to look at another cathedral or monument. At least not today. So, my plan is then to just hope on a metro and see what happens. This time alone and with abosultely no plan.
Also, my address for the next month is:
Foyer Tolbiac
Room 425
234, rue de Tolbiac
75013 Paris
So, write me here. I'm dropping some letters and postcards in the mail today.
This is so different than traveling with my friends, a la- bar and bathroom tours and sightseeing secondary to fun. Not complaining, I just don't have an overwhelming interest in most of the sights that everyone else is into. That came out wrong. I am so interested in all of this, I just can't shake my attraction to the 20th Century; cubism, dada, the surreal- the political atmosphere surrounding this city prior to the Spanish Civil War, WW II- Paris in the 60s...
I guess what I'm getting at is I don't want to look at another cathedral or monument. At least not today. So, my plan is then to just hope on a metro and see what happens. This time alone and with abosultely no plan.
Also, my address for the next month is:
Foyer Tolbiac
Room 425
234, rue de Tolbiac
75013 Paris
So, write me here. I'm dropping some letters and postcards in the mail today.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Vaux le Vicomte
Today I took a bus out to Vaux Le Vicomte. The long and short of it is that this is a chateau of this rich dude who really got Louis the XIV's panties in a twist and so after a while of him all trying to deal with his penis envy issues and what not, he had him (Nicolas Fouquet) imprisoned for life. A lot of people believe him to be The Man in the Iron Mask, which is a legend in addition to being that movie with Leonardo DiCaprio where he had unattractively long hair. The chateau is considered to be a model for Versaille and is really, really big. The gardens are amazing and so perfect and they light up the place by candles in the evening. It was a full moon and I can't even begin to describe how beautiful it is. There was a little cafe on the grounds and so I ordered a cup of coffee and a small bottle of J&B and made an Irish coffee to keep me warm on this brisk evening.
Now I am back and my room and more than exhausted after my long day considering the evening I had prior, exploring the Parisian night life- which, incidentally, is more hoping than even New York City. I am bellying up to my desk to write a few letters before retiring for the evening.
For those of you who don't know, check out my pictures as they are uploaded by clicking the les fotos link to the right. I will try and keep them as current as possible.
<3<3<3
Now I am back and my room and more than exhausted after my long day considering the evening I had prior, exploring the Parisian night life- which, incidentally, is more hoping than even New York City. I am bellying up to my desk to write a few letters before retiring for the evening.
For those of you who don't know, check out my pictures as they are uploaded by clicking the les fotos link to the right. I will try and keep them as current as possible.
<3<3<3
Thursday, June 4, 2009
June 4th...
Last night i explored Montmare (Martyr's Mound), which used to be a Roman temple that was dedicated to Mercury and Mars. In 8C, Saint Denis, preist Rusticus and the deacon Eleutherius were tourtured there. The were brought to the top on the mount to be decapitated. Local legend claims that Saint Denis picked up his gory head and marched on to the area that is now named after him, ST-Denis. There is a statue there of a dude missing a head.
The area is full of tourists during the day. I know this because I can spot my own kind. There are lots of little cafes and what not; stores selling bags that are all covered in Eiffel Towers and other such propaganda. At night though, certain places around the area are very bohemian and full of young parisans. I plan on heading back that way when I feel like going out at night. I really wish I spoke French but I've decided to learn and so in the future, I would really like to come back to study the language.
At the top of Montmartre, there is the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur, which was built after the Franco-Prussian war in 1870ish. It's big and it's white and it has an amazing view of the city. I drank in the veiw and a couple beers on the steps. You can drink outside here. It's pretty great.
Today I took the metro to Place de la Concorde. The Obelisk is right there as you come out of the metro, like a huge fallic symbol to the gods. The Obelisk came from the ruins of the temple at Luxor. It was 'given' to France in 1831 by Mohammed Ali. I honestly don't really know what the policitcal situation is/was with France and Egypt; it was never the focus of any of my academic research, but I raise an eyebrow at any thing that European countries had a hand in in the past 500 years. Especially involving Africa.
Regardless, it was 'erected' (lol) in the centre in 1836. The thing is tall, and covered in hieroglphics. Aparently the roseta stone had already been discovered at this time and the French incoporated the inscriptions into the location of the city, meaning the wording specific to the significance of art faces the Louve, politics faces their parliament building, etc. From this magnificent cross roads, you can see the Arc de Triomphe and straight down Champs-Elysees. I wandered from here down to the Louve. I didn't go in, but looked around the outisde. It's really overwhelming.
I kept going and came across this huge old cathedral, which had these super tall ceilings. I couldn't read most of the infromation on it, since I don't speak French. It was definatly gothic type architechture.
I found a Metro and took the 7 all the wall to Tolbiac and walked the 15 minutes to my dorm. I picked up a basket of cherries from a market and a tomato. Apparently you are supposed to get a little sticker for your produce if it isn't packaged, which I didn't know but the lady at the counter showed me and so I will remember next time. Back at my room, I made a cheese and tomato sandwich from the leftover baggette and hunk of swiss I had. Then I took my sandwhich, cherries and books and headed to the park close to Cite University, where I am now. I've been napping and eating and soaking in the sun, which is gentler than Florida, for hours. There is a nice breeze and I've already forgotten what day it is.
I had no idea how dead inside I had become, or how alive I could feel until today.
The area is full of tourists during the day. I know this because I can spot my own kind. There are lots of little cafes and what not; stores selling bags that are all covered in Eiffel Towers and other such propaganda. At night though, certain places around the area are very bohemian and full of young parisans. I plan on heading back that way when I feel like going out at night. I really wish I spoke French but I've decided to learn and so in the future, I would really like to come back to study the language.
At the top of Montmartre, there is the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur, which was built after the Franco-Prussian war in 1870ish. It's big and it's white and it has an amazing view of the city. I drank in the veiw and a couple beers on the steps. You can drink outside here. It's pretty great.
Today I took the metro to Place de la Concorde. The Obelisk is right there as you come out of the metro, like a huge fallic symbol to the gods. The Obelisk came from the ruins of the temple at Luxor. It was 'given' to France in 1831 by Mohammed Ali. I honestly don't really know what the policitcal situation is/was with France and Egypt; it was never the focus of any of my academic research, but I raise an eyebrow at any thing that European countries had a hand in in the past 500 years. Especially involving Africa.
Regardless, it was 'erected' (lol) in the centre in 1836. The thing is tall, and covered in hieroglphics. Aparently the roseta stone had already been discovered at this time and the French incoporated the inscriptions into the location of the city, meaning the wording specific to the significance of art faces the Louve, politics faces their parliament building, etc. From this magnificent cross roads, you can see the Arc de Triomphe and straight down Champs-Elysees. I wandered from here down to the Louve. I didn't go in, but looked around the outisde. It's really overwhelming.
I kept going and came across this huge old cathedral, which had these super tall ceilings. I couldn't read most of the infromation on it, since I don't speak French. It was definatly gothic type architechture.
I found a Metro and took the 7 all the wall to Tolbiac and walked the 15 minutes to my dorm. I picked up a basket of cherries from a market and a tomato. Apparently you are supposed to get a little sticker for your produce if it isn't packaged, which I didn't know but the lady at the counter showed me and so I will remember next time. Back at my room, I made a cheese and tomato sandwich from the leftover baggette and hunk of swiss I had. Then I took my sandwhich, cherries and books and headed to the park close to Cite University, where I am now. I've been napping and eating and soaking in the sun, which is gentler than Florida, for hours. There is a nice breeze and I've already forgotten what day it is.
I had no idea how dead inside I had become, or how alive I could feel until today.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Today I Got Lost in Paris
I've met this girl, Rachel. And she's pretty awesome so today we decided to get lost on the metro. We ended up in the 18th Arrondissement and discovered gardens that were built on top of the old aqurifer. I have never seen roses so big! And the honey suckle smelled so sweet. It was amazing. I am really feeling at home here. Comfortable, even.
I have a new plan. I am going to live a new place every year. I figure I probably have at least 30 years, so that's thirty places. I either need to be able to work completely remotely. Or else, I need to be able to have a career that is useful to many countries...however, whatever, I'll make it work. Cause I am having SO MUCH FUN. It's only been 3 days and I already don't want to leave.
<3<3<3
ps- Comment with your address and I'll send you a postcard.
I have a new plan. I am going to live a new place every year. I figure I probably have at least 30 years, so that's thirty places. I either need to be able to work completely remotely. Or else, I need to be able to have a career that is useful to many countries...however, whatever, I'll make it work. Cause I am having SO MUCH FUN. It's only been 3 days and I already don't want to leave.
<3<3<3
ps- Comment with your address and I'll send you a postcard.
Monday, June 1, 2009
New Digs!
Here I am at my dorm and I'm getting all settled in. I love it. A room of my own!The only frustration being that the wifi is a bit shotty, but oh well. I just returned from a trip to the local market where I purchased un baggette, some water, an apple, a hunk of cheese and a very cheap bottle of white wine. Now that I'm all unpacked, I plan on making myself a little sandwich and reading a bit before a group of us from the program all go out to eat at a local pizzaria. There are six others from the class staying in my building and that all seem sweet, but young. Pretty much as I expected, but- well, they are young.
Paris is so much more beautiful than I remembered. And the men are much cuter, too. Not to mention fufilling all appropriate stereotypes but no complaints here. I spent last night wandering around with a guy who spoke even less english than I do, and we would just point to things and say them in our respective languages. I'm beginning to think that being in the country, really is the best way to learn. I feel like a little sponge, soaking everything up so thirstyly.
I am so unbelievably happy.
<3
au revoir!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I remember my first anxiety attack very clearly
I won't go into too many details about all that. You'll have to stay tuned for my memoir. I'll give you this: it involved a Holy Mountain show, boy with a bicycle, a soon to be empty bottle of whiskey and the knowledge that I was in way, way over my head.
That is neither here nor there though, really. It's just that, well, all day I've been having anxiety attacks and that combined with the waves of nausea and intense deja vu of that particular experience are making me absolutely nuts.
Okay. Just thought ya'll should know.
That is neither here nor there though, really. It's just that, well, all day I've been having anxiety attacks and that combined with the waves of nausea and intense deja vu of that particular experience are making me absolutely nuts.
Okay. Just thought ya'll should know.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
HOLY SHIT.
My stomach just fell into my knees. Like, just right now.
My bags are packed, I'm ready to go but I'm not coming back and I won't be wearing anyone's wedding ring.
That's kind of funny. Actually. Seeing as how the fact that my not getting married was a major catalyst in all of this insanity.
Welcome to my existential crisis.
On that note, last night was the opening for my student show @620. It went so well and I had so much fun and I'm so proud of all of them and saying good-bye was emotional. This afternoon is my going away happy hour at work and tomorrow I'm meeting some friends at Cider House after my last client event. Then I leave.
Weird. That stomach thing just happened again.
I don't know what it is. Maybe when things end, you think about how they began. At least I think I saw that in a movie or something.
Maybe it's the realization that everything I hated about him was pieces of myself. Well, love is just narcissism anyways, so I guess it makes sense that hate would be too. There's a thin line I guess. Or at least I think I saw that in a movie or something.
Regardless, life is good. No complaints here. So far. And so what if I loved him and he never felt the same. So what if I wear stupid shoes and talk too much and should work out more and have a lot to learn about life and all of that. Because I'm not willing to settle and at least I'm armed with that.
Now if only I could sell my damned car.
My bags are packed, I'm ready to go but I'm not coming back and I won't be wearing anyone's wedding ring.
That's kind of funny. Actually. Seeing as how the fact that my not getting married was a major catalyst in all of this insanity.
Welcome to my existential crisis.
On that note, last night was the opening for my student show @620. It went so well and I had so much fun and I'm so proud of all of them and saying good-bye was emotional. This afternoon is my going away happy hour at work and tomorrow I'm meeting some friends at Cider House after my last client event. Then I leave.
Weird. That stomach thing just happened again.
I don't know what it is. Maybe when things end, you think about how they began. At least I think I saw that in a movie or something.
Maybe it's the realization that everything I hated about him was pieces of myself. Well, love is just narcissism anyways, so I guess it makes sense that hate would be too. There's a thin line I guess. Or at least I think I saw that in a movie or something.
Regardless, life is good. No complaints here. So far. And so what if I loved him and he never felt the same. So what if I wear stupid shoes and talk too much and should work out more and have a lot to learn about life and all of that. Because I'm not willing to settle and at least I'm armed with that.
Now if only I could sell my damned car.
Friday, May 8, 2009
nelly-pamalita-barcalona
Slight change of plans- my lovely, intellengent and soon-to-be wordly friend Nell is meeting me in Barcalona at the end of July. So, I've decided to amend my route as follows:
Paris->Florence->Tuscan Countryside (omg! vineyards! olive groves! I mean, have you seen Stealing Beauty?! You should.)->Rome->Barcalona
Paris->Florence->Tuscan Countryside (omg! vineyards! olive groves! I mean, have you seen Stealing Beauty?! You should.)->Rome->Barcalona
Monday, May 4, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
playlist.
Daisychains~Youth Group
You're So Vain~Carly Simon
Dear Chicago~Ryan Adams
Hold It, Kid~The Weeks
South Tacomaway~Neko Case
I'm on Fire~Bruce Springsteen
Pretty Girl at the Airport~The Avett Brothers
Westfall~Okkervil River
Babe, You Turn Me On~Nick Cave& The Bad Seeds
Echo~Voxhaul Broadcast
No Children~The Mountain Goats
The Comeback~Shout Out Louds
Wagon Wheel~Against Me!
Car~Built To Spill
The Bottom of the Bay~Readyville
Slow Show~The National
All Your Faithless Loyalties~Two Gallants
You're So Vain~Carly Simon
Dear Chicago~Ryan Adams
Hold It, Kid~The Weeks
South Tacomaway~Neko Case
I'm on Fire~Bruce Springsteen
Pretty Girl at the Airport~The Avett Brothers
Westfall~Okkervil River
Babe, You Turn Me On~Nick Cave& The Bad Seeds
Echo~Voxhaul Broadcast
No Children~The Mountain Goats
The Comeback~Shout Out Louds
Wagon Wheel~Against Me!
Car~Built To Spill
The Bottom of the Bay~Readyville
Slow Show~The National
All Your Faithless Loyalties~Two Gallants
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
One Year Ago...
I boarded a plane returning from our Nation's Capital with a very unnerving feeling in the pit of my stomach. Watching the the National Monument fade into the back ground of a pink sky; watching big fat tears fall into my double tall Old Fashioned resting on my tray table, I knew something had changed in me. I knew that every step I took upon landing back in Florida would have to be a step towards leaving. And this time for good.
Life is harder work, but so much easier to live with a formidable purpose. I've learned more about myself and more about my capacity to edure emotional and physical labors this year than I thought possible. I could tell you all about the sacrifices I've made, the leasons I've learn. I could tell you how to tile a bathroom, part with personal belongings. I could show you how to move out of a house that is more of a home to your 25 year old heart than anything, or anyone has ever been. But I've never been one to linger. What I really want to do is tell you my story. From the begining. This isn't a new chapter; this is a new book. On May 30th I fly to Paris. I don't have a plan, other than that on July 27th I'll fly to New York City. And in theory, this Fall, I'll begin my Gradute work at the oldest private university in this great country.
I'm ready to let my life get a little messy. Won't you join me?
Life is harder work, but so much easier to live with a formidable purpose. I've learned more about myself and more about my capacity to edure emotional and physical labors this year than I thought possible. I could tell you all about the sacrifices I've made, the leasons I've learn. I could tell you how to tile a bathroom, part with personal belongings. I could show you how to move out of a house that is more of a home to your 25 year old heart than anything, or anyone has ever been. But I've never been one to linger. What I really want to do is tell you my story. From the begining. This isn't a new chapter; this is a new book. On May 30th I fly to Paris. I don't have a plan, other than that on July 27th I'll fly to New York City. And in theory, this Fall, I'll begin my Gradute work at the oldest private university in this great country.
I'm ready to let my life get a little messy. Won't you join me?
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