Blankety blank blink….

I’m posting this from Bryant park in the slanting afternoon sunlight, because I can’t get my wireless router at home to stop going blinkblink blink, which means that it isn’t connected, which means that I can’t log on from home. While I enjoy being all urb/techie/yuppie sitting at a little green table and typing, it still has me pissed that I can’t figure out this simnple connection problem.

In other news, T and I just had a wonderful trip though the Met, soaking in the pleasures of growing up in an empire that has plundered the world’s treasures so that it can display them. We started off marvelling at Roman glass (how can you not admire a society where some one took the trouble to immortalise butt-fucking on the side of a goblet?) and moved on to “Adorning the World”, Art of the Marquesas Islands, where I decided that I want to make a long pole topped with a pompom of my own hair, just like they did. We soldiered on to the Diane Arbus show, important and pleasureable, but so packed that people were litterally lining up and proceeding around the rooms in a kind of zombified shuffle, which made looking at art seem like one of the stupidest things you could ever do. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Afterwards we rested in the company of a giggle inducing Ascension: an awestruck crowd craning to look up at christ’s delicately bloody feet just slipping out of the top of the picture and then repaired to the roof garden to take in some not very good Sol Lewitt’s. There was another massive line to get back down again, but luckily that scored us a spot on the frieght elevator, exposing on the way down all the service infrastructure that makes the Met such a tidy and classy experience. A perfect corrective.
A slight detour to the shop and then out onto the street, where the weather was still glorious, which lead us to try our luck in an upper east side resturant. The gods were with us and we had a resonable and toothsome dinner. And here I am with the breeze blowing up my shorts.

And now off to home. Hopefully I can figure out what the right combination of cord jiggles is to make my network come to life again. In the mean time, I’m going to stroll downtown. This is the weather and the mood I’ve been waiting months for.

0 Comments +

  1. “We started off marvelling at Roman glass (how can you not admire a society where some one took the trouble to immortalise butt-fucking on the side of a goblet?) ” pure poetry

    SMOOOOCH

  2. Yikes! It sounds like I’ve passed my computer problems on to you. (Actually, I’m sorta still having ’em, but I won’t bore you with them.)

    Hope this all gets sorted out soon! ***hugs***

  3. also i have missed you terribly .. it sounded tho like you needed some space for a bit ( i knwo that one well)so i didnt wanna intrude on what you needed to do.. i’m glad you are back and hope we can chat soon

    BIG WARM HUGS
    Puppy

  4. “We soldiered on to the Diane Arbus show, important and pleasureable, but so packed that people were litterally lining up and proceeding around the rooms in a kind of zombified shuffle, which made looking at art seem like one of the stupidest things you could ever do.”

    LOL. I’ve had a few of those experiences. The first time was about 15 years ago, at the ICA in Boston. It was the preview of the Annie Lebowitz show. The second was at the Met in NYC a few years later for The Treasures of the Vatican. It’s tough enjoying art when you’re cattle, being herded through the show. Now, at the Seattle Art Museum, if there’s a big show, I’ll take the morning off from work and see it then…sometime in the middle of the run.

    Crowds make it impossible to appreciate an exhibit.

  5. art at a price

    I just stopped by the Met’s website, and saw that they are addressing the problems of overcrowding. You can now view the exhibit on Mondays when the museum is otherwise closed to the public. For $50.

  6. I can see immortalizing cocksucking on the side of a goblet, but I don’t much admire buttfucking depictions on the side of a goblet (but, then, I know that’s just me and my doubtless Gay-card-retention-endangering hangups…as an act, it’s just never been something I’ve seen the point for, personally…).

  7. Hopefully I can figure out what the right combination of cord jiggles is to make my network come to life again.

    Oh, sure, they start out just wanting their cords jiggled, then before you know it they’re demanding animal sacrifices.

  8. Re: art at a price

    I saw the Arbus show in Sf where it opened and had to go twice as the first time was mobs of people huddled around frames. How can I experience art with all that going on. I always feel like I am in a basball staduim mens room when this happens at large art openings. release and leave release and leave.

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