"...then I'll rise with a roar, rant, rage --- curse them and the universe as I send them scattering over the lawn. I'll feel much better, sit down to toast and eggs, hum a little tune, suddenly become as lovable as a pink overfed whale."
Some Dallas people of all sorts got together and constructed about 15 giant puppets of local historical figures to parade around for a bridge-opening celebration tomorrow. What a fun idea. I like over-sized stuff like this, and I like that they let kids and non-artists and pretty much anyone who was interested join in. I wish I had seen them working on this in December so that I could have helped.
I think they are already kind of scary, but I would have given them big glossy eyeballs and taken it further.
A nice girl sent me a pic of my prints framed and hanging in her hallway. It's still strange to think this happens.
Went to a play last night and realized -- no, confirmed --- that I don't want to hear anyone sing their lines. I wouldn't call this a musical or an opera, rather some kind of horror in between the two. There were a few actual songs, but mostly just lines being delivered alternately in a singing and regular voice.
It was also in a tiny theater where audience sits on same level as stage, and the actors are about three feet away. From here I could see stuff I shouldn't normally be able to see, like lipstick on teeth, or bra straps or the guy who didn't have time to zip his pants when he changed after the last scene.
I found myself watching shoes scuff the floor, cleavage being squished together, the sheen on nail polish and nose cobwebs swinging...everything but the play.
Still, it was fun...
Made me think of taking my nephew to see Nightmare Before Christmas when he was a kid. Neither of us knew anything about it, other than it was stop-motion. Part of the way thru there was a song, and I thought, "Oooooh, shit..."
I thought, well, at least I hear kids really like songs in shows and stuff. But I looked over at him, and he was tensed up. Then there was another song, and I heard him say, "Oh no...." Then there was a third song, and he closed his eyes, threw his head back, "Please, no more singing."
We both loved the movie, and the songs aren't annoying when I watch it nowadays. But I had no more patience than a ten year old when I first saw it.
A week ago I was leaving the post office on a really windy cold day, and I saw a dead monarch butterfly by the curb. He was really out of place there next to garbage and leaves, wings spread out all beautiful and on display. The wind began flipping him over again and again.
Such a perfect and lovely little thing, I couldn't leave him there in the trash, so I took him home to leave in my flowers.
I drove for about 10 minutes before I looked at my seat again. The "dead" butterfly was standing up now and slowly flapping his wings. I had to pull over and check him out. He even climbed on my finger.
So the butterfly came home with me. I set him up in a warm area by a sunny window with a branch from my sage bush that still had flowers at the time. Later I gave him sugar water on a plate, which I'd seen in an article once.
Every hour I looked at him again, expecting him to be dead, but he was there flexing his wings on the branch. It was a weird surprise every time.
The next morning when I woke up, he was flying around the kitchen. Eventually he landed on my shoulder and we went outside together. The temperature had suddenly gone back up to 80, and it was a beautiful sunny day. The monarch flew away. Maybe he'll meet his friends in Mexico after all.
I like that ending better, but the truth is he was dead the next morning. And it was even more bitter cold and windy out, no sun. Around midnight I had moved him from the window to the top of the piano, which was closer to a heating vent. He was still flexing his wings when I went to bed, but by morning he had fallen on his side. He remains there now as a Christmas decoration.
As everyone knows, gargoyles get really lonely on their perches, and they have some pretty deep thoughts. Before being sentenced to guard over a building they had lots of adventures, sometimes romantic or dangerous or sad, so there's much to reflect upon.
Every morning at 2am they are allotted 10 minutes of free time to leave their pedestal, and this fellow chose to spend a little while in a tree swing. I'm sure he's thinking about his mom's dumplings, the kitten he had when he was a tot, and the unlikelihood of world peace.
In October I didn't appreciate going in a store and hearing, "I'll be home for Christmas" and seeing Christmas decorations everywhere. It was 85 degrees out, and I was looking for Halloween stuff, but people are trying to shove my concerns two months ahead...
Here's a new sculpture, which happens to be wintery/holiday-ish. At least he's here in November, not July....
He's kind of a tall guy, and looks like he needs to tell me something. Probably wondering how to get himself off that block of wood.