Fact: I hated All in the Family. Hated. I never really got Maude (too young, I guess). The Jeffersons and Good Times were mildly amusing, but paled in comparison to other sitcoms--at least for me. Still, I knew they were all related, and Bea Arthur's death yesterday spurred me to understand how.
I half-jokingly suggested to my friend Tina that I ought to consult a flowchart. Then I half-heartedly went in search of one, but couldn't find anything. So I built one: an All in the Family tree. I really need to find other ways to occupy my Sunday mornings.
It's been a brutal week, but I'm alive. And although I was hauled into a work-related dinner on the night of our 12th anniversary, Jonno is still speaking to me. I consider myself lucky.
In other news, I finally finished processing all my pics from our European "vacation". It's an accomplishment, I suppose, though they're nothing to write home about. If you really want to see Italy as we did--and even prettier than we did--you should check out Jonno's shots of Venice, Florence, and Rome. Seriously.
Alright, I'm heading home, then to the gym, then to my sofa where I hope to do the gayest thing I've done all week: watch Valley of the Dolls and edit the screenplay into a form that's suitable for staging. No kidding.
And so, he's managed to put up with me for twelve years.
It's strange, when you reach that point in a relationship--the point at which you can't remember not knowing them. Maybe it's my advancing age, or maybe it's just really hard to recall what it was like before. Either way, I don't mind.
Anyway, for Jonno:
Not the version I was hoping for, but still.
Originally done to Little Red Corvette, but the dance is still, um, good.
When transferred to the rehabilitation service 4 days later, he was noted to have left upper limb apraxia with involuntary movements. He stated, "my left hand has a mind of his own." He developed a tonic grasp reflex with inability to release.... The patient's wife also expressed deep concern when her husband's left hand would publicly expose his genitals and begin masturbating. This occurred on many occasions when the patient was conversing with his caregivers and was confirmed by the authors on their daily rounds. The behavior was never seen to occur through the action of the right hand. The patient also denies any history of excessive self-stimulation, sexual dysfunction, or exhibitionism. During his hospital stay, the patient expressed frustration and dismay when he realized that he was masturbating publicly and with his inability to voluntarily release his grasp of objects in the left hand. [emphasis mine]
Matt Tyrnauer: When Bruce Weber [the photographer] heard I was doing a film, he said, "Oh, you’ve never done a film before. I’ll take you out to lunch and we can talk about it." He said, "Hire male models to work for you. It doesn’t matter if they know how to do anything; you’ll get double the time with Valentino and Giancarlo." And let me tell you, no better advice has been dispensed. We did hire male models, and eventually the job they ended up doing was putting the mikes on Valentino and Giancarlo before we’d start filming each day. You know, it has to go under the clothes. Well, they loved that. They’d say, "Is it time to get our mikes on yet?"
I know it's not technically any good, but it's Jonno to a tee.
Anyway: the point is, I'm making headway on my minimal collection of vacation pics. The boyfriend has made significantly more: he's completed Venice, Florence, and is well into Rome. But then, he's obsessive about such things in a way that I am sadly not.
Okay, peeps: I'm working on a project, and I need some help.
In a nutshell, I have to explain to a room full of non-arts people why arts grants are important, and why art isn't just some highfalutin' elitist nonsense. To make this happen, I'm looking for a few examples of "art moments" in America--paintings, novels, poems, films, dances, plays--that have led to larger change.
Off the top of my head, I thought of Shepherd Fairey and his iconic "Hope" poster that helped galvanize the Obama campaign. (Which is notable whether or not you supported Obama.) I also thought of Raisin in the Sun and The Laramie Project, both of which helped spread awareness of social injustice and framed discussions of civil rights.
Moments don't necessarily need to be that big--in fact, a couple of smaller ones would be nice. I'm simply looking for art events that have had an effect outside the art world.
Anyway, if you have any suggestions, please pass them on. I'd greatly appreciate it....
On a non-vacation-themed note: did you people know that Revlon still makes Eterna 27? I thought it was just some mythical nonsense that queens of a certain age made up (like this guy I used to work with at Maison Blanche who swore by the stuff). But apparently, it's as real as turducken, the Snuggie, and the Judas Iscariot Dildo [nsfw, obvs].
Well, I hope your Good Friday is as productive as mine.
From my first batch of vacation pics. (More to follow, unfortunately.) Also: my first-ever stitched-together panorama pic. Does my lack of experience show much?
Par for the course: Jonno's leading, I'm following
I'm back. We're back. But only barely. As usual, the trip home turned into a 24-hour slog through security checkpoints, customs lines, and baggage claim areas. Though we were both exhausted by the time we reached the house, I only slept about four hours last night. Maybe I should take a couple of dolls this evening, just to ensure I wake up in this time zone.
Also: you may have heard that there was an earthquake in Italy. It hit yesterday morning, about four hours before we were set to head to the airport. I slept through it, though Jonno and I were awakened by car and building alarms that were probably set off by the tremors. His mom and aunt heard some unusual rumblings around that time, too, but I suppose they could've just been garbage trucks. All I know for sure is that we were very, very lucky.
Given my previous post, it's probably obvious that I'm happy to be home. Even though I didn't sleep long, I was happy to be in my own bed, with some dogs beside me. I have a lot of thoughts about the trip--about travel in general and about traveling with in-laws in particular--but I'll save those for a day or two.
It's impossibly beautiful in Rome right now. The sky is blue, the birds are singing, the light reflected from the facades of buildings--buildings older than most anything standing in North America--has filled our apartment with a glow that I don't think I've seen before, though maybe I remember seeing it as a kid. Which means I've never actually seen anything quite like it except in memories that may or may not be grounded in anything real.
It figures: just as I start to slow down and enjoy the trip, it's time to come home.