at the maelstrom's edge
Nov. 30th, 2014 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanamaIt's another one of those mild days in between two stretches of cold days. After this, I think it's going to balance out. I thought it was December already. In fact, I thought the first day of December was yesterday.
I went through the Goya exhibit again, though I gained no new insights.
I did see the Planes, Trains, and Automobiles exhibit, filled with mid-century model trains and airplanes and cars and art deco posters. There was a French airplane with a see-through fuselage, what looked like a stealth bomber.
It's meant to be compared with the model ships, which were made for the same purposes: to bring back memories, as toys, as a model for shipbuilders to look at, as a model to show to the financiers.
National Pride and Prejudice consisted of a 22 minute video of people bouncing around on an inflatable Stonehenge to the tune of David Bowie songs on steel drums, the interior of a fighter plane that's normally up in the contemporary wing, a painting of a lesbian who would wear military dress uniforms, Mao behind a shattered wall covered in Portuguese graffiti, an Americanized Guernica, an American flag made of shell casings and a few other things that haven't propagated.
I finished my sketchbook and I said to a woman that if I saw anyone dressed in an awesome or bewildering way, like that guy with the bow tie and leather gloves and sunglasses and a bowler hat, I'd cry. I thought I wouldn't actually put things on the last page, as it's a bit ragged, but I did. So many people, so little paper and so little time.
Kelsey looks like she could be related to Sara (as far as I know, she's the only Sara without an h I mentioned in my 11½ years of journaling), though she has dark brown eyes instead of pale blue eyes and longer hair. I saw her smile at me so I gave her the last empty spot on the last page of my sketchbook. She liked it despite the fuckup I made when the train was rattling.
I turned another guy into a Picasso picture because of the rattling. The woman who was playing with her hair came out pretty great. There was a woman who looked like Christina (sign of the Death Seraph) and that came out really good. One of them got off at Prudential or something. I didn't get to show her the picture, alas, but it came out really good. The guy behind me was speaking what I thought was Tamil, but you know my track record with Indian languages and guessing peoples' ethnicities. Two people I drew portraits of look androgynous.
I found out that Shazam is a thing. Alas, it doesn't recognize that song someone gave me a long time ago that may or may not be sung in Hebrew. I can't decide if it's better or worse not knowing it than it turning out to be Fairuz or Julia Boutros.
Burning Question: someone asked me what the point of a trial for Michael Brown would be, as he's dead. Should I applaud or facepalm?
I went through the Goya exhibit again, though I gained no new insights.
I did see the Planes, Trains, and Automobiles exhibit, filled with mid-century model trains and airplanes and cars and art deco posters. There was a French airplane with a see-through fuselage, what looked like a stealth bomber.
It's meant to be compared with the model ships, which were made for the same purposes: to bring back memories, as toys, as a model for shipbuilders to look at, as a model to show to the financiers.
National Pride and Prejudice consisted of a 22 minute video of people bouncing around on an inflatable Stonehenge to the tune of David Bowie songs on steel drums, the interior of a fighter plane that's normally up in the contemporary wing, a painting of a lesbian who would wear military dress uniforms, Mao behind a shattered wall covered in Portuguese graffiti, an Americanized Guernica, an American flag made of shell casings and a few other things that haven't propagated.
I finished my sketchbook and I said to a woman that if I saw anyone dressed in an awesome or bewildering way, like that guy with the bow tie and leather gloves and sunglasses and a bowler hat, I'd cry. I thought I wouldn't actually put things on the last page, as it's a bit ragged, but I did. So many people, so little paper and so little time.
Kelsey looks like she could be related to Sara (as far as I know, she's the only Sara without an h I mentioned in my 11½ years of journaling), though she has dark brown eyes instead of pale blue eyes and longer hair. I saw her smile at me so I gave her the last empty spot on the last page of my sketchbook. She liked it despite the fuckup I made when the train was rattling.
I turned another guy into a Picasso picture because of the rattling. The woman who was playing with her hair came out pretty great. There was a woman who looked like Christina (sign of the Death Seraph) and that came out really good. One of them got off at Prudential or something. I didn't get to show her the picture, alas, but it came out really good. The guy behind me was speaking what I thought was Tamil, but you know my track record with Indian languages and guessing peoples' ethnicities. Two people I drew portraits of look androgynous.
I found out that Shazam is a thing. Alas, it doesn't recognize that song someone gave me a long time ago that may or may not be sung in Hebrew. I can't decide if it's better or worse not knowing it than it turning out to be Fairuz or Julia Boutros.
Burning Question: someone asked me what the point of a trial for Michael Brown would be, as he's dead. Should I applaud or facepalm?
