The griefs of women are quiet, rustle like crinoline or whisper like the tearing of old silk;
hum like appliances, give off the sharp sweet smell of burnt out motors; tap like typewriter keys. The strengths of women are quiet, but hardy as the weed that finds its cranny between the concrete block of the sidewalk and the concrete slab of the wall, and grows there, and blooms there. Men are bums. We're really better than they are.
That reminds me of a painting I did once on a gas station window when I was in the first grade. Is it rude to presume a first grader painted this one?
‹anecdote alert›
My mum, bless 'er, approached me and out of the blue asked me if I wanted to paint a window. I go, "Sure." It was near Halloween and we lived in a tiny town called Doushore, Pennsylvania. Ha ha ha. Douche shore. The town was pewny. Our school had three grades, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. I have no idea where the other kids went. Turns out, all the kids from that tiny school were painting pictures on windows. They plunked me in a gas station off main street where all the more presumably adept kids were. I had hoped for a large single pane like the one pictured here so I could make broad sweeping strokes, but no, I was faced with a frame of some dozen or so small panes. Even at that age, I could see they needed to be washed before they could be painted. Not to worry, I drew a single composition across all the panes as if it were one big one. I recall cramming every icon known to Halloween in one composition; a fence like this one pictured here getting smaller and tighter in the distance, a scary naked tree with bats hanging and flying around and a pile of leaves underneath, hay stacks cinched at the center, with jack-o-lantern on top, a witch silhouetted flying on a broom across a full harvest moon. Random oak leaves in reds and orange as if wind-blown filling negative space. Those sorts of things. I was in my element. Mum says the lady running the counter at the gas station kept approaching me and making suggestions, she said I patiently listened to her, considered her suggestion, then proceeded with what I was already doing, unwilling to play interference. I don't remember that part. In fact, I don't even remember my mum staying there.
Then I forgot about the whole thing. Except I recall marveling at the other paintings the other kids did, especially my girlfriend in the second grade and her older brother in the third grade who painted an awesome owl on a branch.
Weeks elapsed, I think.
I was called to the front of the class and presented with an envelope. The other kids were very curious. Turns out, I won the contest. The envelope contained three dollars. Big spenders, they. My girlfriend got second place and got two dollars, her brother won third place and got one dollar. My mom pissed herself with glee. She considered my future as an artist foreordained, or at least confirmed.
‹/anecdote alert›
Here's what I was up to last week. I catered Deena's party for her last Tuesday. I intended to take thoughtful photos, but that wasn't possible. Deena was lucky she asked me about this earlier because on Tuesday she had completely forgotten she was to host these local business people later that evening until I mentioned it that morning. Luckily by then I had everything already purchased and partially assembled.
Happy Mothers Day Althouse and to all mothers out there.
Mothers are the best.
My mother is my best friend. Very gay I know but since I came out when I was 13 she has stood by me and been supportive and wonderful. I love her more than you can know.
I sent my mommy three dozen beautiful roses in a divine and very expensive vase. VAAAAAAAAAAse.
When I was 13 I got beat up in phy ed. I told my parents I wouldn't go back to phy ed. They wanted to know why I got beat up. I told them because I am gay.
I had to have a meeting with my parents and a bunch of teachers and the principal. They gave me a choice to go to phy ed with either the girls or the mentally challenged kids. I chose the mentallly chanllenged kids. So I would be out running around with the mentally challenged kids, while the girls were on one side of the field and the boys were on another.
Hold me now.
I am drinking Horizon organic reduced fat chocolate milk. Everyone should have these little milkies in their frigey wigdgey.
For some reason all of friends who are gay have the coolest moms.
My mother has never told any of her friends or relatives that I am gay.
I don't care that she hasn't told anyone. I haven't told any of them either. I am sure they all know. She believes it is a private matter.
My parents grew up very poor. When I was growing up we were still poor, not as poor as they were growing up but poor. They were very smart with their finances though. They rarely spent any money and saved everything they earned. Over the past 20 years, all of which since I have been gone, they become fairly wealthy.
They now have a home in Montana, a condo in Arizona, a home in Waunakee, a home on a lake by the Dells, a 200 acre farm in Lodi and a hunting cabin in Chetek, Wisconin that also has 300 acres.
My sister built a home on their farm and the other sister is building a home on their land in Chetek. I sense they are claiming their territories but I don't really care about that stuff.
I am my parents favorite.
They call me their toughest and most independent kid. My sisters each have homes 5 miles from my parents but I left when I was 17 and have never returned. I would return if one of them ever got sick though.
I have taught myself to eat better over the past month.
As a result I lost 9 pounds so far. I want to lose another 5 and I feel I should be at what I call my desired weight. I gained weight this winter. I am 164 now but I would like to be 159.
I read this book "Eat This, Not That" and now when I grocery shop I actually look at labels on the packages. I am also not going out to eat as much.
I am also reading the Power of Now. I go to a little park everyday by my place with the rare and exceptionally beautiful clumbers and read. It's all about Being and your Life Situation and Now and shit like that.
"Chet" was actually well-liked around here. I'm gonna miss him.
Of course I've got dozens of others that haven't been discovered....some people might even say that 90% of these comments are me.....or Althouse herself in disguise.
It's a lot cheaper than having to pay people to comment the way Kos does.
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३० टिप्पण्या:
It might be more interesting if more buildings had "framed" paintings like that on their exteriors...
The bell and hydrant on the building are amusing.
Hey . . .
What the . . . ?
Really?
COOL!!!
I dibs the Cream reference!
WICKED!!1!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was always a favorite in my town. That mural went for about 2 blocks or more.
No more.
Yippie ki yay!
I know where this is but like Caldera I dont know whether I should tell or not.
Padrinos, the fountain silhouette and Google street view was all that was needed.
The mural was not there when google made a pass btw.
@Bissage No strings can secure me at the station!
... you can range freely.
I'm going to take that as permission.
210 Main St, Milford, OH, United States
(Address is approximate)
I had never used google maps. That's amazing, there it is, w/o the painting.
The griefs of women are quiet, rustle
like crinoline or whisper like
the tearing of old silk;
hum like appliances, give off the sharp sweet smell
of burnt out motors; tap like typewriter keys.
The strengths of women are quiet,
but hardy as the weed that finds its cranny
between the concrete block of the sidewalk
and the concrete slab of the wall, and grows there,
and blooms there.
Men are bums.
We're really better than they are.
(David R. Slavitt, doing Adrienne Rich)
In the city of women, any man is king.
City of Women (1980)
What do adult children owe their mothers ?
Don't fence me in.
And don't use an epee for ear piercing.
Dunno if I'd have lunch at a cafe that has a sign promoting organ donation in the front door.
"What do adult children owe their mothers ?"
Giving "Maxine Weiss" a thorough and sound beating?
I can't think of a better Mother's Day present.
Althouse, have you visited Union Station in Cincinnati? It's one of the most beautiful of 20th century buildings.
Christopher, you are making a terrible mistake.
Try to be a bit more selective and cultivate people of a higher cachet.
Love,
Maxine
That reminds me of a painting I did once on a gas station window when I was in the first grade. Is it rude to presume a first grader painted this one?
‹anecdote alert›
My mum, bless 'er, approached me and out of the blue asked me if I wanted to paint a window. I go, "Sure." It was near Halloween and we lived in a tiny town called Doushore, Pennsylvania. Ha ha ha. Douche shore. The town was pewny. Our school had three grades, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. I have no idea where the other kids went. Turns out, all the kids from that tiny school were painting pictures on windows. They plunked me in a gas station off main street where all the more presumably adept kids were. I had hoped for a large single pane like the one pictured here so I could make broad sweeping strokes, but no, I was faced with a frame of some dozen or so small panes. Even at that age, I could see they needed to be washed before they could be painted. Not to worry, I drew a single composition across all the panes as if it were one big one. I recall cramming every icon known to Halloween in one composition; a fence like this one pictured here getting smaller and tighter in the distance, a scary naked tree with bats hanging and flying around and a pile of leaves underneath, hay stacks cinched at the center, with jack-o-lantern on top, a witch silhouetted flying on a broom across a full harvest moon. Random oak leaves in reds and orange as if wind-blown filling negative space. Those sorts of things. I was in my element. Mum says the lady running the counter at the gas station kept approaching me and making suggestions, she said I patiently listened to her, considered her suggestion, then proceeded with what I was already doing, unwilling to play interference. I don't remember that part. In fact, I don't even remember my mum staying there.
Then I forgot about the whole thing. Except I recall marveling at the other paintings the other kids did, especially my girlfriend in the second grade and her older brother in the third grade who painted an awesome owl on a branch.
Weeks elapsed, I think.
I was called to the front of the class and presented with an envelope. The other kids were very curious. Turns out, I won the contest. The envelope contained three dollars. Big spenders, they. My girlfriend got second place and got two dollars, her brother won third place and got one dollar. My mom pissed herself with glee. She considered my future as an artist foreordained, or at least confirmed.
‹/anecdote alert›
Here's what I was up to last week. I catered Deena's party for her last Tuesday. I intended to take thoughtful photos, but that wasn't possible. Deena was lucky she asked me about this earlier because on Tuesday she had completely forgotten she was to host these local business people later that evening until I mentioned it that morning. Luckily by then I had everything already purchased and partially assembled.
No strings can secure me at the station!
And when your fingers find her, she drowns you in her body,
Carving deep blue ripples in the tissues of your mind.
The tiny purple fishes run laughing through your fingers.
"Blogger Chet said...
Christopher, you are making a terrible mistake.
Try to be a bit more selective and cultivate people of a higher cachet.
Love,
Maxine
8:44 PM"
Oh look, "Chet" is "Maxine". "Chet" has been posting comments here for quite a while. Who would have suspected? You've slipped up, "Maxine". Ha ha.
Happy Mothers Day Althouse and to all mothers out there.
Mothers are the best.
My mother is my best friend. Very gay I know but since I came out when I was 13 she has stood by me and been supportive and wonderful. I love her more than you can know.
I sent my mommy three dozen beautiful roses in a divine and very expensive vase. VAAAAAAAAAAse.
When I was 13 I got beat up in phy ed. I told my parents I wouldn't go back to phy ed. They wanted to know why I got beat up. I told them because I am gay.
I had to have a meeting with my parents and a bunch of teachers and the principal. They gave me a choice to go to phy ed with either the girls or the mentally challenged kids. I chose the mentallly chanllenged kids. So I would be out running around with the mentally challenged kids, while the girls were on one side of the field and the boys were on another.
Hold me now.
I am drinking Horizon organic reduced fat chocolate milk. Everyone should have these little milkies in their frigey wigdgey.
For some reason all of friends who are gay have the coolest moms.
My mother has never told any of her friends or relatives that I am gay.
I don't care that she hasn't told anyone. I haven't told any of them either. I am sure they all know. She believes it is a private matter.
My parents grew up very poor. When I was growing up we were still poor, not as poor as they were growing up but poor. They were very smart with their finances though. They rarely spent any money and saved everything they earned. Over the past 20 years, all of which since I have been gone, they become fairly wealthy.
They now have a home in Montana, a condo in Arizona, a home in Waunakee, a home on a lake by the Dells, a 200 acre farm in Lodi and a hunting cabin in Chetek, Wisconin that also has 300 acres.
My sister built a home on their farm and the other sister is building a home on their land in Chetek. I sense they are claiming their territories but I don't really care about that stuff.
I am my parents favorite.
They call me their toughest and most independent kid. My sisters each have homes 5 miles from my parents but I left when I was 17 and have never returned. I would return if one of them ever got sick though.
I am eating wasabi peas and flaxseed now. Yum.
I have taught myself to eat better over the past month.
As a result I lost 9 pounds so far. I want to lose another 5 and I feel I should be at what I call my desired weight. I gained weight this winter. I am 164 now but I would like to be 159.
I read this book "Eat This, Not That" and now when I grocery shop I actually look at labels on the packages. I am also not going out to eat as much.
I am also reading the Power of Now. I go to a little park everyday by my place with the rare and exceptionally beautiful clumbers and read. It's all about Being and your Life Situation and Now and shit like that.
thank you.
You're welcome, Titus, you little shit.
Curses !
My only mistake in four years......of commenting.
"Chet" was actually well-liked around here. I'm gonna miss him.
Of course I've got dozens of others that haven't been discovered....some people might even say that 90% of these comments are me.....or Althouse herself in disguise.
It's a lot cheaper than having to pay people to comment the way Kos does.
Love,
Good night, David.
Good night, Chet.
Good eye Palladian!
VAAAAAAAAAAse.
I am the villain in the Panama Hat!
...er, nevermind.
"Of course I've got dozens of others that haven't been discovered..."
For instance, I am Maxine.
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