A Site of Beef by Ann-S-Thesia
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10/29/2000 - 11/04/2000
11/05/2000 - 11/11/2000
11/12/2000 - 11/18/2000
11/19/2000 - 11/25/2000
11/26/2000 - 12/02/2000
12/03/2000 - 12/09/2000
12/10/2000 - 12/16/2000
12/17/2000 - 12/23/2000
12/24/2000 - 12/30/2000
12/31/2000 - 01/06/2001
01/07/2001 - 01/13/2001
01/14/2001 - 01/20/2001
01/21/2001 - 01/27/2001
01/28/2001 - 02/03/2001
02/04/2001 - 02/10/2001
02/11/2001 - 02/17/2001
02/18/2001 - 02/24/2001
02/25/2001 - 03/03/2001
03/04/2001 - 03/10/2001
03/11/2001 - 03/17/2001
03/18/2001 - 03/24/2001
03/25/2001 - 03/31/2001
04/01/2001 - 04/07/2001
04/08/2001 - 04/14/2001
04/15/2001 - 04/21/2001
04/22/2001 - 04/28/2001
04/29/2001 - 05/05/2001
05/06/2001 - 05/12/2001
05/13/2001 - 05/19/2001
05/20/2001 - 05/26/2001
05/27/2001 - 06/02/2001
06/03/2001 - 06/09/2001
06/10/2001 - 06/16/2001
06/17/2001 - 06/23/2001
06/24/2001 - 06/30/2001
07/01/2001 - 07/07/2001
07/08/2001 - 07/14/2001
07/15/2001 - 07/21/2001
07/22/2001 - 07/28/2001
07/29/2001 - 08/04/2001
08/05/2001 - 08/11/2001
08/12/2001 - 08/18/2001
08/19/2001 - 08/25/2001
08/26/2001 - 09/01/2001
09/02/2001 - 09/08/2001
09/09/2001 - 09/15/2001
09/16/2001 - 09/22/2001
09/23/2001 - 09/29/2001
09/30/2001 - 10/06/2001
10/14/2001 - 10/20/2001
10/21/2001 - 10/27/2001
10/28/2001 - 11/03/2001
11/04/2001 - 11/10/2001
11/11/2001 - 11/17/2001
11/18/2001 - 11/24/2001
11/25/2001 - 12/01/2001
12/02/2001 - 12/08/2001
12/09/2001 - 12/15/2001
12/16/2001 - 12/22/2001
Saturday, March 31, 2001
I think it's spring. Our snowcrocuses are blooming. I saw a tiny little finch-type bird flying under this metal awning structure that's over the blocked-off outside door of my computer room. I saw a red cardinal. I'm even taking off my sweaters to paint. But it's supposed to snow tonight. ~sigh~
Stan tore most of the depression-era asphalt faux brick siding off the house (dubbed "East Side Brick" by Stan and me for its preponderance on Madison's East Side). There are a few areas that remain up high, but he wants to save those for another year since those areas will require much more attention. I had a dream several months ago that we repainted our house not in colors I would normally consider, but ones that I used in some graphic sets I made. The other day when he was looking at primer at the paint store, he told me we should consider repainting and to research new colors like the ones from my dreams since the front of the house will need to be repainted anyway. (We originally painted and tore off the east side brick on the front back in the early 90s) This will be pretty interesting to give our house a whole new look.
Î feel like the Nowhere Man from the Beatles' Yellow Submarine: "So little time...too much to doooooooooo!"
Weird dream early this morning where I was looking in a mirror at a dressing table in a motel and cutting my hair. I completely transformed myself from Ann with long dark blonde wavy hair with subtle multi-colored stripes into unnaturally bleached blonde straight hair shag cut with loud spots of blood red and purple that didn't make much aesthetic sense. I hated the way it looked. It wasn't me. Literally. I also noticed I was wearing a light tan leather jacket with fringes...very Country Western, very very UN-me. I don't know who it was, but I didn't like her.
Friday, March 30, 2001
OK, just for a little clarification on my last post (as I install precautionary flame-deflectors). As you may or may not know, I am not a religious person. But if someone wants to believe in God (or gods and goddesses) that's fine with me. I'm not insinuating the person mentioned below is a ditz because they like God. My problem was with the way in which she lumped "God" in with her other likes, like "Coca Cola" and "Beanie Babies." I mean if you're going to be religious, I would hope you'd have a little more respect than treating your divine being like he was a yummy commercial food product or something.
And as for one of the dislikes, Satan, I find this highly amusing. I am reminded of Adelle (Juliette Lewis) in "Kalifornia" telling off her murderous boyfriend, Early (Brad Pitt) something like, "I don't like you anymore Early, you're mean."
What do they have against my Plato? I just found someone dissing and linking to Plato's blog again, (nope, I'm not going to link back to theirs...just dis it) saying the same old clichee..."a blog by a pet dog...hmmmmm...oooooook...links to other animal blogs in the first person too." I glance at the sidebar where they have the "about me" and their likes are "beanie babies" and "God" and "Coca Cola," and their dislikes are "Satan" and "rude people"! Yes, it's true! This is a phenomenon amongst the young and naive (oh, I put that so politely) who have a "debilitating lack of imagination" and a "nonexistent ability to suspend disbelief." Those last two quoted phrases are from a very smart and talented young woman who happens to be just fresh out of teenagerhood herself, but is nonetheless mature and astute in her insight that she offered to me on a message board. And she has no problem with Plato's blog. So I ask you young blogger, if you are into "beanie babies," what is so absurd about a blogging dog? And since you seem to be a religious person, certainly you must have the ability to believe in the non-rational and impossible. And as my last piece of evidence, the heading on your page says: "Faith is the evidence of things unseen."
Now it seems that many of these blogs are coming from a certain country or culture for the most part. Perhaps in their land they treat dogs as dirty animals of derision. Notice how she qualified the quote, "a blog by a *pet* dog." Here in the US we would just say "dog," not "pet dog". Any qualifiers would be like "stray" or "purple" or "dead." We naturally assume a dog is a pet, and a dog is loved. But even a blog by a cockroach or sewer rat would hardly be derided by us Americans...we'd just think it's part of the absurdness (in a good way) of postabsurdist postmodern cyberlife.
This is giving me ideas...sewer rat...cockroach...vermin...verminblog...a tag team blog of vile outcast rodents and insects. Yes...yes...too bad blogger's broken right now (well, actually it isn't if you're reading this, it's only broken as I am typing) or I'd set one up this instant. It would give me yet another voice. Darn, too bad this wasn't around when I was about 22 or so....I'd have so much fun with this and my pet rats and all.
Thursday, March 29, 2001
Well, tonight's the moment of reckoning to see if the Mulligatawny soup prepared fresh by hand by the Silicon Chef at Chez Dingbatcave turns out any good. We are inviting Tim over for the meal.
Tonight Tim is a free man. It was a terrible "divorce." No love lost, just friendship. His new roommate moves in on the first. And Tim owns the entire condo by himself. It's so much cleaner now.
Funny how friends can go through really similar things simultaneously with trying to get rid of people from their lives who are slowly losing their minds and hurting everyone in their wake.
Aw thanks, Kendra! And I am LOL over the Ted Nugent/Jesus Christ comparison! There's this ad on TV lately for a remake of Jesus Christ Superstar--I don't know if it's an onstage musical or a video tape--that's how closely I pay attention to advertising--and the actor is a dead ringer for the Nuge (can't stand the Nuge). It's laughable. And when will people get a clue about history and ethnicity?
In my dream last night I was getting onto an elevator. I was going up to the second floor of a building that had some weird boutique shops with neon, like sandals made out of that plastic neon tubing. When I got into the elevator a very fat lady was trying to get in too, but there wasn't room for her, so she didn't get on. Once I got to the 2nd floor, I think all the businesses were closed.
Wednesday, March 28, 2001
Good news. Stan talked to the workers next door. They said that several people on our block requested estimates on the lead pipe removal, and those are the houses they are doing. Since we didn't request an estimate, they're not going to do ours...yet. I'm relieved...for a while. Our poor neighbors' yard is really torn up...all their pretty flowers, plowed under from the large tires of this little utility vehicle that dug up a huge hole in their front yard. I have no clue what they'll do when it comes to our house. They had to drive that utility vehicle through their back alley access as our front yards are inaccessible to anything other than pedestrians. Out back we have cement steps and a cement ramp that lead to the alley, both of which would also be inaccessible to a larger vehicle...wheelchairs barely fit on the ramp. I have no clue how they'll get that utility vehicle on our front yard. Also what is really freaky is that our lead pipes come in really close to where the gas line comes in. This is scary. OK, when it comes time for them to do our house, I'm packing up all my valuables and stowing them in the cars on the days they do this. I'll rent a motel room that allows pets, and take the gang and my ibook over there. Ugh.
Today is Stan's day off. We should be staying in bed this morning. I usually stay in bed later than on the days he goes to work, unless his snoring drives me to my computer. He usually stays in bed until 10 am or later, depending on how many 5:30 am shifts he had the week before. But this morning around 7:30, right in the middle of a groggy opiatesque sensation, I awoke with a start. I felt like the Russian writer on Seinfeld, you know, the writer in the episode where the digital address book lands on Carol Kane's head? "What is that noise? It's driving me crazy!" I awoke to a very loud, 5 beats per second "thump thump thump thump thump" rave beat, or so I thought. No car stereo to be found....it was the city water pipe sewer lead removal guys doing something next door to the neighbors' house inside. Aaaaaaaagh. Oddly enough, it's loudest in our bedroom, which is on the opposite end of the house from our neighbors, and it seems rather quiet here in my computer room which is *right next to* their house...like five feet separate the houses. Must be all the white noise the computer puts out.
And now, Ann's dream from last night, with special guest star, Saddam Hussein! Also, the pudgy guy from the cat food commercial where the cat (Baxter) calls him on the cell phone and asks for the food by name: Stan and I were in a modernistic apartment or hotel suite. Saddam Hussein was knocking on the door. We were afraid to answer it. Stan started to take a shower, and Saddam was still at the door. He was relentless. I was just afraid he was going to be able to see that we were there, so Stan told me, "You can answer the door...you know how to take a message." So I went to the door with a little notepad, ready to take a message. Saddam was standing with what appeared to be a long loaf of French bread. Then it appeared to be larger, like it was a box that contained six bowling balls. I asked him, "This isn't a bomb, is it?" Then he laughed and said in his Middle-Eastern accent, "A bomb, that is funny! You think it's a bomb! You are funny woman." He placed the package on the floor and when I looked at it again, it wasn't six bowling balls, but over a dozen Caucasian Americans, lying on the floor in the "praying to Allah" position, quivering. I said, "They're quivering...is it because they contain a bomb, or is it because they're scared?" When I asked that question, one of the guys on the floor (the one who was the pudgy guy from the cat food commercial) turned around and nodded, and pointed with his finger, as if to say, "yes, that's it...we're scared." Also there was another dream and I can't remember if it came before the Saddam dream or after, but I remember watching some woman on TV walk through downtown Phoenix or downtown Tempe, but it looked more like State Street in Madison or Pearl Street in Boulder.
Tuesday, March 27, 2001
I will never understand the concept of linking to a site you don't like from your own website. Why do it? Why give them the hits? Take this case in point. I found a bunch of referrers that came from one site that I put through the Babelfish translator (it was in a language other than English...I won't say which as to not embarrass other speakers of it) and found out they are having a little problem with Plato's site being a weblog by a dog written in first person. Called it "Trash," or at least that's what Babelfish said. The news spread, and now it's linked through another weblog from the same country, disparagingly of course, this one in English. Evidentally the whimsical notion of a narrative by an animal (which is hardly a radical idea in literature) evades these oh-so-serious and rational students of realism who'd rather read and write about their pathetic little schoolgirl psychodramas of being paired up with a teenage outcaste for a class project and how they want to kill her. Yes, even my dog can write better than they do, not to mention has better morals, but that was a rather obvious thing to say.
I can only imagine the simplistic one-dimensional mindset: "Dogs can't write! How can you know what your dog is thinking?" Of course how does any author know what their characters really think for that matter? What if some very well-known stories had the wrong characters cast? What if they really wouldn't say or do the things the authors made them do? Revisionist literature, anyone?
So if they don't like Plato's site, why on earth do they give it even more hits? See this evades me, this whole juvenile "ugh, this site sucks" (sealed with a link) attitude. Did I give the above mentioned anti-Plato sites a link? Of course not. They're not worth it.
Aaack. The jackhammerin' fools are at it again. House is shaking. What's really scary this time is that I don't even see a jackhammer outside....it sounds like it's coming from...inside the house....that sounds like a bad horrorshow, doesn't it? I just saw one of them walk around our neighbor's house (the ones who actually wanted the lead pipe removal guys to come quickly because they're expecting a child [you know how lead piping is the leading killer of all children] not the neighbors who threw away the city's paperwork...heh heh...such anarchists, I love it...they have the greatest kids I know, and goodness knows, they were raised in a house with lead pipes.)
Many a great mind and wit have been raised in a house with lead pipes. Many a great mind has drunk from leaded crystal or pewter chalices. Ever wonder why so many kids from the newer suburbs are hooked on pot and playstations? No lead in the pipes. And they say lead makes you dimwitted.
I popped in the shower quickly against my will when I saw the truck here. Usually I prefer to wait until *after* I paint to shower...I am sure you can understand the reasons why. I just didn't want to risk having my water turned off abruptly later in the day. Who knows what these guys will need to do.
Oh, this is definitely not good for the dogs, not to mention my nerves. They are going ballistic. The dogs, that is. I'm not sure if nerves can go ballistic, but if they can, I'm positive mine will be headed in that direction.
This is very loud.
Part of me wants to leave the house...go for a walk or drive...shopping...something. But I cannot leave the pets here alone with this caccaphony going on. That would be too cruel to them. And if the house blows up, I want it to take me with it. That way Stan could sue the city for more than just a worthless structure.
Earplugs help a little, but it doesn't block out the near sub-sonic vibrations.
My dream was a jumble of CSS & HTML, decaying old houses (mine?), glitter and the painting I was working on yesterday. I can't extract any cohesive image or theme from it. Too vague.
Monday, March 26, 2001
Hey, I just thought of a new buzzword:
Ugh...It's one of those Mondays. I couldn't get Blogger to FTP: "'eyebalm.com' not found." The irony is of course, if you're reading this, I obviously did get it to work eventually. It'd be excusable if I couldn't ftp there myself, then I'd figure it's something with my host, but I can ftp, so it's something weird with Blogger I think, but maybe not? I hate this not knowing. On top of that, I can't send or receive email through my ann-s-thesia account. Two different domains. Both screwed up. I only have three domains. The third? Oh yeah, that's having a problem too, and that's because they haven't responded to my email with a question regarding changing nameservers.
In primitive societies we would blame spirits and gods because we didn't have the scientific understanding of what really was causing the sky to explode with thunder or the earth to shake or people to die en masse. Sometimes I feel like that still. I don't know what's causing these things to happen. As a non-tech person, I don't have the knowledgable wherewithall to put these things in a rational, scientific framework. My attitude? The internet gods must be angry.
I have discovered the heroin of snack foods. Giant Size Macadamian Nuts. Don't ask. It's pathetic. (OK, if you must...we bought them so I wouldn't eat all the pistachio nuts that we bought to shell for our upcoming feast of homemade Mulligatawny soup...always in serach of masticatory pleasures, you know) Little balls of fat. But sooooooo delicious. Stan asked me if I liked Giant Macadamian Nuts (note the "Giant". My parents send me a jar o' Macs each Xmas, but they're just the regular ones. Giant ones give a whole new meaning to "pleasure.") better than Sea Urchin. It's different. It's not like I can buy Sea Urchin off the shelf from my local "dealer" or grocery store. If I could, maybe Sea Urchin would be...opium. I dunno. It's all just so damn delicious. I could never be anorectic...I like food too much.
Gimme Giant Macadamian Nuts now, man...I'm strung out...
Last night watched "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" on Bravo with Diane Keaton. It's sort of weird when someone (Stan) has told you repeatedly you look like Diane Keaton. Watching that movie made me feel very self conscious.
My dream last night, or rather early this morning, needs a little background (art) history first:
Back in college at CSU (undergrad) in the 1980s I began using acrylic paint rather non-traditionally. I would pour it onto large panes of glass and let it dry into thin sheets, then peel it off the glass. Then I'd cut up the sheets into strips and arrange it on the canvas that way. One of my first paintings like this was called "Plaid Massacre" (the painting...I also made an intaglio print called "Plaid Massacre" that was narrative and figurative. The painting was abstract.) I still have it after refusing to sell it...it's just one of a kind from an era that I want to keep for myself. "Plaid Massacre," although fairly small, is not a flat painting, it is dimensional. Dissheveled plaid sticks out from the picture plane, as it comes out of a pocket of blood red plastic. One of the reasons I didn't continue using acrylic paint this way (although every once in a while I do make acrylic sheets) is that although the paint film has an irresistibly flexible quality once it is freshly peeled from the glass, eventually it hardens and turns more brittle. I've actually had pieces of acrylic break off in vulnerable areas after having moved them in freezing winter months.
During my art history class in my second to last year at CSU entitled "Contemporary 20th Century American Art" or somesuch, taught by my favorite art history professor, Fred Levine, "Plaid Massacre" was one of the paintings I submitted for "I too am famous day." Fred had this ingenious way of getting the students to understand the art movements by placing their own art in a cultural framework in conjunction with famous art and other icons of history and culture. I was actually quite amazed at how many students *didn't* submit slides of their own work, but then again, it just went to show how few really serious people there are out there (there were over 100 students in the class as I recall). Fred showed a slide of "Plaid" on a split screen in conjunction with a 1960s model wearing a dress that was patterned after a Mondrian painting. So it was 1960s fashion imitating art, and 1980s art imitating fashion (if one can call "plaid" fashion...ok, no flames from the Scottish or Lumberjacks out there). Heh heh. BTW...sidetrack...have you noticed how early 1980s plaid is coming back in style again? That really LARGE PASTEL plaid that I hated so that inspired "Plaid Massacre?" Anyway, last I heard, and this was probably over a dozen years ago, Fred either quit or was fired from CSU...I guess his teaching style was too non-conventional. It's a shame, because he really made you *think* and *write* and *do* and *create* (excuse this clichee) outside the box. His giving me "Bs" on my first papers for the class made me think that I was doing something mediocre (A "B" was mediocre for me). When I wrote my "plaid" paper for him, which was colorful, non-linear and completely non-conventional, it would've produced a failing grade in practically any other uptight, traditional, tenured, stuffy prof's class. But Fred rewarded it with an A+. So the tradition of academe continues, stuck inside its box and ivory tower. I hope Fred has moved on to better things.
I was at an art exhibit. I don't think I was in the exhibit, but I can't remember. It was taking place in sort of a small, grey, narrow space, but the art was rather large. There were two distinct groups of art I remember, one because it seemed to be an immitation of my "Plaid Massacre" and the other because it was so bad. The "Plaid Massacre" was rather large, and there were several pieces that the artist (who wasn't me) did. They were rather 3-D, but were shown on the wall. One piece was black and white plaid, the others were colorful. They were also shown with other plastic items like shopping bags (that had the same plaid patterns as the paintings) and perhaps raincoats. It had won some award, but I was incensed because it looked like such a blatant immitation of my own work (had I continued in that vein instead of going metal glitter). There was also another painting that had won some sort of award, and it looked like a cross between a whited-out version of the mural inside Avogadro's Number in Fort Collins and the infamous "Poker Playing Dogs." This painting depicted a bunch of anthropomorphised dogs, mostly Pugs, in sort of a Medieval or Renaissance Village setting. It was really hoakey, really castles and dragons and gnomesy. However it sort of held a charm because it was almost as if it was intentionally making fun of that genre. I was trying to choose if I were the juror of the show which art I would reward with "Best of Show." I wanted to snub the Plaid paintings because they were blatant imitations of mine, although I knew that they had more artistic merit than the dog painting. Something weird about the dog painting was that as I was viewing it, there was another art piece off to the left of it that seemed animated, or maybe it was a man, but it was like he belonged in the painting because he had a little hood on, like some little gnome guy. It was a very weird dream, but much appreciated after all that celebrity crap the other week.
Sunday, March 25, 2001
Heh...just thinking about my previous post or two. Someone should come up with an internet directory for Wisconsinites only and call it "YahHey!" Would it suck like Yahoo? You Betcha.
I can't remember too much of my dream last night, but I do think I was in a critique with one of my profs from CSU....Dave Dietemann. But it was like he was talking to me like I was a graduate student because he was asking me if I was going to take credits from him the following semester. I didn't know what to say.
Copyright 1996-2001 Ann Stretton. All Rights Reserved. No part of this web log may be copied or reproduced, however text may be quoted if a link is given in return. Permission is not given under any circumstances to use any of the graphics or art on this site, however If you ask first, I may grant permission at my discretion. Please check the link above to my Ann-S-Thesia site for web graphics if that is what you need.