Thursday, November 08, 2001

Bill Press on the Jean Feraca show this morning regarding paying for bottled water: "Evian is 'naive' spelled backward."

Heh.

Speaking of names...Tim called me yesterday to say he was watching "Judge Judy" (his roommate left and took the cable with him, what can I say) and there was a person on there named "Aquanetta."

Aquanetta. Imagine naming your kid after a hairspray product. It boggles the mind.

Last night had a dream I was painting and was having a bunch of art professors come and critique it. It was a weird painting with icicles hanging toward the top and a hand coming up from the bottom in a weird position, like it was grasping a gun. I was having problems with the perspective on the hand, but it didn't bother any of the professors. One of them was "Pistol Packin' Pat," a name we have for one of our ex-profs from the UW who used to frequently call up Wisconsin Public Radio and espouse her pro-gun views. I remember thinking in my dream that it was ironic that PPP was critiquing a painting of mine with a hand that looked like it was grasping a gun.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 12:07 PM ||

Tuesday, November 06, 2001

A preview of the 2001 Halloween pictures in the "filmstrip" below. I'll be featuring larger-sized ones as space permits. We only took 6 digital shots, and only of Stan and me; Stan has more shots in his cheapie camera (didn't want to bring my digital one with me when we went out), also some of Tim. Keep in mind...my costume is lame--sort of on purpose in a 'death of irony sort of way'.

I was literally in stitches with Stan's costume. We started out with the denim worksuit, BillyBob teeth, and the Barney Fife t-shirt. That was funny enough, but it wasn't finished...I put gel in his hair to slick it back and down and drew on a fake moustache (no beard...just moustache...the single moustache theory is a disturbing one to us as one needs at least a small caterpillar goatee to go with any hair above lip to be taken seriously). He looked like a seriously sick and stupid gas station goober. But the icing on the cake was when I gave him a pair of my undies (clean, of course, need you ask?) to carry with him. Goober was now scary. Scary for Halloween.

I guess I don't need to tell you that many of the people at the gay bar were thoroughly disgusted, as you know how some gay men are as prissy as girlie girls. Stan was relieved no one hit on him. This was the first time in many years he went as a man, and as funny as the Queen of England and the Old Navy Lady and Buffy (from Family Affair) and Linda Tripp were, this costume left my laughing gizmo in severe pain.

You know how we all have a certain part of us that is individual and is not learned nor environmental nor inherited? With me it's my rebellious, dark, artistic side that is not like my family at all. With Stan it's his comedic acting...none of his family, not the family who raised him nor his biological family are such hams. He is just a hoot, not only does he wear the costume, he assumes the personality. I literally was laughing so hard I was crying.

I dreamt of him last night. I was hugging him, holding him, telling him I missed him. I could feel every part of his body, but I didn't know if he understood how I felt. I whispered into his ear, and when I spoke, I could see my words. They were little colored lines that made squares, grids, against black. I don't know if he's ever understood how I felt, or if it's all been my own delusion that I think he feels the same about me as I do about him, but that he's never said anything because I'm a married woman. I thought about him intensely when I woke up, then when I went back to sleep, I dreamt of him again. This time I was outside standing by a house, watering a lawn that was mostly sand. I was trying to seduce him. Stan was there too, talking to him. I wanted him to notice me, not Stan.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:51 AM ||

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