An article about Grime (prounounced "Grimey") -- and his website. Grime did my first tattoo, the panda bear. I can't wait to see his book.
A curly-haired boy singing as we passed one another on Greenwich Avenue.
Don't be shy
Just let your feelings
Roll on by
Don't wear fear
Or nobody will know
Just lift your head
and let your feelings
Amelie, again. I don't know why.
The earnestness of Nino in Amelie. I've seen perhaps 5 French films, Mathieu Kassovitz was in 2 of them (the other is Metisse (aka Cafe au lait), which he also wrote and directed. I believe the Lola character is biracial, not Indian, as the reviewer mentioned.
For a seasonal job with an old employer. It will help me catch up after the 4 months of unemployment, save for my goals in the new year and make presents for the near and dear.
All weekend and I loved it!
The Lost Continent, by Bill Bryson, again. I'm going to stop switching around, so I can finish reading one book this year! His assessment of small town America is astute, wry and engaging.
BBQ chicken and ribs last night, skirt steak and frites tonight. Warm chocolate cake for dessert. I guess I finally grew tired of sandwiches for dinner every Saturday & Sunday.
In my favorite circle around the 'hood. To and from Chelsea -- not far (about a 2 miles, round trip), but not something I could do a year ago.
Commerical for Pillsbury biscuits in which the woman says, "All I ever wanted to be was a mother." Bullshit and fairy tales.
Of course, I appreciate the irony that all she wanted from life was to be a helpmate for others, but she can't even make biscuits from scratch! I'm a hairy-legged feminist and I can manage that much.
You still -- why'd you have to go and be so smart and funny and wordy? That's my kinda kryptonite.
All these others? A waste of time and I knew it from day one, though I honestly tried with two. The question becomes if it's wrong to follow what you know to be true in your heart. It seems to me that's not typically the way of this world. But we're not typical, are we?
enjoying the rain all weekend. The heat isn't on yet in my building, so the weather gave me the opportunity to break out the flannel jammies and the thick, moose socks Dorothy sent me from Alaska. I stayed curled up with my laptop and some books for most of the weekend.
Friday night I painted another holiday gift for a friend, before going home to enjoy time under the covers.
Sushi boat window display, Midtown.
. . .
Saturday, I kept to myself for most of the day, except for lunch in the dining room. I had dinner at BBQ with one of my first New York friends. I hadn't seen her in ages, judging by her surprise at my tallish, lucky troll-red hair.
We hadn't seen each other since January, if I remember correctly. There was much catching up, between getting hammered on frozen drinks as big as our heads (with giant cocktail umbrellas to match) at BBQ. In this year when it felt like all I did was lose -- hope, friends, faith -- it was a genuine treat to reconnect, to laugh, to enjoy the company of a friend.
I loved walking in the rain, up Seventh Avenue, across 22nd to avoid the crowds. There were huge potholes on 20th Street at Seventh. It's a wonder the cars passing by didn't splash huge walls of water as they negotiated the rough terrain. Perhaps I'm wrong that only a stupid, fucking yuppie would need an SUV in New York City.. . .
While it was no longer rainy today, it still felt like a rainy day. The city and I were ripe for a contemplative walk. It put me in the mood to paint some more. I made something for my mother's "purple princess" bedroom, though I should've started earlier, so I could make complementary items, instead of painting them on different days. I am still debating about what to paint for Jamie and my brother. Luckily I started early.. . .
September 11th tile memorial, Greenwich and Seventh Avenues.
Everytime I walk by, I see a few more tiles I never noticed before. They express sadness, wishes for peace, blessings for New Yorkers, even war propaganda painted by children. Please click on the photo to see a larger version.
In the foreground is another memorial -- towers of sunflowers, which line Seventh Avenue.
The individual tiles are beautiful, it would be a shame not to show some close up.
This face and the butterfly catch my eye everytime.
The sandwich board outside Our Name is Mud. There is an entire collection of cityscape pottery that I lust over and envy the drawing talent.
Want to paint your own pottery? Visit the Contemporary Ceramic Studios Association to find a studio/paint bar near you.
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