[Previous entry: "Strike anywhere."] [Main Index] [Next entry: "Bodily functions."]

05/27/2005: "Karl Marx tomb is a communist plot."

Well, that was fun. Or, at least better then being in a regular day of school. Just cause you know I don't like the school day. Some things are cool, but it depends on the day.

There was some cool sculptures at the place. "Giant Trowel". I don't think it's art, except for that he called it art, but it's definately something that conjures WHAT THE FUCK reactions from people. Now those totem poles...that's some art right there I could claim. And I was kinda glad somebody other then me noticed that the bottom people didn't just share a tounge, but were in fact having sex. In a very abstract totem pole kind of way of course, but still funny that it took people a while to notice. And then that "Giant Disco" or whatever it was called. That was like a city in the middle of a floating disc. The whole place just seemed perfect for the final showdown in an alien attack movie. And those mini gardens around the fountain...they were the best part. At least to me they were.

I spent the better part of the trip with Jon, although he might have spent the better part with Holly. Holly's nice, but I swear the nice is like sincerly superficial. Jon is hyperly insane, but in moderation he's great. I think my theory that I can't keep conversations up is caused by my inability to know little more then my own thought patterns, and general boringness there in caused by. But I did strike a chord when I called that one thing "Failed Kite #3". I'm trying to see if I can break the cycle imposed by that theory, but it's damn hard.

Right down the block from my house was PS1. If you don't know PS1, it's the first NY public school, and after it shut down as a school it opened as an art house type thing. I went there all the time. There were a few things that scared the shit out of me...like... the tiny tv in the crack in the floor with a girl beging for help getting out...the light in the entry way that talks in a deep semi-morbid voice while pulsing in tune with the voice...the ladder with kinves for rungs with the blades pointing up. It was probally shit like that that made me paranoid and kept me awake at night watching the golden girls cause that's what my parents watched at 1 AM (well not watched...they were asleep by that point) and I could see their TV in the huge mirror across from my bed...

But back to art. Now...out of walking distance, but still in the industrial area that was my neighborhood, was Socrates Sculpture Park. It was right across from Cosco too, which was one of my favoriate places too. Partly because they had benches right next to the river there, and I loved that view, partly because that was where I got both my N64 and my Playstation, so there's some great memories.

You know what else was right near those two things? A Con Edison plant! Isn't that just nifty. I always kinda liked the idea of power plants for some reason. I loves me the industrial, and it loves me back. It's where I grew up. And I've been kicking around this idea for a litte while now...There's this Barenaked Ladies song by the title of "Light up My Room", and it plays off that whole industrial area home thing. So the idea goes something like, somehow romantically, going to an open feild with like grass/hay/tall weeds or something, and it's right next to a power plant, so you can see all the trasnformers on one side, but the other three sides are all open to...openeness. And the two are just there, and he's like "Hold this" and he hands her a lightbulb, and when she grabs it it lights up dimly, but bright enough to illuminate their faces. And there's also a lot of fireflies who's glow is intensified by the powerplants...poweryness.

So then after the trip, we got off the bus and got on a different one to go home. Good timing. Got home, put my head down for a minute, and then I wake up after a long and interesting but too long/confusing to remember dream wondering when they started showing Everybody Loves Raymond so early in the mornings. Then I realize it's still the night before, and the reason why I can write at 2:30 in the morning becomes apparent. I write in the morning before I go to bed. That's how it works. I should sleep sorta soon, cause it's a long weekend, but it is just a weekend after all. Plus my mother might be mad if I'm going to bed as she's leaving for work. Of course, I'm sure that'll happen plenty of times durring Summer break, but for not it's not really a good sgin. And I don't think it's a matter of being nocturnal, but more a matter that my sleep pattern isn't in sync with...the time system you all agreed upon, so the day/night cycle and my sleep/wake cycle sorta move around each other.

Oh yes, and as far as the summer goes, I got accepted into that summer art school thing, so I'll be gone all of July. This is a good thing, cause I likea me the art, and I want to learn as much as I can. Plus it'll give me a feeling of college life a little bit. Just a little, but it's still something, espically considering I've never done actual sleep away camp before. What can I say, I like to be sure I know how all my stuff is doing. Insecure. Go figure. But it seems the camp'll mess me up, cause the summer driving program I'll miss, so I won't get my full licence for all that much longer.

My point is...I don't have a point. NO WAIT! I DO HAVE A POINT!!! I think this is a first ladies and gentlemen (and I use those terms lightly). Point it, artist is in my blood. But with the industrial and engineer things that come with that, I can see a giant trowel, call it art, but not understand why it's art. it's just in my past, and it's what stuck. Learning is fun.

It feels good to write again. I wish I didn't have to wait till after 1 to be able to, cause then I'd be able to do it on more school nights. But then again, as the BNL put it oh so rethorically:

Who needs sleep?
Well you're never gonna get it.
Who needs sleep?
Tell me, what's that for?
Who needs sleep?
Be happy with what you get, and there's guys been awake since the second world war.

Or as TOM put it, "Sleep is for the weak." Then again, TOM was no Moltar...

F*R*A*G: ...You have no feet...