It does not matter if I am having a raging good time or not, shop summer still flits by on a wing, mind in a way that winter never does. Your head would have to be made of hard cheese not to decipher the metaphor here. The fertile periods are fleeting- youth, online beauty, inspiration, all managing the briefest of stays. Darkness, decay and hardship seem interminable.
Even as I spray myself with water and lay in front of a fan in order to sleep, I love summer. My studio is a brick oven and I am its wee molten pizza, still I love summer. It seems like only yesterday that I started eating like a sow in anticipation of all the summer exercise. Well, it was yesterday, but it was not only yesterday.
On Saturday I checked out the last day of Boatel, a floating art space in Far Rockaway. Diving off the pier into the warm sea, I upended and a plane soared (so close!) between my feet and the sky. I felt like I was playing with a toy in the bath. I am not what you might call a happy person. I am more of what you would call an intense and anxious worrier. Happiness is not really my jam. Well there is no place or time on earth that I am as happy as when I am floating in the great, blue wobbly. It is such a strange and unique sensation, I pursue it relentlessly in this short season.
At Boatel we modeled some fashions for Etta Place, a Bushwick salon of arts and oddities run by the fabulous sisters Dimmitt. Jeff Stark of Fluxus talked about Moby Dick accompanied by haunting music, the motion of the waves beneath our floating pier, and John Barrymore and the white whale on the silent screen. He brought a freshly baked PIE. Jeff Stark is a master manipulator.
Now I am staring down the barrel of…the last of summer. Try not to look too hard at it, you might just cry.
Complain of the heat if you must, just pass the oysters and the Aviations. I will be where the sand meets the sky. Cultivating skin cancer.
I lost count at some point, but I think I may have eaten seven (7) pieces of pie over the holiday weekend, a new personal best. I also ate a grilled baby octopus, some black pudding (made of blood!) and 1/4 tray of brownies. Others may pervert the true meaning of Thanksgiving, making it about sports and “sexy” turkey costumes, but with us the shameful overindulgence of the day is kept alive.
Also it’s Christmas. I came across the first seasonal musical offering on the radio on Thanksgiving Day. It was “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” It ended up being anticlimatic as a harbinger, since I heard it 15 times in the days that followed on the 3 stations that were ONLY playing Christmas music, in spite of the fact that there are apparently only 4 Christmas songs. Maybe it is pointless to try and note the start of xmas using music as your guide. Or maybe I spent too much time in the car. Especially as it cut into my pie eating time. It need not have, as it turns out. As we drove down 495 in our tuned-to-xmas mobile, we saw a woman driving in the next lane with an unwrapped pie held aloft on a plate. In her hand. With a fork.
That sighting is probably the better bellwether of the holiday season. Seen anyone eating an entire pie while driving? Oh, it must be Thanksgiftsmas!! Time to fill out stockings with meringue and watch Kate’s Secret! For truly ’tis better to give than to receive.
I’ve got that ‘last day of school’ feeling so bad. I launched a site I’ve been slaving over for a while, because either the day before a holiday or a Friday at 5 p.m. is totally the best time to do complicated things like that. I did not break the database, and I am thankful.
Ever keep predicting things that are likely to happen anyway? I’ll think “That guy is going to call me,” and that guy does. Or “Heather just posted to Vomitola,” and she did. Or “My sister’s flight is cancelled.” If I weren’t psychic, I wouldn’t have known about that, because Orbitz just called to assure me that while there may be weather delays, the flight is on time. Then they called ten minutes later to say the flight will depart on time. However, I’d already checked the website thanks to my spidey sense, called the airline, and rebooked for tomorrow before I received either of those calls. I hope they call every ten minutes. It makes me feel important.
I am super excited that there will be pie tomorrow! I hope everyone has pie! Personally, I don’t eat, but I encourage you to try the Other Apple Pie: equal parts hard cider and Harpoon Winter Warmer. When my sister finally arrives after being squished in a tin can with ugly people, I will pour one down her gullet.
I wish you all a velocitous re-valuetization this holiday season. Link courtesy of Max, who hates both Freedom and America, almost as much as Orbitz does.