Friday, January 26, 2007

state of the union

You know, in all these years of Bush's idiocy, he's never actually been so heinous that I've been brought to tears. Until now. In his entire State of the Union address, he made NO MENTION of New Orleans, the Gulf Coast, or the continuing needs of the entire Katrina-affected Gulf South. I guess the "union" no longer includes south Mississippi and south Louisiana, millions of people, billions of dollars of damage, deaths, ruination, disease.... Un-fucking-believable.

I guess now I know how the gay community felt when Reagan and Bush, Sr. refused to even acknowledge the AIDS crisis for the entire combined 12 years of their reign.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

a day late and a dollar short

yesterday was Blog for Choice day, and I have only this to say:

Abortion should be available

that is all.

the new york times wants to know...

Why are there more single women than married women?

why so many single americans?

simple: because marriage is a losing proposition for so many women. Married women have a lower life expectancy than single women. (the reverse is true for men). Because too many men won't do their fair share of housework or child care. Because too many men abuse their wives physically, verbally, and/or emotionally. Because too many men have double standards regarding fidelity and aging and beauty, to name just a few. Because too many men won't compromise in order to make it possible for their wives to pursue a fulfilling career. Because sometimes it's just easier to raise children by yourself than it is to raise them with a man who doesn't understand the concept of co-parenting. Because we are not obligated to stay in unfulfilling, abusive, or empty marriages, now that we have the opportunities that allow us to support ourselves. Because too many men are addicted to porn and infected with the unreasonable, hateful, misogynistic bullshit that comes with porn-sickness.

Because, as Bridget Jones would say, too many men are alcoholics, workaholics, perverts, and/or emotional fuckwits.

Was that so hard to figure out?

Monday, January 22, 2007

Jezebella on tour: Jackson

Took a quick trip Saturday night to Jackson. Had dinner at Keifer's Greek Restaurant, home of the best veggie gyro I've ever had. I love that joint.

Proceeded to go the wrong way on State Street and end up way the hell north at Target instead of going south to downtown. I love it when I take one of my "scenic route" detours with a witness in the car. Have I mentioned that I'm geographically challenged? My instincts for directions are almost always wrong. I've grown accustomed to it, and always factor in extra time to get to new places, but it's still kind of embarrassing.

Next up: the Mississippi Invitational 2007 opening at the Mississippi Museum of Art. My favorite artists included are Jeff Schmuki:

Lee Renninger:

and Carlyle Wolfe:

This is a view from an installation elsewhere; the installation in Jackson is bigger and features more paintings. I would say, actually, too many paintings for the space. Her piece mounted in glass, though, paper with sewn flowers and cut-out flowers and drawn or printed flowers, was very strong. I'd like to see more of those.

Otherwise nothing really jazzed me up. There was a lot of post-storm photography and I found it reportorial.

it was a winning season...

and our Saints haven't seen nearly enough of those. If we'd brought our A-game, we could've beat the Bears. But the weather, the venue: we just fell down. We would've won that game in the Superdome. Next year, though, next year.

Our consolation prize: NOLA homeboy Peyton Manning is in the Superbowl!

Monday, January 15, 2007

I just can't help it....

... I have come to feel, over the course of the last 39 seasons, a passionate regard, respect, love for the Saints which despite all rational objections I cannot overcome. Football is a ridiculous sport costing billions of dollars, it is rampant with misogynistic marketing, the valorization of brawn over brains, and yet, and yet:

I love my New Orleans Saints. We won our first playoff game - EVER - and it was joyous. We, the New Orleanians of the world, needed this. If we can EVER beat the Bears in their own den, in freezing-ass Chicago winter temps, we can do it now.

I find myself amazed by the players and the game because their every single skill is absent in myself: extensive rote memorization, intense physical discipline, fearlessness, the ability to improvise within a highly controlled environment, grace under pressure.

Friday, January 12, 2007

what kind of weather am I?

I'm pretty sure that a rainbow isn't, technically, weather.

You Are a Rainbow

Breathtaking and rare
You are totally enchanting and intriguing
But you usually don't stick around long!

You are best known for: your beauty

Your dominant state: seducing

is this a southern thing?

So I'm in a strategic planning meeting this morning for a statewide arts organization, and every other person has to provide a lengthy personal anecdote along with their every suggestion. What is that? Yes, we all have personal anecdotes that lead to our opinions, but when thirty people are brainstorming, is it really necessary to listen to everyone's? REALLY? Bog.

Come to think of it, maybe it's not a southern thing. I went to grad school with a guy, who I actually refer to as Mr. Personal Anecdote, who could never say anything in a seminar without prefacing it with an anecdote. I'm not sure he ever contributed much besides that. But, damn, give him a word or two and he will free-associate a personal anecdote that will be long and pointless, and he will look miffed if you stop him in the middle of it to leave, in the event that you have, you know, SOMETHING ELSE TO DO besides listen to his long-winded tales. Mr. Personal Anecdote is from Kansas. So maybe it isn't a southern thing.

If you have made it through my own tedious personal anecdote, by all means go watch this, which is scary/hilarious.

And then maybe somebody can explain to me why Hattiesburg is the only city in American where NO ONE uses craigslist.

that is all. I have to go back to the strategic planning chatfest. I really need to put a bottle of vodka in my desk drawer for days like this.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

I almost completely forgot to mention

Designer Shoe Warehouse, which I visited in Atlanta.

Oh my bog. You need the latest pair of plastic Jessica Simpson hooker shoes? They've got 'em. Impossibly tall Prada heels? Check. Cole Haan? Naturalizer? Skechers? They've got it all. And at discount prices. Damn. I didn't buy anything but it sure would be nice to live near a store where I know I could get a pair of shoes if I really needed something specific. Plus it's like ORGANIZED and CLEAN and the rows are nice and wide and there are really cute gay boys shopping over in the mens' department.

I so miss living in a real city.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Jezebella on tour: Atlanta

Went to Atlanta this weekend on business, and visited, as usual, some museums.

If you dig Western art, which is not so much my cup of tea, go to the Booth Western Art Museum in Cartersville, which is north of Atlanta. The building is astonishing. The elevator is the size of my office. The collection is top-notch, for what it is. I totally dug the Duane Hansen Cowboy and the Andy Warhol Cowboys and Indians prints. Nice gift shop.

I went to the High Museum, recently expanded, and as always, found it incoherent and disappointing. Their collection isn't really top notch, the spaces have no flow, and I refuse to pay another ten dollars (after paying ten dollars for parking) to see a few dozen third-rate pieces from the Louvre. I have an AAM card, after all, and I get into the ACTUAL Musee du Louvre for FREE, so why do I have to pay to see Louvre paintings in Atlanta? I protest. I did not go. I hear it's a smallish show, and nothing so spectacular I needed to see it. The next installment may include some must-see pictures. I did see the Morris Louis show, which was very nice. I love big giant Abstract Expressionist paintings, and Louis' post-painterly abstraction is pretty spectacular. Master colorist, amazing technique that no-one knows how to replicate, good stuff. I could've looked at more and even more of them. There are 27 altogether - and beautifully selected, major pieces - but I could've stood another fifteen or twenty.

Thence, to the Atlanta History Center, an impressive edifice. I went for the quilt show which was of personal interest, as my grandma taught me to quilt in the same tradition as these Georgia quilts. As soon as I get my back room cleared out I need to get out my quilting things and try and remember how to put together a quilt frame. The Atlanta history exhibit there was nicely done, and the '96 Olympics exhibit. I don't really care so much about the Olympics but it was a good exhibit. The gallery about money, snooze-o-rama, and I just passed right by the one about a golfer. I couldn't give a crap about golf, though I did note some very nice mahogany casework. I wish the weather hadn't been so crappy, or I could've visited the gardens, which I hear are very nice. I'll try and go back next time I'm in the ATL to see the grounds and outlying buildings.

I'm really about to give up on the High, though. Next trip, it's the Carlos at Emory for me, unless there's something at the High that I just cannot miss. Even then, I'm not going to bother with the permanent galleries again.

I did finally bring my mp3 player to a museum and discovered that it's much, much nicer to listen to Sufjan Stevens than to a bunch of people saying stupid shit about abstract art. Call me a snot, I just don't care: it greatly lessens my enjoyment of art to hear people saying dumb stuff all around me. I will never go to a museum again without my own personal soundtrack. I do not, however, plan to listen to Metallica:

i wish this was true

Your results:
You are Superman

Green Lantern
Wonder Woman
Iron Man
The Flash
You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

because if it was true, I could've just flown home from Atlanta on my own power, instead of sitting in the Atlanta airport for hours and hours and hours on Sunday night and then Monday morning.

God, Superman's kind of a dork superhero to be.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

just for the record: Harry Potter prediction

I'm pretty sure that the mysterious RAB who got to the horcrux in the cave before Harry & Dumbledore is Regulus Black, Sirius Black's brother.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

media check

Just finished reading Straight Man by Richard Russo, a tale of dysfunctional academics. Am now embarking on Moo, by Jane Smiley, another slice of academic fiction.

The Devil Wears Prada was funny but I haven't quite gotten over Meryl Streep calling the waifish Anne Hathaway "the fat girl" because she's a size SIX. Still, Meryl Streep is genius and the clothes really are as gorgeous as the shoes are completely ludicrous. It's a wonder none of the actresses broke something during filming, every time I turned around Andy was running - RUNNING - in 4" stilettos.

And The Forty-Year-Old Virgin, I know I'm late to this party, but holy crap, that was funny. Despite a scene with gratuitous homophobia, which they could've done without ("I know you're gay because...," which I guess is the white-boy version of the dozens). And the ongoing kidding-on-the-square misogyny, wherein you can laugh at the dude for saying stupid sexist stuff, or you can laugh with him because you're a sexist dude, too. But I do have this to add to the plus column: the forty-year-old virgin falls in love with a forty-year-old woman. Possibly even 40-something. Oh yes, her stomach is impossibly flat for a woman who's had three children, but she's a natural-looking fortyish hot grandma. Catherine Keener really rocks that role. Steve Carell couldn't be any funnier.

New Gwen Stefani, The Sweet Escape = perfect workout music.