Bobois had a big art show this weekend. I checked it out by accident with K when we walked downtown for drinks and frozen yogurt. We knew something was wrong because of all of the arty types around- not that I don’t think being an Artist isnt’ awesome-but they do have a certain look about them-like red necks and mormon missionaries. So much large, crafty jewerly, so much black and funny hats and red shoes, so many tall ganglely boys with cigarettes and ironic teeshirts about consumption. It could also be that we knew soemthing was happening because of the sheer number of people smoking on the streets in Bobois. So we went and checked out the art. You know, I am not an artsy person. I get nervous in a gallery because you never know what is a broom and what is a very expensive work of art. Sometimes I miss the pun of the title-like Peatus-fetus inside a peanut-or whatever. And immediately, my reaction is to say something sarcastic about the art-especially the titles. I asked K why this was-why I can’t go an enjoy a nice gallery-and K said “It’s because you’re a C-U-N-T.”
“A what?”
“A C-”
“Ohhh.”
“I am sensing a blog entry coming on.”
Later on this weekend, I went home-and over family/neighbor dinner drank a shit load of wine. Sitting with my family, I realize that none of the conversations they have make any sense-really, there’s no narrative. It seems as though all of them are waiting for the next opportunity to interrupt whoever is talking and say something that makes no sense-about the guy who does the gravel, the migrant workers who work at the farm up the street, their gall bladder surgey, Billy and they closet doors, none of them make any sense at all. eventually I just gave up and started drinking. it still didn’t make any sense, but it was a lot funnier.
Later on my mom kicked my ass at several games of air hockey.
I have work to do, and yet instead, here I am updating my blog.
