New Polling sight:
It's called Iamblind.org For all you sports fans, check the win percentage.
Midday Palate Cleanser
6 hours ago
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Unknown Photographer Doles Them Out One By One
The first name of the twenty something photographer is Melea. Tantalizing isn't it? Her best work is the self-portrait. It is my favorite type of photography. It's the revelation of the artist that most interests me. Here is one of Melea's self portraits.
A Meme for Randal
For Randal, because he told me to.
Where do I buy my clothes?
At the closest thrift shop, which in my case is one run by the Mormon Church, called Deseret Industries. It's clean, well organized, the clothes at this particular DI are the discards of the affluent in Park City. So, I find nearly new designer clothes for a pittance. I bet it's going to get a whole lot busier and prices are about to go up. Why? Because they can, that's why? Sorry Dcup for stealing your line, but I did it. Why? Because I could, that's why. Why don't you copyright it for christ sake?
Where did my furniture come from?
So many places it would turn into a complicated map of acquisition and inheritance and living long enough to end up with it. I have a few very good pieces. Stickley actually. Bought at a garage sale ages ago, found painted blue, sadly. Then stripped and sanded and oiled and oiled and oiled again. Left with mommy who decided that meant they were hers. Mommy died. They're mine now. The big brass bed was mine when I was a teenager. Mommy kept it. It's mine now. Some pieces I am fond of, I found in thrift stores and impulsively purchased. But I was a runner from life. I have houses full of furniture I ran from along with the husbands I left. Never a backwards glance unless I wanted to set a short story there. Ancient history and fair game, considering. Now, I think my favorite chair is the red leather club chair my mother stole when my grandfather died. It came out of his office in the Judge Building on Exchange Place and Third South. It's from Dinwoody's. A very good local furniture store long gone.
Where do I live?
Salt Lake City. I wasn't born here. I always felt a bit like a refugee here. But here is where the family home is, and I am all that's left of the family. The home of my heart is at the top of West Camino Cielo overlooking Santa Barbara, the ocean, the Channel Islands, and so much more. It was the last place First Love/Last Love and I lived together.
Favorite book? Favorite Movie? That's impossible. If I were the mother of thousands of children and you asked me my favorite would you really expect an answer. Each book, if loved, is mine--it exists for me in a visceral way forever but because it moves me this way, doesn't mean the next much loved book won't do the same in a whole different way. It too is mine now. The same thing with movies. I am too old to cull through my memory of my lifetime of movie going to say "This one." The most recent one is one of the best. That's Blindness, based on a Nobel Prize winning book by Jose Saramago.
Favorite piece of music? Are you fucking kidding me? Do not mess with me. Narrow it down a little will you? Pick a fucking century, decade, genre, some damn thing. Please! But do not fuck with me. I'll hurt you.
I had to come back and insert this. I forgot. I'm old. Favorite TV Series. This is so easy. Deadwood is my all time favorite TV series ever, ever! I watched it so often on ON DEMAND I was able to recite dialogue along with the characters. What character am I? I'm Al Swearengen. And yes, I use that many expletives in my moment by moment commentary on the life around me, or lack of it, the noise or lack of it.
I tag:
Nan from All the Good Names Are Taken
Linda at Vulture Peak Muse
Tengrain, of Mock, Paper, Scissors. Yes YOU. OH YES I DID! Take That! Why? Because inquiring minds want to know.
The Cunning Runt at Little Bang Theory, because I love the name The Cunning Runt. Say it fast three times and it becomes The Running Cunt. And it's such a lovely change of pace once you get there.
And Dusty at It's My Right To Be Left Of Center because she probably needs a little change of pace.
And for good measure I add Beach the man behind the Life and Times of a Carolina Parrothead
Let the linking begin.
Where do I buy my clothes?
At the closest thrift shop, which in my case is one run by the Mormon Church, called Deseret Industries. It's clean, well organized, the clothes at this particular DI are the discards of the affluent in Park City. So, I find nearly new designer clothes for a pittance. I bet it's going to get a whole lot busier and prices are about to go up. Why? Because they can, that's why? Sorry Dcup for stealing your line, but I did it. Why? Because I could, that's why. Why don't you copyright it for christ sake?
Where did my furniture come from?
So many places it would turn into a complicated map of acquisition and inheritance and living long enough to end up with it. I have a few very good pieces. Stickley actually. Bought at a garage sale ages ago, found painted blue, sadly. Then stripped and sanded and oiled and oiled and oiled again. Left with mommy who decided that meant they were hers. Mommy died. They're mine now. The big brass bed was mine when I was a teenager. Mommy kept it. It's mine now. Some pieces I am fond of, I found in thrift stores and impulsively purchased. But I was a runner from life. I have houses full of furniture I ran from along with the husbands I left. Never a backwards glance unless I wanted to set a short story there. Ancient history and fair game, considering. Now, I think my favorite chair is the red leather club chair my mother stole when my grandfather died. It came out of his office in the Judge Building on Exchange Place and Third South. It's from Dinwoody's. A very good local furniture store long gone.
Where do I live?
Salt Lake City. I wasn't born here. I always felt a bit like a refugee here. But here is where the family home is, and I am all that's left of the family. The home of my heart is at the top of West Camino Cielo overlooking Santa Barbara, the ocean, the Channel Islands, and so much more. It was the last place First Love/Last Love and I lived together.
Favorite book? Favorite Movie? That's impossible. If I were the mother of thousands of children and you asked me my favorite would you really expect an answer. Each book, if loved, is mine--it exists for me in a visceral way forever but because it moves me this way, doesn't mean the next much loved book won't do the same in a whole different way. It too is mine now. The same thing with movies. I am too old to cull through my memory of my lifetime of movie going to say "This one." The most recent one is one of the best. That's Blindness, based on a Nobel Prize winning book by Jose Saramago.
Favorite piece of music? Are you fucking kidding me? Do not mess with me. Narrow it down a little will you? Pick a fucking century, decade, genre, some damn thing. Please! But do not fuck with me. I'll hurt you.
I had to come back and insert this. I forgot. I'm old. Favorite TV Series. This is so easy. Deadwood is my all time favorite TV series ever, ever! I watched it so often on ON DEMAND I was able to recite dialogue along with the characters. What character am I? I'm Al Swearengen. And yes, I use that many expletives in my moment by moment commentary on the life around me, or lack of it, the noise or lack of it.
I tag:
Nan from All the Good Names Are Taken
Linda at Vulture Peak Muse
Tengrain, of Mock, Paper, Scissors. Yes YOU. OH YES I DID! Take That! Why? Because inquiring minds want to know.
The Cunning Runt at Little Bang Theory, because I love the name The Cunning Runt. Say it fast three times and it becomes The Running Cunt. And it's such a lovely change of pace once you get there.
And Dusty at It's My Right To Be Left Of Center because she probably needs a little change of pace.
And for good measure I add Beach the man behind the Life and Times of a Carolina Parrothead
Let the linking begin.
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