Author: Shelly

Art, Collage, Crankypantsing, Journals, Ladybusiness, Poetry

Hemp Bound Journal

Shelly

Hemp Bound Journal: PWT
PWT

This page was an off-shoot of the discussion about the phrase “poor white trash.” I finally spoke up, and called the original poster on her demeaning comments. After having gone to great lengths to describe what she meant by “poor white trash,” and her qualifying how she is supperior to “them,” she had the nerve to reply that she hadn’t really meant it as a slur, because, hey, it’s all a matter of semantics. Um, no, it’s not semantics, not when you’ve precisely qualified and quantified your position. She made a lame attempt at claiming that there were all sorts of meanings for the word “trash” and that “poor” is a state of mind. Neither of those points, even if they were true in this context, addresses the fact that she’d spent umpty words describing a certain group of people, and how they are inferior to her. I had to laugh at her parting shot, though, that she’d suffered discrimination, too, when she was younger, because she had been called a poor, little rich girl. Now, that takes brass ovaries!

Because I thought the “it’s just semantics” defense was a laughable cop-out, I decided to consult Mr. Roget for alternate suggestions. The column spacing sucks, which is one of those things that unreasonably vexes me. I’ll probably add something else to the far right margin of the left-hand page at a later date, just for visual balance

I’d totally forgotten that the phrenology model was on that page, because the coat of gesso makes it blend into the background. It used to be thought that you could judge a person’s character by the structure of their skull. This theory was used as the basis for racial discrimination, as well as for the theory that you could tell just by looking at some people that they were wrong ‘uns. I guess some prejudices die hard, eh?

Hemp Bound Journal: Backbone & The Direction of Last Things
Backbone & The Direction of Last Things

Hemp Bound Journal: Letter from a Muse
Letter from a Muse

Hemp Bound Journal: Vessels
Vessels

No matter how much I think it’s wrong to kill another living being–and I do–I cannot get past the fact that we do not legally require one person to save another’s life. It makes no more sense to mandate that a woman must carry a baby to term than it does to force people to give over their kidneys or bone marrow or livers for transplants. I can certainly choose to be an organ donor, but I cannot be forced into it. But, some people think it’s okay to force a woman to carry a child to term against her will.

Uncategorized

Cookie, Cookie, Cookie Starts with C

Shelly

I stopped off at the grocery store on my way home yesterday to pick up lemons and brussels sprouts.

Brussels sprouts are one of the most perfect foods in the world. I like to halve or quarter them, depending on size, and sautee them in butter and olive oil. When they’re nearly done, I remove them from the pan, add a touch more oil, if needed, and toss in some black mustard seeds. After the seeds have popped, I return the sprouts to the pan and coat them in the seeds, then remove the pan from the heat. Splash a little lemon juice onto the sprouts and season with Kosher salt (and pepper, if that’s your kink), and enjoy. Mmmm.

So, anyway, the grocery store I went to, Marsh, keeps the brussels sprouts right across from the baked goods. All the while I was selecting my sprouts, there was a box of Lofthouse cookies–chocolate!–calling to me. I could barely hear the sweet song of the brussels sprouts above the din of the cookies, so I eventually succumbed. Resistance was futile.

The grown-up in me says that cookies and brussels sprouts do not a supper make, but the five-year old in me disagrees. Some days, the five-year old gets to make those sorts of decisions.

Music

Good Morning

Shelly

(Have you ever had cheese toast with a hint of cinnamon? Well, I cannot unrecommend it enough. I made cinnamon and sugar toast in my toaster oven last night, then cheese toast this morning, and the cheese toast has a slight bouquet of cinnamon. It is Teh Ptoui.)

So, anyway, I stopped at the Circle K-Bigfoot-BP-Mac’s-Whatever on 17th & College this morning, to get my daily dose of tasty beverageness. I can usually tell who is working the register by what music they’re playing: hip hop, bluegrass, NPR, B97 (manic top 40), or 92.3 (the dreaded “Quality Rock” station). And then there’s the Counting Crows guy, who reminds me so much of one of my former students that it kind of creeps me out when he’s working. This morning, though, the artsy looking guy, who usually listens to NPR, had T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” playing. The funny thing was that I was listening to “The Slider” in the car.

I have a feeling it’s going to be one of Those days.

Crankypantsing

In Other News…

Shelly

I somehow managed to slice the tip of my left, middle finger last night. I haven’t a clue how, which, being as it hurts like bloody hell, is something you’d think I might have noticed doing. Hrmph. I keep whacking it on things, and it makes typing exasperating.

After sitting in a car for three hours with someone who was hacking up her last lung, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I’m stricken with the plague, as well. I’d probably be more cranky about it, but it’ll give me an excuse to sit on my ass and watch all three Lord of the Rings movies back-to-back–something I haven’t done yet. Of course, that only means that this will be the first time in my life that I don’t get sick.

I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that it’s 2006. That just doesn’t seem possible. Friday will be my one-year blog-a-versary. That, too, does not seem possible. If the rain doesn’t let up (the monsoon season in Indiana seems to encompass 11 months of the year), we’ll also have floods, as we did last year at this time. I noticed, while driving past Cook Urological this morning, that the river is creeping onto their lawn, and that there is standing water in many of the fields along the highway.

After a semester of having Wednesdays off, I’m going back to my previous work schedule. It was nice to have a change, but I found that having a day off in the middle of the week is disruptive. I also missed having three-day weekends. I found that I get much more done when I have a larger block of time.

And, to prove there’s more than corn in Indiana, I shall leave you with the world’s largest ball of paint. It is truly something to be, um, proud of.

Art

Lord of the Rings

Shelly

I went to Indy yesterday to see the Lord of the Rings exhibit at the Indiana State Museum. Oh my! It was absolutely geek-tacular. I hadn’t been planning on going, because it was my last day of vacation and I had a bunch of things I wanted to get done, but there was an extra ticket, so I decided to be an irresponsible five-year-old. I’m glad I did, because it was the last day of the exhibit, and it won’t be travelling or be shown again.

First, the bigatures. Wow! The attention to detail on every level was stunning. One of the models was of the ruined Hobbiton mill. It gets about three seconds of screen time, during a “flash forward” sequence, and took three months to make. The commitment to getting every detail correct is clearly present in the movies, but to see it first-hand made it even more impressive. I think the set and costume designers were in many ways the real stars of the LotR movies, so I was glad to have an opportunity to show support for the folks behind the scenes.

Second, the costumes.

  • I had no idea Liv Tyler was so itty bitty!
  • Aragorn’s costume was beautifully worn.
  • Galadriel’s gown had about eleventy billion little crystals sewn into it.
  • Sauron’s costume was ginormous. I hadn’t realized that there is engraved knot-work on just about every single square inch of it, literally from the tips of his crown to the tips of his toes.
  • Much of the accumulated dirt and muck seemed to be left in place. I noticed a big splack of mud on a saddle blanket.
  • The tack and armor from the Nazgul horses was un-freaking-believable. Oh my.
  • There was a gallery with nothing but battle armor from the different types of characters (Rohirrim, Elves, Orcs, Uruk-hai, Gobblins, Harad, etc.). Again, the attention to detail was staggering.
  • There was a small model of a Mumakil, complete with war tower. Very cool!

When I grow up, I want to have a job making scrolls and books for movies. There was a display of tchotchkes and ephemera, including mountains of texts, that made my mouth water so much my salivary glands got cramps. Mmmm.

After we got out of the LotR show, we decided to take a look at some of the permanent collections. I hadn’t been there since they reopened after remodelling and extending. On our way, we ran into the world’s most bestest kid, Piper, and her parents. ‘Tis a very small world. They had 4:00 tickets to the LotR show, and were killing time before-hand, so they went through some of the permanent collection with us. Mostly, that entailed me playing with and being led around by Piper, which was entertaining. For some incomprehensible reason, Piper decided that I was her extra special bestest friend. I am so not worthy. She got all excited when she realized I was there, and immediately attached herself to me. She is Teh Cute. What a sunny, happy kid! After three hours of walking around milling crowds of people, I was starting to get strung-out and cranky. Piper was happy as a clam, though.

Crankypantsing, Ladybusiness

A Pig in a Poke

Shelly

Have you ever had someone you respect open her mouth and thoroughly disappoint you?

In a recent discussion in one of my arting fora, someone started casting asparagus upon what she called PWT. That would be, Poor White Trash. She described a picture I’m sure most of us, in the US at least, would find familiar: a mobile home on small plot of land, rusted car/bed springs/refrigerator, dog tied out back, tatty American flag flying 24/7, etc. Now, I live in the epicenter of red-neckedness, so I can understand why those who were not native-born into the fold might look askance at those who were. That’s all well and good. It’s perfectly acceptable to look something over and say, “That’s not for me.” It’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fishes to stare down your nose at people who are poor, or uneducated, or who simply have a different value system than yours, and call them Trash. People are not trash, no matter what color they come in. Trash is expendable; people are not. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that, because you value your life or lifestyle more greatly than you do someone else’s, yours automatically has the higher intrinsic value. I can guarantee you that the Trash you’re disparaging value their lives every bit as much as you do yours.

The sad part is that the comment was made by someone I generally have a lot of respect for. I hate it when people disappoint me. I had a similar experience during a conversation with a friend, who is heavily involved in sex and sensuality education. There are certain things that go logically hand-in-hand, so when she made the comment–during a serious discussion–that “some people” shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce, it shocked me so seriously that I couldn’t even formulate a response. What do you say to someone who voices a belief that is in direct opposition to one of the basic tenets of her vocation? How can a rational person champion choice and respect and autonomy out of one side of her mouth and preach eugenics out of the other? The mind wobbles.

Crankypantsing, News & Politics, Pets

A Gallimaufry

Shelly
  • The good news is that drilling in ANWR is on hold, at least for the time being. The bad news is that senators who supported Arctic drilling are pissed off about it, and decided to vent their spleens at the folks who can literally least afford it. What kind of mental disconnect are they suffering from, that allows them to cut US$2 billion in home heating relief for low-income families, all onna counta they didn’t get what they wanted? Waaah!
  • From the Things That Make You Go Wha…? File: If you have early stage Parkinson’s, are having trouble walking, and you live alone, you probably shouldn’t consider getting a high octane dog, like a Husky x German Shepherd Dog. I’m just sayin’. Also, just because a dog sits quietly in its pen at the animal shelter does not, not, not mean that it’ll be mellow at home. Worse, just because it’s mellow at home for the first few days, or even weeks, does not mean that it’ll continue that way. There’s a honeymoon period, in which dogs settle into their new homes. After that period of acclimation, the dog’s behavior can change pretty significantly. Your perfectly behaved dog may suddenly decide that she really needs to investigate what’s on top of the fridge. (No, I am not making this up.)
  • Also, why anyone would find it remarkable that the new King Kong is found battling dinosaurs is beyond me. I mean, does King Kong vs. Godzilla not ring any bells?
  • I’ve developed an odd sleep pattern lately, wherein I go to sleep fairly early, have lots of peculiar dreams, wake up for a couple of hours, then fall back asleep. It’s useful, though, because some of the mind-wandering that occurs after waking up from those weird dreams is artistically productive. Last night, for example, I woke up and realized that I had the image of a new painting in my head. I guess that late-night programming can be good?
News & Politics

A Cavalcade of Wacky News Stories

Shelly

Nacho jesus
Nachos of Turin

Holy nachos, Batman! Workers at a Florida restaurant found the image of the Son of God at the bottom of a nacho pan.

Mother Theresa Cinnamon Bun
Mother Theresa Cinnamon Bun

Mr. Christ isn’t the only one whose personage was in the news. A cinnamon bun bearing the likeness of Mother Theresa was stolen on Christmas day from a Nashville, Tennessee coffee house.

A man, um, crossed the US-Mexican border via cannon.

It’s official, Canadians can legally have group sex in clubs.

A hilarious music video, starring Flickr Creative Commons images. If you have broadband, download and watch it. It’s really, really funny in a kinda sad, kinda sweet sorta way.

This is not your grandma’s needlepoint. (Is it just me, or does the one of Axl Rose look like Jeffrey Dahmer?)

In other arty news, here are some really cool sculptures made out of old tires.

And, speaking of tires, which brings me to cars, I think I’ve mentioned that I don’t like driving when it’s windy. Well, folks, there might be a reason for that. I live in fear of going ass over tea kettle. It could happen!

Art, Journals, Ladybusiness

Let There Be Lips!

Shelly

“A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, God said, let there be lips. And there were, and they were good.”[1]

P087: A Warm Welcome
A Warm Welcome

I spent most of the morning going through a stack of magazines, pulling images for gluebooks. Most of the magazines were of the Women’s Day, Ladies’ Home Journal and O[2] variety, so my stack of cut-outs is full of lips and doe eyes and all manner of ridiculous girly stuff. One disturbing trend I noticed was that many ads featured women’s faces, but only from the lips down.

Ad01

Ad02

Big, luscious, red lips, I might add. The rest of the face is apparently of so little importance that it can be omitted.

P107: An American
An American

Speaking of magazines, I also scanned a few more entries from my Dada Journal. Connection willing, I’ll upload them. Most of them are just my whinging about pointless things, but there’s one (still textless) example of how to work with large, dark areas. Erasers are your friends, folks! Depending on the quality of the clay coating on the paper, it may take more or less effort to lighten/remove the dark ink. I’ve made the journal out of pages from Real Simple magazine, which has fairly good quality paper, but the clay coat sticks like nobody’s business. It was a bit of a pain in the arse to erase, but well worth the effort. Erasing would also work relatively well to lighten page text, so that it can be overwritten more legibly. Just be careful not to be get overzealous, or the paper will tear. Don’t ask how I found this out.

Erasing is also a good way to scuff up the surface of a slick page so that it will better accept ink. If you’re having trouble with ink beading up, give erasing a try. Or, try sanding lightly with super fine steel wool. Beware, though, that the sanded paper will suck up more ink, so you may end up with heavy, dark lines.

__________________________________
[1] If you never went to see a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show when you were in high school or college, you missed out on a boat-load of fun.

[2] Oprah makes me bitter. She has a huge cult following, with women the world over hanging on her every proclamation. That’s an enormous amount of power. Sometimes she uses it for good, but often, she abuses it. For example, her magazine, O. While it pays lip service to empowering women, it undermines that message by proffering advice to manipulate men (who, apparently, do not have the brains the deity promised geese), in various and sundry ways. In particular, this advice encompassed shutting your mouth around your man, not talking to him during a ball game, not disagreeing with him, etc.

Perhaps the most mind-boggling of the advice in that particular column involved advising that, if if a woman compliments a man, the man will think she wants to sleep with him. And, that the same is true no matter what the woman says to a man. A simple “Good morning” is an invitation to hop in the sack. WTF?!

The irony is that, by following the Oprah Plan, women are actually being manipulated by men into taking all the responsibility for the success of the relationship. It’s a world in which men have to do none of the work. How on earth anyone could possibly think that’s appropriate or healthy is beyond me.