Monday, March 28, 2011

us mens national soccer team

(photo by Bill Menzel)

You can see the huge size difference between Argentina and the US soccer team. The Argentine goalie (Mariano Gonzalo Andújar) is 6' 4" and Tim Howard is 6' 5". No one on that Argentina team is close to the goalies size. They maybe average 5' 8".

I wonder if the other team ever thinks, "Man, those dudes are huge".
You always see this when the US and any other team (besides mabye Ghana) are side by side in the tunnel before they walk out to the pitch. The US team looks gigantor and you see the other team steal glances over like "WTF". They don't talk about this much but at some point a big team that's constantly knocking into you or running you over all first half will get some vanilla in the second half. Sure, your game for the first couple bruises but, after that you loose a step. No one wants to get run over by a horse twice. Soccer is mostly grace and skill but at some point power and will trump that.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

reese's crispy crunch

Nick said he was "optimistic about the future of candy" after eating a bite of my crispy crunch bar.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

painting after dark

Read Molly Lambert's post about painting studio.

I remember always heading to the Art Institute paint studios really late, like 11 or 12 with a pint of whiskey and some smokes and painting all night. I had regular paint studio in the daytime but, I rarely made it and would just show up with paintings to talk to the teacher (who I loved!). I didn't really like painting in groups or having other people talk to me about what I was doing. My painting subjects were also sometimes odd choices and not really up for discussion.

I only showed up to meet with my teacher and because this girl I liked, who somehow I started saying hi to in the hallways for like two years without ever having a real conversation, was in the class. I just knew I would be with her at some point the first time I saw her and eventually I was. We got married (still kinda married). I wouldn't ever talk to her in class though because she was friends with someone I didn't approve of and that made me question her judgement (ha). I only talked to her for the first time at the last school party I would ever attend (as school was over). I cornered her and she was slightly drunk and had one eye that was half red from being burnt by a curling iron.
I couldn't believe my luck. We hung out till 4 in the morning with some other friends. I have no idea what we talked about and it was never really settled that I was super interested. I had to ask for a number at the end of the night (I still have it 20 years later). The next day I called her from a pay phone and told her that an Italian beef with hot peppers would cure a hangover and a few weeks (like 1?) later she left her ex fiance and moved in with me permanently. I remember it felt very weird helping her move out of her boyfriend's apartment and we hadn't even been together that long. I was like, "what must that guy be thinking?".

One thing I miss from my school days is my paint box. I had this large black wooden box that I put my paints in that was absurdly chunky and impractical but I loved it.
It was like some strange alchemist's kit that had magic things inside it. Little bottles of varnish and wax and heavy lead tubes of paint. It weighed as much as a car battery and had smudges of paint and dings that gave it a the appearance of being heavily used. I took it from a gallery I worked at (Rhona Hoffman). Some piece of Art shipped in it. It looked years older than it was and was not fun to have bouncing off your back as you rode your bike around. I used it for some 15 years.
There's also something beautiful about having this odd collection of materials and assorted brushes and how you organize them and the space you use. I would include a pic of my current space (which is feet from my bed) but, the subject matter is awkward and I'm not quite sure about it yet.

Photo is of the Art Institute's paint studios and doesn't nearly capture their mystery and allure and nothing could describe them empty at night when you are the only one there and sipping off your Jack and Cokes.