The BIG Race

I am planning an underground tortoise and hare race. It will take place in a shady warehouse where cigars will be smoked and the bouncers will be so secure in their sexuality they will have a heart that says Dad tattooed on their raging bicep (instead of Mom, even though they love their moms), but they will be so buff and scary no one will even question it. Anyway, it will be the race of our generation. To prove it, all in attendance will occupy the warehouse and blast Deadmaus5 for days and days eventually roasting the tortoise and hare on a spit for nourishment. Except it won't be the tortoise or the hare, but that weird bark substitute that vegans like. We will certify the tortoise and hare organic and fair trade... ensuring works rights. If the race goes on for more than two hours they get a 15 min break every 4 hours. We will also pay both living wages. Please place your bets. Yes, I'm talking to you, Aesop.

...

I concede.  Officially a cynic.

Desert stacks. Oil on canvas.  2011. Uban.

Wash it down with espresso...

Italian Monster Satisfying Himself with the Underwear of American Girls.  Pen, pencil, watercolor, colored pencil on paper.  2011. Uban.

I'm still looking...

Gouache on paper. 2011. Uban.

Gouache on paper. 2012. Uban.

Gouache on paper. 2012. Uban.

Related post:  Jacks and Rollerskate Girl

Hug me. Now.

I'm making color swatches.  Now, I have a binder of color swatches from magazines...  I'm planning to take a bunch of those free paint tiles from Home Depot tomorrow to add to the swatch binder.  I think I'll sit around for a few hours tomorrow and mix colors in gouache and watercolor and acrylic.  I could have made this easier on myself... and bought one of those art store books, but I think it's cheating.

Hugs.  (Me and Cait.)

Sometimes... I wish I weren't so intense.  But I need to be if I'm preparing for battle.  Senior studio next semester with Susan Moore and Donna Nelson... bring it.  I guess, I could be more intense... Van Gogh ate his yellow.  That's WAY intense.  If I ever get that hardcore, I hope I keep my ears.

I need a hug.  (This is my roomie, Sean.)

Still.  I got into senior studio... 100 majors and 20 spots.  I  got in.  I don't want anyone to regret letting me in. My friend is bringing a hot plate so we can cook dinner at Tyler.  I'm bringing my sleeping bag.  24 hour access to the building is both a gift and curse.  The insanity of the next two semesters of my life should be considered an art piece in itself.

I need a hug.  (My friends Hiroki and Cait.  Sean again.)

It's not that different from some of the other majors.  The architecture majors sleep in their studios.  They're lucky enough that their predecessors leave cots, mini-fridges, and microwaves behind.  The health professions kids go days without sleeping.  The engineering students can be seen at the Tech Center wearing the same clothes a week straight...  I want to live in a world where this level of intensity is the norm.  Once I had a professor lecture our class on the importance of changing our clothes during midterms and finals week.

Perhaps, I can make a binder for everything.  I'm thinking it would be nice to have a binder with different poses. Sitting poses.  Then a binder of home interiors.  A binder of hands.  Of eyes.

I probably have some level of OCD.

I need a hug right now.   (This is my friend Mickey on NYE...  he said his eyes were closed because he meant it.)

Laugh Today

Street Kings

STREET KINGS!
VOTE FOR OUR VIDEO!
(YOU CAN VOTE 10x PER DAY!)

Forgivable Five: #2 Tim Tebow!!!

1. Jesse Lacey

2. Tim Tebow -- Well, I don't know him personally, but this guy just seems like such a good guy.  He's also effin' bangin'!

3, 4, and 5... spots empty thus far...

Shanks VS Matisse.

Shanks VS Matisse. Oil on canvas.  49.5X54cm. 2011. Uban.

I painted this last semester, when I was battling it out between two of my influences, Nelson Shanks and Matisse.

The perfect guy.

I want a weird guy, but not in the creepy way.  He is unconventional.  Someone who isn't stingy with his music, and likes to share his new favorite bands.  He is fun to go to shows with, meaning that he dances.  He dances.  We can go to the club and dance.  Maybe he plays an instrument.  He has gorgeous eyes.  He wouldn't mind going to spooky haunted places with me.  He is interested in the supernatural and maybe grotesque things.  He likes cooking.  He likes eating and trying different dishes.  He knows what's going on in sports, even though I know nothing.  He appreciates nature and walking in the woods.  He tries to buy fair trade/organic products.  Someone who likes to walk around the city, and people watch.  He drinks tea.  He is taller than me, because I am short.  He must initiate to hug me first because he's the taller one.  Maybe he has a blog.  He is good with computers.  He can fix my laptop when I need it because technology hates me.  He's most comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, but when he wants to look nice, he is good at it.  He is funny in the way that I am funny.  We can laugh together.  We might have a lot of inside jokes.  He cuts his nails regularly.  He knows wine.  Maybe he makes his own wine, beer, or some kind of beverage.  He wants to be a dad.  He thinks it's okay to spank a misbehaving kid every once in awhile.  He likes art, knows a bit of history, and likes going to museums.  He is well-rounded.  He can speak and write well.  He is spiritual somewhat, but non-religious.  He doesn't smoke cigarettes, but he likes to hookah.  He's past (or mostly past) the druggie experimental phase.  He's down to earth.  He's actually nice.  He's actually kind.  Someone with a good heart.  He would like watching movies.  The popcorn flicks, and the strange foreign stuff.  He likes documentaries.  He wouldn't mind seeing a play, musical, ballet, or opera sometimes either.  He has good taste.  He reads, and he likes to read literature.  He works out occasionally, but nothing obsessive.  He likes animals, or at least, cats.  Maybe would like to get a dog.  He values a good family life.  He respects his parents.  He doesn't mind piercings.  He is smart and ambitious.  He is college educated and has a job.  He's good at math.  He can budget finances, and knows when to be frugal.  He is open-minded.  He is loyal in a relationship.  He would want a serious relationship, and dates with the potential to marry.  He is not cheesy, but he does enjoy spooning.  He's not afraid of commitment.  He's in tune with his feelings and intuition.  He stands up for himself, even though he may not like to be the center of attention all the time.  He is sensitive to the feelings of others around him.  He is understanding of people.  He is forgiving.  He likes building things, but he doesn't have to be good at it.  He is idealistic and rational.  He would be prepared to encounter my irrational defense mechanisms.  He is somewhat aggressive.  He writes out text messages.  He's good at checking up on me via text.  He would be an amazing kisser and snuggler.  He would have a steady sounding voice.  He would wait a long time to drop the L-bomb.  He would like traveling.  He would have friends, who aren't douchebags.  He could meet my friends without it being awkward.  He would be trustworthy.  He would want to talk about things.  This would be the perfect guy.

There's a straw for this kind of thing

1.  Ginger ale-- Woke up with a tummy ache.  I have enough stomach problems, that this would be incentive enough.

Ginger.

2.  Cream limoncello-- I'm not exactly set on this recipe, but my friend's fiance was giving me advice to regular limoncello and I'm looking into making cream limoncello, (perhaps, I will try arancello eventually).  We picked up my bridesmaid's dress yesterday in Jersey, and stopped by a liquor store for everclear (they don't sell it in PA, lamesauce).  He told me it takes six weeks to make his version of limoncello.

Lemon battery.

3.  Bloody mary-- I was on a flight from Rome to Frankfurt.  The flight attendant gave me salt and pepper for my tomato juice.  I thought this was so weird... but like a delicious gateway into the realm of things made with tomato juice.

The urban legend kind.

4.  Root beer float-- I've never had a root beer float.  Yes, I am ashamed.  I've had coke floats, but never a root beer one.

Since 1904!

5.  Root beer--  According to the website, "In 1960 the FDA outlawed sassafras because it contains safrole, which was proven to cause cancer in lab rats.  The primaryelement in the root beer flavor today is wintergreen."

http://archive.worldhistoria.com/  I skimmed this archive of a history forum... Some interesting things.

Search Keywords

Approaching the age of 25...

Enough of my friends are approaching the age of 25 that when we end up having too much to drink we end up getting serious and talking about the future (not the imaginary future that we came up with on high school career counseling day, but the "actual" impending future).  Normally, this doesn't freak me out since I've got enough plans for myself.  When I'm with other females, I can't normally take the mid-20's freak out as seriously.  I assume that it's the nesting phase talking again.  After all, I'm the one who's always saying, "Guys, we are living into our 80s nowadays, let's reassess our anxiety."  But I guess, for women, our reproductive organs do have a timeline so I don't blame any of us who want to be mommies one day for the occasional freak out.  So when on Christmas I was Hoegaarden/Heineken/Yeungling-guzzling with my guy friends and the banter got serious, I was a little taken aback.  Okay, fiiiiine…. like lots taken aback.

One of my friends getting his PhD was explaining how he couldn't afford to get his girlfriend a ring in the next four years while he is living off stipends.  Another one admitted to a dilemma; he has a degree and wants to continue his education and become an attorney, but he has a girlfriend who is very traditional and wants to get married right away after she's done school.  Someone else was having a bout of relationship problems, and was ultimately trying to decide whether he could see himself proposing to this girl or not.  Folks, it appears that we are approaching this time of our lives.

I mean, I saw it coming… But did I really SEE it?  If this love/beast-themed blog hasn’t given you the hint, that I am somewhat a romantic, then I should inform you: I have tons of romantic garbage in my head.  I totally fantasize about my partner-in-crime: companion, lover, and hardcore snuggler.  Over the summer, I went to get my palm read by the lady on 5^th & South, (I could go on about my interest in psychic phenomenon/aliens/ghosties, but maybe in another post?), and she called me out on my fluffy brain.  She told me I was “looking for a husband,” not a boyfriend.  My eyes must’ve twinkled at her mention of relationships.  Whatever.  She caught me.  Call it gypsy magic, call it reading body language.

I’ve tried the casual thing.  I hate it.  I don’t understand how people can go months “hooking up,” “hanging out,” or any other euphemism for getting more than friendly without ever bringing up the possibility of maybe having a future together.  It’s just not my style.  I hate wasting time, and I don’t want to waste someone else’s.  I’m sure other people can do the casual thing.  It’s definitely more convenient, if it doesn’t work out, no one has to know it ever happened.  But with all the benefits, I know I am not programmed for it.  That was the problem when I experimented with that sort of thinking, it’s not my kind of thinking.  I am pretending.  I push the “I’m young” angle way too much, for someone who actually believes it.  There were times when I couldn’t believe the stuff that was coming out of my mouth… ugh.  I felt like an emotional invalid.

Whether or not my anxiety is premature, I have a vision.  I want to fall in love with someone as ambitious as I am.  I want to clap the loudest when he gets a promotion/accolade/a new haircut (?!), and I want to know who’s clapping the loudest whenever I accomplish something.  This someone will want to raise a family.  (Note:  There is nothing more heartbreaking to me than a guy who says that he doesn’t want kids.)  Someone who is smart and charming and will be a good dad.  Someone who believes in kindness and following his heart.  I want someone silly and unconventionally good-looking.  I want to have a great time wherever we go, whether it’s dancing crazy at a show or sitting at home watching movie after movie drinking wine out of plastic cups.  Then one day when we’re old and laying under our electric blanket together, we can look back on the years we’ve had together, all the sacrifices we’ve made, and still, never think to change a thing.  (My friend told me he thought I should make a list of the things I want in a partner.  While this isn’t the list, my friend’s suggestion is responsible for this bit of the post.)  I used to be weird for thinking about the future like this, but now, it’s okay.  I’m not the only one.  That’s the weird part.  This is the time when we’re thinking of these things to ensure perfect bliss in the decades to come. 

I went to Christmas service with my family.  Afterwards a friend of the family approached us to wish us a “Merry Christmas!” and introduced me (we’ve already been “introduced” many times) to her son.  He’s about to finish law school, and well, his mother is freaking out.  She had the mercy to be a bit subtle about it, but the look of discomfort on his face...  I can’t be the only one she has tried to pull the love-connection with.  He’s probably been through this enough times with other acquaintances his mother finds to be acceptable wifey material.  I went home, and told my mother how awkward it was to be treated like cattle.  Instead of being any kind of sympathetic, she said, “Maybe, hopefully, it will be you two.  They’re a good family.  You come from a good family.”  I was dumbfounded.  How long before my mother meddles?  Who else is placing bets on my uterus?  After some prying, my mother admitted that there are some other ladies waiting for me to graduate so they can toss me around, and perhaps I just might stick somewhere…

The pressure is on.  But the pressure is taking the magic away.  My friend said the most logical way he sees a relationship working out is if two people are trying to accomplish their own goals, and they can benefit from a mutual support system.  Is this what we’re grappling for?  A support system.  This makes sense to me.  Goals also make sense to me.  I’m not sure if turning a person into a goal makes any sense though.  I always imagine that I would stumble upon a great guy who I just clicked with, somehow it would be the right place and right time, and if it wasn’t, we will click enough that we’d make it the right time and place…  I must be naïve.

We’re starting to date with the goal in mind to not die alone, as opposed to fill our Friday nights.  And now, even our mothers know it.

Celebrity Martyrs.

At the Final Show.  Artturome.blogspot.com

Working from collage. 2011. Uban.

(Final state). Oil on canvas.  2011. Uban.

(First state).  Oil on canvas.  In the studio. 2011. Uban.

artturome.blogspot.com

5 Awesome Items on Sale on Etsy

I suffer from online shopping addiction...  But this stuff is really wonderful.

1.  Zombie Gnomes

2.  Fetus Specimen Jar Necklace

3.  T Rex Dinosaur Planter

4.  Krankheit Riveted Plague Doctor Mask

5. Anatomical Mermaid Women's Sweatshirt

this too shall pass

Uban. 2010.

Sincerely,

Young transient one

fuckyesjesselacey

http://fuckyesjesselacey.tumblr.com/

My heart screams for this man.  He's the number 1 on my Forgivable Five.

Mandala.

Life is strange sometimes.  Sometimes it is scary too.

I want to learn how to tell people how much they mean to me before it's too late, and they're gone.  Even if it wasn't meant to be, or even if shit gets fucked up, or even if we're human and we're just going to die anyway. I want to be able to tell everyone that I care about them and I worry about them and I like them because they are participating in my universe.  I want everyone to know that no matter how long it's been I still think about them from time to time, and I hope the Universe takes care of them and gets them where they need to go.

I put my faith into the power of the Universe.
How to draw a mandala.  Not exactly difficult, but if you need a walk through.  This gots yo back.

FML. on a train.

My flight to Rome gets cancelled because it was snowing in Memmigen.  I have to take an 11 hr train from Munich to Rome to get there early enough.  I was in a train compartment by myself, and then a girl who was some kind of ambiguous asian and spoke minimal english came in.  We closed the compartment door and decided to get some sleep.  Then a few stops later, three men get on the train, a bald shady looking Italian, an ambiguous european, and a younger Italian with headphones.  The bald Italian says, "Posto? Posto?"  He sits down.  The ambiguous European leaves the car after some stops.  So most of us end up falling asleep.  The asian girl was like completely passed out with her mouth open.  I'm somewhere in dream land, when I feel a dark shape in front of me.  I scream "Hey!" and open my eyes.  Next to me is a big African man in one of those shiny bubble jackets.  I'm confused, thinking "where did this guy come from?"  He looks confused.  The train is very dark.  I look to my purse which he's holding.  Everyone in the train looks at me.  They must think I had a bad dream.  Because the asian girl and the younger italian go back to sleep.  I am frozen.  Paralyzed.  The bald Italian guy has eyes that know something.  He looks mad, and not just because I woke him up.  Then the big African guy says something in Italian to the creepy bald Italian.  The big African guy runs out of the train compartment and leaves the door open.  The bald Italian goes after him.  There must've been more of their men on the train.  They open a window in the train car and stand by the open door of my compartment.  I'm still frozen.  It's about 5 am.  Everyone is asleep in their own compartments.  I want a conductor to come by so bad, but one never comes.  I have no idea whether they want to dangle me out of the window or if they're just feeling warm and trying to catch a breeze.  I take a moment to check for the most important things in my purse.  Still there are my passport and credit cards.  Instead the bald Italian closes the window and comes back into the compartment and he sits.  He closes the door and shuts the shades.  They're looking at me.  The big African guy is standing outside the compartment now.  Occasionally he knocks on the door signaling the bald Italian.  The bald Italian occasionally stands up.  He pretends to go to sleep.  At times he hides parts of his face when I stare directly at him.  But in the window I can see his reflection and how he's staring at me.  I still have no idea what to do. I press buttons on my alarm clock thats sitting on the table.  It's weird, but this gesture seems to confuse him.  There is an asian girl asleep in front of me.  I want to protect her, but I have no idea what to do.  Then the younger Italian guy apparently wakes up, and he leans all the way forward.  He's staring at me too.  He stares at the asian girl, and then back at me.  I realize he was in cahoots with the other two guys the whole time.  This continues for about 45 minutes until we reach the station Firenze SMN.  They exit the compartment facing me and their backs turned to the door.  The younger Italian guy exits last and looks back at me and says, "Ciao!"  I tell the asian girl to turn on the lights and to check her shit for anything missing.

Call/At Night/For Something Beautiful

Uban 2011.

Uban 2011.

Uban 2011.

Semester's over.  Final crit tomorrow and Wednesday...  I fall back into text based stuff.  Go figure... :o/ From my sketchbook then manipulated, etc.

Probably also related to my Love Letter to Paul Thek and my post about A Softer World.