So I guess Tom isn’t the only guy in the queue for Diane. Apparently she is on the prowl and everyone seems to be her next victim. I can still hear the paper crinkling from the torn photo of her and Adam on the nightstand and she has already met and established a relationship with Tom. Now she’s making googley eyes at gym-boy and going to breakfast with Steve. I guess I’ll never understand investing energy and emotion into someone only to make them inevitably disposable.
This morning I noticed she left some dirty dishes out on the counter. She must have worked late, but it’s still gross. That girl can sure suck the meat off a chicken bone (dang…that’s metaphoric). Parallel to the whole “on the prowl” attitude she’s been displaying lately. She goes through these guys…sucks them dry emotionally, leaves them to wallow, and forgets about them. From my perspective (and believe me – I’m no one to talk), it’s more about her then it is about them. Using a guy to blanket her insecurities, he distracts her from herself.
But I must say, on some level her openness is freeing and it makes me insanely jealous. There are moments when all I want to do is elate out my emotions, but I know how finicky emotions can be so I lock them away. Deep down I know it won’t last and I’ll just feel foolish in the end. But if the end is all that’s on the mind then it’s doomed from the beginning.
So Diane can mask her insecurities with some misty mauve lipstick and a nice broad man by her side.
And I’ll do the same.
So I was having dinner tonight with Jessica and memories of my overweight childhood came flooding back.
Jessica bought KFC for us because we were both working late in the office and didn’t want to fix dinner. There goes my diet!
When I was young I remember my mom giving each kid a chicken bone like it was a special treat. I am actually starting to miss my family.
KFC sure was a special treat…a treat that sends fat to places that take years to burn off in the gym. Speaking of the gym, yesterday I saw a new guy on the treadmill around 1:00. He was super cute and we made eye contact after passing by the water cooler. Next week I need to get his number! Well I better get to bed, Steve is picking me up tomorrow for coffee before another boring day at the office.
So Diane lives here now. I’m here until I don’t have to be. Her life and it’s contents embody all that I fear…contentment…commitment…routine…pastels…large wedding parties…
It’s traditional suburbia in a one room apartment.
make me vomit.
i can’t even use my alarm clock and she has silk on the bed. i mean – what the fuck!?
Her “boyfriend” Tom (who by the way…she’s been with for about two weeks???) gave her an early birthday gift of six red roses. I just want to scream “Be original!” Flowers are so over done. Maybe so over done that they are back in style? Roses are hot in 08? hmmm… I doubt Tom is aware of my trendy in 2008 list of veggies, rodents, fruits, cheeses, etc. But he sure is sweet and that’s all that matters. Well that and some spark.
I’ve been listening to too much R.Kelly lately. But I ask – is there ever too much? I didn’t think so…
Regardless. Diane has stripped my walls of personality and inserted pottery barn and dollar store chotchkies. What do they say about her? Absolutely nothing and just about everything. Up until now she has lived life by the book, done what she has because it was expected of her. From the pastel blue curtains to the blank smiles of friends. There is no punch in the gut. No love it or hate it. Just mediocrity – the scariest thing I could ever imagine.
So I had a nice time with Tom last night, but I didn’t really enjoy the movie. He is such a sweet guy, he gave me 6 red roses and said it was an early Birthday gift! I love it! They smell so good in my apartment.Speaking of my birthday…I hope you all can join me on Thursday night. Adam said he is coming to my party. I know we just broke up but it’s my birthday! Anyway, I am sure we will all have a great time. Hope to see you there!
A typical moment with my mom slides into view…she stands in the doorway as I fumble through my room in search of a bobby pin. I finally find the one that has been stuck behind my dresser for months, stick it in my hair and move on with my day. ‘Stella by starlight’ she mumbles as she walks away with a slight roll of the eyes and a wide toothy smile. Both in awe of the other. I, in awe of her order, her ease and enjoyment of domesticity – baking cookies and constant selflessness. She, in awe of my chaotic order – my seemingly adventurous lifestyle without a domestic bone in my body. I am a reflection of a path she chose not to take years prior and with a slight pause — my life becomes a ‘what could have been’. Tangibility of life enters the forefront. We build it as we go, the boundaries are fluid, constructed and defined in the moment.
And so, Magnolia builds a fiasco – a constructed fiasco – with Heidegger and 225 flexible straws. Monumental constructions, adorned arrangements, shrines. From the moment of entry she has sorted through my chaotic order with grace. Small, quiet, beautiful arrangements have been collected in place of clutter. Color-coded dots sprinkle and organize the space’s various points of interest – from long forgotten structural details to her own comments and re-constructions of my life. As much as my ghost is evident in her work, Maggie is definitely here as I live with the aftermath. Much like her, my “magnolia moments” are quiet and head-turning. At first glance (possibly even second) they are intriguing, but upon further inspection they reveal themselves to be smarter and more intuitive than anything I could have expected (and in two days!?).
The 225 flexible straws – jolted, contorted, self-supporting constructions – are woven like a threaded needle providing sustenance for the life within. The space is the cell and the straws are its passageways delivering air, life, urine? (if you can aim). But what about language? Heidegger states “man acts as though he were the shaper and master of language, while in fact language remains the master of man…Among all the appeals that we human beings, on our part, can help to be voiced, language is the highest and everywhere the first.” The structures of the straws moving through the space become the most tangible part of the piece. Magnolia bends the straws – seemingly the master of the device, but as the structure takes shape it becomes the guide to everything else. Her process is to read, ponder, build. The language goes through her and to the straws. The straws become her language.
“The work of art may thus consist of a formal arrangement that generates relationships between people, or be born of a social process; I have described this phenomenon as ‘relational aesthetics,’ whose main feature is to consider interhuman exchange an aesthetic object in and of itself.” – Nicolas Bourriaud, Post Production
Like Churchill’s War Rooms, the apartment is a frozen moment of my present, each object and it’s placement become crumbs in the trail of my lived life. The contents vomit out that which define me when i am not present to define myself. I become the artifact, the ghost, the soul of the space. This is where the conversation begins.
A mug of coffee half full (empty? nah…full) sits on the desk. A list of “to dos” only half accomplished. Dishes in the sink. Stale milk in the fridge. An unmade bed. It has become a place I sleep. Where I hang things, significant things to remind me that i once had/ still do have a life. Fragments of time. Frozen moments. Sentimental scraps. It all collects to create a vision of life.
Every other weekend for the next three months a new artist will move into my apartment and produce an installation based on their experience within the space. They will contemplate my space, my four walls, my existence as well as their own. Just as my objects spew information out to them, they in turn, push back and continue the conversation with me and my space.
After each installation, I will live in the space and document the experience through images and live-feed video. What was once vernacular becomes decorative. But it’s all decorative – from the clothes we wear, to the company we keep. Like language, it’s all just another attempt towards communication. So the conversation continues. The goal here is to re-evaluate how we interpret each other’s idiosyncrasies, habits, as well as how we define our space as “home”. Basically – how we dwell.