sistawendy: (contemplative red)
Friday: Dressed cute because a party that I thought was that night was in fact the following night, thereby conflicting with a date. Arg!

Saturday: The Goth garage sale by consummate saleslady [personal profile] cupcake_goth et al. including the visiting [personal profile] kambriel. They did indeed sell me things - nice plates, a little black ruffly skirt, an art nouveau necklace, spider web hose, earrings, an Art With Latex necklace that I'd wanted for years - that were Good To Have. I spent exactly my budget, i.e. all the cash I brought.

On to the apartment of the Siberian Siren, where her bouncy young dog destroyed the beaded necklace I was wearing. Le sigh. But at least she & I have reserved an AirBNB and bought plane tickets for our trip to the Folsom Street Fair. We have committed. This is totally happening and I. Am. Psyched. The SS needed to hunt for deals, and she taught me a useful thing or two.

Date with the Tickler! Lovely dinner at Itto's, followed by a few minutes of ahem, then a couple of hours of the Tickler's stomach going to hell. Yes, again. It was bad: plumbing fixtures were involved. It might be worth mentioning that whatever affected her did not affect me, and we split a gazillion tapas; this isn't any reflection on Itto's, which is a fave of ours. She noted that we partook of members of the nightshade family (i.e. tomatoes), which may be yet another food allergy for her. Poor Tickler. There were cuddles and reasonable sleep.

Today: After the Tickler's deluxe oatmeal, we tried to hit the Yayoi Kusama exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum with the Tickler this morning, but when we got there at 0930, half an hour before opening time, the line was already around the block. The tickler looked for parking for a bit, but then bailed, for which I don't blame her. I still want to see the exhibit, though. It looks way cool.

Slacking, walking around Green Lake, then eetz with J & R, which I always love. I just finished making a rock-bottom-tech pinhole camera for the eclipse tomorrow.
sistawendy: (drama)
After dinner & dessert with the Tickler & friends, I went to the book launch party for Problem Glyphs by Eliza Gauger. (Her last name rhymes with "pager". I'd been pronouncing it wrong.)

Gauger is an illustrator. A few years back, she asked people to submit their problems and she would draw a sigil to fix it. Yes, that's a little bit woo, and the drawings certainly look woo with their rich symbolic vocabulary and mythological allusions; Gauger's love and knowledge of several different mythologies are deep. Gauger says that she herself hasn't been into the woo since her teens and I never was, of course, but something about those drawings makes me keep wanting more. It seems almost like engineered magic, black and white drawings that are always mirrored. She's done hundreds so far, with no end in sight.

My favorites among the sigils are the more recent ones with more details and higher concepts: a cephalopod's tentacles drawing a map of land, or a sewn-together bride of Frankenstein holding giant sewing needles with lighting passing through the eyes.

One thing that's absolutely arresting about the drawings is the problems that got submitted: everything from scholastic angst to surviving rape to mental & terminal illnesses. Gauger, who's no stranger to mental illness or sexual assault herself, says she gets migraines from reading them sometimes, which isn't all that surprising.

Like so many artists she says she doesn't like talking about her art and isn't that good at it. I can attest that the second half of that is bullpuckey. She's really articulate, both in writing and in answering questions off the cuff. I can remember oh, almost fifteen years ago when she was an irritant to the Elder Goths on the Board. She's matured a lot.

Lots of People in Black were there, a few of whom I knew. I felt almost like a big city Bohemian. I now have my copy of the book, pre-ordered way back, signed by the artist, plus a small raffle prize.

Have I submitted a problem? Yes, and you know damn well what it is. As I told her, she may have drawn the sigil without my knowledge because a) I keep finding more of them in various corners of the internet, and b) she hasn't published, electronically or otherwise, anywhere near all of the ones she's drawn. There were even some in her slide deck that I'd never seen before.

Queer? Yes. Cute? Shyeah! Available? I don't think so, and that's a damn shame, quite possibly.
sistawendy: (drama)
I took Brown Eyes to the opening of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival last night. But before I get into that, I had a little technological scare.

As I was checking my coat* and messing with my evening bag, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that I'd accidentally activated the send-handwriting-by-SMS mode on my iPhone, which I didn't know existed. I didn't think twice about it until about a minute later when it seemed that my phone was completely bricked; the screen wouldn't turn on. This was about twenty minutes before Brown Eyes was due to arrive, and I had visions of her texting me and getting miffed at my lack of response; it could have been worse, but still, suboptimal timing. I spent the rest of the night with a bricked phone, but I plugged it into the charger anyway. This morning it's right as rain.

But! Brown Eyes arrived without incident, we got in & got drinks, and like, totally saw all the art. Notable trends this year: a lot of works featuring children. Maybe it's a parent thing, but BE & I were both a little squicked. Also a relative abundance of depictions of cutty things (which freaks me out) and poky things (which doesn't, as much). They did have one retrospective section which had a couple of faves from SEAFs past. I got to show Brown Eyes a little of what she missed; she'd never been before. The eye candy of the ambulatory variety was as fine as ever - I wish I looked that good in latex - if not as densely packed as I've seen it in the past. I dunno; maybe everybody decided to go tonight instead of last night.

My favorite piece, at least for most of the night (Foreshadowing!) was "Obsession" by Olga Zavershinskaya. Lots of red in a beautifully and meticulously composed photo that speaks to, well, a lot of my desires. At $750, I seriously considered buying a print.

From the Dept. of Be Careful What You Wish For: There's a younger lady, K, whom I've met out & about. I confess to first approaching her because she appeals to my weakness for a certain physical type: she's from Iran, speaking of brown eyes. As my date & I were taking a load off for a minute, K firmly informed me that I needed to come to one of her regular get-togethers at her place, which usually coincide with either Lambert House or dinner with m'boy. She mentioned that she has a trans friend who just started to transition a few months ago, so I may go out of a sense of trans duty. K herself is... intense, perceptive, and probably straight. (She was there with a much older fella.) She has interesting things to say about the difference between how sexism manifests in the US (objectification) vs. Iran (paternalism). She says playing dumb works way better for women here than in Iran.

Toward the end of the evening, Brown Eyes and I had one more look at "Obsession" because I liked it so much, but then something occurred to me.
"Wait a minute. Those hands on her aren't hers, are they?" I asked Brown Eyes.
"Nope." The hands in question, resting on her rib cage with splayed fingers, looked distinctly masculine.
"Fuck that! That's heteronormative. I'm not buying it. I just talked myself out of spending $750!"

I hadn't slept well the night before, and informed BE that as much as I'd love for her to take advantage of me, I might be pretty useless despite my prior consumption of strong tea & yerba mate. She said it was OK, she'd had a tough day full of doctor's appointments. In fact, she'd been quiet the whole evening because, she said, she'd been preoccupied with her upcoming surgery. Aw. I hope I showed her a good time. I think she needed one.



*My leather jacket, to go with my Acres of Dead Cow outfit - over the knee Fluevogs, pencil skirt, bra, opera gloves, all black leather - as requested by Brown Eyes.
sistawendy: (weirded out)
I've lived in Seattle for over 27 years, and I just today found the biggest and best art & craft supply store I've ever been in. It's Artist & Craftsman supply, 4350 8th Ave. NE. It's huge. It looks kind of cool, especially on the outside. It's been there for twenty years. It's on the far side of a block of NE 45th St., which is the busiest automotive arterial through Seattle's U district. There's nothing on 45th to tell you it's there, but I must have walked past it several times, probably on the way to or from Much Younger Woman's.

How did I miss this? It is a source of great joy and consternation that even after all this time, Seattle can still surprise me like that.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Dinner at Cafe Ibex with the Tickler: not-bad Ethiopian food with some dishes I'd never had before, but I think I like Meskel better. Also, the service isn't great. We were the only non-Ethiopians in the joint, which didn't start to get at all busy until about 2100.

Then dancing with the Tickler last night at a big, crowded, super hippy night thrown by the Ents in Tents crew. This show had some of the best decor and other visuals I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. There were quite a few vendors selling some really nice things, too. The DJs, though? Distinctly meh, even if the Tickler liked them more than I did. Eye candy? Quite good. Happiness is having someone you can be a dirty old woman with. Not that dirty, though: when we got back to her place, her tummy started to rebel. Aw.

Bus happiness: when you get on a bus that takes you all the way from West Seattle through downtown to the north end, changing route numbers along the way, so you don't have to change buses. Aw, yeah.

Shortly after I got home, I had a work situation that lasted about three hours. Moral: automated provisioning is a good thing, so do it early in your project's history.

Met with Grenade. We have... plans for each other. Artistic plans. More or less.

I've been so all over the place this weekend that I haven't worked out, not even a walk around the lake. Time to get back on the horse tomorrow.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
I just got the photo on the left of [livejournal.com profile] seelenschwester by [livejournal.com profile] leenerella last night, and it's hanging on my living room wall. (I had to move [livejournal.com profile] ravenmimura's spoof of the famous "We Can Do It!" poster to my bedroom next to the bed, which, as I hope you'll agree, is the perfect place for it.) What really makes the Queen of Broken Hearts for me are the details, and the backstory. Now that I look at it, I love the one on the upper right even more, but I didn't move fast enough to get it. Let that be a lesson to you potential art buyers.
I'm marinating the last batch of tofu to dry as I type: just 3.5 hours for tasty vegan protein. And I'm finding it gloriously convenient that [livejournal.com profile] leenerella, [livejournal.com profile] morthael & [livejournal.com profile] icprncs, my ex, and my son's workplace are, compared to a trip from Phinney, close together in the south end. I'm slowly but surely building a mental map of the place.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
Yesterday: took the bus downtown with m'boy and transferred to the light rail to Capitol Hill, baybee, for free rides to the opening of two (2) new stations. Travel time to Capitol Hill: ten minutes from train departure to station exit.

How awesome is Capitol Hill station? Dig this: the murals at the entrances are done by local queerbo artist Ellen Forney, and the sculpture hanging above the platform is "Jet Kiss", a couple of chopped up old fighter jets painted pink that look for all the world as if they're kissing, visible in full only from the escalators. Queer enough for the Hill, but not so edgy as to arouse significant ire from squares. Well played, Sound Transit art-buying people, well played.

At the little street fair in front of the station, m'boy & I snarfed falafel and met up with the Siberian Siren and her sweetie, who live nearby. We lost them, however, as we headed back into the station and quickly jumped on a train to the University of Washington station, not to be confused with the existing University Street station downtown or the University District station that's under construction. (I had to explain all that to the SS.)

The Sound Transit dudes at the street fair were at pains to point out that funding for light rail extensions to Ballard and West Seattle will be on the ballot in the fall. I predict that the project will receive voter approval. Both areas currently get "Rapid Ride" bus service from Metro, like my E line only more civilized, and have seen recent booms in housing construction. Now if only they'd run a train up Aurora as I told them to...

UW Station is hella deep, presumably because the train tunnel has to go under the Montlake Cut. That's a canal, for you non-locals. If you're going to the UW Medical Center, college sportsball, or the southern half of the UW campus, that's the place to go. The U District station will be closer to the northwest corner of campus, and Much Younger Woman's place. Of course, MYW will graduate before the station opens in 2021. Le sigh.

On the way back to my lake place I took my boy to the Quad on the UW campus, whereupon stand an oval of cherry tries that bloom this time of year. Yes, there were a gazillion Asians taking each other's pictures, but that never detracts from it for me. In fact, it's nice to see the children climbing the trees, in defiance of the signs, just as my son used to.
Beers at the Cozy Nut with [livejournal.com profile] ionan and J. I got there (Surprise!) a little early and surveyed the damage from the recent gas explosion a couple of blocks away. I was astonished at how far away some businesses - including the Nut - had windows blown out and boarded up. The actual explosion site is still a muddy, debris-filled mess; they're still cleaning up. That makes me feel a little better about spending money on beer.
Today? Red Mill with m'boy at his request, and my first shopping trip for Burning Man. I... may have bought sake in too high a quantity & quality. Oops. Gotta find a local source for wearable blinkies. Display & Costume? Fry's?
sistawendy: (mad woman)
M'boy & I didn't trust yesterday's squally weather, so instead of hiking Lincoln Park with m'boy and Much Younger Woman as planned, I took just him to the Seattle Art Museum for the Kehinde Wiley exhibition. Wiley basically spoofs the canon of western art with large format, brilliantly executed oil paintings, stained glass, and bronzes modeled on early modern & medieval works - the same poses and titles, but usually modern street clothes. His subjects are nearly always people of color. (The one exception: the severed head in his "Judith and Holofernes" was a white woman.) His backgrounds are often vibrant if not actually vibrating patterns suggestive of the particular work it's based on. He did one series not modeled on specific older works where he glammed up & classicized his models, all ordinary women. The video of their reaction is priceless. See it.

Honorable mention: anti-war montages, Vietnam and later Iraq, by Martha Rosler.

Another oddity is that at the entrance to the exhibit is a sign: "Please take photos. #KehindeWiley" I spammed the hell out of my Twitter feed with them. I figure Wiley's got it coming.

After arting it up, he & I hit Wayward Vegan Cafe with Much Younger Woman by way of a make-up date. He liked it! He did not complain, even a little, and this is the kid who just whined to me a few minutes ago about having to open a bacon package with a knife. He did grumble a little, however, when I insisted on kissing MYW good night upon dropping her off. Oh, kiddo, when I meet Ms. Right you will know disgusting lesbian schmoop.

Yeah, maybe I should have worked, but work is frustrating enough and Saturday was horrible enough that I really wasn't feeling it.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Much Younger Woman and I went to the UW's Henry Art Gallery last night. The bigger space on the top floor was devoted to a retrospective of mid-20th-century German artist Franz Erhard Walther. Even though he liked to use live people as part of his art - holding up canvas, etc. - the obsessive-looking geometric sterility left me cold and the '70s color scheme made me twitchy. Much more fun was an installation by L.A. artist Pae White downstairs. It's clever, it has symbolism, it has motifs that suspiciously resemble a Pride flag, and it has what look several miles of yarn. We loved it. Go see it!

To offset all the classiness that is an art museum date, MYW & I went to her favorite place on the Ave. - Sureshot - for almond milk chai (She's vegan, remember.) and extra-louche conversation. She had more plans later that night, but to tell you the truth I wasn't too broken up because I was low on sleep. She even got me an Uber home rather than have me bus it. Aw!
sistawendy: (dolly)
I went to my fancy-schmancy holiday party for work with Much Younger Woman last night in the basement of the Hotel Monaco. She got gussied up as much as her limited budget and taste for gussying allow, and we... acted normal. I introduced her as my girlfriend to a bunch of cow orkers; we consumed prodigious quantities of tasty food & beverages from Sazerac, the hotel's restaurant; she kicked my butt at Mario Kart, which I'd never played before; we enjoyed eye candy together; and she stuck pretty close to me the whole night, which was fine with me. As far as I know, there has been no scandal. I'm only a tiny bit disappointed about that.

And because MYW is the queen of surprise, she stayed over at my place when I wasn't expecting it or I would have done more cleaning earlier. She's not crazy about my Towering Bed of Doom, but neither are the other women who've vaulted into it with me, even those taller than I am. Its one virtue is the storage space underneath, and in my little lake place that's reason enough to keep it. At her suggestion, for brunch we went to the Ballard farmers' market and got some mac & yeast - she's vegan - from the Plum food truck and serious chai from Cupcake Royale. Much tasty.

Thence to REI to gank some parking for Mourning Market. There I committed to Burning Man next year by replacing my departed Camelbak. Said a quick yeau to some lovely Goths, then went to work as promised.

My work situation - a deployment - was sorted in a little more than two hours of dubiously legal downtown parking and moderate panic. Back to Mourning Market for proper chats with Goths (shouts out to [livejournal.com profile] cupcake_goth, [livejournal.com profile] girlgoth, and [livejournal.com profile] thevfrchick), a necklace, and a tintype from Libby Buloff that is, you could say, relevant to my interests.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
About a quarter of StartupCo went to a Seattle Sounders match together yesterday. That's professional soccer, for those of you who don't know, and it was my first such game ever. It was a lovely sunny day, so I got to smile to myself when my cow orkers complained about the "heat". I have some SPF 50 left over from Burning Man, so I only managed a mild sunburn on one knee and the tops of my feet.

How did the match go? Seattle lost to San Jose, 0-2, a shellacking by soccer standards. Apparently Seattle's best players have been getting injured or throwing tantrums on the field. Even a soccer ignoramus like me could quickly tell that San Jose was playing more confidently. Upside: soccer matches don't last that long, predictably so, because the officials hardly ever stop the clock.

It's too bad Seattle picked the Pride-themed game to lose big, but it was lovely seeing the Pride flags at a pro sports event. I can't wait to see them at (American) football or basketball.

When I got home toward the end of the afternoon, just as I was unlocking my front door my neighbors invited me over for wine & cheese. Shyeah! All the ladies were dressed up and I was looking hippy, but hey, I was dressed to go to a soccer game.

It was all lovely until one of the guests, who'd had a bit too much to drink, asked me how trans women are different from Rachel Dolezal. Jesus Christ, I thought this kind of idiocy only happened on Twitter. I started to explain, but we got sidetracked. It's just as well because I wasn't doing a very good job.

In the grand tradition of l'esprit d'escalier, I offer this: Dolezal needs other black people to validate the blackness she feels is hers. Her blackness looks suspiciously like a means to an end: escape from her wack-ass fundie family. A worthy goal, to be sure, but hers is a very wrong way to go about it.

Being trans, on the other hand, is its own thing, sui generis. My parents were at least as good as average. And if I were to find myself the last woman on earth, or perhaps preferably the last person on earth, I'd still be a woman. A majority of trans people consider suicide pre-transition; I didn't, but only because life as a man felt like the world's slowest, easiest, and most probably successful suicide attempt anyone could make. I would bet you my last nickel that Dolezal has experienced nothing like this.

Boy was I glad when I needed to hit the road to pick up my son in Kirkland.

For M's Day, i.e. the holiday formerly known as Father's Day, I took my son out to Red Mill for lunch - he was working at dinnertime for the previous two nights - and thence to the Chiho Aoshima show at the Asian art museum. I thought he'd dig it more than he did, but at least he saw the whole thing.

I'm now LJing as I wait for my nails to dry, all twenty of them. They're violently pink for Pride. Happiness.
sistawendy: (blue corset)
It looks as if I'm nearly four months late to the party on this - [livejournal.com profile] sirriamnis is surely way ahead of me because her band has played there - but the Josephine, where I've been to one awesome party and a couple of truly bizarre music shows, is closed. Like CHAC before it and probably lots of other places that were more low-cost art venues than commercial concerns, it's the victim of noise complaints from neighbors.

The good news: The residents, who are all artists, aren't being evicted. The building isn't being sold or remodeled (yet). The residents are mulling plans for what they can do with that space, and there are other spaces cropping up. (See article above.)

The bad news, and plenty of it: The new spaces, possibly including the Josephine itself, won't be for music.

What did I love about the Josephine so much? The no-budget, DIY, BYOB atmosphere. The cRaZy art all. Over. The walls. The shrine to Josephine Baker at the back behind the "stage". The proximity - it was just a walk over Phinney Ridge from my place.

"But stuff like this happens all the time," I hear you say. "Why get your undies in a bunch this time?" Because Seattle is hemorrhaging cheap art spaces, and especially cheap performance spaces, especially in the constricted midsection of the city where people can live practically without cars. Those spaces have always been a big part of what makes big cities worth living in. If they go away, this town takes one more giant step toward being Bellevue minus parking.

ETA: There's a reason why nobody outside Washington state has heard of Bellevue.
sistawendy: (prabob)
I went to the Asian Art Museum, the one in Volunteer Park, and saw the exhibit of Chiho Aoshima. One of her murals is in the (affiliated) Seattle Art Museum's collection, and I was displeased when SAM rotated it into storage. So I was already a fan when I saw her work.

I'm tempted to post an art spoiler here. Aoshima may be the only artist who appeals to both Goths and anime fans: death and the afterlife are frequent themes, and they get a Hello Kitty-meets-ukiyoe treatment. Other themes? Shinto myths, farts, and anthropomorphized everything. Her murals, generated digitally and then printed, are so detailed that looking at them while stoned is either a very good or very bad idea.

My favorite piece, though, was a video loop that incorporates pretty much every other piece in the exhibit and then some, projected somehow onto a screen that's about 4m X 20m. It's so wide and so detailed that you can't watch the whole thing at once. I sat through it at least three times.

If I had several thousand dollars to spare, I'd buy her work. If she were living in Washington or Oregon and the least bit queer, I'd ask her out.

Oh yeah: yesterday was International Museum Day, so I got in for free. That kind of makes up for Saturday night's club hopping.
Had a drink afterward at Witness with the Siberian Siren. With the apparent exception of her current main squeeze, she seems to have a knack for getting into relationships with cRaZy women. It's left her a more than little wary about relationships in general. I can't blame her under the circumstances, but I really don't think that's any way to go through life.
sistawendy: (oh yeah)
Yesterday I lived up to my username and took my son to the Pop Departures exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum. Yeah, they had to have the usual suspects like Lichtenstein & Warhol, but it was a mind-expanding experience for me as well as m'boy. Go see it if you're local.

He seems to be making more of an effort to keep it together and function executively, especially since that last IEP meeting, but he's still not quite there yet. His pockets are a breeding ground for entropy, but at least he empties them now before putting his clothes in the basket.

I may have found part of the answer to why he stays up so late and needs to be dynamited out of bed: he catnaps. I caught him doing it early yesterday evening. Sure enough, when I got him out of bed at 0900 this morning, he said he got to sleep around 0130. I'm sure his mother will be thrilled to learn that she needs to police that in addition to everything else he does. I've got nothing against weird sleep habits per se, but if they're getting in the way of his school, they have to go.

Oh: he blew off Friday night with me to go to a high school football game with the neighbor boys and do a school assignment with friends the next day. Some (quasi-)divorced parents might have objected, but since he's hardly done anything social on his own initiative much less had any friends his whole life, Aspiring Ex & I agreed that this was a most welcome development and we should let it be. I could have shaken my booty on my unexpected free night, but I wasn't feeling it - too tired.
First zappy in four weeks today, due to poor Ms. Zappy's pinched nerve. She says she's going to get some professional ergonomics advice, which I believe she sorely needs, pun so not intended. Even with the long break and my being late due to walking around the lake with the Wendling this morning, she still nearly cleared my face & neck. Maybe I won't be able to fill a four-hour session by the end of the year.
In general I try not to get captured by TV shows, but I just spent this evening watching the first two episodes of Magnificent Century (Muhteşem Yüzyıl), a Turkish soap opera based on the life of Suleiman the Magnificent in the 16th century. Come for the costumes; stay for the cute leading lady who bears an uncanny (to me) resemblance to Drew Barrymore.
sistawendy: (drama)
I hit the Decibel Festival for a night of house at the Hot Creations showcase in EMP's level 3. I did dance my little white booty off to the openers, especially Shadow Child.

The headliners were Angelenos Lee Foss & Anabel Englund. (The latter couldn't look more L.A. if she tried.) Pity I didn't get to hear them together: there were technical difficulties that sent a sound guy scrambling across the dance floor as Foss held down the fort in a fashion that, well, didn't thrill me. I was tired from two successive nights of six hours of sleep, so I took that as a cue to leave, shortly after midnight. Yeah, maybe lame, but at least I had a blister on my heel when I got home. That's always a good sign.

Oh, and I got home not on the E-line as planned but courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] ionan and his lovely wife, who rolled up as I was waiting for my bus at Aurora & Denny. Naturally, I gave them my extended Decibel lowdown as payback for both the ride and the many fantastic bleepy tracks & suggestions that [livejournal.com profile] ionan has passed to me over the years.

Good: EMP has not one but three first-rate music venues of various sizes. Bad: Their drinks are priced to match. Therefore you can rest assured that booze didn't cloud my judgment of the tunes; I barely had any on principle.
This afternoon: an open house at [livejournal.com profile] evillinn and [livejournal.com profile] ravenmimura's in Lake City. The place was covered with his art, some of the smaller pieces of which he was giving away. (!) I had the perfect place on my living room wall for a cartoon with the caption "Hand Staple Forehead".

But the piece that made me ask [livejournal.com profile] ravenmimura "How much do you want for this?" was a spoof of the famous "We Can Do It!" poster from World War 2. In place of the usual wholesome female defense industry employee is a lady with long, curly horns issuing from her temples, looking back at the viewer over her left shoulder, upon which she's resting a mace. She's wearing shoulder-length leather gloves, a tattered black coat, and nothing from the waist down. The lettering in the caption is a faithful reproduction of the poster's. This print is now hanging in my living room. I told [livejournal.com profile] ravenmimura that it's a wonder all the kinky women in Seattle - and we all know there are a great many - haven't beaten his door down for prints of that.

We watched babyvision. It's nice to do that with my People in Black. The little boy tried to climb, as much as a 9-month-old can, onto my big, black equestrian boots; he was fascinated with the shiny leather. Since all the adults present appreciate nice boots, we all approved. And it's fabulous to see [livejournal.com profile] evillinn breast feeding like it ain't no thang, because it isn't.
Checked in on [livejournal.com profile] cupcake_goth because I was in the neighborhood. Really. She assures me she is eating her vegetables.

Best. Weekend. Ever.
sistawendy: (drama)
Since this weekend was a kid weekend, complete with Red Mill and Cosmos, I could only go to the Seattle Erotic Art Festival while he was at work on Saturday afternoon. Getting from Kirkland to the Seattle Center & back was hellacious due to the 520 bridge closure and construction on Queen Anne Ave., but our heroine prevailed.

My attachment to my favorite pieces wasn't as strong this year as in previous years, but I did have a couple:

David Steinberg - Dammit, I didn't write down the title and I only remember it as X and Y where X and Y are a man's and a woman's names. It's black & white photo where a nude man is doing something to a nude woman's navel - you can't see what because his hand's in the way - and she's laughing with her mouth wide open. It's a wonderfully immediate portrait, and it could only happen in a photograph.

Héctor Pineda - The Exorcism of the Heart [rest of crazy long title omitted]. This is a digital montage of a woman suspended from a burning branch in the twilight, meter-long flexible thingies protruding from between her breasts, what looks like a fire kettle in the distance, heavenly bodies, and geometrical diagrams against the stars. It reminded me of Mexican religious art, if Mexican religious art were made by a kinkster with a computer. This was the one I came back to the most.

Honorable mention: Bronwyn Dexter is a friend of Foxy, former mayor of Camp Beaverton. After pestering the docents a couple of times I found her work, and it did have a nice visual pun: a print of a woman masturbating with enough fingers to send me to the hospital (no vaginal muscles here), printed on a sewing pattern piece for a sleeve. Nyuk nyuk nyuk!
This weekend I've been wearing my hankerchief-hemmed dress, which [livejournal.com profile] sheistheweather helped me find at a thrift store years ago, with some new sandals. They're part sandal, part boot, all black and all me. I've gotten quite a reaction from them. While I was waiting to walk across Aurora, some dude in a pickup threw me the horns. I'd... never received the horns before. Then as I was walking into zappy, conversing with Ms. Zappy, two guys in a red, pimped-out SUV take a detour through the near-empty parking lot to talk at me. I didn't catch much of what they were saying - speed, distance, distraction - but apparently they seemed to think I owed them some attention. They didn't get it from me, mainly because I was already occupied. I don't know where they came from, and I didn't bother to watch which way they went. I was mighty glad when Ms. Zappy escorted my to the Sanctimobile after we were done.

Especially in light of recent events, this attention from men was... not enjoyable. I'm 46, I don't exactly have a figure to die for, and I'm not about to put myself in the middle of a het meat market. But a short skirt (or at least a skirt that looks short on a tall woman like me) and tall sandals worn in public are guaranteed get you the job of gratifying men's egos. I don't want that job, and I won't accept it.

I didn't mind when the queerish-looking woman in the Green Lake PCC complimented me on my outfit because - wait for it - she didn't radiate a creepy sense of entitlement. In fact, my first thought was, 'Oh no! My skirt's caught in my underwear again!' My son had already saved me from that once this weekend.
Speaking of zappy, I have been declared as clear as I can be for now. I can still see a handful of hairs, but they're not long for this world. On to my chest! Wait. That doesn't quite sound right.
sistawendy: (prabob)
wherein I get all Sister Wendy Beckett on your butt )
sistawendy: (contemplative red)
Christmas dinner included ham, i.e. Southern style, at my Lake Place with m'boy and Mom. (She did the cooking.) Afterwards a walk around Green Lake in the sun. When you walk three miles, you're three time zones west of home, and you're three quarters of a century old, you may be excused for falling asleep three hours before everyone else does.

Today: the Seattle Art Museum for the (mainly pre-Columbian) Peruvian art exhibit. Yes, it's lovely, stunningly crafted, and occasionally sexually explicit, but what really got to me was the number of indigenous civilizations that have risen and fallen in Peru in the last 3000 years, sometimes mysteriously. Sure, the Inca conquered the Chimú et al., but it looks as if the Mochica and the Wari, who preceded both of them, succumbed to climate change and a resulting collapse of the social order. That's something to think about as you gawk at 1500-year-old pornographic ceramics.

Yours truly got a wild hair and we three went to Red Mill for burgers because my son loves them even more than I do. So there we were, carless and busless, at the top of Phinney Ridge, while my place is at the bottom. That means a ten-block walk, which is no biggie for my son & me - his whining notwithstanding - but m'boy & I had to hold onto Mom to keep her from barreling down 70th St. I thought we could relax once we got to level-ish ground, but neau: poor Mom tripped on a sidewalk joint. I got a piece of her, but I couldn't break her fall. Luckily, she's ambulatory. For now.
sistawendy: (drama)
I had a second date with K for brunch at Cafe Flora yesterday morning. Either she's not as enthusiastic about me as I thought, or my insecurities are running amok again. Time will tell. She declines to make any dates before Burning Man, but that's completely understandable because she's doing logistics for a sixty-person theme camp - Moonrock, 9:15 & C. She didn't want to go for a walk in the arboretum after brunch, either, because she said she needed to catch up on studying because of the five days she lost to dehydration at Critical. (!) This is me, pouting.

I splurged a bit and bought tickets to two nights of the Seattle Erotic Art Festival instead of my usual one. (In the dark days before Full Time, some years I'd squeeze in a Sunday afternoon.) I love SEAF even in years like this one when it isn't a sardine scene and big damn party. The organizers this year are newish (and therefore less competent, says one of their sponsors). They've attempted to return SEAF to its roots and put on a production that's art show first, social event a close second. I think they succeeded. The quality of the work was at least as good as ever - I'm not the first one to observe that some years had too many penises - and I never had to push my way around to see the art. Some of the best parts of SEAF haven't changed, though: I wore my nun outfit on Friday night, and a woman who claimed to have gone to Catholic school asked me to spank her. Viva SEAF.

Favorite piece? "Two Thirds of a Three Way", a photo of two men, one on top of the other, and the one on top is looking into the camera. They're awful purty, and the one on top is looking right into the camera. It's funny how the pieces I like best tend not to have any visible naughty bits. There was also a series of paintings of ravers that I loved. That's right: erotica that appeals to my secret vice. One of those models looked awfully familiar, and I want a lot of what they're wearing.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
I've posted here somewhere before about the painting on a 4'x8' sheet of plywood of Batman riding a unicorn over a rainbow with two strategically placed face-sized holes cut out that's at the other end of the block where I live. Or, rather, was. As I was going for a walk with m'boy just before sunset last night, I noticed it was gone. There was a lady who lived in the house with Batman happened to be out doing yardwork, and she explained that Batman had been put there by persons unknown before she even moved in. A day or two ago, a couple of "gung ho" men had asked her if they could have it, and she said yes, since it was showing signs of age and its ownership was unclear. They carried it to their car, but it broke on the way, having stood unprotected in Seattle's climate for upwards of a year. I hope they fix Batman and stand him proudly up again.

My son doesn't understand my distress at Batman's disappearance, which is itself distressing. I know [livejournal.com profile] elspethdemina, who had me take her picture with it, and [livejournal.com profile] shivana will be saddened by the news.

Profile

sistawendy: (Default)
sistawendy

September 2017

S M T W T F S
     12
34 5 6 7 8 9
10 11 121314 1516
17 181920212223
24252627282930

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 08:09 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios