Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Thursday, September 11, 2008

turpentine and dandelion wine

Sorry I've been away so long, guys. I have been busily exploring my new hometown, its surrounding areas, and most enthusiastically, its bars. Amazing how much boozin' these folks manage to do in a place where you can't even walk into a 7-11 and buy yourself a beer. But drinking isn't all I've been doing. There's more. . .

Last weekend The Man and I went down to the Peddler's Mall -- kind of an upbeat craphole of a flea market, housed in a strip mall and populated by the kind of people who would put up this sign, quoting the 8th Commandment, and then sell a t-shirt that reads, "ASS. The other vagina." (There was also a shirt that said, "Blonde: The other white meat," right next to one that said "SOCCER MOM" in a cutesy font surrounded by daisies and butterflies and puppies.) Go figure.

And speaking of weird fundamentalist zealots. . . I have to say I haven't been exposed to them a whole lot since my arrival here, as The Man's art department cohorts tend to be pretty liberal folks; so when I was confronted with this horror show right around the corner from our house, it was a shocking reminder of just exactly where I am. Middle America. And sometimes, it ain't pretty. My friend KMS pointed out how they like to use pictures of full-term fetuses to protest first trimester abortions. I have an even bigger problem with the fact that a six-year-old child is being used to hold up the fucking sign.


In other, more divertive news, Brother J (a.k.a. The Outdoorsman) and I went out exploring in the woods one day last week; we caught a nice buzz and hiked to hell and back, he got poison oak and I got 5,000 lacerations from thorny plants because I am an idiot and wore shorts. As a side note, if you ever decide to go on a reckless drinking tear in the Kentucky backwoods with a fellow miscreant, Frank Black's "Dog in the Sand" is a damn good soundtrack.

We didn't have any firearms on us, but this sign made us wish we had.

The weirdest thing about this river was that it didn't have any alligators in it.

The butterflies in Kentucky are cuter. Prove me wrong.

The houses are cuter, too!


I've been teaching my new housemates how to play dominoes, and in turn they've been teaching me how to fight zombies and drink Yuengling from a can. Hey, when you have to drive 25 minutes to buy overpriced beer in the next state, you can't afford to be all choosy.


Some observations, some random declarative statements:

- I know a lot about a lot, but I don't know jack when it comes to the visual arts, which is why I'm so excited that I'm suddenly surrounded by people whose lives revolve around making, learning about and teaching art.  Seeing the intersection of art and academics is neat.  Of course, when it comes to dinner party discussion I haven't been able to contribute a whole lot, but I'm soaking up as much as my tiny pea brain can handle.  Onward!

- Coming from another relatively small town, I'm used to heavy sledding when it comes to attempting to purchase, say, some household items or an article of clothing.  There's just not much to choose from when it comes to shopping.  BUT, in Florida it was always nearby; here, there's nothing for miles and corn-filled miles.  This, in addition to the fact that I'm kind of poor these days, means that I am forced to do the majority of my shopping at Wal-Mart.  I'm sure I don't need to explain why this gives me the heebs on several levels.

- I think it's fair to say I've pretty much cornered the market on happiness.  I'm a lucky woman.

- "I love drinkin' beer and scrappin' metal.  Wanna date me?"