Thursday, February 26, 2009

She said: "You know, men are such slow learners. They really are. They do the dumbest things sometimes, like allow themselves to be targets in some war with someone they don't even know. And the way they think that just smiling will get some old gal to fall all over them. The men around here drink a good bit and everyone knows that's not smart; to go around all smelly and talking all that trash and thinking that some girl is gonna think that's cute or something. Men smoke when they drink and get all smelly with the smoke and then want someone to kiss or hug them like a child. Men get themselves all puffed out and try to make themselves look different than what they are. They cuss a lot, too. If there's anything I hate worse than anything, its a potty mouth. I don't know what it is about men that makes them the way they are. Ya know, by the time they "get it", its time to die."
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Monday, February 23, 2009

He said: "You know, a lot of people are very good at what they do. They work hard at it and over a long period of time they get real good at the one thing they like to do. Me, I'm not like that. I'm all over the place, I guess you'd have to say. I do a little of this and a little of that and at the end of the day, I'm satisfied usually. I can't say that I'm really good at anything in particular, but I think I'm kind of good over a broad range of stuff. At lease, good enough for me. I admire the folks who are really focused and who are really good at the one thing that they love to do. Me, I'm different. I don't really have just one thing I do. Me, I'm focused elsewhere."
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Tuesday, February 17, 2009

He said: " I am in pretty good shape, I think, for my age. I don't have anything seriously "wrong" with me. I can do, and do do, almost all of the same things I did when I was in my 20s or 30s. I eat what I like to eat, but not in excess. I drink a little. I walk and bike and throw a ball around. I have friends and I have lovers. My children are well on their way to a good and happy life. Oh, I've got a couple of scars here and there. There is one from the car crash, but it seems to fade more as time goes on. No real medical things going on; no cancer, no "taking things out" or "putting things in". All and all I feel OK and I don't really think about this body too much. Its just the thing that carries the rest of me around and it is nice to get around. I notice parts getting grey and other parts getting a little lower down than they use to be. But, ya know?, I live in this body but I am not only this body. I'm more than a body. I take care of what I have because I want to keep on being, not just a body, but a man; a mobile man."
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Friday, February 13, 2009

It was a moment. It was a time. It was a land far away. It was a place of comfort and of family and of time shared, fleeting, moving away way too fast, forever. It was picture in a frame on a wall. But before that it was a moment on a sidewalk by the sea.
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Wednesday, February 11, 2009

She said: "We caught her on the security camera as she crossed the plaza after the shooting. I have to say: she was a cool killer. She didn't run, but merely walked away as if nothing had happened. Of course, all around her people were screaming, but she managed to disappear into the crowd and then from view. The camera image gives us some information about her height, weight, etc. and we will eventually find her and she will be brought to trial, but for now, this is what we have: a partial image of a person in heels and a few cigarette butts tossed on the plaza on a bright day in February, after she killed him."
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Monday, February 09, 2009

She said: "It just seems to be rolling down hill in some uncontrolled way. I really don't know how else to say it. Everything seems to need repair; everything seems used up and thrown away right where everyone can see it. When something breaks down, its just hauled around back and dumped there. It's a disgrace! I'm old enough to remember when we built things to make life easier. We built roads which made it possible to have communities with schools that the children could walk to. Of course, we built the schools, too. And the bridges that needed crossing. The housing was sensible because people in general were sensible. Now it just seems to me that all of that effort is being thrown away. The roads aren't being kept up. The schools are not being kept up. People don't seem as happy as they could be. America looks tired, used up and in need of repair."
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Thursday, February 05, 2009

She said: "I think that my art is about the fiction of reality; the way that nothing becomes something and then turns away. It's about the motion of ideas and slight turns of events that blow through the curtain of life that surrounds us. It's about the ticking of a clock that sits on the mantel in another room; about the act of surrender; about motion that lives within stillness. It is about what just happened a moment ago, an act that is now only history. But mostly, what I try to depict in my pictures is nothing, or no thing, that happens right after one story ends and another begins, because within that stillness lives God."
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Monday, February 02, 2009

He said: "She called to me in the airport. Her plane was coming in and I was waiting for mine to land and pick me up. It was snowing in Washington, DC, so everything slowed to a crawl. She was coming to DC for a major retrospective of her paintings in the East Building. We had known each other since High School and were both artists, 'tho she was much more accomplished than I. In any event, as there was a few minutes before she could collect her bags and have the car brought around, we sat and talked about art. 'It is sad and funny, both' she said. 'When a work is done and someone comes to collect it, I hide. I can't be there when they take the painting away. Once it is gone, I am happy, but I still experience grief. Everything changes at some point in an artist's career, don't you think? When it was once fun, it now is a duty. Once a painting sells, the gloves appear, followed by insurance papers. Everything changes. I become blind to the work and try to imagine what it will look like in the future. What will my children look like then?' "
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