I parked at the gym today in a parking spot that overlooks a 20 foot vertical drop. I have a manual transmission so with my foot on the brake I engaged the parking brake but to my horror the truck kept rolling towards the edge of the cliff. I pulled hard on the parking brake lever while stomping the brake pedal but it did no good.

I was in the process of hurling my body out the driver door (while yelling “HOLY SHIT!” at the top of my voice) before the truck went off the cliff when I realized that both brakes were working perfectly- the car beside me was backing up.

During all of this the only conscious thought in my mind was “what a horrible place for both brake systems to simultaneously fail.”

But ultimately no harm was done and I shakily went in to run on the treadmill.

L.A. Traffic

I really thought traffic in D.C. was worse. California people talk about it MUCH MORE though.

I am insanely paranoid about traffic myself and I plan my entire life around avoiding rush hour. (Around here it is not such an issue.) So I can relate to their demented chatter.

Narrative Paintings

I think the current narrative paintings (paintings that tell a story) are just part of my normal cycle of change. I see them as a backlash to the work I was doing as a grad student. The current art buzzword for this is “reinventing myself” which I think is pretentious and annoying because my sense of self is stable and not bound up in my art. All it really means is that I get captivated by an idea for a while, and then I get bored with it and move on to something else.

As a grad student I was mostly concerned with developing better technique. I also wanted to avoid the smarmy metaphysics that plagues the school. You know what I mean: artist statments that claim you used blue because it was Tuesday and Tuesday reminds you of Marilyn Monroe and blue was her favorite color– but only for shoes.

The most practical approach to meet these goals was to paint objects- still lifes, human bodies, landscapes. I learned a lot doing it and my thesis project was a series of still lifes.

But right now I am tired of all of that and I crave to use my imagination. Thus: narrative paintings.

Quarantine

I saw this movie tonight on Netflix and I thought it was really good. It was scary and suspenseful, but even better, it was logical. And I thought the acting was convincing and avoided being melodramatic. The quarantine itself raises an interesting ethical dilemma: I was sympathetic to the characters trying to escape the disease but I did not want them to get out of the building to spread the illness. Then it would be just like 28 Days Later! Or the Decameron. Yuck.

Netflix

Netflix has really stepped up their customer service. For a long time, it took about 4 days for me to get a new movie but now that’s down to two and they finally enabled instant viewing for Macintosh. (Not my ancient Mac but that’s another story. 4 years and counting.) Today they randomly sent me an extra movie since one I had ordered might be delayed. Sweet!

Netflix Again

Evidence that our language is always changing: “I saw this movie tonight on Netflix.” That is not a normal sentence but I use it all the time.

Spanish Language News

I got tired of CNN.com’s banal reporting, cheesy writing, and whiny, patronizing obsession with the financial crisis. I hate all those articles that use the first person plural to either blame or exonerate the American people at whim. You know: “We” were doomed by evil, greedy executives or else “we” got ourselves into this mess by purchasing BMW’s with home equity loans on our foreclosed houses and ENOUGH! I can’t take it any more.

So I switched to the Spanish version of the BBC which is a completely different universe of reporting entirely. First, the articles are actually analytical. Second, I learn things I never thought about, such as how hot the Argentine president is. Third, I get to practice my Spanish. It is wonderful.

And that is all I have to say. The End.

I have read a lot of dreary articles about the economy lately. Things do look bad today, but I look forward to a bright future when I can be scalped by taxes and astronomical inflation in order to support my parents’ generation in their old age. (I don’t want to retire myself, I just want to work hard to pay off my student loan by the age of ninety.)

I don’t have any practical advice about the economy, needless to say, because nobody does.

But in hard times, I like to remember the classics.

In Pride and Prejudice, the Bennett sisters struggle to find rich husbands who will enable them to maintain their privileged, entitled lifesyles, and eventually they do. In the meantime, they enjoy many fun country pursuits, such as long walks, horseback rides, time spent with the family, dance parties, and tea.

In Jane Eyre, impoverished, hard-luck orphan Jane fights her way from an abusive childhood to coveted jobs as schoolteacher and governess, eventually inherits some money with which she is generous, and marries a rich man with an ugly face, a rocking body (except that he is missing one hand), and a kind heart. Jane too enjoys the simple things in life, including gray clothing and love affairs with married men.

Or think of Don Quixote, who goes crazy from too much reading, comes to believe in magic, goes on a quest, and fights windmills after mistaking them for giants. He enjoys the friendship of a faithful sidekick, plenty of sunshine and red wine, many adventures, and unrequited love for farm girls. But his story ends sadly when he dies of grief after losing touch with the happy world of his imagination.

The books don’t focus on the economic climate but I think we can read between the lines here and take a lesson from Jane Eyre: If you don’t get invited to dances, or if you do get invited but when you arrive people make fun of your drab clothing, at least you can retreat into books until you marry someone rich.

Aka Velvet Elvis.

That’s what I’ll be painting on this canvas, or rather, stretched velvet.