What the cluck!

So this is Carl, Cleveland's blogging opera chicken.

He's got a great back story, and is surprisingly photogenic.

Parade the Circle

Ok, so every year on the weekend that coincides with my birthday, there's this big celebration at University Circle that DRIVES ME CRAZY and I usually avoid like the plague.

So why does this weekend celebration of creativity, love, music and art make me want to rip my hair out?

One word.

Hippies.

Goddamned artist hippies.

If you do anything - anywhere - remotely creative, you'll find them.

I didn't begin to register them as a problem until I spent two years in Phoenix in the late 1990s. Arizona is like the final rest stop on the hippie highway that leads straight to California; quite a few stop to pee and realize they're out of gas and that the yurt would look good there in the shadow of the mighty saguaro and simply never moved on. It's the desert, and there's the draw of Native American spirituality, and drugs are plentiful and cheap.

I worked with hippies, I even lived with one and her daughter. She was an artist, living in the house she grew up in that was given to her when she became a mother.

Her daughter's father was a half Apache/half Navajo guitarist who also happened to be a heroin addict - with an inoperable brain tumor. He was a ward of the state when I met her and lived there, kicked out years ago when she learned he had spent the $10,000 they saved for after the baby in a short time on drugs... and guitars.

I moved in when The Little was almost three - it was fun. We had a pool and made art and generally enjoyed life. Because she had been there all her life, she was an anchor in the artist community - meaning that there were always weird sculptures in the backyard or bands practicing in the garage.

I liked her structure (thanks mostly to the needs of The Little) and we worked together, so we kept a similar schedule and had mutual friends.

But I learned quickly that hippies don't like schedules... or checking accounts... or logic. Which is why they are HIPPIES.

She kept her money in a black cat shaped candle holder called "Cat Head" because years prior she had late fees on a bank account and refused to pay, so she couldn't get another account. Cat Head worked for her because Cat Head never said no - whereas an ATM wouldn't give her $5 if she had $14 in the bank. She often kept her daughter out late so she could hang out with her after a gig - but I don't think 3 am banana cream pie at Stucky's was the best thing for a 4 year old. And I could NEVER get her to understand that it was more wasteful to turn off the AC when it was 110 degrees than to leave it at 80 during the day.

It was a good run, my time in Phoenix, but I had to get out and return the highly-strung puritan work ethic of my people in the Eastern part of the nation.

So what does this have to do with Parade the Circle....?
Hippies.

I am an artist, but was always a highly strung, get-it-done, technique-driven artist. Which served me well when I worked in museum installation or profit-driven scenic studios. It does not, however, serve me well in an environment where we all need to feel the energy, hear the paint, taste the colors and smell the universal human experience.

I tried to do Parade once before with an artist - she would tell me what time to be there - and I would show up. To an empty tent.

After a week of not getting anything done and her telling me to come back at 10 pm because that's when the spirits toast her inner joy sandwich and spreads it with create-o-butter made from the love of art beasts, I decided to JUST GIVE UP.

So ever since I have had this tremendous chip on my shoulder about Parade - except I am prying it off and giving it a whirl with some friends from the UU.

Artists, both of them, but both professional and "into" responsibility.

So I'm trying this again - but I REFUSE to taste the colors.

Prom!

Saturday night I went to Prom.



It was the Beachland Ballroom's third annual prom event: all the kitchy fun without the crippling adolescent self-hatred.



We had a blast - most people showed up in prom attire - I went in tails and my friends all wore formal wear from past weddings, borrowed or thrifted vintage.

D went as far as to buy a corsage - THAT is dedication.



The tunes were mostly 50s and 60s rock - the only thing missing was some 80s tunes between live sets and a blue Olan Mills style background for photos.

Also, they had this guy perform wicked yo-yo tricks, and I'm proud to show off my camera's video capabilities.
Not entirely NSFW - Lots of drunk people saying "Fuck Yeah!" everytime he releases the yo-yo.

bad bad bad-ity bad bad bad

I canNOT make this a habit.



Deeeeelicious sugar cookie and grande iced green tea no fat no whip shake yo booty and dance dance latte.

UPDATE: For the record, I am somewhat of a sugar cookie connoisseur. It's a recent development, in the last 5 years or so, following swiftly on the heels of my new found interest in marshmallows and cotton candy (hated the stuff as a child - I was all about the savory, then).

That said, I try glazed sugar cookies whenever I stumble upon a bakery and I'm surprised and somewhat embarrassed to say that the Bucks of Star's newest cookie beats almost any I've had in recent months: Zoss, Heinen's, even Sweet Mosaic's (say it ain't so!). And I know this is a recent change. I had their penguin cookie at the holidays and it was stale and sawdust-ie with a *just* hint of cardboard. I don't know if all the internal corporate restructuring has brought about this new dawn of sugar cookies - but as they say, the proof is in the sweet sweet perfectly crumblie cookie.

I hesitate to call it "perfect," but I must indulge and say, for my own personal tastes, the texture, flavor, sweetness, size and overall product is as close to the phantom sugar cookie of my dreams as I will likely ever come.

I will, however, redeem my "buy local" and say - for the record - that Sweet Mosaic's Ginger Chewy beats all takers in all contests - except maybe their gingerbread layer cake with cream cheese frosting....

Tremont evening

Two weeks ago I came home from visiting my parents and just needed a beer.
Lucky for me, I live in the perfect neighborhood for an impromptu dinner with a neighbor on a cool spring evening.

This is why I love Tremont. I didn't need to schedule anything, move my car or get one of those buzzing pucks you get when you wait for a table at Olive-Lobster-Apple-TGIFrozenFood-igans.

St. John Cantius from a porch.



Radke Mural at on SouthSide patio (actually on Fairfield Market)



I used to work with a local iconographer - Eikona Studios - I saw the light was on and we stopped in to say hello.



Works in progress (I really miss the work - trying to see if I can come back to do some gold leafing...)



Overall a good night - a quiet night.
Sometimes it's hard to live in a neighborhood that's a destination, but that Sunday night, I remembered exactly why I've been here for almost a decade.

Ick factor: HIGH

An exhibit at MoMA is exploring the intersections of art and science - one of the exhibits - a "living" and growing collection of mouse stem cells fashioned into a teeny coat - was growing too quickly and had begun clogging the incubator.

The curator decided to pull the plug - NYT article here.

I don't know how I feel about this, but if art is meant to provoke thought and reaction - they have certainly succeeded.

What's uncomfortable for me regarding this and with other similar projects (Alba the glow in the dark bunny) is the intent.
And I wonder if that's really a logical thought process.
Because my mind immediately did this when I read the article:

Experimental processes + life forms ------> Scientific breakthrough = Good
Experimental process + life forms --------> Artistic statement = Questionable

Does that mean that I think a negative outcome caused by experimental processes is less heinous if it was in the name of science than in the name of art - because I think that's what creating the high ick factor for me - the potential negative outcome.

So do I think that scientific innovation is more worthwhile than artistic innovation...? Do I think artistic innovation is for sport as opposed to true learning...?

Hmmm....

An open letter to Fear

Fuck you, Fear.

Get the hell out of my life. You've caused enough damage.

You nudge your way in, find tight little places to hide and lurk in the darkest corners, so I can't see you. You arrive in stealth and justification - wearing a mantle Self-Preservation and Preparation.

But you're really just Fear.
Plain old ugly, manipulative, emotionally terrorizing Fear.

It's always the same with you isn't it. You arrive unannounced, and being good citizens, we invite you in - offer a cup of tea - indulge your whims, pamper you, feed you, let you take over our homes.
"Just be careful," you remind us.
"Don't get hurt," you whisper.
"Let someone else fail" you suggest.

It makes sense, at first. But then you always go too far. You make up stories and point out actions that may or may not be problematic. You tell lies about those closest to us and teach us to ignore the potential of those we've yet to meet with stories of unimaginable suffering. You remind us that we're not in control and blind us to the fact we are, indeed, responsible for our actions... and reactions.

But I've had it with you - too many have kept you around for too long.
You wreak havoc through paralyzing stalemates.
You hypnotize those who need a crutch to lean on in difficult times.
You're a leech - a harpy - a faceless horror that won't let things be.

Leave - NOW - and know that you are no longer welcome here.