Teef

Some of us have teeth while others of us have teefs. This woman, an important figure in the world of contemporary art, has the latter. I don't doubt she had the money to fix those things, but when you come into the world like that, live through the childhood teasing, tolerate the quiet, behind-your-back adulthood teasing, I suppose you might build up something of a strange pride around sticking with them for so long. Through thick and thin, out and about.

"Yeah, that's right. I've got teefs. And my picture is in MOMA next to the Matisses. Where you at?"

Happy Special New Year

I've been away. I always had the wrong computer with me. Since we last met, I moved voices, about 100. I effectively structured arguments. I had a failed SI joint. I tried good coffee in bad places and mediocre coffee in nice places. I lost time while wearing a new sweater, Maker's in an espresso cup is what I heard. My resolve to find a new money maker for next year was further solidified. I started dreaming again, remembering them, really, I guess is what it is. I have one new nemesis.

And now I'm back, hookers.

The theme for this month is special-ness. The first picture speaks for itself. The second features a man speaking for his special kid who ruined graduation.

Today, today!

Thank goodness for red lights. He looked away when he saw me with the camera.

There's more of that red stuff over to the left, but you can't see it. Go to 6th between Folsom and Mission to take in the whole mural. It's so cool. You've got all that geometry happening to the left and right, and then an explosion of grafitti in the middle. It's all grafitti, I know, but the style in the middle of the piece is more traditional.

I hope no one does anything to it. Our stupid kids who call themselves taggers who only scribble on notebook paper and the back windows of MUNI if they're brave enough like to show how down they are by writing "Toy" across pieces that they deem inferior - not art, not grafitti, not good. Silly little teenaged minds. Lots of fronts. Who they really are, no one knows yet. I hope they don't destroy this piece.

Good day in the city today. I saw a bunch of Miro pieces I'd never seen before in a place I'd never been when, really, I was only in town to look for boots. The ceiling was made of gross old squares of who knows what; some were stained. I felt sorry for the paintings. But I was happy to see the work. Alex called while I was at the gallery. He has a backyard now.

It was warm and hardly windy, even downtown. Thank you sweet jeebus.

I've given my heart to music and art! O Millaud, o Maillol.

So I says to Madge, I says...