So, Felix has been reading a lot of comic books lately, and then Emer seems to have picked them all up and read through them as well. The down side to their shared interest is an excess of comic books strewn about on the floor. In the process of picking them up I've become distracted with the visual incongruities.
Did anyone think to tell the Hulk how unattractive that shade of green is? And is it a coincidence that much of his demeanor seems like roid rage? And all the women of these comics have the perky well rounded breasts. It's not fair, or realistic. I was at my most stupid and least focused when my breasts were in that condition.
Superman, the Hulk, even Spider man, all scratch a fantasy itch of sorts, a kind of justice for the awkward geeky boys. So where is our heroine? Where is the saggy-breasted, down trodden mother figure's alter ego, and what would it be?
Or better yet, what if there weren't an alter ego? What if her super power was her previously perceived imperfection?
Sagorilla and the swinging pendulum breasts of doom. With a quick turn of her shoulders, whole armies are decimated.
Or Stretchmark Sally, the bluish white glare of sunshine bouncing off her scars blinds people while simultaneously making them appreciate that they'll never have to see that again.
Nagalicious. Her constant nagging and reminders lull unsuspecting victims into a sleep-like stupor.
Refrigor-raider. She empties refrigerators of all but the most rudimentary and unpleasant condiments while failing to cook any palatable meals.
There might be some material there to work with.
Any resemblance between me and the fictional characters mentioned is just unfortunate and sad.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary. Cecil Beaton
I have the studio cleaned and organized better now. I'm focusing on making the space as functional as possible. I'm fired up and ready to go in September -painting and writing, writing and painting. I'm determined to make something worthwhile. I'm so tired of feeling like I'm spinning my wheels.
"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."
I have the kindling and the match at the ready. All I need is time. A month of summer left. I want to enjoy the time with the kids. I want to make the most of it, but the fighting between them all is driving me crazy.
More and more trouble getting along with, relating to, Felix. I feel almost like he's slipping away from me behind all this unpleasant behavior. I've got a number of doc appts to try and track down what's going on with him. Allergies, Acid reflux, Asperger's syndrome, Tourette's -there are a lot of possible explanations but I'm just hoping for some better guide to know how to help him.
And then underneath that, there's this lingering fear that if something is misfiring in him, that maybe that comes from me. Maybe there is a reason why I am this marginally functional creative weirdo.
And to bring it full circle, that's why I feel more determined than ever to get something done, made, pushed to better. I just really need to feel like I'm pushing towards better at something rather than stuck in mediocre.
That's all I have for now. Oh, and also I need to blog more frequently. -We'll see if I can.