My brain hurts

Last night, Dan and I went out to see Citizen Cope. Since we were told (on what we thought was good authority) when the show would start, we thought we had everything taken care of for our first time out alone together to see live music in ages.

We arrived to a nightclub door still sealed over an hour after it was supposed to be opened, froze in line a for several minutes behind a smoking guy and a spitting guy. (What gives, spitting guy? You didn't seem to be chewing tobacco, just spitting every 45 seconds.) We got in and looked around at the crowd. Five years ago, at a show like this, we would have known gobs of people. This time, it was two people. We just stared at boys in knit hats and the $70(!) sweatshirts for sale and the malingering guy with the Lowe's race car jacket. We leaned on the embossed, cracked, gold-painted plaster behind us and shaded our eyes from the illuminated advertisements all over the room.

About an hour and forty minutes later than we were told the show would start, it started. So we stayed for about forty-five minutes and left, having heard several songs we like, save one (sun is misspelled on the playlist - it's meant to be son):

The bass was too loud. The neighbors were nice enough to babysit, but they have jobs & can't stay up all night on a Sunday. I know there are people who could tell us stories about the times that shows didn't start when they expected at my old man's old live music joint, but he would have apologized. Mostly, I'm old.

Sunday inquiry

Have you ever presented yourself as anyone other than yourself on the Internet?

If so, who and why? How detailed were you?

Wipe it away

Declan stirred in the wee hours this morning, fearful and clearly upset about something.
I asked him what was wrong and he wouldn't say, only crying "it's only a dream, right mommy? It's only a dream? I want it to go away."

I held him and told him yes, it was only a dream, that we could imagine something else and wipe it away. We thought of outer space and flowers and playgrounds.

He grabbed my hand and wiped it across his forehead three times, anxious to rid himself of whatever was haunting him. Then he recovered and fell back asleep quickly.

He had no memory of it later today.

I wonder what was going on in there.

Weird Barack Obama art

Growing up in a Catholic household the 1960s, my husband says that most of the living rooms he visited as a child had pictures of Jesus and JFK hanging on the wall.

As a child of the 1970s, I don't remember any presidential administration that inspired that kind of iconic reproduction. Things have changed. The stream of Barack Obama faces printed on clothing and hats since early summer festivals this year has been steady to overflowing, many using design elements that intentionally evoke Bob Marley, Che Guevara, Martin Luther King, Jr. or Malcolm X. Apparently, we like wearing our new leader, putting forward our faith his abilities.

Meanwhile, weird art has been emerging from all corners of the Internet, putting forward its own agenda:
A lot of pundits claim that voters have unrealistic, Jesus (or Fabio)-like expectations of our new President. On first view, this illustration seems to underscore that idea. It was actually intended to poke fun at Obama supporters in Portland, Oregon this past May.
This one comes from Dan Lacey, Painter of Pancakes, who mostly paints political and celebrity figures with pancakes on their heads, although he also has some of famous figures donning jock straps, carrots and"Minnesota" toast" on their noggins. If you poke around his site, you'll find that there are a couple of other nude Obama with unicorn paintings, including a revision of this one with a leaner president-elect.
An Indiana man who calls himself the "Taco Werewolf" created a series of "Obama Taco Underwear" paintings. Over the summer, when he finished his shifts at a Mexican restaurant, Mr. Werewolf would nosh on free tacos in his underwear and watch Obama speeches, which filled him with such inspiration he was moved to make these paintings.
Last but not least, here's a camptastic one (pointed out to me by my mom), from local artist Paul Richmond. It is available as a Giclee Print on Etsy.

More pieces, strange and mainsteam, have been dutifully catalogued on a couple of blogs: the Art of Obama and The Obama Art Report.

Germs

We went to the book store a few days ago, and allowed Declan to pick out one item. He chose a stuffed white blood cell that he sleeps with now. He loves white blood cells.

Today his teacher told me that he recently explained the reason soap is good o his classmates : "it just gobbles up all of the germs."

With our fuzzy white blood cells and our new hand-washing routines, I hope this winter goes well. Since he started preschool, I've been sick three times.