Latrine, Video Installation, and Wickletisch: Bathroom's Greatest Hits

If you don't understand its meaning, "wickletisch" sounds hilarious --and if you stretch it, kinky. It actually means "changing table," as I learned in the bathroom in Arby's in Hays, KS. Additionally, even though the word was printed on an actual changing table, Ruth and I still consulted a German-speaker or two for their expert translation.

Another distinctive road-trip break was the one spent in the facility at the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art. My art-consuming experience was interrupted by the sudden and urgent need to do the opposite of consumption. This was probably a response to Truss Thrust's video installation called something like "Little Man"... or to Chipotle. One experience or the other reminded me necessarily of the objectivity of my physical being.

Other hits like the trail latrines and the all-American rest-stops are deserving of more than these little words can offer. Perhaps a score from one of you musical folk? Bill, what do you have up your poncho?

Another reason I would truly appreciate your contribution of a celebratory plumbing song is because I spent a large portion of today keeping my apartment in Maryville from flooding toilet-first. Fuck! It's in a basement, and for no reason at all, the toilet began filling up with water, and I had the joy of scooping it out into a bucket. Fuck again! So, if you would be so generous...

Happy Halloween! Boo!

The Fastest Karma is when you write a nasty post about someone and they do a very nice thing for you within that very week and you feel bad. Rip-off girl, from here on out, is named Amber. She is actually quite nice (I've always known this). And that is why, when faced with the dilemma of how to get two carless Austrians to Kansas City from Maryville, I called Amber. She commutes to St. Joseph (the half-way point)daily, and when I got her on the horn, she of course was more than willing to cart the Austrians to St. Joe so that I could meet them and take them to Colorado. We met Thursday night at Perkins- oooh la la! And chatted at length over coffee, until... (sappy music now please) I realized that I actually liked Amber-- as a person!
Additionally, I am slowly getting over my urge to horde ideas from the world. It makes my brain hurt. It is much nicer, I think, in dialogue.
By the by, I have my first real job interview tomorrow morning at the Kansas City Artists Coalition. I am excited!
Cheers.

Very Rocky Mountains

Can I tell you that my space bar is stuck? I can use it only with strained effort. I have to abuse my keyboard in a very special way to whip out these words. I am reminded of music lessons about the importance of the rests as a vital part of the sound. I never worked so hard to make not-words.
So I have returned from an adventure in Estes Park, Colorado. I went with Ruth, Bill, Ruth's Australian friend Alana, and two Austrians from my art class, Herbert and Josef. We stayed in Ruth's (legendary) condo which was fantastic. I enjoyed waking up there to the sight of Aspen leaves fluttering and to the sound of a georgeous brook.
We all hiked and climbed a bit. I liked the climbing on rocks more than is socially or physically acceptable. I gave in to the rocks once the first day and twice the second day. They wanted me to play with them!
The mountains were breathtaking as well. Truly. I had a distinct bout with lightheadedness as we went up to 11,000 ft. or so. When we hit the Alpine Tundra I was definitely experiencing the scenery on a different level. Everything was totally georgeous and mind-boggling. Alana (very cool girl) said her brain felt squished. Or was it squishy? Basically, Mountains=not much air= Kansas girl got high in the Rockies. I alternated between 1) enjoying the mountains almost too reverently and 2)being internally paranoid that I would pass out or just plain not survive. My heart was pumping so hard. Good times!!

Please look forward to the following episodes:

"The Fastest Karma: Rip-off Girl Saves the Day"

"Latrine, Video Installation, and Wickletisch: Bathroom's Greatest Hits"

And please visit Jen's blog, it is beautiful!

How do you get 2 Austrians with a velocity of zero from position A to destination B, which is approximately 92 miles from position A? Certainly I would not suggest the Greyhound.
Peace.

"That's Why You Get Paid the Big Bucks:" How to Make Your Nude Model Feel Slutty

All you have to do to make a nude model feel slutty is to remind them that they are being paid very well by the hour to do what you want them to do. Spread eagle, whatever. That's what $10 an hour in Maryville will buy you. Now keep in mind that this job is the highest paid job on campus. Also, I think people are under the impression that nude modeling is easy. Well, it is actually quite strenuous to hold yourself still. I've tried it. And if anyone ever talked to me while I was naked the way I talked to the nude guy last week, I'd think I was in a red light district.
Julie: Allright, let's try a new pose.
model (chunky guy named Sam): Ok. I'm feeling kind of tired today. I might be getting sick.
Julie: Do you want to do a reclining pose on the couch?
model (excitedly): Yes!
model arranges himself in static, corpse-like position
model: Is this okay?
Julie: Well, could you maybe twist your spine a bit and rest your head on one arm?
model: well maybe not for the whole time (25 little minutes!). It would fall asleep.
Julie: Well, THAT'S WHY YOU GET PAID THE BIG BUCKS!
grumbling and gasping ensues until model gives in and admits that he feels like a prostitute.

THE END

Someone is Stealing My Subject Matter

The following post comes with the disclaimer that I am terribly snobby when it comes to art but I don't care because I'm usually accurate. If you have not figured out yet by my informative profile, I am currently an art and English student.

At any rate there is a girl in the art department who is ripping off my work and I hate her for that. The imagery in her photography is identical to the imagery I have been working with. What really burns me about this is that I put at least two semesters of crazy thinking and reading, blah, "development" into the selection of my imagery. Then she saw My stuff in My studio. She fawned over it in hideously stupid terms, to the tune of "Wow, Julie, these photos give me the warm-and-fuzzies!" Within a week, voila! Her sucky renditions were blatant. Even though she apologized to me after the fact for "using" my idea, she continues her quest to imitate.

This initial instance happened over a year ago, and we have been having little art wars ever since. Whose work is more innovative? Luckily and unluckily for me, she is stupid. So my photos/drawings are usually better. But it has happened that I received credit for her work --which is really my work anyway, right? And we are back to vomiting in unison. Especially vomitous was her mid-term work in which she copied from my newest work. Double, triple copying. Sorry no visual is available at this time.

Would it be so difficult for her to do her own fucking research and copy an established artist? As far as my own rules of conduct, I have no idea what type of action is or isn't appropriate in this scenario. I am trying to follow the line "you can't control the world, you can only control yourself" and ignore her, but it isn't working. If this were in English-land, she'd be a plagiarist and kicked out of school! I want to take back what she stole but I can't. She sucks and I want her and her "warm and fuzzies" to hop in the suck-mobile and take advantage of open enrollment at a little school for little people. What to do?

Thanks Bill for hyping up my shit. Incidentally, your blog is fantastic. If I knew how to make a link to your blog, I certainly would. I am still waiting for Ruth, my blog-mother, to teach my blog how to be cool.
I am doing something I'm not supposed to be doing, and that is posting on my blog instead of preparing for Mid-term critiques. Ah, Mid-term, doesn't everyone love that word? Let's say it all together now, Mid-Term. Or, we could vomit in unison.
I am in the Fine Arts Building (where I really live) trying to incite an art-making revolution. Tonight this building will bear the address of my soul!! Ay, Ay!
I must presently get to work. Please look forward to the following episodes:

Someone is Stealing My Subject Matter

"That's Why You Get Paid the Big Bucks": How to Make Your Nude Model Feel Slutty

Is this where the title goes?
Hi. Looking back at the first post, I see sentences I could have shortened or eliminated. Can you find them?

I hope you are having a delightful Sunday afternoon. I shopped at Keith Coldsnow art supplies today and yesterday. Christmas two days in a row!

DAY ONE (lunch break):
As I pulled into the parking lot on my Saturday lunch break, I realized the supplies shop is right next to a Ma and Pa deli called Hoagie's Hero. 105th and Metcalf in OP for the record. I used to frequent this deli with my Mom from the ages 0f 12-15; she would buy me a 3-cheese hoagie after my French horn lesson every Saturday. The shop owner even knew us by name! So I decided to eat there for sentiment's sake before the art-shopping. Turns out...

Ahora en el restaurante se vende la comida Mexicana y las sandwiches tambien! The menu was half Spanish, half English. The cuisine included hoagies and tacos. Like the shop owner had tried to expand his clientele while still remaining true to the art of the hoagie. Or he started dating an hispanic senorita. Who knows.

I ordered my 3-cheese hoagie and the girl charged me for three sandwiches. So I ordered in Spanish, then she understood. Additionally, there was no soda fountain as there used to be. No Coke or Sprite. Nada. I chewed my shittily crafted sandwich in a stupor of Pineapple soda and Dos Mundos.

I think I took the total destruction of my fond memories and the reconstruction of these memories into their new distorted reality quite well. Bye bye precious cheeses, crisp pickle. Hello, salsa. Can they really still call it Hoagie's Hero? When was doing something "for old times sake" ever glorious?
After this cultural experience, I roamed around in Keith Coldsnow's to cleanse my mind and purchased magical drawing pens.
DAY TWO: More art supplies!!!!!

You are now reading the product of Ruth's screaming "Blog, Julie!"-- while holding her hand to my head in a very threatening fake-gun fashion. Super-thanks to you, dearest. I must admit I am having a bit of first blog-posting jitters. What will it feel like? Who should I tell and when?Will everyone tomorrow be able to tell I've blogged by my special glow? I hope so.

Today is Thursday, the day of the nomad. I woke up where I am schooling in a very small and isolated Maryville, MO, fed my cat, shuddered at my meth dealer neighbors. They have three Rottweilers tied in the backyard and a separated sofa sectional in the front lawn. I'm talking a good ten feet from the house, smack in the middle of the sidewalk (incidentally, thinking back on it, I should have filed a complaint about the sofa which could have had drug traces on it which could have led to the downfall of their regime). Then I drove 1.5 hours through Nature to my weekend job in KC, rather in Johnson County-land. Ooh, scary! Nary a lady comes into my magical jewelry store without salon-perfection and Coach accessories (no offense to Coach accesories). Our store also subsribes to a magazine of high society with real-life debutantes and their fiances and their poodles. By far Thursdays are my least favorite day; its only redemption is watching the sun come up in the country.