Whether to weather the weather, we wait wondering

Marty and Rebecca have adopted me. My crude painting is hanging on their fridge, and now they're letting me do laundry at their house. For some unknown reason, every dryer I have touched in the last two months decided to break this past week. The one in the basement downstairs. The one at my parents' house. I'm sucking the oil out from around the tumbler with my teeth, and the motors are blowing and quite frankly underwear and jeans aren't that heavy, so I don't blame myself.

This afternoon I lay in bed till 11:30am. I woke up at 9:30am, like completely awake, and I said to myself "There is no fucking way I am getting out of bed before 11 today, no way." So I lay there and stared at the ceiling, I talked to the cat, I studied the lines on my hand. I checked the clock continuously, but I held strong.

Then I got up and went to the Akron Art Museum with M&R. It's such a weird little building, all glass and concrete and open space. It's a little building that wants to be a big building. There's only one tiny gallery with their collection before 1950 (or some date, I don't remember), but it's mostly Ohio artists which is kinda cool even though it sounds lame. The Cleveland Art doesn't have a room of Ohio artists. Then the modern stuff was upstairs and there was a lot more of that, including a very awesome Magritte which I had never seen before. It was a giant falcon carved into the side of cliffs, with real falcons circling in the background. I love it, but I can't find anything about it online. I wish I could remember the name....but I can't even find that online. I mean, all the literature talks about the Chuck Close, and the Warhol, but no Magritte. It's very strange. I felt like I had found a gem when I saw it.

They also have an exhibition by Bill Brandt who did all these black and white photos of WWII England, and most of them were very good, but there was this one...it was in a group of four, and I think it was called something like Police Officer or Policeman. It was an officer, in an dark alley, walking obliviously past what looks like Clifford the big giant grey dog, laying in the background. I wish I could find that for you too, its spectacularly creepy.

One of the weird things about this museum was that all the security guards, who I'm sure are students, were younger than me. I realize I'm getting old, but 29 is not old enough to be older than the security guards. I felt bad for the guy in the pre-1950 gallery. There were only three small rooms yet he had to "patrol". Poor kid could have been sitting on a stool in the corner and seen everything anyway. The guy in the modern art gallery was hot, which I kinda didn't like, cause then I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye and worrying about what to do with my hands. I like my art observation to be unobserved please. Either way too many people or nobody at all. But I am very jealous, wish I had that job in college. Fuck, I wish I had that job now. I think after a while I would know the art so well, it would talk to me, like how when you read Jane Eyre, you learn something about how you felt that day, and it ceases to be a novel and is more like a looped conversation with yourself. Maybe thats just me.

After eying all the pretty jewelry and robot plates in the gift shop, we went to Virginia Kendall and walked the ledges. M&R had never seen them. Which is cool, I love those ledges. But I wasn't really wearing the right shoes for it (red maryjanes), and also I'm not capable of keeping up with two very fit young people who go hiking all the time. I mean, I did keep up, cause I didn't have a choice. But I thought I was about to die by the time I got to the top of the stone steps.

Didn't die though. Went back to their house, made them tuna melts, then came home listening to Wilco which I haven't done in a long time. Watched Charlie Bartlett, which was really cute in an 80s teen movie way. Robert Downey Jr was in it playing a drunk principal, the soundtrack had a lot of Eels, there was a "band" scene. I liked it. Which reminds me, the reason I posted that "Blue" video the other day...I watched Ten Things I Hate About You on tv and do you remember the band in it? Letters to Cleo? God. Also watched Definitely, Maybe, which is structured on flashbacks thru the 90s. Meaning, it has started. The 90s as an acceptable "era", fit for VH1 shows and memoir movies, has started. I know it started last year technically, but this time Abigail Breslin was in it, so thats official. Also it reminded me that in my high school not everyone had cell phones, and that at one point in my cognizant life I didn't have internet, which I don't even remember. But then again, I don't remember what its like to smoke in bars either. And that was two years ago.

Yes, I know its a chick flick weekend. I'm not going to defend myself here. I wish on days like this I could remember every movie thats come out, that I wanted to see and nobody else did cause it looked lame and too girly. Or because it looked too lame and girly, I wouldn't pay nine dollars to see it in the movie theater and it was replaced eventually with a cooler movie I did want to see. I wish I had a database of all those titles, and I could just type in what I was in the mood for - hot people being cool, cool people not being hot but being smart, absurd plot involving beauty pageant, serious plot involving drugs, dogs, destination romantic comedies, british people looking shocked.