anonymouse

I didn't get to see cats perform acrobatic feats of wonder, but I did get to see ZakSmith juggle collectors, curators, fans who wanted autographs, and people who want to turn his abstract art into dresses at The Armory Show. I'd wear a Zak Smith patterned skirt. Wouldn't you? Especially if the skirts could be assembled like patchwork quilts. Maybe. This lovely girl with a lovely accent -- the kind people from non-Canadian Commonwealth countries get when they've stayed in the States too long, and their accents sort of thin into this lilting Where-The-Hell-Are-They-From? accent/hypno-voice. She was gasping over the abstract stuff, which art critics of the world ignore in favor of naked ladies. She was "too shy" to introduce herself to Zak, so I did it for her. Because, seriously, I think Zak will be happy even if it takes a fucking runway show to get people talking about his abstract work.

What else did I do in New York? I took pictures of Zak eating a hot dog because I thought it was funny. I took about five photos total with my brand spanking new camera phone. I know. I always forget to take photographs. Always. How thoughtless of me. I went to the Upright Citizens Brigrade with some friends from Jersey City. I could not stop laughing at this one bit. I'm going to try to describe it, and I'm going to fail miserably.

Guy: I made these tapes for you.

Girl: Thanks, I'm not into that kind of thing.

Guy: Is it because they're illegally pirated?

Girl: No, no, it's not that. Look, I know I said I'd watch Asian porn with you, but I didn't expect them to be, you know [PUNCHES fist into open palm really, really hard making grunting noises].

And that's when I started laughing really, really hard.

Oh, and I took in a couple of broadway shows because I am gay. I saw Putman County's 25th Annual Spelling Bee, and it was seriously funny. Oh, songs about erections are always a joy. I love those weird kids. Like Rebecca Sealfon.



So much fun. And I saw Sweeney Todd. I'm queer for Michael Cerveris. I loved him in Hedwig, and he played with Bob Mould! And Frank Black! On the guitar! He's pretty much the most awesome guy in a broadway musical ever. The show was definitely worth the (outrageous) price of admission, if only to see Patti Lupone play a freaking tuba. Yes, that's right. The entire cast played musical instruments throughout the entire production. Violin, cello, trumpets, guitar, xylophone, accordion, upright bass, et cetera, et cetera. It was pretty crazy. I loved it. And the breaking out into song didn't feel all weird and incongruous because they were playing musical instruments throughout the entire show. I'll gladly admit that I do like the jarring effect of a guy walking and talking on stage breaking out into a little song and dance. Or, even better, a guy walking and talking, and, BOOM, BIG MUSICAL NUMBER WITH A CHORUS LINE AND EVERYTHING. Like, OUT OF NOWHERE. It's stupid fun. I didn't see anything like that, though.

I went to museums. I went to the Neue Galerie and spent, like, twenty minutes, maybe more, in front of Egon Schiele's Lovers: Man and Woman I. I don't think it really translates that well onto a computer screen. You really have to see it in person. There's something transfixing about the man's gaze. It's animalistic and primal. And scary. And fucking hot. I bought the gallery's Schiele catalog, which I thought was fairly priced. I flipped through an open copy and came upon a picture of Barbra Streisand. God knows why. Still, I can stare at Schiele's paintings for as long as I like.

The Neue Galerie also had a Klee exhibit there, which was quite impressive. It showed the wide variety of techniques Klee experimented with. I quite liked his experimentation with pointillism. I guess you could call it abstract pointillism. Oh, and there was this glorious landscape with a rainbow eucalyptus tree. The colors were magnificent.

I went the MoMA, too. I saw the Munch exhibit, and I spent some time looking at Puberty. Why? Because I'm a fucking geek. That's the painting that completely absorbs Luba Luft, the opera singer in Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. The one I liked best was a very gothy Madonna. In fact, I liked all of his Madonnas. I can't find a picture of it. Anyway, it was a drawing of a sickly and distraught Madonna standing in a graveyard. A little Day of the Dead skeleton figure stood by her side. And there was a large portrait of a man sitting in a cafe, I think, with a very arresting glare. The exhibit allowed me the chance to appreciate Munch as someone who isn't a joke -- an inflatable Scream doll, a b3ta photoshop contest, whatever. I have a greater appreciation for him.

Also, at MoMA: Joseph Beuys. One piece, but it made me giddy. It was a thing. With a stuffed hare and a chalkboard and... things. But, you know, it brought to mind How To Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare, which you know is going to be awesome based on title alone. Performance art is so weird. And stupid. And weird. But enjoyably so, I think! Where else are you going to see a guy whose face is covered in honey and gold leaf explaining paintings to a dead hare? Maybe at Bellevue, sure, but other than that?

And, in the MoMA store: I bought another freaking Schiele book, one with a focus on his erotic paintings. And a little rabbit in a top hat hand puppet. Much cuter than the rabbit in the Joseph Beuys piece.

One last thing, before I say good night and good luck: SUGAR SWEET SUNSHINE OWNS MAGNOLIA, Y'ALL. It's fucking true. Best cupcakes ever. Yes, the name is fucking fey. But the cupcakes are AWESOME. Go to Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Eat a cupcake. Tell Magnolia to get over themselves, with their take your shit and go weekends, no deliveries, and dozen cupcake limit. Phooey. Also, Sugar Sweet Sunshine cupcakes just taste better. They're more moist. And awesome. And tasty. I love them.

Yay, CUPCAKES!