Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Art of White.

Todd White is a painter that lives in southern California, but he's originally from Texas. His pieces concentrate on musicians, revelers, and women. I was first introduced to him by a print in a store that looked exactly like a good friend of mine... beautiful and feisty. The picture below is called Dibbs. Between the suit, the hair, and the tumbler it was easy to find myself in the painting.

Again... a bit of likeness.

For me White captures the scenes that I want to see exist... Parties where women sip wine in strapless evening gowns and men dress more like the characters of Ocean's 11 than Dodgeball.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Things my ex-girlfriends taught me.

1. All of your clothes are too big.
2. She's dirtier (read more sexually adventurous) than you are... no really.
3. Tell anyone about the previous statement and you will never benefit from its truthfulness again.
4. When life gets tough first... shut up... second... hold her. Repeat until the tears stop.
5. Similarities between she and her mother should be noticed but never discussed.
6. The fact that the rules change every day when she wakes up pisses her off just as much as it does you.
7. Always take a jacket to the movie theater... always.
8. At special events coordinate with what she's wearing... because basically... you're a purse.
9. Always compliment her shoes.
10. Winning the battle usually costs you the war.

Someday soon I'm going to follow up this post with a list of all the things my wife has taught me... Right now I'm on number 457.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

The Pastoral Urbanite

Rock and roll is ultimately a pose. And despite the fact that at some point in the history of what is called punk, "poseur" was about the worst thing anyone could call you, the whole point was posing until the pose took and your dreams became authentic. Today, in the world where the Bowery is where millionaires live, authenticity is what you make of it. I wear it, therefore I am.1 - Glenn O'Brien
I am the Pastoral Urbanite.

Its a pose I'm convinced. But with Mr. O'Brien's definition in mind, its a pose I'm willing hold until it takes.

I dwell in a small college town, but I've lived in a big city.
I've gazed from the vista and teetered on the building ledge.
I've trudged a dirt road and I've hailed a cab in the rain.
I've towered in the pulpit and wallowed on the curb.

What I've learned is that either place has things I love and things that I hate. So now I spend my days and nights with a woman I love looking for the balance of life. A life where success isn't defined by the size of my house or my ability to fit within the accepted norms of the people around me. A life with fresh basil from the garden, picked while still in the suit and tie from the workday. A life where Sinatra is just as likely as Kanye to turn up in the playlist. A life full of friends from every background and discussions from every position. A life with bicycle rides for groceries, pictures of my smiling children, and nights on the sofa figuring out if the world is actually going to hell in a hand basket.

The pose I choose is to take the best of the urbane, mix it with the fruits of the pastoral, and make a life worth living. Sometimes it will read like a poem, more often like a magazine, and sometimes like a farm report. But it will be as honest as I can be while holding the pose.