It is a now a great dream of mine to own an original work by Georgia-based artist, Seth Fitts. By no means am I an expert on art, nor do I pretend I know anything about it…but I DO know that I had an emotional response to a painting for the first time in my life while browsing his DA gallery. I saw them on tha interwebz and I was still floored.
I feel like if there was an art-soul-mate for everyone,- someone whose creation was perfectly suited to your taste- he would be mine. His mixed media Surreal/Symbolist album is home to some of my favorites. They combine a whimsical illustrative quality with an ethereality that in some cases absolutely breathtaking to me. Inexplicably teary-eyed, no joke.
I realize some people might look at the same things and never share the same opinion, but I thought for once I would share something meaningful to me with anyone who happened to look.
Maybe my fan-girl outburst should have come with a warning…
Rainwear of the Day: Homemade Twister Rain Coat / Trench Coat by Craftster Nicoleeoliee_4_Life.
Winner of Craft Challenge #51: Create something new and unexpected from an old board game using as many parts of the original game as possible.
Wait For It of the Day: If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times: Take your tiny hat off in the presence of a lady!”
this makes my heart hurt a little bit.
Kickass Kid of the Day: My reaction in real-time: Uh-huh. Okay. Some kid in his bathroom doing the Old Spice bit. What’s so great abou—PROP MAGICIAN.
The caption was my reaction to this video TO THE T.
Remix of the Day: Justin Bieber’s “Baby” + Andy Rehfeldt’s metal arrangement = Dallas Green - talent, beard.
I might actually listen to to Bieber if he sounded like this. MIGHT…bordering on possibly still not liking him.
How does something like this happen? Is this even physically possible?! I am appalled.
How to make a rap song:
CLICK THESE TWO LINKS AND PLAY THEM AT THE SAME TIME. There are a lot of F words, but it is humorous.
Step 2: Enjoy.
I think I’m gonna be a rapper.
F-bombs away! This is actually awesome
I waited until the drums came in to start the second one…perfect. love it.
Kristin Chenoweth responds to homophobic Newsweek article
Kristin Chenoweth responds to Newsweek article Straight Jacket Heterosexual actors play gay all the time. Why doesn’t it ever work in reverse?
As a longtime fan of Newsweek and as the actress currently starring opposite the incredibly talented (and sexy!) Sean Hayes in the Broadway revival of “Promises, Promises,” I was shocked on many levels to see Newsweek publishing Ramin Setoodeh’s horrendously homophobic “Straight Jacket,” which argues that gay actors are simply unfit to play straight. From where I stand, on stage, with Hayes, every night — I’ve observed nothing “wooden” or “weird” in his performance, nor have I noticed the seemingly unwieldy presence of a “pink elephant” in the Broadway Theater. (The Drama League, Outer Critics Circle and Tony members must have also missed that large animal when nominating Hayes’ performance for its highest honors this year.) I’d normally keep silent on such matters and write such small-minded viewpoints off as perhaps a blip in common sense. But the offense I take to this article, and your decision to publish it, is not really even related to my profession or my work with Hayes or Jonathan Groff (also singled out in the article as too “queeny” to play “straight.”) This article offends me because I am a human being, a woman and a Christian. For example, there was a time when Jewish actors had to change their names because anti-Semites thought no Jew could convincingly play Gentile. Setoodeh even goes so far as to justify his knee-jerk homophobic reaction to gay actors by accepting and endorsing that “as viewers, we are molded by a society obsessed with dissecting sexuality, starting with the locker room torture in junior high school.” Really? We want to maintain and proliferate the same kind of bullying that makes children cry and in some recent cases have even taken their own lives? That’s so sad, Newsweek! The examples he provides (what scientists call “selection bias”) to prove his “gays can’t play straight” hypothesis are sloppy in my opinion. Come on now! Openly gay Groff is too “queeny” to play Lea Michelle’s boyfriend in GLEE, but is a “heartthrob” when he does it in Spring Awakening? Cynthia Nixon only “got away with it” ‘cause she peaked before coming out? I don’t know if you’ve missed the giant Sex and the City movie posters, but it seems most of America is “buying it.” I could go on, but I assume these will be taken care of in your “Corrections” this week.
Similarly, thousands of people have traveled from all over the world to enjoy Hayes’ performance and don’t seem to have one single issue with his sexuality! They have no problem buying him as a love-torn heterosexual man. Audiences aren’t giving a darn about who a person is sleeping with or his personal life. Give me a break! We’re actors first, whether we’re playing prostitutes, baseball players, or the Lion King. Audiences come to theater to go on a journey. It’s a character and it’s called acting, and I’d put Hayes and his brilliance up there with some of the greatest actors period.
Lastly, as someone who’s been proudly advocating for equal rights and supporting GLBT causes for as long as I can remember, I know how much it means to young people struggling with their sexuality to see out & proud actors like Sean Hayes, Jonathan Groff, Neil Patrick Harris and Cynthia Nixon succeeding in their work without having to keep their sexuality a secret. No one needs to see a bigoted, factually inaccurate article that tells people who deviate from heterosexual norms that they can’t be open about who they are and still achieve their dreams. I am told on good authority that Mr. Setoodeh is a gay man himself and I would hope, as the author of this article, he would at least understand that. I encourage Newsweek to embrace stories which promote acceptance, love, unity and singing and dancing for all! —Kristin Chenoweth
“You’re pronouncing it incorrectly,” they said, grinning at me in a kind way, but one that made me uneasy. “The emphasis is on the ‘U’.”
I knew this to be ridiculous. I’d always heard the word ‘pendulum’ pronounced “PEN-dyoo-lum” and never as these two crones described. They hunched over in dirty vinyl lawnchairs outside of a cart laden with shining, tinkling, fluttering things that (if one had to pick a single, encompassing word) could only be described as “trinkets.”
One had wild red hair that seemed to be past the point of washing, and the other wore a peppery-grey updo that had clearly been slept on and ignored for an unfathomably long time. Their clothes were a jazzy compilation of colors and patterns, fading and feathering in delicious dissonance. Their faces were pale leather and their eyes were only dark holes. The sockets did not make me as uneasy as their smiles, sweet and good-natured in the folds of their faces. They were more wise than I would ever be.
I fidgeted, not wanting to continue the argument but unable to shake the need I felt for the object after which I inquired.
The Red one reached in her pocket and pulled out a porcelain ball muttering something about wanting to get a closer look at me. She popped the ball in an empty socket and stared, lidless and artificially in my direction. Her mouth twisted up so that her lips disappeared in the grimace until finally - “Aaaaaaah,” she breathed slowly.
She smiled again.
The eye popped out and she handed it to the Pepper companion.
“Have a look-ee,” she said in a low voice.
Pepper poked the eye in, twisting it and making adjustments until she could “see” me.
“Hmph.” Was her only reply before she pulled the eye back out with an sickening ‘pop.’
She turned back to the cart, pulling out a drawer full of little boxes of different colored paper. Feeling about in the drawer, her fingers closed around a tiny green one. Red’s laugh burst the silence and she clapped her hands three times. “Perfect!”
Pepper gave what would have been a side glance at Red had they possessed eyes and turned to me.
“You asked for a pendulum,” she mocked my pronunciation. “But we know you need more than that…so consider the other things as gifts. You have a very long way to go.”
Green box in hand and a few dollars short in my wallet, I left the cart and the women at my back. I don’t know what else was in the box, but the pale orange pendulum was warm in my hand.
oh my dear lord, this might be almost as wonderful as the “I F*cking Love Coloring!” kid.