These are old archived entries from my journal, Ornamental Illness. I have eliminated all graphics (except those in context of an entry) to save on my bandwidth usage.

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Ornamental Illness main entry page

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The Dingbatcave

Art Objects

Eyebalm Fine Art

Windowsill Cactus

Saturday, December 21, 2002

DREAM - Dead Suburbia

I was walking around some strange suburban area with upper-middle class houses. There was something very desolate about this place, like it had been wiped out in a nuclear war or something. The houses were fairly new, maybe built in the 80s, and they had multiple levels. I was in the company of Stan and some guy we used to be friends with that we'd rather not see again. I don't know why he was with us, neither do I know why we were walking through this neighborhood. We walked by one house that was landscaped with two small mounds in the front yard; the grass was bare and dying. I jokingly said 'I used to live there.' But the strange thing was is that my parents were inside, and Stan and I and our ex-friend all went inside. We were trying not to be heard by my parents and we were trying to find a room where we could go and not be noticed. There was one strange mezzanine level with a large window that was covered with carpet so that one could sit on the floor and look out the was a rather nice nook and we settled there. But my dad saw us and started asking our ex-friend these very strange philosophical questions that I cannot remember. They were actually having a pretty good conversation.

Posted by Ann on 12/21/02@10:50 AM CST ..::Link::..

Friday, December 20, 2002


Stan, this is what I was trying to explain in the car. I wrote this on November 27th and kept it to myself. [more]

Posted by Ann on 12/20/02@06:47 PM CST ..::Link::..

Thursday, December 19, 2002

Why people hate artists

From an e-newsgroup I am subscribed to:

'As a (year and state) Arts Board Fellow I used some of my fellowship monies to build a web site. It should be up by mid (month/year). I encourage all of you to have a look.'

What utter snobbery. I started building my websites over 6 years ago without any assistance of 'fellowship monies,' just going in debt on my credit card to buy software.

Poor little artist couldn't do it without a fellowship. Couldn't invest any of his/her own money in creating a website...had to use the taxpayer's money.

Now before I come off as sounding like a half-cocked Limbaughesque art-hating Republitarian, let me say that I am NOT against investing tax-payer's money in the arts. In fact, MORE of our money should be invested in the arts than it already is. Note that I say 'should be invested in the arts,' not 'invested in the artist.' That means investing in arts organizations, funding non-profit galleries and venues, enabling all artists to participate by having venues available for them to exhibit/perform, funding arts programs in public schools, not giving the little golden boys and girls fellowships so they can feel so goody-goody braggadocious about their little achievements (which is really just a matter of knowing what to write in a grant proposal and whose ass to really isn't about ART). In fact, my attitude is much more socialist in regards to the arts. As it is now, it's a plutocracy (the governing arts board) rewarding their little plutocrats (the fellowshipped artists)

Posted by Ann on 12/19/02@11:25 AM CST ..::Link::..

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

DREAM - Another "Animals" Dream

I was at this job I used to have (let's call it 'Depressions'....I was like Cinderella working there amongst the evil stepmothers and stepsisters, having to do the crap work...) years ago...I haven't even been inside the building for a couple years IRL. I was sitting at a desk and one of the lead workers came up to me and expressed her disappointment in the quality of the job I did. I looked at the papers she showed me that were supposedly full of typos, but I couldn't understand what was wrong. She appeared to be showing me a multiple-choice test, and I couldn't figure out if it was something I had to typeset or answer. Also, the questions themselves didn't make any sense...they appeared to be elementarily simple, however, the answers to one question would have a choice of both numbers and sentences, like it was unsure whether the question was mathematical or philosophical. Very surreal. I got pissed off and said in no uncertain terms, 'I quit.' However, I just stayed there and took another job assignment from someone else. She told me she needed some papers copied back to back, horizontally on 11 x 17 paper on the color copy machine so that they would appear as an actual book. (IRL they didn't have a color copy machine at that place when I worked for them...that was the place I worked *previous* to that that had one) I went up front to the reception area and started using the color copy machine (which is even more inaccurate since IRL the copy machines were in the back). There was a young, Hispanic male working there too...he hardly spoke any English. (IRL, 'Depressions' liked being PC and having minority quotas, but they never used them in jobs other than the mail room/copy room....typical liberal on the outside, racist in the center business people). It was then that I realized I too was a minority, not in a demographic/census-sense, but in a philosophical sense. As I was making the stupid color copies, I started thinking that I wished I had my portable Sony CD player with me, and if I did I would play Pink Floyd's 'Animals'...yes, another Animals dream. Then I started singing 'Pigs (Three Different Ones)' outloud, not caring if anyone heard me (Although that's my favorite song on the album, I do think 'Dogs' would've been more appropriate for the situation at hand). Then I remember leaving out the front door, perhaps to go home (after all, I told them I quit!). Then somehow our friends Lamya and Russ were in the dream with their two kids. I think they were picking them up at the daycare next door to 'Depressions', although L&R live 1000 miles away. Their daughter was driving a small VW Beetle and was parallel parking it in front of the daycare with Lamya watching. Their daughter is only 6. Weird. Russ and their son were heading over to our house, and I thought 'I better hurry home and get Plato so he won't attack them'. I get to my backyard which has morphed into my parent's backyard. I see a small basketball's about half the size of a real basketball, and the weird thing is that it's also like an orange. Very weird. Stan's there looking at bills and saying he has to get gas, but we didn't have any money for gas, so I thought I could sell the basketball for gas money, however I'd sort of fallen in love with the weird little thing and didn't want to part with it.

Posted by Ann on 12/17/02@08:33 AM CST ..::Link::..

Monday, December 16, 2002

DREAMs - Bad art, black lace and flying saucers

I was helping jury an art show. I'm not sure where it was, but it seemed like a hybrid of a Denver co-op-ish alternative gallery, a student union gallery, maybe Kingsfoot, and who else knows what. Most of the stuff was small, awful craftsy shit. We were having a hard time deciding what to put in the show because most of it was so bad. I asked the person in charge how we were going to fill up the walls because of the lack of work and she said that they were also going to bring in a juried middle school show. Cough. I remember picking up a lot of the art which was on coffee tables near chairs arranged in the gallery. Most of it was like pictures of family members in small frames. It was ghastly. Then there was one piece that was really awful, but intentionally so...bad matte job, bad subject matter. You could tell the person was trying to make a conscious statement about bad art in an ironic sense, but it was so shallow, that I rejected that piece too.

I was wearing a really naughty black lace cat suit and making love with Stan. It was quite a nasty dream.

It was at night and I was outside, somewhere on East Washington Ave. in the median, more east of our house (I dream a lot about this location...I have no idea why) I was on top of a parked car, looking up at the sky. There was this very strange flattish conical object in the sky, sort of like one of those straw hats you see pictures of people wearing in rice fields in Asia. It was floating downwards toward earth. I saw it land somewhere over by where we live and it left a small amount of smoke in the air after it fell. Then there was another object in the sky, definitely a flying saucer. It was sort of like a cliched flying saucer shape, all the requisite attributes one would see if one were to see one. Sort of like the flying saucer in the beginning of Velvet Goldmine. I kept thinking, 'they're going to think I'm nuts if I say I saw a flying saucer, but this is really what I'm seeing.'

Posted by Ann on 12/16/02@08:33 AM CST ..::Link::..

Sunday, December 15, 2002

DREAM - The Kiss Goodbye

I was with Stan and walking around Fort Collins (CO), around Edwards and Elizabeth street, that general area. It also sort of morphed into this location in Baraboo (WI) that's on a hill with some creepy houses, also it was sort of like a part in Madison on the west side that's also on a hill that's sort of mysterious. In the dream, this area was rather run down and full of decay, and I commented to Stan that someone should really tear down the houses. Then for some reason, we were both in an airport. I heard over the loudspeaker that my plane was boarding, so I got in a line. Stan kissed me, as if kissing me goodbye, but I was confused because I thought he was coming with me. The line went down some stairs, a spiral staircase to be exact. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if I could see Stan...I was hoping that he was coming. Then the line turned into what looked like a cafeteria tray line. Still no sign of Stan.

Posted by Ann on 12/15/02@08:49 AM CST ..::Link::..
By Ann @ 20:56 AM CST:12:20:02 ..::Link::..