Monday, April 29, 2013

What a Scream

As I've mentioned, His Awesomeness and I have been suffering from a cold/flu/lurgy-type thing. He got it first, after going out and about and staying out way past his bedtime. Proof that going out and doing stuff is way overrated.

It's terribly inconvenient when we're both sick at the same time. The other night, we ordered in burritos because neither one of us had the energy to heat up the leftover Chinese food.

Being sick meant we missed not one, but two birthday parties this weekend. I'm sure our friends are delighted that we kept our germs the fuck away from them and theirs. On the bright side, our continuing listlessness means that we tried out a different Chinese takeout joint and found one that doesn't put soy sauce in the fried rice AS A RULE. Oh, fried rice, I've missed you so. Also? They're so close that the food was here in fifteen minutes and they let us pay with a credit card over the phone.

I just hope the other takeout joint doesn't buy them and ruin them too.

Way back before HA infected me with the cold that never ends, I went with a friend to see Munch's The Scream at MoMA before they have to give it back. It is gorgeous in person. My cell phone couldn't do it justice, but there's a picture here. The lithograph (which my cell phone did capture OK) and all the pop culture appearances have really trivialized it, but wow that is some art right there.

There were a handful of other Munch works and wow, he was one bleak fella. I mean, they hung The Scream right near the Van Gogh's and we all know Vincent had issues, but next to Munch, Van Gogh is downright exuberant. He loved color and he let it show. With Munch, it's more like the other kids wouldn't let him use all the crayons.

In the room after The Scream, there were a bunch of Matisse's, so we had a seat to recover. Matisse liked life, so he's a good antidote to Munch.

We also looked at some works by Mondrian, which are not just like those big paintings they do on home decorating shows to take up a big amount of space, but try telling that to your in-laws. Hell, there are days when even I'm not buying it. We sat for a little while in front of Broadway Boogie Woogie and listened to the free recording compare it to jazz. And then it all made sense. Because no one gets jazz either.

So what do these two stories have to do with each other? Well, I went out and got Expressionist-induced ennui. HA went out and caught a cold. So I win. Except I lose because I caught his cold. And he understands jazz.

And how was your weekend?


  1. I'm not too scared to comment! See everything is fine. What's, what's that!? I don't- HUUUAGHHRRRGH IT CAME THROUGH THE MONITOR AHHHHHH SAVE YOURSEsajdfkdshlhafjslj

  2. I may cry after reading this post. I'm from NY, Brooklyn in fact, but now I live in hellish SoCal suburbia where everyone drives a minivan with fucking stick figures on the back window. I miss culture terribly. The only culture I get now is in my yogurt. I want to see The Scream. Am so jealous. (SOBS)


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