Time Has Come Today

Fall. Autumn. Funny to use a song about time to talk about my favorite radio stations. I listen to KLBB. The music of your life as they call it. Dean Martin, Sinatra, Mills Brothers. The morning DJ is Reed Hagen. Who has this rich, buttery set of pipes. I just love hearing that if I have to get up early. But they're a low watt station and they have to power down when it's dark. In the summer the sun is up and so is KLBB - at full power. But now in fall, it's dark and so is the station. It's kind of there - just not at full power until it's light. The signal drifts in and out, no rich buttery tones - just fizz. So, I have the clock set to this really annoying station FM107. It's like chick talk day and night. It gets me right out of bed so I can turn it off. There is the ABC news at the top of the hour. Which is better than KLBB's Fox Radio, "We report, you decide." But Reed. I miss my morning cup of Reed.

Also, Radio K, a great college radio station is the same. Luckily there is an FM station. But long ago, it used to be that when it got dark, so did Radio K. I remember one cold dark winter day and the sun was setting around 4 and so was my cool radio station. What a bunch of shit.

But now they're both on the Internet, but I mostly listen in the car or clock radio - so the Internet doesn't help me much. Time has come for fall and winter to be dark and cold. And without music. When I need it most.

Bear bait

We had just come from Medford, WI and saw Phil and Eleanor's steak house

and got great stories. Then on to the Florena Supper club.

The guy comes out and asks what am I doing. I try to engage him but he's not in a story mood.

We go up the road to Prentice, WI and see the Bear Bait Ford. I'm walking around, getting different angles and we decide to go in. There's an old guy on an old couch
And then oddly, James asks to use the bathroom. It's weird. I had hoped for maybe an old service station. Candy, postcards. Old cute retro stuff around. Like a movie set. No, It's got junk. And odd metal scrap. I try to talk to the old guy on the couch but he's deaf as a post. I'm talking loud to him but to no avail. He somehow manages to tell me the Ford sign isn't for sale. Then some other old guys come in and they're talking about the sign - it's now only a few thousand dollars. The creep level cranks up a notch. James is taking forever. I'm sending him psychic signals that we HAVE TO Ghttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifO. The woman's bathroom looks way too creepy. I'll just wait. And I'm not that picky. Suddenly, some younger people come in but when they start talking - the weird gets weirder. They somehow know old deaf as a post and get food out of a small dirty fridge. They are off somehow, learning disabled or cross bred and it's like those Diane Arbus photos of retarded people. It's amazingly creepy and now I'm thinking we're the bear bait. We will all be eaten by bears. Me and this creepshow all in some bear's stomach. James FINALLY comes out and I give him the hairy eyeball meaning let's get the fuck out of here. Outside I snap a few more shots, even some close ups of the Ford sign as more bear bait goes into the shop. Chomp, chomp chomp.

Phil and Eleanor's Steakhouse

I had been at an art fair in Wausau, WI. I wanted to take Hwy 8 back to the Twin Cities. We had this notion that we'd make it to St Croix by 6pm to visit a vineyard. Driving through Medford, WI, we saw this sign. Did I want to stop and shoot it? No. We found the little downtown and drove around. Cute. Leaving we could go left and continue or if we go right, I can shoot Phil and Eleanor's. It's not in the sun, but I could shoot it for reference. We go back and pull in. As if we've planned it - out of the restaurant comes the actual Phil and Eleanor. I tell them I love the sign and want to photograph it. James stays and chats with them. I get the shot above. When I come back- they've offered to give us a tour. You can see the whole set here. Eleanor shows off her original kitchen and give us a sample of some toasted bread they serve for an appetizer. We hear stories that she bought the place as a young girl. It had originally just been the bar tended by a crust old guy. She's been making the food by hand ever since. There are some big companies in town and they'll reserve the whole place so you gotta call ahead. You can see the menu and the gorgeous bar with sparkly blue bar stools. I have been pestering James that we gotta go back so we can eat there. And I want to print up all these pictures and bring them along. I worry we'll get snowed in - like in "Seven brides for Seven brothers" and wont be able to get back to Medford, WI. With the pass being blocked. I bet the food is great. And maybe we can get to the vineyard we never to.

Tired

I'm tired - tired of playing the game.

Shopping in Camazotz

This is some old photo of the Chicago Marshall Fields. Back in the day. When you dressed up to go shopping. Hats, dresses. My grandma would take us downtown for our back to school clothes. Maybe we'd have lunch at Fields. With Grandma it was just "Fields." My great Aunt Bobbie also loved to go to the downtown Marshall Fields. Not the suburban ones. She couldn't walk far so she'd tell my mom they'd just pull up to the front and, "God will provide." My mom would imagine the crowds and traffic and would doubt the luck of getting a spot out front. Lo and behold - a spot would ALWAYS be there for Aunt Bobbie. Our family still invokes her name if we need parking space help. I don't know if it would work for non-family members - someone could try and let me know.

Even though I'm 42, I still have that urge right as the air gets cooler, for some new shoes, socks and a sweater or two. I found these certain kind of hiking shoes I like. And I went back to store and they still made them. The same style! That never happens. I fall in love with some shoe or food or a guy - then the next time you want that thing - it's gone. Or different. REI had one pair - but out in Maple Grove. And they don't transfer their stock. Maple Grove is supposed to look like a little town with a main street. A main street with all chain stores. Remember the town of Camazotz from the book, Wrinkle in Time." All these malls look the same. Oh look a restaurant - wait it's a Buca. Donuts - Krispy Kreme. No independent anything. No cute stationery store. Or drugstore. Or indie coffee shop. All chains. Comforting icons of capitalism. And those scary twisty mall parking lot streets that go curling on forever. Not a grid or straight line. I go out there buy the shoes. And then try to leave. I keep twisting around. I see a Byerly's grocery store. So I load up on non perishable food in case I can never get out. Then I see a Hampton Inn. I may have to get a room if this turns into Hotel California (I cannot believe I am quoting the Eagles - and I hate the fucking Eagles) See how bad it was:

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

Following a bunch of other lost souls, I finally stumble on a sign pointing back to the highway. I escape. It's a long way back from Camazotz. Although it wasn't my time, I yearn for the days of dressing up, going to a real downtown, grid streets and a big department store. Those days are gone like many of the stores in real downtowns. The twisty streets in the suburbs are winning and I fear it will all be one great Camazotz life style center. Yuck!

Circus of travel

Like Billy in the Family Circus taking one of his “directional paths,” that was how I made it to work today. Thanks MNDOT! Because of the 35-W bridge collapse, they’re adding lanes to I-94 and had to close it. The Marshall Street Bridge is the closest street to I-94. I get in the car on autopilot and get on Marshall. And wonder why in the hell everyone else is as well. And on a Saturday. Oh shit, the highway is closed. I decide to drive a few miles south to the Ford Bridge to cross. And then I have to go north again to get back to work. What slayed me were all these SUV cars driving like babies. It’s like that scene in the movie, “Cars” where they have to teach the scared SUVs to go into the mud. Aren’t they supposed to be fearless in those big gas-guzzling pieces of shit? I have a Saturn Vue – some call an SUV. But I drive fast. Even in the rain. I only wish I had the ability to make that thick dashed line like Billy when he was meandering all about instead of doing what ever he was supposed to be doing.

It's show time folks!

This is me lately, the cigarette in the shower, eye drops and dexedrine. Nah, it's more like three ibuprofen and another cup of cold coffee. But I do pay homage to the movie,"All that Jazz," by saying, "It's show time." When I slam some more pills and speed to keep me going. I can't do speed. Once, in college, I got some. And I was funny. Oh, I was so funny. And then I crashed, hard. Fucking hard. I started screaming at a girl on my dorm floor and she never talked to me again. And I've never done real speed since then. Coffee is good enough. Maybe the Allegra provides a nice ECA Stack effect. And if you feel like getting down to some George Benson - then you can watch some dance tryouts to go along with it.

I am preparing a metric ton of art for some upcoming art shows. It's almost show time. Back to the drugs. And the wet smoke in the shower.

Porky's Drive In, St Paul MN

Porky's Drive In, St Paul MN
Originally uploaded by Debora Drower.

Amy, I'll meet you at Porky's. I so need a milk shake. And someone to listen to me. You always say a Porky's milkshake can cure just about anything. Right? Shit, what a week! I'll probably get the Cruiser Combo and I'll get you whatever you want. Just get your ass over there, OK? Ok? No excuses, no standing me up. It's been a long time so let's do it. It's been four fucking years. Four fucking years. I'll be waiting at one of the picnic tables. Maybe it'll be weird talking to you - I mean I know when you're there even if no one can see you. We'll talk and eat and I'll have a great time talking to you and pretending you're still alive. And still my friend.

love, Debora

Portrait of a young girl

It's a picture of me modeling one of my mom's quilted jackets. I remember reading the book,"A Winter's Tale" where Beverly and Peter Lake are having their portrait painted. Years later, Peter (who then has amnesia) sees the painting and the past is restored to him. As my mom took the picture, I was thinking of Burt, my high school boyfriend. How I'd see him later that night. It was summer and we'd probably listen to my crappy music tapes on the Radio Shack tape deck my dad installed in my mom's 1972 Toyota Corolla. Maybe we'd end up at the beach at Northwestern or the lighthouse. Or we'd just cruise. And while Burt is long gone, I have nice memories captured in a portrait.

Public Enemy and amping

Back in our MCAD days, I’d go to Caroline’s and we’d listen to Public Enemy. There’s a line in the song, “Fight the Power” where they sing, “I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped, Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps.” Then we both started using the word amped and no one could remember who started it first. I claimed because she had the album, it was her. She thinks it was me. Either way amped, amping is OURS.

On my birthday this year, I get a garbled voice mail message. I almost delete it. It’s not name I recognize on the Caller id. It is an Austin, TX number. The person is calling from it sounds like a Public Enemy concert. It sounds like the “amped” part of the song. I had to play it a few times. I send Caroline an email wondering if it was her. She was so proud I figured out it was a friend’s cell phone and yes at a Public Enemy concert. And I share a birthday with Flava Flav!!!

Today, I’m the white guy in the car screaming along to Public Enemy. I pull up at work, turn off the music and a black guy parked in car nearby asks what I was listening to. I cannot believe an older black guy would not know Public Enemy. He didn’t. And tells me the singer sounds like James Brown. I break it to him that it’s an old angry rap group. I walk into work laughing. I have to find someone and laugh about a tiny white girl telling a black guy about Public Enemy. Sad. Makes you want to amp about it.

Bad Pants and moon dust in your hair

I had a hideous pair of pants similar to the ones shown. I can remember wearing these pants to first grade. Bad in many ways; I hated how they looked. And they itched. Like fucking crazy. They were wool, so I was in loud pants made me feel crazy and hot. I got cranky wearing them and it caused a day something like in "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I wanted to kill everyone in my first grade class. If my classroom had a phone in it back then, Australia would've been on the speed dial. No I don't think they have those kind of pants in Australia. I came home from school after that day of itchy, cranky, loud and ripped those fuckers OFFF!!! The next time I had to wear those pants I remembered the shitty day I had wearing them and they became known as, "The Bad Pants." I think there were additional shitty days. As a kevetching Jew, I wore them every chance I could get. Ba dump bump!

Now if I had a pair of magical pants. I look great in them, everyone would laugh at my jokes and would find me utterly attractive. If I wore them, candy would fall from the sky and the the angels would get together and decide to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moon dust in my hair of gold and starlight in my eyes of blue. Oh whoops, getting all Carpenters on you. It's in your head (it's in mine) so go ahead. Play it. It'll help with the ear worms and the sadness of the bad pants Where are those magic pants? Huh, fairies? Would the moon dust help?

There was a boy, there wasn't a boy

I love this scene from the movie the Prestige. The angry man and what he says to his wife. It kills you. It rips my heart out to hear her ask, "Do you love me?" And he replies, "Not today, no." Oh ouch. Isn't that it. Some days they love you, some days their eyes light up and some days it's a stone cold no, I don't love you today. So why...why? And crying hard, leaning over the sink you think about the how the water would wash the cuts clean if you reached for the big knife in the dish rack.

There was a boy, there wasn't a boy. And you doubt your memories, you deny the truth and hope that maybe tomorrow - he'll love you then.

White

White, the color is very calming and healing to me. I was chanting this last night out on a walk:
White clouds
White
White frosting
White
White light
White
White bright
White
White healing energy
White
White snow
White
White sheets
White
White healing energy
White
White mayo
White
White sheets
White
White curtains blowing
White
White cotton balls
White
White skin
White
White Oreo inside
White
White bread
White
White paper
White
White
White
White
White

Orange Crush St Paul, MN

Orange Crush Laundromat, St Paul, MN
Originally uploaded by Debora Drower.

I am smitten
I'm the real thing
(I'm the real thing)
Won't you be my valentine?
My crush with eyeliner

New Shoes

When I was kid, we had a park nearby. It was a nice park. I can remember this slide. Not a tall slide, not the skinny kind but a wide one. Short and wide. Kinda dumb. And metal. Hot metal to burn your ass off. Maybe it was for the really little kids. But we wouldn't let them play on it. We didn't slide on it - we'd walk up it. Or burn our asses. You could tell how old your shoes were by the traction you got going up the slide. It sucked when the tread was totally worn down and you'd slip and fall. Then you'd have to slide and burn your ass. A bummer on many fronts. Then there'd be that magical hot summer day. The trip to the shoe store. Air conditioned and smelling of leather and shoe spray. I know once I got PF Flyers. Or was it Keds. I took the ad to "run faster and jump higher" seriously. I kicked my old shoes under the bed, put on my new shoes and ran to the park. Or flew. I could walk up the slide. I was the king of the playground. For that day. For a while when you put on your new shoes, they're magic. They make you feel alive. You really could fly if you knew how. At some point, you don't even realize it but the new shoes have become commonplace. Just a part of the scenery. Worn in. Worn down. Sometimes you go dig out the old pair - they're comfortable, worn in even if they are missing some tread. Someday, the new pair, will get old, lose it's power and shoved under the bed.

Artfest Midwest, Des Moines IA

I'll be in Des Moines this weekend at the Artfest Midwest.

ArtFest Midwest Show Times
Show Hours:

10am - 6pm Saturday

10am - 5pm Sunday

Come and buy my work

The Red Tent

28 days ago I started reading the "Red Tent" for my book club. I loved the idea of a red tent – a place for women to go during their period, childbirth or illness. It was the first day of my period when I started reading the book and it’s the start of my period now as I end it. Kinda weird, kinda cool. I’ve always wanted a secret red tent kind of place to go when I’m on the rag. A cool little retreat somewhere – stocked with salty chips, Uno’s Pizza, frosting, premium ice cream, my bed, a TV, DVD player and all my favorite sappy movies.

One of my favorite stories about a period involves Patrick’s sister, Charity. She’s quite an outspoken woman – to put it mildly. It was the first day of her period and she was helping a relative move. Some neighbor starting yelling at her for some reason and she screamed back at him, “NOBODY FUCKS WITH ME ON THE FIRST DAY OF MY PERIOD!!!!” So when I’m getting growly on the first day of MY period all I have to say to those who know me is, “You know what Charity would say….” And I don’t even have to scream. Sometimes it helps. Where is that red tent?

Kiss of Life

This song came up on my iPod. It reminds me of one special magical kiss that was the kiss of life. As the song played, I had this vision, that if...if I got married, I'd have this song play at the reception and dedicate it to the man who gave me that kiss of life.

Guess Who - No Time

No time left for you. No time left for me. I am too busy - I have to take a day off just to clean a little. No time, no time no time. I got got got got no time.

And with time code for fun!

Ain't no sunshine

Except I sing it "Ain't no sunshine when HE's gone."

Any time he goes away. Any time he goes away.