Friday, August 19, 2011

Your girl got dicked by Ricky Powell. Photos on display.

Ricky Powell (well, his photos) are coming to LA. Actually, they're here. Tomorrow night, House of Exposure presents 'Dicked by Ricky Powell.' As the Beastie Boys so elegantly put it:
Homeboy, throw in the towel Your girl got dicked by Ricky Powell
Photos from $250 - $2000. 8 1/2" x 11" prints of the famous Basquiat/Warhol pic for $50. Lollipops with Basquiat and Warhols' sillhouettes. Priceless. But at this event, $10.

What? You want more news about future exhibits of awesomeness and limited edition wonders? Well, sign up for House of Exposure's mailing list.

Monday, August 08, 2011

A lullaby by Little Joy.

To my friend who introduced me to Little Joy and to this song, I cannot offer enough thank yous. If lullabies were written for the children in all of us, I would ask to be rocked to sleep nightly to this sweet, sweet song.

Shed rather be scarred than be scarred with love.

Sunday, August 07, 2011

Matisse on a Sunday.

I've spent much of my Sunday watching--on and off--the BBC Modern Masters episode on Matisse. I could have done worse, I suppose. I could have spent my day watching straight-to-DVD films with Heather Graham [like I did yesterday]. But today I opted for a little culture--60 minutes to be exact--drawn out with breaks and breakfast and naps. And the English accent of the BBC's narrator gives the pretense of grandeur and sophistication to my YouTube video streaming, I think, and sophistication and grandeur were exactly what my Sunday called for.

A few faves, newly appreciated after my studious Sunday telly watching.

Saturday, August 06, 2011

Touched by a tot.

This week a child touched me. Not metaphorically, but really. She actually reached out and touched me. It happened on Larchmont. I was holding a bright blue wallet and she waddled on up--this adorable little girl--and she just touched my hand and stared at me and smiled. It happened on Thursday.

The world is a magical place for a child on a Thursday on Larchmont when a woman who must appear very old to her--and tall too--meanders down the street holding a fabulously bright color in her hand.