Fat with Thought

I went to the MOMA Saturday and walked around for 3 hours. That is an amazing museum, and since I'm a Pratt student, my admission was free! I saw so many extremely famous pieces I'd studied in art history classes. They even had works from the Tres Grandes, the famous Mexican muralists Rivera, Orozco and Siquieros. They had two Frida's, a Rufino Tamayo, the freakin Van Gogh that everyone had in their college dorm, Andy Warhol's super famous wall of various flavored soup cans, tons of Picassos and just so much beautiful stuff.

This one work showing an ostrich hiding his head in the sand to avoid the world reminded me of myself. It's easy to want to shy away from the world here. Everything is new and everything is weird, and you're forced to comply or you die. I wanted this though. I wanted to be altogether removed from my comfort zone, maybe one day I'll just want to be comfortable, but for now, I need a daily challenge. If I don't get it, my spirit really will die.

I pattered through the building listening to Robyn and Lazerproof, detaching myself from the worthless peeps of the "museum people." They're some of the most obnoxious groups to encounter, especially the fanny-packed loudmouth females that feel it's their place to touch the pieces and express their dim interpretations out loud. I promise I'm not a snob. But seriously! This lady with a baseball hat and pink fanny pack shoved her french-fried finger on several framed photographs part of a work showing the various modes of black exploitation in America, which made it worse. And these weren't light points to the photos either; they were made in such a way that her french-tipped fingers curled on the glass. I stared at her in amazement.

I also made a wish on Yoko Ono's 'Wish Tree.' It was a selfish wish, and I told the Wish Tree it was. But ya know what? I don't feel bad about it.