I Said No Tomatoes, Bitch

I have trouble with directions. This probably stems from my lack of driving, on account of the fact that driving sucks and no one should do it ever. I had trouble enough back in the mean streets of St. Paul, Minnesota, but now I'm in the heart of Chicago, where everything goes six different ways and nothing makes any sense. Will Wonka and Dr. Suess must've collaborated on these streets because there have numerous accounts of me walking in a straight line and somehow ending up on a different street six blocks over. I never have any clue where I am. Every new place I go to takes at least two trips to officially figure out how to get there, and those two trips are always riddled with strife and adventure. I've never seemed to be able to realize that if I've been walking ten blocks without finding something Mapquest tells me is 0.1 miles away, I'm probably going the wrong way. It always pisses me off to get off at the train stop and go in one direction forever before turning around and finding the place one block away in the opposite direction of the train station. This happened to me last night as I attempted to go see the Found Magazine exhibit at the Center For Intuitive and Outsider Art. The flyer said it closed at 8, and of course by 7:30 we were stuck in greying snowdrifts like the Arctic adventurers and their trusty and ultimately delicious pack-dogs. We clomped (seldom do I get the chance to use that word; it fits so appropiately here) steadily through the gross piles of slush and squallor that was once brightly adorned snow, but now has been brought down by the horrid ravages of our Mother Earth. Luckily I had my street-tough Lugz on (the "Z" adds just enough street to do the job right, for when an "S" just won't cut it), lest my shoes be horridly soaked through and given me that disgusting wet sock feeling... Ick. It was a trek, my friends, which all could've been avoided if one of us were the least bit bright or perceptive. Damn us. DAMN US!!!

Well, we made it time luckily and got to see the exhibit. Quite interesting, I must say. Everyone who is given the opportunity should go see it. My favorites included a picture from a mother to her baby of a pregnant woman with two smiling stick figure fetuses in her belly, really really poorly done white boy rap, Muscular Christianity, a flyer that said simply "I CONTROL YOUR FAMILY - Dr. Hooray", and a warning against the neighboorhood bully cat. They had what appeared to be a kid's school project, which was a series of "What If" questions. I swear, this kid is going places. He is a freakin' genius. His list went as follows:

1. What if I grew corn for hair?
2. What if I were George Bush this year?
5. What if I were the Statue of Liberty?
4. What if I were Martin Luther King, Jr.?
6. What if I were as big as the Statue of Liberty? (crossed out)
3. What if I were my dog and my dog was me?
7. What if I was a me?
8. What if I were a what if on a papper?
6. What if what if any weird thing can happen!

This child is seriously going to grow up to be one of our greatest and most imaginitve minds. Nurture your childrens imagination, people, I mean it!

There was an old scrapbook someone found that really creeped the hell out of me. It was simply a collection of magazine and TV Guide clip-outs of little boys and child actors. Everyone from Mr. Culkin to Tommy from Third Rock From The Sun to all the Home Imporvement kids, as well as kids in soccer uniforms from K-Mart ads... I felt dirty just looking at it. He also liked Sliders and Star Trek. Hmm. Most of the findings are just cute and funny or just stupid and silly, but this was honestly frightening. I had to rehabilitate myself with viewing some childs old sketchbook, where you get to see her progression from childish artist to abstract shading and surrealistic still life. Very interesting. Found has always been an interesting view into peoples lives and the human condition. And all that shit.