BO & LB's wiki-nest of knowledge great and small

Tangled

2010-12-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

Tangled:

Utterly charming, visually sumptuous and often witty, this musical rendition of the old fairy tale...will, well...delight all. Bonus : the reminiscent art closing out this perfect little film. Owls are sure to adore them.

Angry Birds

2010-11-29T20:59:00.000-08:00

When Barn Owl and Little Bird reunited a little over a year ago; it was decided that he would pursue, and the Little Bird would rest, and love would pull them through. Fast forward 13 months, LB’s was still resting, and while there’s still love, the pursuit ultimately waned and the comfort desired was never able to take its course. You see, sadly in this story the owl sacrificed himself one too many times leaving him with no comfort at all.

So the Owl went about finding his own calm and refuge in the things he knew and loved: making art, directing impressionable and eager minds all while losing site that the Little Bird stayed perched on the couch, and waited night after night for Owl to come home.

But Owl never made it home, and the Little Bird became an Angry Little Bird. She waited for the passion to come back, and he waited for her to understand his needs, but without the hoots and chirps to bridge an understanding, there was virtually no way they could ever take flight again.

So, this Little Angry Bird decided to take action. First she pecked and pecked, and when that didn’t work she packed, and then she packed again. And, on this day Little Bird while cozy in a nest of toile, she begins to reflect, and since this is a story of growing up, making heart wrenching decisions, she is sharing with the Owl that was once hers, just what she is discovering.

Little Bird knows that a break can’t fix anything overnight and shouldn’t be used as a quick fix. She had used that method many times before and Barn Owl had bandaged her all up, but all too soon he ran out of Neosporin, band-aids and patience.

And because a break is an individual’s story; a story of discovery, healing, self soothing, and discovering their own needs, it only seems natural that they share here just “what it is they need”?

· Little Bird needs someone to stay involved; to listen, to banter with, to laugh with. To pet baby goats with, to eat breakfast with, and to share common goals-err make common goals.

· Someone to saunter through conflict with, to know that there isn’t rejection waiting on the other side of honesty. To forgo silence. To understand and compromise.

· To Fly Fly Away, or at least to go away, together, alone and nourish all that is great within these two creatures.

LLThat's all for today, more to come as more is learned.

Signing off for now,

Picasso... Puh-lease! I HATE Picasso... or...DO I?

2010-10-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

Am I... a hater? Interesting self analogous question, right? BUt what the hell does it mean, or even matter? Well, I'll tell you. I took on an intellectual assignment from a wonderful Professor, Talented Artist, and friend of mine named Jason Eoff . The 'assignment' is called the "Hate Project", and it required that I find a piece of Art, that I 'hate' and live with it for 2 weeks, carrying it with me (in some form) everywhere I go, and sharing it with others to ask them what THEY thought of the piece. At the end of the two weeks I was to write a summary of my experiences, and their result... and here below is that summary, I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoyed going through it, and I hope it inspires you to effectively 'hate' on some art yourselves.

The HATE PROJECT-

When tracking through my real world experience with Art, in search for a piece I’d have to consider worthy of the “Hate Project” the answer came quite easily, not because I really have any great disdain for any single work of art, or for that matter any particular artist, but because recently my girlfriend returned from a trip to Aaron brothers, with an arm full of prints that she had bought off the sale rack. All were line drawings of one sort or another, mostly gestures, some still-life…decent for décor, and wonderful to fulfill her intention of dressing the breakfast nook of our tiny rented craftsmen cottage, nestled snugly in the single remaining OC hipster city of Old Town Orange. The black and white art would provide a lovely visual contrast to the boldly aqua blue and pinstripe bench walls I had just finished applying the last coat of paint to. But thumbing through the prints I caught a name so famous, that even my bartending gym teacher younger brother would have recognized it and likely hung the picture on his wall (solely BECAUSE of the artist's signature), between his

Scarface poster, and his neon Budweiser sign… The name …was…PICASSO… (a name short, I have come to discover, for Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Clito Ruiz y Picasso known as Pablo Ruiz Picasso, or as an acronym, simply NAMBLA RIP John Stewart)

The print (depending on who you ask) is titled, either, “War and Peace” (though it appears this title is attributed to multiple Picasso line drawings) or “Sleeping Woman” (see image). I looked at the piece, the name and the date so brazenly jotted into the white spaces with what seemed to me to be great hubris. I was reminded of anecdotal stories I’d heard throughout my life of Pablo Picasso paying café tabs with scribbles on napkins, and of the artist signing pieces of paper and throwing them into crowds at bullfights in Spain to watch the masses fight for them like a starving swarm of rats over a discarded chicken bone. I thought of those “bullshit” paintings and drawings I had seen as a kid in NY, like “The Beach” -1961, or “Woman asleep at a Table” – 1936, or the ridiculous shapes and wholly anatomically inaccurate figures I had known Picasso to paint, as exemplified in Dora Maar in an armchair –1939 (all presently on Display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY).

I encountered this print(War and Peace), and no sooner could I return it to the pile for framing and hanging then could I have sincerely hung one of Thomas Kinkade’s pastoral forestscapes on my bathroom wall (*I should mention that I believe ironically hanging a “Kinkade”, is both appropriate, and should be enthusiastically encouraged, say… in the bathroom of a WeHo S&M club, or upon the wall of CBGB’s in Greenwich Village NYC, etc… as irony makes bad art fit for consumption…yummmmm!)

My distaste for the print was far from hidden by the look on my face, and my girlfriend quickly chimed in with a defensive “What’s wrong with THAT one?!!?!!?”…

“It’s f**king Picasso, look at this sh*t” I said “ the proportions are off, the lady’s hand looks like a swollen radiation burn, and it’s just…I just… I just f**king hate it!”

“ Well I like it, and it was only $5…” she replied, very adeptly navigating around my unreasonably childish reaction, which coincidentally only furthers my suspicion that she’ll make a very effective parent one day.

What she could not have known, however, was that behind the flailing armed expletives attached to the explanation of my objection, was a very sincere jealousy. You see, Pablo Picasso is…an Artist, one to whom I have had little exposure to outside of the popular criticism of his most famous periods/movements. I knew what little one could know of him from walking past his work in whichever NYC area museum I could find entry to as a pre-adolescent, and adolescent kid in NY, usually the Met, or MoMA, there may have been a print or two at the Brooklyn museum or at the Whitney which were sometimes haunts of mine, but I remember him most, for whatever reason, most vividly, at the Met. I knew his name, and I knew the impact he had on people long before I knew his story, long before I knew the context of his work… and FURTHER, I resented the sh*t out of him, because HE was an artist, a successful, world renowned artist, seemingly to me for doing things I had seen children doing with crayons all my life with no regard for technique or replicating the visual elements of the world around him, or even aspiring toward an aesthetic beauty. By contrast, I was a child who for as long as I could remember only understood the world with a pencil in my hand. I admired and romanticized "REAL" artists, the Impressionists most of all, who lined the tallest rooms and the greatest walls of the Met in good company next to Rembrandts, Renoirs, and the flattened fat headed religious Flemish triptychs … I aspired to be an “Artist” like the ones I knew and loved, and these (Picasso) images, these renowned paintings, etchings and drawings flew in the face of my adolescent idea of what being an artist was. To me, he seemed not an “Artist” but a con artist, a sham, a despicable lazy fraud who had discovered a means to shock the world into believing him brilliant. And G*DDAMMIT, I hated him for it… nearly as much, as I admired him.

So “War and Peace” would find it’s home on a shelf in the living room, sandwiched between a large picture book of Art Nouveau furniture from the musee D’Orsay gift shop, and a coffee table book of Renoir (a gift from my mother). And there it would stay, until the very first day of this project.

I dusted off the print and carried it into my office to begin my weeks-long marriage to it. First I would research what I could of the time and place of the drawing's creation, & secondly, I would discern any information as it exists pertinent to it’s inspiration, or to the Artist: his intention, his process, and himself.

I am, sad to say, left still greatly speculating about the inspiration for this specific work after having read a few Picasso biographies. It would seem that the woman in the drawing was a lover of Picasso’s, possibly Francoise Gilot who would have filled that position at the time (along with being mother to two of his children) before walking out on him in 1953, she says due to abuse... and (surprise) infidelity. The latter reason suggesting a wider range of potential models. One of those possibilities is Genevieve Laporte, who had an affair with Picasso and in 2005 auctioned off drawings he had done (of her) and presented to her as gifts. My romantic imagination likes this explanation most of all… so in lieu of any confirmed empirical reality, and in the interest of moving along expeditiously, I accept this concept as an “as good as any” origin and will assume this position until proven otherwise by some other armchair intellectual internet blowhard.

I first took “War and Peace” to my local Starbucks, where after a few “it’s nice”s and a few more “no-thank-yous” from presumptuous folks who imagined I was trying to sell it to them (I'm clearly not alone in my resistance to Picasso), I found a couple of happy chatty Baristas more than willing to discuss it's merits… I will call them “Glasses”, and “Girl in green apron who is obviously smarter and more intuitive than Glasses” (note: I did go so far as to share with them my assumed theoretical history of the piece… so keep that in mind)

Glasses –

“I think it’s probably like something he drew for the girl, and he was like, ‘YO I’m Picasso, I’ll draw you’ and she was all ‘OKAY!’ and so he banged that thing out and she was just like ALL over him… *laughter/sexual insinuation* etc..”

Girl in green apron who is obviously smarter and more intuitive than Glasses –

“She seems relaxed, It’s very calm…Peaceful… yeah just calm. Maybe the war is …him, you know the artist, Picasso, with his pencil like a weapon, or whatever?”

I carried it with me to more and more places, in my brown bag, to more coffees, and to a taco place, to my bank even. To the School’s First Federal Credit Union, the woman teller looked at it…and me, and smiled. Embarrassed at my question, flirtingly answering back with her own

Teller -

“Why do you wanna know what I think?”

Me –

“Well... because it’s important" ... I stammered... "because… I don’t know you, but I think...maybe... through YOU I’ll find something out about THIS that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise?”

Teller- “Well alright, I think the girl is happy, because she’s smiling. I like it… it needs more color though”

More and more reactions were either direct like the ones I got from a friend, Brooke, who has a very neat and simple contemporary aesthetic,

Brooke, - “I like it, it’s pretty”

or from her boyfriend Selin who operates with a bit of a machismo about all things artistic

Selin - “I don’t like that kind of ‘art’. It looks like something my niece could draw” .

*On a sidenote: I stopped counting how many people made reference to their younger siblings, nephews, nieces, or neighbors that could produce the same work… because, I was beginning… to understand that THAT was the point.

My BOLDEST move, or so I had hoped was when I brought it into my therapist’s office, a licensed psychotherapist and confirmed Freudian. I was READY! Pen in hand I reached for the print, pulled it out of my bag, placed it on my knees held perpendicularly to the floor so she might get a good long solid look at it… thinking she would examine the line, and the meaning behind the oversized hand…the single contour stroke defining the hair of this woman coming across as a figurative gesture of anger toward his mother… blah blah blah… I was certain she would tear this thing to shreds and in minutes I would have my very own professional psychological profile of Pablo Picasso circa 1952. So I… sat, and held it, and she looked and she furrowed her brow a bit, hemmed and hawed a few times, I could HEAR her mind at work, the thoughts connecting and leaping between the synapses of the brain, I waited… a minute… she motioned, directed her hand toward the drawing, leaned forward in preparation to dispense her astute observations… she opened her mouth and said in no uncertain tone(and I shit you not)

“I’d like it better if it was a kitty”

My friend, a contract attorney and long diagnosed workaholic said simply

“I’m jealous, she’s sleeping, it’s relaxing, I would definitely hang it on my wall even if I DIDN’T know who was responsible for it”

Then my best friend, a much more talented than I, Photorealistic Painter and fellow skeptic on abstract art got hold of it

Painter- “It just seems lazy, I wonder how much of this is him believing he’s creating art and how much of it is him, scribbling on a piece of paper and saying, ‘fuck you it’s art BECAUSE I’m Picasso’”

He began to espouse some of the same criticisms I had initiated, and harbored for decades… and AS he was making those same arguments, MY arguments, I found something in me begin to shift, I found myself defending Pablo Picasso, and THIS drawing… I started relating what I’d just learned about the achievements he had reached by age 13… and the ambition that led he and Georges Braque to Cubism. I began dissecting the difficulty for a mind of such a technician abandoning technique and the concern for perfection, or even proportion, to achieve another possibly GREATER end, an emotional end, an abstraction of reality. I argued that the result was not simply a capturing of the image of the woman in front of him, but the speed of his hand, the simplicity of line, the abandonment of technique was a ~~reflection~~, no, a direct expression of the artist as he sat in a room watching a woman sleep. I argued that for the drawing to be photorealistic would, on the contrary, be the most UNNATURAL way to have captured that moment in time… That was when I realized I had found the missing and most important element for appreciating Picasso, Context.

It was in discovering the context of his work, the struggles that brought him to and through each of his “periods” and the ambition that inspired him to abandon convention in pursuit of a truer truth in art, and in turn in humanity, that I say I no longer 'hate' this piece. Knowing what I know OF it and how it came to be has expanded my appreciation for it in ways I just wouldn’t have understood... before.

The most important opinion I'd sought is the one I’ve saved for last, because it comes from the person responsible for this 'hate' worthy art having ever been called to my attention, my girlfriend, Courtney. Courtney from the beginning has thoughtfully regarded this print as “sensual…and romantic, and deserving of a place in our home” and well, upon achieving this enlightened perspective... I have to say...in no uncertain terms... that... I agree with her. (that's as close to "You were R%^&T" as you're gonna get from me LB)

Jason's exercise really has taught me the sort of Kumbaya lesson that in an adolescent past I'd have otherwise rolled my eyes at. That lesson being that if I can discover what other people are SEEING in something, that I don’t see when we’re both looking at the same thing, then I might learn how to see those things too, and through so doing, understand a little better… the rest of the world, in context…

Ain't nothin SWEET about it...

2010-07-13T22:54:00.000-07:00

Sweetbreads or ris (see also offal and blechhh!) are culinary names for the thymus (throat sweetbread) and the pancreas (heart or stomach sweetbread), especially of the calf (ris de veau) and lamb (ris d'agneau) (although beef and pork sweetbreads are also eaten, most often at the end of a dare, or the beginning of a fraternity experience).

The "heart" sweetbreads are more spherical in shape, and surrounded symmetrically by the "throat” sweetbreads, which are more cylindrical in shape, providing a lovely selection of shape, gland, and texture for the contestants of (the now exclusively) home version of “Fear Factor”

RIP JOE ROGAN

One common preparation for sweetbreads involves soaking in salt water, then poaching in milk, after which the outer membrane is removed. *an aside: the moment a recipe calls for removal of “the membrane” is the moment I order pizza* Once dried and chilled, they are often breaded and fried, helping perpetuate the very likely true theory that people will eat ANYTHING if you batter dip or bread, and deep fry it … They are also used for stuffing or in pâtés, begging the further question, “what the hell is wrong with THESE people?” Some light is shed on this quandry when we recognize that they(the glands) are used( grilled) in many Latin American cuisines, such as in the Argentine asado, which supports, as I believe, my theory that the inhuman speed of speech required to effectively communicate in Spanish causes compromised gustatory senses… It is also (according to another “wiki” resource) served in bread in Turkish cuisine. (Speed of communication in Turkish has yet to be scientifically evaluated by this organization, though if they are drinking their famed coffee of theirs, I suspect they’re all super chatty, and jitterier than two cokeheads at the end of an uncut eight ball)
The word "sweetbread" is first attested in the 16th century, but the logic behind the name is unclear. However, the etymology of the word "sweetbread" is thought to be of Old English origin. "Sweet" is probably used since the thymus is sweet and rich tasting, as opposed to savory tasting muscle flesh… mmmmmmm muscle flesh….. HERE’S the most shocking revelation OF ALL, The "Bread" in the name “sweetbread” may come from Old English word "bræd" meaning….'flesh.'… Ipso facto ergo sum… linguistically speaking bread, is not vegetarian… so LB, I’m sorry, but no more grilled cheese sandwiches for YOU… heh heh heh
IMMLBAINLHG

When LB was in Egypt Land... Let my LB GOoooooo

2010-03-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

Shalom Little Bird, today is the beginning of a Beautiful holiday, celebrating the ending of the 40 years exile of the Jews and the coming of them to the "promised land" by grace of G-d to Israel. In honor of this important day in the Jewish Calendar I put together some links so that we might host our OWN Seder, or at the very least THINK about the food that we might have been eating HAD we hosted a Seder, while we're eating some single pan cooked vegetarian concoction that we have both come to enjoy of late. (but mmmm Matzo Pizza... could be tasty, RIGHT!!?!?... nah, you're probably right Taters and Ficken it is!!!)

So, I love, Spoon, Hoot, Home, L'Chaim and Shalom LB

rrr- BO

Funny, She doesn't LOOK Druish - Barf (RIP)
(scroll down to video)
http://www.wikihow.com/Celebrate-Passover

The meal and the history
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Passover_Seder

also, poor Sandra Bullock... it's a Shandeh...

YES, but which side of the plate does the BIG GULP go on?

2010-02-15T14:36:00.000-08:00

I realize LB that in this modern era we've lost much of the graces of civilized society, and I thought that while you are in "Dallas", you may wish to study up (prior to the next leg of your trip) on some of the seemingly forgotten finer societal customs that are preserved in only a few American Cities which remain as cultural meccas, beacons of class and epicurean finery in a wasteland of Orange food and artificially flavored neon fruit colored drinks...
the MOST prominent of these cities, being the world famous... Orlando Florida (mmmm fried gator).
So, here (image right) is a simple guide to keep you from embarrassment at any number of the 5 diamond Restaurants in and around the impressively opulent and inspiring-ly elegant Central Florida region... and remember LB, don't git any on yeh!!
(see also Emily Post's rules for preparing and serving road kill titled:" if ain't movin, it's dead enough!" and her follow up "South of human, North of Cuba: the Floridian etiquette guide"
Ruv Ruv, CHS, ILMLBAINLHG, hoot-

Does Mr Gogh know you have this? Oh Van's gon' be pissed when he hears (though poorly) what you done!

2010-02-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

When in the pursuit of faux fine art, it is important to select the faux finest mediums. So Little Bird in bringing to fruition one of your remaining multi-step birthday gifts, I have done a BIT more research on-lion (roar!) and discovered that the 1/2 hour conversation I had with a semi-retired former government bathroom designer turned art material expert now employed two nights a week at Aaron brothers on Newport Blvd, was a complete waste of time... quel surprise, but thanks anyhow "Precious" (*actual name on name tag) In other words, I bought the wrong stuff.. still good stuff, in fact great stuff, FINE fine STUFF, but not THE stuff needed for our intended purpose of turning a printed poster on the cheap into a lasting work of frame-able art, to fool the less observant masses into believeing that in our little tiny two bedroom rental we DO in fact house an original Vincent Van Gogh oil painting (i.e. Almond Branches In Bloom)
Through the great and trusted source of eHow.com (how to make a poster look like a painting)I have come to discover that there is in fact a medium that little old ladies have been using for decades, maybe even CENTURIES I'd venture a guess, to trick their hapless children and grandchildren into believing that their inheritances would be much more valuable than some 60 dollars in loose change and a haggard collection of lint covered hard candies. Nicely played Grammas but the jig is up and it looks like the home for you!

And what IS this miracle product you ask!
Why it's Crafter's Pick Brush Strokes of course!

Sold at fine Hobby and Craft retailers everywhere and on-line
So it looks like we got some more Shopping to do!

So OFF Little Bird, fly, fly away...
to the Hobby Lobby!!!!
(no it's a real store... for reals...)

Real Women Know Exits

2010-02-01T19:58:00.000-08:00

While overdue, this is a subject that has caused great debate. So my dear Barn Owl, after reviewing the project list I have attached, it seems that Fairview / South Coast Drive / Harbor have been connected since 2006 (that's at least four years ago). There doesn't seem to be anything on the internet (and if it isn't there, it doesn't exist) about ever reconstructing those exits prior to adding the Susan exit. So, for the last time when we take the 405N Bound, get off on Fairview, there isn't another exit you "used" to go to. ta ta-LB

http://www.scag.ca.gov/tcwg/pdfs/projectlist/october06/ORA000111.pdf

Is that a Badger on your face or are you just super pretty?

2010-01-23T13:08:00.000-08:00

Squirrels, and Badgers and Goats OH MY! It seems Little Bird that while MAC may be the solution to all things aging (or at least the masking of a natural and beautiful process that more advanced cultures regard as "maturing" *see also wisdom), it is NOT the answer to the inter-species harmony and humanest existence of mankind with our lesser brained but inarguably cuter mammal cousins, that one might initially THINK. As is made all too apparent in the saucy Seattle salesman's selling to you of a natural animal fur brush .

So. long live the long eared red squirrel, and hooray for synthetics! Also ruv ruv, you're pretty, and IMYF

the proper preperation for the prevention of problematic pug-splosions, part 1

2010-01-11T21:03:00.000-08:00

In my recent care of a certain dog it has come to my attention that while some dogs shed their fur and some dogs are considered shedless and even as I'm told, hypoallergenic (though I believe the latter to be strictly a mythical creature like the Unicorn, Bigfoot, and handsome foreigners) there are some dogs who within a 24 hour period will cast off their entire frock of fur replacing it , seemingly miraculously, with a NEW coat all together. That breed of dog is known commonly as the Pug or in some circles the "ground Manatee","Darwin's Bane", or a "Missippi Genius"

So in today's wiki, I offer some possible solutions for you, Little bird, in your continued dealings with this evolution defying creature, in all it's adorable curiosity.
•Reduction
•Elimination
•Solution

rabble rabble and ruv ruv... LB.... CHS

Universal Enjoyability redundantly overstated!

2010-01-04T11:28:00.000-08:00

In honor of the honor, Little Bird, of your superiorly important importance, and the recognizably undebatable recognition being so appropriately bestowed upon you this evening respectively... Braggably Brag worthy as it is, and not to deny your undeniably heroic rise to the pinnacle of Orlando's elitist of elite braggarts, I offer you this wiki-bit of knowledge in congratulatory congratulations on having the entirety of an entire Studio of Universal Proportion being closed off from the public at large, tear soaked children and all, in your very honorable honor... My dear, you are the brightest star in the altogether impressively twinkling sky that IS Florida...

And so I give you your Wiki of the day
How to Do Up Universal Studios FLA Braggart style

So grab a Duff and ride that Simpson Ride like Santas little Helper, wrap yourself up in toilet paper and put one over on the Mummy in the midst of his revenge, see if the 4th Dimension of Shrek is any better than the horror of Shrek's 3rd, and most of all enjoy the shit out of yourself, and give me all the more reason to be jealous... IMYF & IWIWGTUSWY... RRLB

Boba Pearls.. they come from SOMEwhere, RIGHT?

2010-01-02T11:52:00.000-08:00

So LB, It IS Taiwanese!!! Your work cohorts should be proud!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubble_tea

Here then is all the goodness I could dig up-

The processed Tapioca (also known as Sago) Starch is the base-
but the Color comes from "Carrageenan" (a seaweed type plant)

"Boba" Pearls it seems, are the product of a very simple cooking process of

1.) Soaking the Tapioca flour in water (to make it palatable)
2.) Partially cooking it to a harder jelly consistency (adding the Carrageenan for color, and taste)
3.) Shaping the par Cooked Tapioca jelly into balls (using an extruder, like making pasta)
4.) followed by drying, further shaping and polishing with use of a tumbler
5.) Packaging and shipping to Lollicup or Teastations, or Whole Foods etc.!

The dark Tapioca pearls (or Sago Balls) are then ready to be boiled on site to finish the cooking process, then cooled and used for "Boba" or "Bubble" Tea to make us happy! (Hazaah!)

Wow, THAT took a LOT more research than you might think!... On to the NEXT mystery!
-
IMYFLB