Subverse Aphrodesia

Under Her Skin

I still can't say I've listened to Shakira with attention for any length of time but I've been fascinated by what I've read about her for some time now.
"The leaders are lacking love, and love is lacking leaders." she's quoted saying in A Hot Little Weirdo in this week's Village Voice.

Article teaser reads as follows:
Spunky, brainy Colombian sexpot rides her bicycle down the cobblestone street of your mind

I further appreciated this comment half-way through.
Shakira's as big a weirdo as Devendra Banhart, only more talented and more focused.

May he rest in peace

Artist's self-portrait as on display at Toad Hall, North Scranton.

I bought one of Paul's pieces this past spring. A sinple boot sole tacked on to a colorfully painted board. I'm not sure what about it appealed to me. Maybe it was because something that shouldn't have been visually interesting had somehow become so, if only because the artist asked us to something that didn't immediately meet the eye. In the end, it was his story that really got me. It's one that you won't read even an inkling of in the official obit below.
Which kind of makes his suprising death even sadder, somehow.
Diana had discovered him selling his artwork at the flea market. She explained that he had no formal art education whatsoever -- which you could guess by looking at the childlike enthusiasm that eminated from his pieces. He just decided one day, after retiring, that he wanted to make art. And he did. He gathered found objects and began to glue and paint them together in some really delightful compositions. She called Michaels her favorite outsider artist. Pure. Anyway, it wasn't until after she actually introduced me to this artist, whose work had delighted my conviction that art is for everyone, a populist pasttime in which we should all engage, that I actually purchased that first piece and took it home.
He was a quiet man who looked down when he walked with a kind of shuffle. He seemed embarassed to be spoken to yet filled with pride that I might have genuinely admired his work.
The last time I saw him was at an open house at Toad Hall prior to Christmas. It seemed like the quanity of his work had grown exponentially. And he had really taken the experiment to the next level. I wanted to buy something, but I was broke.
So I bought a second piece just this Saturday. After the fact. After I found out we had lost him. Too late perhaps, but I felt like I had to for some reason, had to support this release o f energy, this expression he had found in life before he gave up.

Saddest Goodbyes.

Paul E. Michaels, Jermyn, died Wednesday (January 11, 2006) at Tyler Memorial Hospital, Tunkhannock. He was the husband of Virginia (Koncewicz) Michaels. They were married for 40 years.

Born in Factoryville on Oct. 22, 1941, he was the son of the late Kenneth and Rena (Wheelock) Michaels, and stepson of Gladys Michaels of Factoryville. He was a graduate of Lackawanna Trail High School. He served in the Army and Navy during the Vietman War. He was employeed by Thomson Electronics for 32 years and most recently was employeed at Elegant Moments, Eynon.

A good reason to get cable? #6

The really, truly hideous side of pretty
Alternet blog posted by Maria Luisa Tucker, January 12, 2006.

"Thankfully, a new television series is quietly exposing the ugly side effects of a world obsessed with feminine beauty. "The Secret Lives of Women," which premiered December 13th on the Women's Entertainment channel, has documented the real lives of porn workers, plastic surgery addicts, and women with eating disorders."