Spectacular

George Bellows was one of the artists I noticed at the museum Friday, and as I delved into his work on line, noticed an impressive range.  He is particularly known for his cityscapes of New York in the 1920s, some of the first gritty renditions of urban overcrowding but infused with the roaring spirts of the times, depicting a lot of young working-class women who had a taste of independence in World War I and seem to want more of it.  And then we see these lush tropical paysages, bursting with color, into which I added this mountainous Degas ballerina. Or is that Hillary Clinton remembering how she personally corked a volcano in Hawaii during her husband's administration? 

On this one, I have to quote Addison deWitt in "All About Eve" - "The was a stupid lie, Eve, easy to expose, not worthy of you!"  For crying out loud, Hillary was attacked by Rush Limbaugh and Ken Starr and countless frothing Red-staters for 8 years!  She doesn't have to pretend to have ducked real bullets in a war zone, she dodged countless virtual ones!  What I find so disturbing about the affair is the way she initially "remembered" it all so specifically--without a hint of vagueness. She hasn't even been able to bring up another situation she might have confused it with. It's as if she imagined it or read it and then appropriated it as a real memory--reminds me of her husband seeming to really believe it when he said "I did not have sexual relations with that woman." (Of course, maybe he was thinking of his wife when he said that. Ooooh- SNAP!)

The constraints of anonymity mean that I cannot report with any specificity the best parts of yesterday, but nothing stops me from saying it's been spectacular, and since there's a lot of socializing outside of the rooms, I don't think I'm violating any precepts by mentioning there's a sumptuous amount of eye candy in attendance. (My theory is that hot men get clean sooner because they're offered so much meth for free.)   This sexy beast-feast has clearly not escaped the notice of my erstwhile Provincetown paramour, nor an evident admirer or two or his, and I suspect he was gobbled up by one of them last night.

I did get a text message from him this a.m. which my ego did appreciate, but if he wanted me, I had changed the sheets and fluffed the pillows last night,  and had made it clear he was welcome to hitch a ride home with me, to which he responded with a noncommital charm that seems to be his modus operandi. (It's called keeping your options open til the last minute. Been there. Did it a million times.)

In the spirit or rigorous honesty, I must confess I have certainly been flirting my ass off as well.  There's a cruise being raffled off today and perhaps I'll invite one of them along if I win.

MCO 2008

P.S.  I have previously blogged about a friend I found wandering the streets in 2006 and then again in 2007, miserably high after relapses, who I called X.  I ran into him yesterday, healthy and clean and looking marvelous.  He really really thinks he is DONE.  I told him if he relapses again, I'll just shoot him.