The Man went away on a boys weekend last weekend so while I was home alone tidying up some stuff for work I watched the first season of Jersey Shore (and just put season 2 on my Quickflix list). It is no secret that I am a consumer of pop&trash culture (see that? I created a new genre!) and I am not ashamed. These kids seriously shouldn't drink so much... but if they didn't it wouldn't be so absorbing. Their relationship issues are so dramatic and their arguments are so superficial - the makings of great trash TV. Reminds me of high school, which I still romanticize about but hated for the most part - aside from a very select but amazing group of friends. Tween to teenage BS is far to chaotic (I find enough chaos when I don't look for it).
I am back in the office this week with the renovations all done - new carpet, fresh wall paint, new IT system and a new rack that sounds like it is about to take off every time the fans start running. Someone found a Dali print in a frame hidden behind some shelves and put it above my desk. There is something about this particular painting that resonates with me. It is the typical melting clock but it looks like it is in agony the numbers trying to escape the face, parts of its insides twisting and contorting. A moth sits in the bottom left hand corner looking lost while a fly sitting on the 9 o'clock mark of the clock is about to be sucked into a crack (maybe a tear or a mountain range... with Dali it is sometimes hard to tell) which takes up almost a quarter of the clock face. A calm bay is in the far background but is completely overshadowed by the chaos pouring from the tortured time piece in the foreground... I wonder if the person who bought it had intended for it to be a metaphor for nine-to-five work or if it is a coincidence. I think I am the fly. Or the 6 which is casually sneaking off the clock into the boarder of the painting.
|I found the print!|