Missy | January 20, 2007
Tilda and Chan, MoMA
It’s been too cold to wander the streets so I haven’t yet been to Doug Aitken’s sleepwalkers outdoor video installation projected onto the walls of the MoMA. Until today! Obviously. I made a point to stop off on my way home from Lincoln Center, where I saw the New York City ballet, my first of two NYCB attendances in four days. (It’s winter rep season, I can’t help myself.) At the ballet, I sat next to a five year old and I was astounded at her attentiveness. Many young girls fantasize about the ballerina because that fantasy comes with satin slippers, a tutu and tiara, and a handsome prince, with no regard for the art form itself. And yet this child sat through five separate plotless, abstract ballets–each set to late-period Stravinsky, no less–over the course of two hours and twenty minutes. Many adults can’t do that.
In other news, I did the unthinkable: I joined a gym. Actually, it’s my workplace’s gym and I can wrangle out of my contract after three months if I so choose. My rationale is that I like winter hiberation, and it shows. However, I find gyms to be such depressing, soulless places, largely because nobody ever seems to be enjoying themselves and they appear to be there out of obligation, like going to the dentist or to church. Going to the gym also bores the balls out of me and, as a result, I too feel soulless and depressed. I think I’d rather sit through lectures on 18th century German philosophy, recordings of avant garde jazz, or even back-to-back episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. In any event, if you saw me you’d probably be agreeing with my decision, thinking to yourself, “That’s right, get on that treadmill, tubby.”
UPDATE: I’ve some follow-up news from this post. An anonymous donor has come forward to provide financial assistance to Dominick Diomede until he finds a new apartment. And, the moving company Movers, Not Shakers has offered to move Diomede’s possessions for free.
