Archive for February, 2012

No Faith in Hell

Posted in Uncategorized on February 27, 2012 by Cristina

I don’t think there’s a hell, but if there is, I’m fucked. One reason is because I’m a big-time sinner and the second is because I don’t repent for that shit. I was driving around doing some photo stuff this afternoon and this sign reminded me of my possible fate:

“Always remember”?! How could we forget? Literature makes it sound so terrible, I don’t think we need a sign. Ever since reading Dante’s Inferno, the image of Ugolino gnawing on Ruggieri’s head has been burned into my previously innocent mind.

Ugh, it would suck to be Ruggieri. While these guys are in the deepest level of hell, it’s unlikely that I’d go below level III according to this handy chart either drawn by God, the Devil or a masturbating monk who loved donuts:

Since it seems that eternal punishment is individually tailored, I’d wager that mine would play out something like this:
I’m in dark, freezing water full of slimy creatures and some striped-shirt bro is sitting on a rock close to me. His feet stink and I can hear him constantly smacking his gum as he sings Blink 182 karaoke songs. There are buzzing mosquitoes that bite the exposed parts of my body and the water tastes like absinthe. It doesn’t get me drunk. My mom is on the shore, watching a video recording of my life on repeat, shaking her head.
If the Devil reads this blog, there you have it.
Fingers crossed that there’s no hell because not sinning is not an option. That would be my hell on earth.


Inventory story

Posted in Uncategorized on February 25, 2012 by Cristina

This week’s project was copying another photographer’s style, which I did from 10pm-2am on Monday night. Using Margaret Stratton’s Inventory of My Mother’s House as the model, I semi-randomly collected items in my house and photographed them. The idea was to look at my belongings through the eyes of an outsider, perhaps someone going through my stuff upon my death. Sticking to Margaret’s themes of food, cleaning supplies, trinkets, books, etc, I quickly realized that, taken out of context (physical background, my personality, an explanation), this collection can paint a strange portrait. Here are 10 of the 48:

Figurine, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Embroidery, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Paprika, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Como agua para chocolate, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Pen, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Chillies, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Dial Soap, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Brassiere, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Egg holder, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Hair, Inventory of My Own House, 2012

Yeah, I have a figurine of a peeing boy, use bar soap and keep a ziplock bag of hair. Luckily, I’m still alive and can rationalize these things. It’s an interesting exercise: try looking at your belongings and ask yourself,
“What story would these tell to someone if I wasn’t around?”

Gross x Nasty = Me + Cars

Posted in Uncategorized on February 20, 2012 by Cristina

I did something disgusting. Again! Adult irresponsibility turned my car into a coffin of nastiness. I’d asked for bull-whip kelp from the coast and a friend was kind enough to bring one. Planning on photographing it the following day, it went in the back of my car. Got super busy, and my
I’ll do it tomorrow, tomorrow attitude lasted for TWO WEEKS. The shame!

That thing festered, got gooey and started smelling like a salty corpse. I was swallowing a lot of saliva in repulsion every time I got into my car. I’m disgusting for letting it go that long. Even worse is that this is less gross than something I did in Germany a few years ago.
I drove to Strasbourg with family one warm October day and, since we all love drinking, I pulled over and purchased some federweißer, a sweet sparkling wine. Threw the two gallons in my trunk and kept driving. Long story short, my brakes went out, nearly crashed into a semi on the return trip, barely made it back with burning smell coming from under the hood. I didn’t touch my car for a week until I could take it to the mechanic. Do you know what happens in 7 days in a sealed car with 2 spilled gallons of liquid fructose pooling in the spare tire well? Biology is what happens:

I walked to my car and noticed that it was a little darker than normal in the windows. Strange. When I opened the door, a cloud of fruit flies oozed out. There. were. so. many. nasties! An orgy of thousands of drunk adolescent fruit flies! After freaking out and doing some breathing exercises, I realized my only choice was to roll down all the windows and drive as quickly as possible (without brakes) around downtown a few times to let the wind suck them out. Just dooo it and do it fast! My skin was crawling with the critters hitting my face and going up my nose as smoke was emerging from under the hood. It was bad. I arrived back home and stumbled out of the hell that was my Toyota Camry. My upstairs German neighbor poked his head out the window, saw me shaking my arms crazily with flies everywhere, smelled the burning metal and slammed his window. No tolerance for people who let disgusting things happen in their cars.

I hope there won’t be another incident like this in my car, but since the larva to pupa cycle is undeniable and history repeats itself, fair warning!

More days!

Posted in Uncategorized on February 18, 2012 by Cristina

Sickness and starting a new job didn’t prevent me from trying to squeeze all the happy-good-times out of this week. Bad news: still sick. Good news: I’ve learned that it’s delusional to think that I can fight my tendency to spend time with loverfriends. Can’t stop agreeing to hang-time (or making memes), so I give up. Maximum-fun-to-death continues; now, guilt-free!


Posted in Uncategorized on February 16, 2012 by Cristina

My sister is an interesting and beautiful creature. I was lending a book to a friend last night and found this sticky-note bookmark that my sister had left in there a few years ago.

What. It seems like a list… what KIND of list, I’m not quite sure. Probably not a to-do list. A list of things that are worse than they seem? Could be, since soccer is definitely eliminated. But why was soccer on there in the first place? What does it mean? Basically, what this cryptic note from the crypt tells us is that she’s special and inexplicable. Since I know her best, I decided to copy one of those profession-meme thingies to shed some light:

Little Miss Tattoed-Hardworking-Cute-as-a-button-Artsy-Romanian-Altruist. Without athlete’s foot; I don’t think she’s ever had athlete’s foot.

Happy tears!

Posted in Uncategorized on February 10, 2012 by Cristina

I cried two days in a row at things that are probably really dumb to some people but infinitely beautiful to me.
In class yesterday, we were talking about photographer William Eggleston who made pictures like this one:

The tears came during a video of him drunk, hanging out with a girlfriend:

I don’t know if appreciation for life gets any better than this (though some of my classmates guffawed disapprovingly, so I hid my tears).

This morning, it happened again as I was reading an article about Gordon Hempton, an acoustic geologist who advocates for a more quiet world. It was this part of the interview that got me:
“I was twenty-seven years old and on my way to graduate school in Madison, Wisconsin. At the end of a day of driving I pulled to the side of a road in Iowa and lay down between two rows of stubby cornstalks to sleep, to save myself the cost of a motel room. I listened to the crickets. Then I heard a thunderstorm booming from miles away. I continued to lie there and listen as the thunder got louder, and I let the storm roll right over me. I let myself get soaked. I simply took in the experience. There was no more driving I wanted to do, no more thinking, no more moving. I just let it happen.”
These people know what’s up and it moves me to tears! I’ve been listening to Roy Orbison and the rain all day.

T &(=) A

Posted in Uncategorized on February 6, 2012 by Cristina

I made this prediction to my sister years ago: butt-crack is going to be the new cleavage. Whether it was wishful thinking on my part or just damn good trendcasting, this is now a near-reality. Breast cleavage is old news! As we become more desensitized and boobs are descandalized, ladies have to get creative with the skank-factor. The first hints of this were news of butt implants and Victoria’s Secret panties with ‘keyhole’ openings:

I called my sis to warn her, “It’s HAPPENING!” She wasn’t alarmed.
Then, people began heading out in public sporting ass cleavage. Nice people! Like Heidi:

At this point, the trend still seemed like a thing of glossy magazines and red carpet scandal. Things changed a few nights ago when I saw something I can never unsee. In the movie Biutiful, a nightclub scene opens up with these images rotating hypnotically:

My brain nearly short-circuited. I’m going to take this as a clear sign that we’ve reached the final frontier. I’ve been emotionally dealing with this idea for the last few years, but now it’s time for you to come to terms with it too. Breaking it to my sister won’t be easy.