If you yelled for eight years you would have enough
sound energy to heat a cup of coffee.
F. Wehlen
I am writing to you from the high seas (YIPPEE); but first a few words on beloved New York.
This year we went for hard core contemporary
art, including two works by De Maria: an apartment filled with dirt inside a
soho walk up, an installation of
fluorescent lights going up a stairway, (terrible..truly
uninspired, but the boys liked walking up the very steep stairs), and an
attempt to see an enormous sculpture made out of sugar in Brooklyn. We spun by the Whitney where F counted the Jasper Johns' American flag painting, and announced in German there were only 48 stars. This was a disappointment..I mean it is worth 20 million bucks. There was a German tourist behind us who laughed his head off and this. Nothing like a German art critic...I mean really..get the number of states right.
The dirt was our favorite-it said no pictures but
little known Wehlen fact: Thomas is not a rule follower. Unlike the rest of us,
who cannot break a rule no matter how tiny and absurd, Thomas makes his own way
based on his judgment and mood. Frederick and I in near constant Greek chorus
of “you can’t do that!!” but of course we are delighted by his rebelliousness…I
mean how daring..a photograph of dirt that “the artist request you not take”
. We loved the dirt; it smelled good-in
a dirt kind of way- and was a bit like staring at the ocean. I was glad the DIA
people paid the artist to do it. It represented everything I know about life: nothing
means anything and yet everything does.
We also paid a visit to the
Math museum where Thomas went toe to toe with pimply teenager volunteers who wore shirts the color
of cheap mustard. F entertained himself on the “rides” but was all kid about
it..not really wanting to stand around discussing constant diameter concepts (balls
are not the only shapes that have them) when there were mazes to walk through.
It occurred to me that Thomas
is the Brad Pitt of the math whiz crowd. I don’t mean to brag, but with his BMI
and posture he rather dazzles in the windowless basement of a math museum.
We saw Heather and Alexia;
and it was lovely to be around people one has known so very long. Thomas and I
had a little tiff about the beds when I arrived two days after him (we had been
put in a room with two tiny twin beds and I maintained that if Elle Macpherson
had been due to arrive instead of me, he would have fixed those beds faster.)
Thomas said, not insincerely: But you ARE Elle Macpherson! Heather agreed that
it was a punishable marriage offense that he had been so obviously, shamelessly content to sleep alone
in a monk’s bed..but also agreed that after so many years of sleeping with me
herself, she could attest that my adorable way of dropping an arm on peoples' faces while asleep,
or flipping up in the air, did lend oneself to fantasies of sleeping alone.
Point is there is nothing like a friend you have known long enough to give an
informed opinion on that.
If you hit a pedestrian at 40 miles per hour, they
would have a 70% chance of dying; if you hit them at 30 miles per hour, they
have an 80% chance of living.
That is why the speed limit is 30 miles per hour.
New York Taxi Television as heard by F. Wehlen
But now we are on the ship!!!
Still love it, still race up the gangway, still delight in every little thing.
When we got inside we raced to a secret back elevator and walked the three
fights up to our deck, because the main elevators are too crowded the first
moments. MMB was game, chasing after us with her purse, her camera bag and her
camera that looked like she was chasing rhinos. OH! speaking of big game, Tilda
Swinton is here..and I can report that movie stars look better than we do in
person (skin, hair, clothes all good) also they have very young boyfriends with
whom they are having a simply marvelous time.
Three exciting things have
happened: the leave taking was into a
storm..or kind of a storm..lots of wind and rain; F and I might be partners in the paddle tennis (Thomas thinks this is
“unfair” to the old people. I hate it when he gets moral about
giving up free coupons); and I skipped the security review where one is
directed not to abandon ship at the first alarm. Loyal bloggers will know after
6 crossings, that this is merely the signal to get your life jacket and warm
clothing..not to jump off.
Finally, the handsome Turk is still at his post at the Queen's grill; and after all these times he greeted us like he was genuinely happy: I Can’t believe it!!! I was wondering where you were!!! Then fussed over
us, offering a table he swore was better that our old one.
He still looks like a
gangster , and best of all, will make crepes suzette at our table tonight. I
told Thomas it is pretty much the perfect relationship: every evening he acts
as if we are having dinner by candlelight alone; then lights large dangerous
flames of dessert by the table.
Then I go to bed and wake up
to do it all over again.
The next Super bowl, the 50th, will be not be called Super Bowl "L" as the Romans would have it; but Superbowl 50. L sounds too much like Loser.
F. Wehlen
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