An animated portrait of Stanley Kubrick and his films, based on a Rubik’s Cube.
Kubrick’s films are meticulously pieced together like intricate puzzles, so this seems like an appropriate way to portray the great director - hidden within his own work. Also, Kubrick rhymes with Rubik and I’m a sucker for wordplay.
This artwork is available as a print, showing all 6 films that make up the portrait - http://www.redbubble.com/products/configure/7373288-mounted-print
“Mommy, they are just like me.”
My oldest son is six years old and in love for the first time. He is in love with Blaine from Glee.
For those who don’t know Blaine is a boy…a gay boy, the boyfriend of one of the main characters, Kurt.
This isn’t a ‘he thinks Blaine is really cool’ kind of love. It is a mooning at a picture of Blaine’s face for a half hour followed by a wistful “He’s so pretty” kind of love.
He loves the episode where two boys kiss. My son will call people in from other parts of the house to make sure they don’t miss his ‘favorite part.’ He’s been known to rewind it and watch it over again…and force other to, as well, if he doesn’t think people have been paying enough attention.
This infatuation doesn’t bother me or his father. We live in a very hip-liberal neighborhood, many of our friends are gay, and idea of having a gay son isn’t something that bothers either of us. Our son is going to be who he is, and it is our job to love him. End of story.
He is also six. Six year olds get obsessed with all kinds of things. This might not mean anything at all. We always joke that he’s either gay, or we have the best blackmail material in the history of mankind when he’s a 16 year old straight boy. (Take that naked bath time pictures!)
Then the other day we were traveling across the state listening to the Warblers album (of course), and in the middle of Candles, my son pipes up from the back seat.
“Mommy, Kurt and Blaine are boyfriends.”
“Yes, they are,” I affirm.
“They don’t like kissing girls. They just kiss boys.”
“That’s true.”
“Mommy, they are just like me.”
“That’s great, baby. You know I love you no matter what?”
“I know…” I could hear him rolling his eyes at me.
When we got home I recapped this conversation to his Dad, and we stood simply looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then we smiled.
“So if at 16 he wants to make a big announcement at the dinner table, we can say ‘You told us when you were six. Pass the carrots’ and he’ll be disappointed we stole his big dramatic moment,” my husband says with a laugh and hugs me.
Only time will tell if my son is gay, but if he is I am glad he’s mine. I am glad he has been born into our family. A family full of people who will love and accept him. People who will never want him to change. With parents who will look forward to dancing at his wedding.
And I have to admit, Blaine would be a really cute son-in-law.
Kurt Vonnegut, Charles Bukowski, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Ernest Hemingway, and William C. Williams with their furry friends.
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Tattoo artist Ryan Fitzgerald from Dayton, OH was hit with a $100,000 lawsuit last week by his ex-girlfriend Rossie Brovent. She claims that her boyfriend was supposed to tattoo a scene from Narnia on her back but instead tattooed an image of a pile of excrement with flies buzzing around it.
Apparently, Ryan found out that Rossie had cheated with a long-time friend of his, but instead of confronting her about it he acted like everything was normal and hatched a plan for revenge. Originally, Rossie tried to have Ryan charged with assault, but the ingenious tattoo artist had covered his bases by plying Rossie with wine and tequila shots and getting her to sign a consent form that stated the design was “at the artist’s discretion.”
No word from Rossie on whether the illicit night of passion with Ryan’s friend was worth it. Moral of the story? Never cheat on a tattoo artist.
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