Well, here it is, my new website. I guess artists are, by definition, exhibitionists. I certainly seem to be a case in point. And this site comes with a blog, wow, now I can inundate all you sitting ducks out there with my wisdoms! I call it Rosie's Blarney because you have to know that I kissed the Blarney Stone, over there in Ireland, in 1977. Nothing changed. The stone's still there, and so am I.
As for today - today is February 15, 2008, for another 27 minutes, that is - the deep thought to convey is that life is short and must be enjoyed or otherwise be made useful in whatever minuscule or forgettable way, it doesn't matter as long as YOU remember its importance. Today I'm very sad that my neighbor Charles died, the last one in a spate of deaths that started with the emergence of 2008. I will remember him fondly and think of him every time I pass his garden, which is full of his elegant, colorful, abstract sculptures. Summer evenings used to be full of the sounds of his metal grinding, along with the hammering in Dorothy's silversmith's studio. Dorothy is my other neighbor, and she doesn't hammer silver anymore because of old age. This she decided last year, at 87. Luckily she could still make Ron a silver napkin ring, and luckily she's still around. But the neighborhood will be too silent this summer.
On Tuesday I voted for Obama and I'm proud of it. My Dutch grandfather was a socialist in his young years but lost his vim - saying if you were not a socialist in your youth, you had no heart, and if you were still a socialist in your dotage, you had no brain (along with some wisdom about only bald pates able to cover good brains, since everything else needs shit). But times have changed. Hillary is a great candidate but comes with too much baggage, like her husband. She seems to think she can vouch for him behaving as First Laddy, but I've seen him in action, when Ron and I, along with some 100 other good citizens standing in line for a Presidential Handshake (it was in the late 90s, when the Clintons visited South Africa), were passed over in favor of an amazingly beautiful woman in a sari who unintentially (we think) and unexpectedly appeared on the Presidential Retina. We're still waiting for that handshake.
In my almost-dotage this may be folly, but I like the leap of faith towards Obama. His name spelled backwards means "I will love" in Italian.
Maybe someone can tell me why I'm suddenly afraid to paint? That would be very helpful. Very helpful indeed.
