Vegemite Man

I received a care package the other day compliments of my dear friend Maureen from Australia. What began as a comment or two regarding the mystery and intrigue surrounding the Aussie staple, “Vegemite” turned into a package of many wonderfully Australian things.

It’s quite difficult for one to describe vegemite. Maureen says it looks like axle grease and I have to say she’s right. But the taste, ahh, the taste is unforgettable.
Malt, yeast and salt dominate this black paste and for some odd reason it reminds me of beer.
Then again, many things remind me of beer.

I was forewarned: don’t use very much.
God, I’m glad I read that little nugget of information.
Honestly, I think I could grow to like this stuff. Aside from using it as a spread on crackers or toast what the hell else can you use it for?

 

 

 

I’ll report back on how well the axle grease works out.

I was also sent an authentic boomerang. From the looks of it, if I had to feed my family using this thing as a hunting weapon, they all would have perished weeks ago.
I am, however, quite good at throwing it in such a way that it comes back and hits me.

Maybe I deserve it.

I also now own (and wear) a very cool red baseball cap from a golf course called
The Willows (courtesy of Mark, Moe’s better half.. Thanks, Mark!)
And I love the Australian flag on the back of the cap.

But the most unusual gift I received was a pouch.
This isn’t your average everyday pouch—this one is special.
It’s made out of genuine kangaroo scrotum (is there any other kind?)
Maureen says that downunder they use the entire Joey.
I guess she’s not kidding.
We’ve joked about what to put in it (my nuts?).
Those disappeared the minute I saw the actual lettering on the bag.
(genuine kangaroo scrotum)

I have a little something for Moe and Mark that left today.
I think we will soon have a budding Red Sox fan in Australia . . . I hope.

I’m sure you noticed the {huge} picture at the top of the post of yours truly sporting my new baseball cap.
I spent a beautiful sunny day in Boston with a beautiful woman, had a wonderful lunch at the Rattlesnake on Boylston Street and wandered breathlessly through the Hopper Exhibit at the MFA.
I’m not even going to try and describe all that I saw because I’d fail miserably.
I really would.

I will tell you a few things though; “Nighthawks” is a massive piece of art and much larger than I originally thought it would be.
I stared at it for 15 minutes taking in the detailed brush strokes of one of my favorite artists.
I kept thinking ‘His hand actually did this’ . . . I was gobsmacked being that close to a work of art so creative.
And though I’m no painter, Hopper has an uncanny ability to re-create light on canvas.
I’ve no idea how he came to possess this talent but this picture gave me the chills.
Online it looks fairly blasé but standing in front of it makes one want to kneel.
I’m not kidding.
It was an all around wonderful day and I feel so blessed.
If a Hopper Exhibit comes anywhere near you, please do yourself a favor and go.

Thanks, Moe for the package.
Look for the mailman late next week.

And yes, I want pictures . . . :0)

 

~m

Hopper at the MFA in Boston

I’m finally going to the Hopper Exhibit at the MFA tomorrow.
Anyone notice my banner?
I thought someone would mention it.
btw, it’s called “NightHogs”, an obvious parody of Hopper’s “Night Hawks”
Lunch in Boston with my wife afterwards.
I gotta tell you I’m an excited little boy.
Look for a future post on the trip.

~m

Hopper

The Edward Hopper exhibit begins today at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
I’m excited to tell you that I will be going in the next month or so since it’s there until the middle of August.
I’ve been drawn to Hopper’s work for many years now but to have the opportunity to actually see paintings such as “Nighthawks“, “Gas” and “Chop Suey” in person will be incredible beyond words.
I connect with this man’s work on so many levels that it almost leaves me speechless.
Almost. . .
Whether you’ve heard of Hopper or not, check out the video.
No doubt you’ve seen a few of these over the years.
I’ll keep you posted on my upcoming visit to the MFA.

~m

Hopper and Hornsby

I love Edward Hopper paintings. Though I know essentially nothing about art, I know that vivid and startling images speak multitudes to my mind and my innermost soul. I’ve posted Hopper’s “Gas”, a simple rendition of an old Mobil gas station on some God forsaken backroad in Anytown, USA. The overall feel of the painting for me is that of stark vacuity. The somber colors and hues, the utilization of shadow, the overall impending darkness all seem to ooze into a quiet solitude that draws you into the stygian vision that is uniquely Edward Hopper. In “Gas”, there is a lone man seen checking the gauges on the pumps, another slow day, maybe.
I first saw this painting at the assisted living facility where my father currently resides. Time after time, visit after visit, I would look inextricably to Hopper’s vision of the world that surrounded him, amazed that so beautiful an image was once bound by the ties of the human mind. Years ago, Bruce Hornsby released an album titled “Harbor Lights“, a classic Hornsby album. It would be many years before I would discover that a Hopper painting actually graced the cover.
“Rooms by the Sea” is yet another creation by the man himself. I mention Hopper because I’m listening to the Hornsby album right now riding into Boston. I always wanted to paint or draw but I really suck at it. I never had that inate talent though I admire and am astounded by people that do. My mind just doesn’t seem to work that way. I love Picasso, Dali, Monet and artists like them but will never truly grasp the almost sacred ability required to reach that artistic plateau. I can relate to art through music stating that creation in general speaks to us all on very individual levels, visceral layers of understanding deeply embedded into the hidden core of our minds. Sometimes we can’t explain why something moves us so, it simply does. We then accept creation and subconciously continue searching through the crayon box for that next perfect and undiscovered color.