Why I Miss the Mona Vaginas

A while back, Mona featured an exhibit by Greg Taylor called “Cunts and Other Conversations”. I don’t know why, but I assumed a female artist had put the pussies together. It felt like a feminist endeavor: “I am woman! Look at my labia!” The vaginas have vanished from Mona, but there is currently a similar piece at the Triennale Design Museum in Milan called “The Great Wall of Vagina” by Jamie McCartney. On McCartney’s website, he boasts that he is: “Changing female body image through art.” What the fuck? Why is that a man’s job even in the art world? In the porn world, fine. But art is supposed to be the great equalizer. Guess not.

Anyway, I liked the cunts at Mona, because usually penises get all the glory. Dicks are everywhere! Have you ever seen anyone draw a vagina on someone’s car? Admittedly, it’s a harder shape to draw- the penis is simpler, but maybe if we saw more pictures of cunts floating around, there wouldn’t be so much pussy shame amongst women. Let’s face it: a lot of guys are damn proud of their dicks. No matter how drunk I’ve gotten at a party, I’ve never brought my vagina out just to lighten the mood.

There’s a lot more controversy about the aesthetic of the vadge. The only downfall of the dick is that is can be too small, but pussies can be too brown, too hairy, too floppy, too shrively. As women, we don’t get the opportunity to go around comparing our vaginas to one another. We can compare to the odd pornstar, but come on, I bet a lot of guys know what their friends’ weiners look like. I actually don’t think I’ve seen ANY of my friends’ vaginas! My best friend has seen mine once by accident, but that’s it.

When I saw the cunt wall at Mona, I slowly trailed behind my friends and closely examined each one. I wish I could have gotten some alone time with the Vs, because I felt judged for staring at them for so long. I’m sure my friends began to think: “Come on! Why is Ruthie stuck on the vaginas?!” Well, I was trying to find my twat twin. The cunt wall didn’t necessarily “empower” me, so I don’t think Jamie McCartney should go that far. It’s especially NOT empowering when there are people surrounding the vaginas, snickering. Do you even know how many penises I’ve had to look at in art exhibits? More than you can shake a stick at! And the amount of people who I’ve heard say that they are “concerned” about their children seeing the cunt wall surprises me. Your kid came OUT of your vagina, and you don’t want him/her to look at them?

Anyway, while not empowered, I was slightly comforted by the sight of all the vaginas. You don’t hear people talk about pussies much these days unless it’s to say something overtly pornographic or completely clinical. Lana Del Rey recently released a song called “Cola”, in which she claims her “Pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola”. If that’s the case, then my shit tastes like Skittles. She said that her boyfriend, Barrie-James O’Neill, told her this. My boyfriend told me that my pussy looks like the alien from Alien and Predator. Not something I necessarily wanna sing about it, but I’ll laugh about it, and I’ll share it with the Mona blog community. Because I believe that if you get to a point with someone where they’re looking at your vagina, if they lose interest in you because of the aesthetic of your cunt, then they are probably an asshole. Alright, I feel that I have sufficiently named every part of the “below the belt” region. But yes, to all artists reading this: show me more vaginas, please.

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Tasmanians: Think Before You Cringe

I am a native New Yorker who has been living in Tasmania since June. I’ll say it again in case you misread me: I am a native New Yorker (real New York- not Queens) and I have been living in Tasmania since June. Luke Hortle’s piece was hilarious, but his inclination to “cringe”, and his Tassie shame, Tazshame if you will, is uncalled for. New York is like that group of kids who smoked behind the school at lunch time. New York is illusively cool, but once you get into the in-crowd, your perspective will change.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: “New Yorkers” are masters of disguise. The ones who make you feel inadequate are generally not the real New Yorkers. I won’t name drop, because its tacky, but my best friend’s father is a very famous musician and I distinctly remember him walking around in overalls and tan-colored jelly sandals. Real New Yorkers are not glamorous or intimidating, they are simply tired and long for simplicity. Hence, why I am living in Tasmania right now. Being hip is exhausting. I’ve actually noticed that Tasmanians (namely Hobartians) put a lot more effort into their clothing, hair and makeup than my New York counterparts. Shit, I look like a slob next to y’all.

I will name drop just once, but only to make a point. I have been to Paul Auster’s house but I had to take the subway there and step over tramp barf to get to a clean seat. Does that sound so glamorous? It is in a way. But the “real” New York is gritty, and difficult. You often have to tune out the crowds and noise to focus on where you’re going. You think we all walk around like goddamn tourists taking in the romantic hustle and bustle of the city? No. I am romantic about New York for two weeks when I return from Tassie and then I’m back to the starbucks slurping, adderol popping bitch I was before.

Don’t cringe. Be proud of who you are, Tasmania. If New York is the cool kid who smokes behind the school at lunch time, Tasmania is that bizarre, beautiful girl who is beautiful without trying. Just trust me on this one, cool people never look cool. Being an interesting person takes time and effort. No one who took 45 minutes to cuff their jeans perfectly ever had anything much to say.

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I Want YOU to Want Me…but not you, too

          So, why is wearing a cardigan to a club similar to Kristen Stewart being uncomfortable with fame? I’ll tell you! A few weeks ago Kristen Stewart said this infamous statement:

 “What you don’t see are the cameras shoved in my face and the bizarre intrusive questions being asked, or the people falling over themselves, screaming and taunting to get a reaction. The photos are so… I feel like I’m looking at someone being raped.”

      YES, she knows…she messed up big time by saying rape instead of violated or harassed. But I get what Kristen was trying to say. A lot of people are accusing Kristen of being a whiny little bitch. They say, “That’s the price you pay for being famous! If you don’t like invasion of privacy…don’t be famous!” But Kristen isn’t saying that she hates fame and it’s not that she minds being adored it’s just that she would prefer to set the conditions to just exactly how she’s adored. It’s uncomfortable to be noticed in such an obvious and desperate way. What Kristen feels is fame shame.

        It’s like the first time you wear a low-cut shirt to school. It’s absolutely FINE if a hot guy in your class tells you that you look nice, but it’s a litttttle different when the old, toothless man at the convenience store winks at you and says, “Niiiiiice.” So the difference between a director telling Kristen Stewart that she could be one of the most famous actresses of our time and the paparazzi pleading her to turn around and look at them is the difference between “You look nice” and “Niiiiiiiiiiice.” They are both saying the same thing but the latter is just over-telling the person what they want to hear. I think everyone appreciates having their existence validated. Yes, I want to be told I’m attractive, but I’d like to be told in a subtle way. I mean I came to the club, didn’t I?! I didn’t stay home and read! Kristen Stewart came to the club; she’s not acting out roles by herself in her room or performing at the JCC. She wants to be noticed and appreciated just like everyone else but there’s something deeply uncomfortable when you’re no longer able to control who notices you. FAME SHAME…I think we all share it to a certain degree. We don’t like admitting our desire to be noticed on a public level. I have a certain respect for the guys handing out their demos in the street saying, “Imma be famous just watch me!” I’m sure we all fantasize or at least have at one point in our lives of really reaching a ridiculous level of fame. But rather than saying outloud how badly we want to be recognized our fame shame causes us to achieve backdoor fame and we do stuff like post YouTube videos of ourselves, photo albums of ourselves or worst of all: blog. But we all come to the club. Some of us just hang out on the side…in cardigans.

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Pay No Attention to The Thought Behind the Words!

       In high school I had a friend who wrote short stories…bad ones. Reading one of her stories was like reading 20 fortune cookies. Each line was more cryptic than the next and they looked more like lists of words than an actual narrative. I think she made the common mistake that many writers, politicians and human beings make in general, which is to conceal their underdeveloped or unoriginal thoughts with really, really big words. It’s like vocabulary Febreeze; big words are used to mask the smell of shitty thoughts and stale ideas. I’ve put together an alphabetical list of the words that are commonly used for the Febreeze effect:

  1. Aesthetic
  2. Benign
  3. Cohesive
  4. Dubious
  5. Esoteric
  6. Fallacious
  7. Gregarious
  8. Hermeneutic
  9. Idiosyncratic
  10. Juxtaposition
  11. Killjoy
  12. Lucrative
  13. Marginalized
  14. Nuance
  15. Obsequious
  16. Precarious
  17. Quixotic
  18. Ramifications
  19. Scintillating
  20. Transcendental
  21. Ubiquitous
  22. Vicissitude
  23. Witticism
  24. Xanadu
  25. Yokel
  26. Zeitgeist

         We’ve all seen the vocabularly Febreeze phenomena. Someone gets a little drunk and their vocabularly mysteriously expands, the kid who never does the reading in class is always the one theorizing on the rise of neoliberalist idealism, and politicians using five syllable words with a blank, glazed look in their eyes. Here’s an example of a Febreezer in politics: Senator Bob Graham

       Listen to Senator Bob Graham: “There has been a significant decline in the indicators of citizenship.” What does that even mean? Graham wrote an entire book entitled America, an Owner’s Manual and said that the main objective of the book is to teach people how to achieve “engaged citizenship.” He uses the words “engaged” and “citizenship” without ever definining what it means to be engaged or who is considered a citizen. Why didn’t dude just called his book Why Young White People Should Vote? Anyway, alls I’m saying is be wary of the syllable to word ratio. You never go wrong by asking, what you MEAN by that?

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