Loot the Louvre!

Daily_scene_in_the_Louvre - Samuel ErhartDaily scene in the Louvre by Samuel D. Erhart

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“Out of the closets and into the museums, libraries, architectural monuments, concert halls, bookstores, recording studios and film studios of the world. Everything belongs to the inspired and dedicated thief…. Words, colors, light, sounds, stone, wood, bronze belong to the living artist. They belong to anyone who can use them. Loot the Louvre! A bas l’originalité, the sterile and assertive ego that imprisons us as it creates. Vive le vol-pure, shameless, total. We are not responsible. Steal anything in sight.” ― William S. Burroughs

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Have you ever noticed the strange coincidences which pop up in your life, sometimes on a daily basis, random little things which… after a pause or two for thought… make you wonder about certain aspects of life, your aspect of life, your particular fragment and all its facets in this giant crystal ball of a planet made up of so many millions, billions, trillions, of other multi-faceted fragments which glimmer and glint under the burning eye of that other planet around which we all spin.

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Plasma_globe - by ColinPlasma Globe – photo by Colin

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While perusing my WordPress reader – for those of you who don’t have a Wp blog, the reader is like a Facebook home page, a Twitter timeline, a place which shows you the latest posts of the blogs of bloggers whom you follow – this morning with very bleary eyes and sleepy mind, I noticed that many posts had used the same image and wondered if the reader had glitched again or whether it was my eye to mind coordination which had glitched again (I have dyslexia and this is a constant).

I blinked… as though that would do any good in clearing up visual hallucinations and misperceptions… but it works in cartoons… and still the ‘glitch’ remained. My brain suggested investigating it further, which my mind groaned about as I was still in a slightly grumpy state (as I always am upon waking up and finding out that I’m still alive and have to deal with the complications which that poses… I don’t want to wake up to being dead, but that doesn’t stop the morning grump from being a grump about life and living).

Why was everyone posting the same thing? It had something to do with monkeys, and flying ones at that! Or… at least that’s what my eyes read. Apparently these flying or not flying monkeys belonged to WordPress and were posting blog stats in a 2014 year in blogging review for each individual blog.

I had a momentary shock to the system, kind of like getting a static electricity shock from petting your cat after dragging your be-socked feet along a synthetic carpet and you didn’t expect such a violent thing from such a soft thing. I panicked… like a dowager spinster whose safety-pins which hold up her bloomers gave up their ghost and exposed her lady bits to a rather chill draught.

DON’T POST MY BLOG STATS, YOU FRIGGIN’ FLYIN’ MONKEYS!!!!… at least not without asking me first.

But… they hadn’t done that. They did ask me first. And after checking my blog email, which I never check… I found a link to… what was going on, which gave me the option to post such a thing on my blog or keep it private. I chose to keep it private.

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my stats, I’m not… on the contrary, I’m quite proud of them… and that worries me. I’m a worrier, I can worry about anything, everything and nothing. I don’t know if those who trip over my blog on their walks online notice that about me or not… I try to keep it under wraps and not infect anyone else with it. I try to keep the boundary clear – these are my worries… please don’t make them yours too, you have your own worries and don’t need mine to add to those which are yours. I usually deal with my worries (and sometimes the worries of others which have leaked into me) by detaching from them and laughing at them (not yours but mine) if that is possible. Laughter is a wonderful balm!

So… while worrying that yet again my posts just go on and on forever… I remind myself why I blog and write posts – it’s not about others, views, stats, etc. So if my post is too long… perhaps it needs to be that long for me (to get whatever it is that I’m getting at).

The stats part… is a bonus, which is sometimes such a beautiful gift… but don’t get distracted – me talking to myself as I do in my posts – (easy to say, harder to do – distracted is a default setting for me).

I do not want to share my stats, but I am grateful that you have visited this strange little corner of the net and I hope you found something worth stealing in this odd little Louvre.

Why am I calling my blog a Louvre… How conceited is that!!!???!!!

Let me explain… with a screenshot of the work of WordPress flying or not flying monkeys:

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 Louvre blog

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The reason this stood out for me is because… recently I’ve been visiting the Louvre more often than I ever did when I lived in Paris. I’ve been playing – Assassin’s Creed Unity (playing this game is the best history lesson ever), which takes place in Paris during the French Revolution. I was actually living in Paris when the bicentennial celebration of the French Revolution occurred, which was memorable and also… personally intriguing, especially when looked at with hindsight and detachment.

I did kind of balk at the comparison between my blog and the Louvre (this comparison isn’t just for my blog but all blogs on WordPress, and Wp have used other monuments for this too, like the Syney Opera House)… really, WTF!?!… however, WTF and all the ludicrous stuff aside… I suppose a blog is a sort of museum, a personal kind of museum with each post representing a painting (albeit not painted by a master or such, at least not on this blog… unless it’s a reblog).

It’s a museum of self and works which mean something to the self… which when viewed by others often take on an entirely different meaning and significance.

The eye of the beholder… rarely meets the eye of the creator, or if it does, it doesn’t necessarily see what the creator sees in their creation… but often creates something else from what is in the creation when they gaze upon it… because every viewer is creating with their views and is a creator in and of themselves of their own life and experience of life and themselves.

Thank you for gazing upon the works which are hanging in this rather odd little museum. And thank you for commenting and sharing yourselves with me… you’ve taught me more than you will perhaps ever know… perhaps more than I will ever know.

Attention… is something with which I struggle, which I worry about, and wrestle with like a ye olde world wrestler wearing a knitted costume which is rather ridiculous when viewed from a modern fashion sense, or any sense at all, I’m just a woolly ball of nonsense… as I associate it with its negative side more than I do with its positive side… but you have helped me to receive your gift of time, attention and interest with less flinching and more embracing. You’ve helped me to quite like being here this way, being me and sharing it even if I often do so with trepidation painted hastily over with bravado… and have aided me to stop trying to delete myself off the face of the earth (again and again).

I’m almost a grown up… or, at least, my blog is getting there even if its person behind the scenes still has a way to go (but since I’m kind of going backwards through life, with a pinch of topsy-turvy… never ye mind)

Merci beaucoup, mille fois, et bienvenue toujours at An Upturned Soul’s petit palais (really more like a shack-ette) online.

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Hubert_Robert,_Une_galerie_du_MuséeUne Galerie du Musee by Hubert Robert

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“I think that life would suddenly seem wonderful to us if we were threatened to die as you say. Just think of how many projects, travels, love affairs, studies, it–our life–hides from us, made invisible by our laziness which, certain of a future, delays them incessantly.

‘But let all this threaten to become impossible for ever, how beautiful it would become again! Ah! If only the cataclysm doesn’t happen this time, we won’t miss visiting the new galleries of the Louvre, throwing ourselves at the feet of Miss X, making a trip to India.

‘The cataclysm doesn’t happen, we don’t do any of it, because we find ourselves back in the heart of normal life, where negligence deadens desire. And yet we shouldn’t have needed the cataclysm to love life today. It would have been enough to think that we are humans, and that death may come this evening.” 

― Marcel Proust

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