History is truly like a giant game of Plinko that takes place over time. Take this print that just came in. From an artist in the 1600s named Sebastian Bonnecroy, and an epitomization of the genre of painting known as vanitas, or vanity, which brings together themes of opulence and the transience of life into single images. You think I knew any of that when I ordered it? I saw a page I follow on Instagram post a link to their shop, where they’ve attained the rights to many forgotten (i.e. cheap) paintings of yesteryear and sell them as prints. I just saw skull and red and parchment and thought “painting look edgy and cool, I be those things if I buy”. Mr. Bonnecroy dropped his painting into the lanes of history, like a Plinko ball, and down it went, bouncing from one peg to the other, following erratic movements: a museum here, a museum there, the back room of an auction house here, and back to a museum again here, and finally safely kept in a museum, yes, but hardly exhibited, and then shown on a trendy Instagram page for bozos like me to buy and feel superior than everyone else when they do, prompting a second wave of fame and people hanging his art once again. Careful with that Plinko, watch it go!
Bonnecroy wasn’t famous in his own life. So non-famous, in fact, that the only reason I know he wasn’t famous is because there’s no real information on him at all. He was just another name in a niche genre that already wasn’t so renowned. But he’s on my wall now, and that’s pretty cool. Though I do still feel bad for the guy, because anyone who reaches some sort of notoriety or esteem after their death has been scammed. If I ever get known for anything, it better be while I’m alive. And you know what? If it does, I could care less if it all dies with me and nobody remembers me ever again. Recognition is for the living, and people like Bonnecroy are those who just got stunted on by jester death. Bonnecroy’s own painted skull laughs at him.
Otherwise, was a solid Monday. Went to the gym for the first time since 2019. Only did 30 mins incline walking and my lower back felt like two 5 year olds were digging Philips head screwdrivers into my weak and tender sinews. The extra portly weight, accompanied by a radically sedentary lifestyle compared to what I used to do, has quite literally atrophied and strained my legs and lower back all at once. When you’re 28 and googling “sciatica relief”, it’s time to get to the goddamn gym. Plus, my tennis league season starts again in a few weeks, and I can’t be moaning in pain when I kneel down to tie my shoes, just wouldn’t look good. My plan for the next month is just to focus on diet and cardio, getting my body used to movement and healthy food again. And because of my weak shins, this means a lot of low-impact but high-intensity rowing, stationary biking, and incline walking, and maybe ellipticaling when my dignity is shot. What’s that? You didn’t ask for any of this info? Um, look what page you’re on sweetie, it would seem like you did indeed ask. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about this stuff everyday, it’s brutal enough writing a single paragraph.
After waddling home like a King Penguin who lost its mate, it was only a matter of having a solid dinner and passing out.
See you tomorrow,
Nick
Nick Denardi 