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Well, not in that way.

One of the things I always wanted to paint was a Crucifixion scene. Part of my psychological makeup: I still visit cathedrals and listen to choirs singing Anglican hymns when I need calm.

But, I wanted to paint it Caravaggio style. As people here know, I think Caravaggio kicks ASS and want to do him justice.

This means good, heavy chiaroscuro - lots of drama and emotional content, as Bruce Lee would have said. It's also going to be BIG. I'm gonna need an entire wall to do it all.

But Caravaggio also had a subversive streak in him that liked playing games - such as using an awesome model for the Virgin Mary who also happened to be the town whore.

The man I have found is a long haired, good looking Aryan man. Yes, Christ wasn't an Aryan Caucasian, (but in medievil times he was portrayed as such) but I am gonna paint it certain ways for certain reasons, which will become apparent when the painting is finished.

No, I have no intention of being blasphemous.

But I think Caravaggio would smile at me from wherever his soul ended up. Because the guy who I am getting has a morality that is FAR from Christian. He's a polyamorous, pagan, bisexual (versatile) sadomasochist (switch) cross dresser. He's all id - a living Frank N Furter.

But he's also sinfully good looking, has great muscle tone without being buff and has the kind of look and build they'd have sought out back then. Regardless of who the person actually was, a theme also played out in Jesus of Montreal.

It surprised the hell out of the people I know when I excitedly confirmed his contribution. But there was a devilish twinkle in his eye when he said yes. He has my sense of irony about the project as well.

Game on. I have high hopes for this painting. Updates as they're needed, and I'll show you the final results in a year and a half.

Hello, World!

My name is Maya Justine. That hasn't changed since the last time. I'm now one year old. My birthday was last month. It was sooooo weird. All these people came to my house and brought me stuff. Daddy was telling them that they should have come empty-handed because he sez I already have too much stuff. Of course, I was having none of that. It was for ME! I mean, I'm used to being the centre of attention and all that but this was like it was all about me, all the time. I guess a birthday is something special. Maybe I'll have another one soon.

I can now make it at least halfway across the room without falling down. When I do trip it's either cos I'm going too fast or cos big brother was slacking and didn't pick up my toys. I have a big sister too. I like to give her a hard time when I'm feeling tired and cranky. She thinks that she can quiet me down by walking with me but she's so mistaken. In the end mommy or daddy comes and takes me, and does exactly what sister was trying to do. Then I shut up and smirk at her over their shoulder.

Today I went to see the doctor again. He's a funny man who talks a lot. Then, after he left, some lady came and stabbed me twice in each leg. That hurt! Waaaaaaaah! But I can't hold a grudge so I couldn't keep up the sad face for more than ten minutes. They think I don't know but they plan on doing the same to me next time. Ha! By then I'll be mobile enough to give them the slip.

I think I'll close with one of the few words that I can articulate, though I prefer to supplement it with a vigorous wave. I know, gestures are the crutch of inarticulate, errr, babies but, well, nyah! Next time I'll have more for you.


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