1.31.2009

Postcard

Here's a postcard that my pal, Rebecca, once sent me from London.
It depicts some of a Joseph Beuys exhibition that went down at the Tate.
She knows I really like Beuys' stuff, so this was a very thoughtful gesture on her part.
Thanks, Bec!



And, yes, I'll spare all of you from saying out loud what we're all thinking:
it looks like turds.

The Buzzcocks

(2000)

From, oh, 1999 on, I was taking the OM-1 to every show I could and click-click-clicking away with that great 3200 speed film. Managed to get some pretty nice results along the way, too. Made quite a little cottage industry of it there for a spell. Now, of course, it's all about the digital. Digitals are good for some stuff, but they can't come close to this kind of work.

This is Pete Shelly of the seminal and legendary Mancunian punk outfit, The Buzzcocks, live at The Galaxy in St. Louis, ca. 2000.

1.30.2009

Poem

Found this in The New Yorker once...

Happy Birthday, Donny B!

Yeah, That's right.
It's our good buddy Donny Besancenez' birthday!
Or, at least, it's around now.
I won't front: I don't know the exact date of Donny's birth.
I don't even know how old he is this year,
but he's having a birthday party/gig/thingy at Lemmon's tonight and that's reason enough for me to barf up a birthday blog post to you, Donny.
Me luvs you...
see?



(piece of paper found on street years ago that I've been saving especially for this occasion, apparently)

The Retribution of Yvonne Craig

(2008)

Yvonne Craig is another of those nearly-known,
Sixties actresses whom I just super dig.
Like Marianna Hill,
she did a Star Trek and some Elvis.
Other stuff, too, I guess,
but I'm not really in a very researchy place right now,
so I'll fill in the rest of the blanks another time...

Oh, she'll be back.

Don't worry about that.

Forty Years Ago

I looked like this.

Surface Fragments No.6

(2008)



1.28.2009

No Function Text

The romantic mind sees the world in terms of surface rather than function,
more or less,
and that's me,
more or less,
trapped in this mostly classical time in history.

So when I go to read something,
this is what I see,
more or less.

1.21.2009

Good Old Arizona


These photos of Arizona go back some.
Ted Fisher emailed them a while ago with some other stuff he'd dug up out of, I assume, some old box he has there, 
where he is.
I think he said something about that some relative of his or someone had taken them back before we were born.
(I might be making up that last part)
Anyhow, this is where he and I grew up, more or less.
Phoenix.

I've fooled with the images some.
Not sure why, but I felt compelled to take Ted's old photographs and then make them look like new photographs and then send them through Trey's picture distressing filter so that they look like old photographs again,
but here they are - both authentic AND contrived.






Poem



I don't know who wrote this, but it wasn't me.
I don't write no poetry.

Really Old Book Jacket

1.19.2009

Quintet

(1990?/2008)

The Girl From Creepanima

(2008)


Worn Out Star


I think this used to be an air-freshener.
Looks like hard times on the road,
not to mention several years in one of my boxes,
have redirected this star's career.



Hematodipsia

(2008)






"Did you know there is a psychological fixation called hematodipsia which causes the sufferer to gain erotic satisfaction from consuming human blood? Well, there is. It may seem scary; it may seem kewl; it may even seem unreal, but it does exist. In basic, the victim thinks he's a vampire. What do you think of this? Do you know anyone who has it?"


"I've only heard of it through you, i didnt even know it existed before. But if you think about it, many carnivores taste blood everytime they rip into a fresh carcas. Humans are omnivores, therefore meaning they must have eaten meat the same way. Even though we dont eat like that anymore, maybe they still had the gene that told them blood tasted good. And anyway people have different tastes in food, like some could be hooked on snails, others could be hooked on blood? I wouldnt assume a hematodipsiaic would drink blood the same way a vampire would, thats just wierd. Its all wierd."


"My friend heard of some company or blood bank or whatever that donated to the hematodipsia victims..."


I would hate to be one of those guys. You know, this could be where they got the idea of a vampire.. it does make sence (sic,)."


"Yeah, I read 'bout it before. It's kool if you ask me, but yeah pretty creepy."


"Umm..I remember reading a Serial Killer book that had many serial killers in their who had it...I think...That book was nasty. It had all sorts of other stuff too. I would tell you but my cousin borrowed it."


"I am a hematodipsia (sic.), although it is embarrassing for me to say so; I've always had a fascination for blood since I could walk and talk. I've never met another heatodipsic (sic.) person, so I do not know what the symptoms are, but in my opinion, I don't think anyone can label what the exact symptoms are, because everyone's symptoms are different in my opinion. As for me, I've always dreamt of a v_a_m_p_i_r_e whisking me away and drinking my blood--I've never inflicted any wounds on myself to drink my own blood, but I've thought of drinking someone else's blood. I sometimes have to control myself when I see another person's blood, and sometimes go into minor spasms (twitching)."

Just So You Know

(2000)

Postcard



Some Titles

At one point I had my mind completely set on becoming a playwright.
It was my only waking desire and consumed my days.
Unfortunately, I never made it out of the title stage.
These are all I came up with before I changed my mind and decided to become an astronaut.


"The Nice Supper"
"Success In The Cue"
"Go Back To Normal"
"The False Breasts"
"Movie Stars Need Love Too"
"I Was A Teenage Bedwetter"
"Isn't Anyone Going To Ask Me Why I Have This Box On My Head?"
"The Happy Loser"
"There's A Perfectly Reasonable Explanation For All of This I Assure You"
"The Barbara Infection"
"Flowers For Myself"
"The Compulsory Lottery"
"Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Sex I Learned In Kindergarten Without Really Trying"
"Argument With A Television"
"The Nipples On My Ass"
"The Good Clean Fun That Resulted In My Death"
"The Relationship Sails Out of the Harbor"
"Ways Of Sleeping"
"Where The Pills Are"
"...And God Created Back Pain"
"Death In The Afterlife"
"The Obvious Men"
"From Nosepicker to Gluesniffer"
"A Guarantee of Happiness"
"The Pajamas"
"The Girl in the Well"
"Better Off Not Knowing"
"Men Who Bleed"
"The Pay Phone Beyond Hope"
"Battalion of Suits"
"The Love Bit"
"Gently Down The Stream"
"I Had A Dream Women Made Sense"
"More Similar Than Alike"
"A White Man's Cocktail"
"The Cold Sore"
"Epileptic Haiku"
"The Paper Eaters"
"Confessions of a Good Liar"
"The Oblivious Self Wins"
"The Elective Lobotomy"
"The Scab"

Get It Down

Better to write down your ideas as they come to you.



You never know.

The Death of Dominique Dunne

Her conclusion's such a sad and frustrating story,
which had always really affected me since I read this account in Vanity Fair, 1984
I finally made a painting from the still on the right.


1.18.2009

Grace of My Heart

Grace of My Heart (1996) is an Allison Anders film I always thought was great. 
I think Illeana Douglas is really cool, yes, but the thing that makes this movie so memorable for me is the music. 
The story is sort of a loose, fictional adaptation of the Carol King story and begins here with the lead character, Denise Waverly, winning a singing contest with her rendition of this great song, "Hey There," which was made famous by Rosemary Clooney way back before we were born. 
Douglas' performance is great here, but the thing for me is that voice, which is not hers but rather belongs to outstanding singer Kristen Vigard. Here - see if you agree.



The succeeding scene sees our heroine, having won a recording audition which was the prize from the singing contest, in the studio doing another really neat song called, "Another World." 
It's Kristen Vigard's beautifully expressive voice again but this time the song was written specially for the film by none other than Brill Building veteran, Gerry Goffin with Los Lobos
(It's fun to see a clean-shaven Richard Schiff here, too.)



Lots of really great songwriters contributed to this soundtrack, actually. 
Here's one written by Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach
Just an amazing song sung, again, by Kristen Vigard. 
This is called, "God Give Me Strength."



Here are the rest of the soundtrack credits - an impressive talent roster.

Two Things



A Day

(1999)

Prayer Cards

Got these at the Catholic Supply on Chippewa to use as references for the Elvis/Jesus series.
I like 'em.
I think they're pretty.
Catholic imagery can get pretty freaky, though, right?
These are fairly tame, but still.
Catholicism.
Yikes.



1.16.2009

David Bowie (In Two States)

(1985)





The Statue of Liberty

(1986)

I love the Statue of Liberty.
Not for all that it stands for, invites, protects.
I just think she looks cool.
Statues of women pretty much always do.
Plus there's the hat.

Have any of you ever heard of something called, 'the classic-romantic split'?


1.15.2009

Unbelievable, Part 2

Alright - first of all, Sory, dudez! while getting my dookie together  enough to post this dum old post I naccidentally hit the "publish" button with nothn in the cpy...

Fuck. Lemme start this over.

You ever get that feeling that the more you do and the longer you live, the less you know? I really think I'm getting progressively stupider. That's my suspicion. There's no question I'm getting crazier. We all know that. But I really think I'm at that magical time in my life -- just right on the fulcrum between being just smart enough to know I'm getting stupider, as I mentioned, but just slightly too stupid to know when to quit writing about it publicly.

Like you, it all just makes me wanna hold my head in my hands and make a sound, like, "Uuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." a sort of low groan, inaudible to others (so you know it's not just for dramatic effect or to get sympathy from passers by).

Anyhow, I don't have any Adobe Illustrator right now.
Mine just wouldn't open one day about 3 weeks ago, no clue why.
I dumped and reloaded - no dice.
I made faces and said bad words...

Anyhow, so today I took a couple stabs at getting a new version.
I actually went back to Limewire (can't recommend) and downloaded an older version which, not surprisingly, wouldn't open properly.

Then I tried some Megaupload links I found. 

It was going okay. I mean, it really takes a lot of patience and attention, yes, but I had a pretty good system going where I'd start one of the 12 downloads and get the next one cued up and then go check out Brazilian chicks for a few minutes and, keeping my eye half on the download window, I'd look for that little crate icon to pop up on the desktop and then restart the cycle...

(Now I know y'all wanted the porn part of this story to assume more of leading role at this point but, for real, I am such a soft core-lightweight and that brings to mind another curious aspect of this magical time in my life: Once, when I was younger, I used to be embarrassed and ashamed about masturbating, now I'm embarrassed and ashamed about not masturbating. I mean, right? Do you feel me? What? No? I'm the only one? Well fine, then.)

So I got this nice download system working and I get to the last part of the thing, part 12 of 12, and would you not fucking know it, but I get this message,,,



I've tried it several times since and I keep getting the same message. 

All I'm saying is it's quite frustrating, not being able to steal software with ease and convenience, and this time I'm saying it audibly, for dramatic effect and, yes, to earn sympathy from strangers.

Or maybe one of you could hook me up with some Illustrator!
C'mon. Help a brother out.

Evolved Rubber Stamps

I don't totally remember where I got all these rubber stamps.
It was, like, a going-out-of-business sale or something somewhere, I think.
Anyway, I have all these random, official rubber stamps that are fun to play with now and then.
So I stamped them all down, scanned the result and then live-traced it in Illustrator which, of course, further generalized the shapes they made.
I resized and organized all the separate words and stacked 'em up,
and this is what I got.
It maybe good for something down the line,
but, for now, it is what it is,
which is enough.

Real Fake Alien Language

Random leftover punch-out shapes from this rubber stamp project thing I did a little bit ago: that's all these are.
I find it really amusing just messing around in Illustrator with no real objective.
Line up all these little, abstract weedies and, presto!
You got yourself a genuine, alien language, as seen on the various Roswell artifacts!



And you know what it says, don't you?
Well, first person to reveal the correct translation wins a big prize or something!
(Hint: it's not, "To Serve Man" or, "Klaatu Barada Nikto")

1.14.2009

Dan Brack at the American Hotel

(1987/2008)

This is Daniel P. Brack.




I took this sequence in his tiny room at the American Hotel, a sort of rooming house above Al's Bar in downtown Los Angeles where he, with his roommate, Todd Warren (the drummer from Pro Eto) started The 50 Bucks, which was a... 
what were we? 

The 50 Bucks was a group of artists and writers who held performances and art events around 1987/88... 
there was a manifesto of some sort, but I don't remember what was in it... 
I got thrown in jail for doing 50 Bucks 'public art' I didn't do (yeah, weird)... 
my 23 Press was part of it... 
lots and lots of parties, of course... 
lots of hyper-conscious, post-art-school shenanigans... 
we sort of fancied ourselves postmodern dadaists or situationists or something, 
a bona fide art movement, 
and looking back on it all now, 
I think it's fair to say we were.

Yes, I do get that none of what I'm saying makes much sense*. There are an awful lot of stories to tell regarding this place and time and I'll get to them when I get to them. Just not now.


Dan died in San Francisco on Friday, October the 13th, 1996 of a drug overdose.


* unless you were there, Mr. Pollard.

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