Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Investigation in 3 Days
". . .and I'm parking and backing up, parallel parking, and I hear this 'POP!' I get out of the car and go around back. . . "
". . .and there's this, like, this large piece of metal coming out of the curb on the sidewalk, like its a piece of the sidewalk and its stuck right in my tire. . ."
". . .and I'd like to know how to go about getting my tire replaced and paid for and then when the problem will be fixed. . ."
". . .and there's this, like, this large piece of metal coming out of the curb on the sidewalk, like its a piece of the sidewalk and its stuck right in my tire. . ."
". . .and I'd like to know how to go about getting my tire replaced and paid for and then when the problem will be fixed. . ."
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Red House Painters Strawberry Hill
This is from the Red House Painters show we all went to at the Black Cat on 11/29 1996!!
I know Ryan and Karen were there...Were Adam and Jer?
Those Things
"Those things look odd."
"What happened to those things?"
"What Are Those Things Coming Off Of Discovery? Answer: Tyvek!"
"I'm talking about those things that bind you to a place - like newspaper subscriptions and gym memberships, both of which I cancelled yesterday."
"A secret gathering of *those* things..."
"What happened to those things?"
"What Are Those Things Coming Off Of Discovery? Answer: Tyvek!"
"I'm talking about those things that bind you to a place - like newspaper subscriptions and gym memberships, both of which I cancelled yesterday."
"A secret gathering of *those* things..."
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
On Whaling
'But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way -- he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:
"Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States.
"WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL.
"BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN."
Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces -- though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgement.
Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements, but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it -- would they let me -- since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all inmates of the place one lodges in.
By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated in my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, midmost of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.'
--Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
UPDATE: Moby Dick: More or Less Daily is exactly what it says.
"Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States.
"WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL.
"BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN."
Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces -- though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgement.
Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements, but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it -- would they let me -- since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all inmates of the place one lodges in.
By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated in my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, midmost of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.'
--Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
UPDATE: Moby Dick: More or Less Daily is exactly what it says.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
A Few of My Co-workers
This is a comic I just sent to a friend in SF to be included in a little comix zine of hers. 
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Finally figured it out. Or something . . .
To any who haven't visited Kev's 'dissociation' recently, linked to this site, GO NOW! Kev, your photos kick ass! Not that i'm one to talk, as far as not visiting, but i'm back . . . just not as techno-savy as the rest of y'all, i guess. Glad to be a "contributing member of society" again.
Miss you all.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
The 15th Anniversary of Naemi and I's Short, Very Short Fling in a Sewer is Tomorrow
Naemi, what continents cradle your cough?
What language do you mutter?
What nation's damp alley do you wander
amidst forgotten clutter?
In a sewer, then, I loved your kiss
a mindlessness, a wine-fueled bliss
your head on my lap, your boy by my side
I kissed you then with alcohol eyes
in the storm drain tunnel that was Valentines
where mad hearted losers dwell
deeper and drunker into the caves
that led to the creek or to hell.
So long ago a frenzy boiled
today the kettle's cold
all my hopes have moved away
and this quiet just grows old.
Toss your bottles from foreign shores
Tell me what all went wrong
remember when we sang David Bowie
and all those Morrissey songs?
march97
What language do you mutter?
What nation's damp alley do you wander
amidst forgotten clutter?
In a sewer, then, I loved your kiss
a mindlessness, a wine-fueled bliss
your head on my lap, your boy by my side
I kissed you then with alcohol eyes
in the storm drain tunnel that was Valentines
where mad hearted losers dwell
deeper and drunker into the caves
that led to the creek or to hell.
So long ago a frenzy boiled
today the kettle's cold
all my hopes have moved away
and this quiet just grows old.
Toss your bottles from foreign shores
Tell me what all went wrong
remember when we sang David Bowie
and all those Morrissey songs?
march97
journal
"Of all the things I could lament the loss of
I never thought it would be the mental condition
that let me lament."
13April1997
I never thought it would be the mental condition
that let me lament."
13April1997
Not a Sermon, Just a thought
The night we moved into our apartment Abby brought cake, and we sat on the floor eating it while listening to a Cat Stevens record. There was something very exciting and possible about being there in a new place with checkered floors, and Ryan and I both missed her when she was gone from his life. 16april1997
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Ingrid Returns!
Mr.Simpson-stop Your constant letters are becoming a nuisance-stop If you don't cease I will be forced to take legal action-stop Signed Bela Lugosi-stop
If you know the story of the girl who left comment number thirteen at the above link you were there when this boy hit rock bottom with madness and trust.
She's still playing the Sweden angle.
If you know the story of the girl who left comment number thirteen at the above link you were there when this boy hit rock bottom with madness and trust.
She's still playing the Sweden angle.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Digital Camel 2
Here's a second round mix cd culled from 3hive, Said the Gramophone, SIXEYES, The Catbirdseat, i guess i'm floating. No moonshine here. So, some of it's not EXACTLY your style. Big deal. Mazarin, "yes!". And the mix is quite a bit smalller than last weeks.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Somebody Help a Brother Out
"Can't re-apply to blog. Says I have to allow cookies, but my system is already allowing cookies."
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
the morning after (journal enrty Fall 1995)
From my dawn penetrated unrest,
I press chin to chest
a skin draped bone leg draws up
in my sun filled quilted cavern
3 hard eyed tears follow a shared trail
crosscurve round my cheek
and darken the pillow underneath
I press chin to chest
a skin draped bone leg draws up
in my sun filled quilted cavern
3 hard eyed tears follow a shared trail
crosscurve round my cheek
and darken the pillow underneath
Monday, February 5, 2007
3853 Roland Ave Refrigerator Magnets (Psychoanalysis Version) 1/8/04
Delusions of control
see death start want
Father forget me for ! did it
mean psychology
rejection need
affect sadist
destroy meds
behavioral problems relate to repressed anger
make temper surface
Jung can't
Down all mental abuse
smother under sister
grip body dreams
Freud stop him. Bad.
sibling rivalry
Dr. Borderline
don't cure that anger
calm your nuts with dirty anal ritual
ugly kids praise pathological intimacy
tell of passive anal retentive damage
dysfunctional grandeur will key up neurotic love
insane analyst
what's his guilt fixation
avoid overbearing diagnosis
stuck on crushs, fantasy, and impulsive self pleasing
free cry impulse could drive underlying want
give life to be high
never take the therapists side
hate gut feeling
do you feel shame in sexual healing good brothers
down all mental abuse
manipulate deep touch
hide envy so far, hurt still live under scar, competition obsessed
see death start want
Father forget me for ! did it
mean psychology
rejection need
affect sadist
destroy meds
behavioral problems relate to repressed anger
make temper surface
Jung can't
Down all mental abuse
smother under sister
grip body dreams
Freud stop him. Bad.
sibling rivalry
Dr. Borderline
don't cure that anger
calm your nuts with dirty anal ritual
ugly kids praise pathological intimacy
tell of passive anal retentive damage
dysfunctional grandeur will key up neurotic love
insane analyst
what's his guilt fixation
avoid overbearing diagnosis
stuck on crushs, fantasy, and impulsive self pleasing
free cry impulse could drive underlying want
give life to be high
never take the therapists side
hate gut feeling
do you feel shame in sexual healing good brothers
down all mental abuse
manipulate deep touch
hide envy so far, hurt still live under scar, competition obsessed
10/15/96
I want to remember that I'm feeling the way I do now, walking down a tree-tunneled street in rain that knocks leaves prematurely to the concrete underfoot. I am wearing a knit cap, scarf and sweater.
from an entry, February 1996
There was nothing modern or civilized, nothing except our surroundings, in the way that Ryan and I, with cupped palms, lifted and drew chocolate chips into our mouths.
Jones Beach
I went up to see Ryan in NY and we went to Jones Beach for the day. In front of us lay a beautiful topless woman with her boyfriend. I felt self-conscious with my camera but managed to snap this shot. Earlier we were in the water and a father, mother, and daughter had come out to swim. Their daughter was somewhere in her late teens but she was topless also. European probably. Ryan said, "Kev, here we go!" paddling and encouraging me to catch the wave he saw coming. I didn't. He did. He ran right into the daughter nearly knocking her over.
Poem, January 1995
Can hear nothing above my munching,
My eyes drag up the narrow window and
stop:
the clouds procede
My eyes drag up the narrow window and
stop:
the clouds procede
"Fun With. . . "
" Hi,
There has been new activity on your 'leviathan' swicki."
The search engine in the swicki is modifiable. All searches terms typed in are being paired with the phrase "fun with" currently, and have since it's inception.
There has been new activity on your 'leviathan' swicki."
The search engine in the swicki is modifiable. All searches terms typed in are being paired with the phrase "fun with" currently, and have since it's inception.
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