Friday, June 15, 2007

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz



Roman Signer's Suitcase found via Tim Etchells
See also: Action with Sheets of Paper


If you wanted to make a list of major contemporary artists who, for whatever reason, are comparatively little known in the U.S., Roman Signer should be right near the top. During the past few years there has been a surge of interest in his work in Europe, but he has exhibited rarely in the U.S., and his work has been written about even less. This neglect is unfortunate, because since the early 1970s, Signer, now 62 years old, has been developing an extraordinary body of work, consisting of brief, transitory pieces and durable sculptures that are evidence of a process as well as an event, along with drawings and endless documentation. Many of his projects mix an air of quasi-scientific research (although of a decidedly homemade variety) with an impish, pranksterish humor. Sometimes this "research," this desire to see what happens if a brief chain of events is set into motion, can be wildly funny, with slapstick mishaps, moments when things break down or veer off unexpectedly into mini-disasters. For Sink (1986), a table, each of its legs in a metal pail, sailed forth on a precarious voyage into a river, only to tilt and sink two minutes later in a kind of tragicomic denouement--certainly among the most short-lived, fragile and awkward outdoor sculptures that you are ever likely to see. At other times, Signer's events-as-sculptures yield images so beguiling that it's easy to forget that they were more or less instantaneous and not painstakingly made over weeks or months. For Falling Barrel (1996), a metal barrel filled with water was dropped from the ceiling to the floor. As the barrel plummeted, silvery water flew up in a ragged column, and at the point of impact more water jetted from the barrel's punctured side. The whole ensemble, including a rising and falling spray of droplets and the thudding impact that contorted the barrel, is heartbreakingly beautiful--and it also took about one second to execute, tops. That's Signer at his best: a sculptor whose works embody pure transformation. Using a variety of means, he constantly seeks out the exact volatile moment when one body or form abruptly changes into another, in the process fusing creation and destruction. (the rest)

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Open the Door

Don't Stop-

I don't know about you, but lately I've been thinking of A.J. Soprano and George W. Bush. They're kinda alike except A.J. reads.

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Bob Dylan

Monday, June 11, 2007

The Aliens Are Coming

"That looks like alien intestines!" My son, upon seeing me eat linguine with pesto sauce.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

My Little Olive

Dear Olive:

This morning was chaos what with trying to feed your brother who as we know is picky, picky, picky. He likes his eggs flat and dry and not slimy and he wants an omelette with cheese and folded just so. But I've always been able to count on you to eat your eggs however I make them, so imagine my surprise/disappointment when you decided you wanted your egg flat too. It was more than I could take on three hours of uninterrupted sleep. I came up with some clever response that went something like this:

Mom: You know what? This isn't a restaurant. At a restaurant you get to order your food and get it just the way you like it. This is home and at home you get your food the way I make it.
You: Let's go to a restaurant!

Kicked to the curb by a three year old. It reminds me of that time in high school when the director (English teacher) of our Spring play got so upset with us that she yelled "If you guys think I'm stupid then don't say anything!" There was not a peep from anyone. Not a peep.

Tomorrow we're going to see the Vivienne Westwood exhibit at the De Young. You're going to fit right in there with your red, yellow, and blue striped pants, your yellow socks, your red glittery shoes, your blue and white handkerchief print dress, and the Dora party hat you've been wearing for the past two weeks. Ta!

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Album Covers from Hell



Hey kids. Next time some pesky adult starts telling you how much classier things were back in the old days, ask them to explain these.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Dreams That Money Can Buy

A film by Hans Richter. This is Duchamp's fragment with music by John Cage.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

A Very Stylish Girl

Opening of the Vivienne Westwood Exhibit at the De Young in San Francisco

Wendell Berry Interview

How can a family ‘live at the center of its own attention?’
Wendell Berry’s thoughts on the good life

BY HOLLY M. BROCKMAN


If you profess to embrace family values and you shop at Wal-Mart, think again. The global economy, powered by big corporations such as Wal-Mart, destroys families with low prices made possible by low wages.

Such are the teachings of Wendell Berry, 71, a lifelong advocate of family values, sustainable agriculture and environmental stewardship. Berry’s writings promote local economies as a healthier, more eco-friendly way of life. He has authored more than 40 books and is among 35 Kentucky writers whose work is featured in a new anthology on the devastation that mountaintop removal mining has wrought in Southern Appalachia.


Berry lives, writes and farms at Lane’s Landing near Port Royal, Ky.

Friday, June 01, 2007

I Promise

To stop shooting food with my cellphone camera. I realize it looks flat and unappetizing.

From an Angry Soldier

Found this on the Best of Craigslist:

Fuck you, war supporters, George W. Bush, and all the god damn mother fuckers who made the war possible. I hope you burn in hell.
(read the rest here)

Friday, May 25, 2007

SOSDD

I found this blog post today via The Center for Improved Living. It's written by a soldier in Iraq who when answering the May 24th question for the day "What do you REALLY want to do today? "over at CFIL, replied "I wish I could be home eating ice cream with my wife and daughter...I'm sick of Iraq."

Two Women (55 - 60 years)

8/1/03

Overheard conversation in a cafe in Palo Alto:

A: I saw that play - Homebody/Kabul just before I left.
B: What did you think of it?
A: I didn't- I didn't think it was successful.
B: But they go to Afghanistan- This woman?
A: Right. You never know whether she dies or disappears or...you know, pulls a Kurtz.
B: Arrogant, naive Westerners flying themselves headlong into something they know nothing about.
A: Reminded me of a Paul Bowles novel. The Sheltering Sky? But I have to tell you about the play. Well- it was nearly four hours long! If you're Shakespeare-
B: Or Mozart-
A: Right. Anybody else- forget it. You don't get to write four hour plays. I mean I see that thing and------I just don't know what to do with this world. We didn't go into WWII until we were smashed in the face with Pearl Harbor- Why the sudden? I mean it's disturbing to think of our government talking about attacking another country when nothing has happened to us.
B: It's just a case of what's good for Mitsubishi is good for the world.
A: The war on terrorism is being run by all the people who benefit from oil.
B: You know the American Revolution wasn't fought for freedom but because of economics.
A: (audible gasp)
B: Well it's true.
A: I won't buy anything from China. They're all slaves.
B: The bottom line is RCA can go up to a third party and say how much can you make these tv's for? How much can you make this VCR for? We can get it for cheaper. We don't want to know who made it or where it comes from because it's costing us less. We can pass the savings on to the consumer. Right?

Monday, May 21, 2007

Sex Pistols Live in San Francisco

Part 1:


Part 2:


Part 3: Contains the infamous "ever get the feeling that you've been cheated" line.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Broccoli Quiche

Since our third child was born last month, I've been obsessively making this savory ditty. It's a simple, tasty, any-time meal that's great when I need to power snack. I've been making it with pre-made pie crust. I prefer homemade sure. But I don't have time to make it right now. As it is, sometimes I have to assemble the components over a couple of days because I either don't have all the ingredients or I get interrupted by the kiddies. Anyway, I've tried two different brands from Whole Foods. 1) Vermont Mystic Pie Company's frozen pie shells 2) some other brand I can't remember (not as good as #1, but takes up less room in the freezer).

Broccoli Quiche

Filling (use any combination of the following and put into 2 pie shells)
7 - 8 fresh mushrooms
1/2 bunch of green onions
2 packages of frozen broccoli or the equivalent in leftovers
1 pound cooked bacon or prosciutto
6 - 8 oz of cheddar
6 - 8 oz of monterey jack
season with salt and pepper if you like


Batter (mix well then pour over the filling slowly)
1 1/2 pints of whipping/heavy cream
7 - 8 eggs

Bake
400 degree oven for 15 minutes
350 degree oven for 45 minutes

Looks something like this:


I've been making it with broccoli and prosciutto and a variety of cheeses. This week's was a mixture of muenster, pepper jack, and cheddar, plus I used bacon which was nice change. The pepper jack was a bit much at times. I like the astringent taste of using only cheddar. Astringent - what a selling point. Makes 2 pies or you can halve the recipe.

Serve and enjoy!

What the Dog Ate

The head of my daughter's toothbrush.
(identified first when it came back out the way it came in)

By the way. Have you seen this dog?

Lost in Translation

My husband, Roger, had a particularly confusing interaction with one of the mothers at my son's school recently. It went like this:

School Mom: Your cat is dead.
Roger: We don't have a cat.
School Mom: Your cat is dead.
Roger: We don't have a cat.
School Mom: No. No. Your cat is dead!
Roger: I'm sorry, but we really don't have a cat.
School Mom (emphatically, slowly pronouncing every syllable): Your cat is dead. We wren out'a food yestrdy in 'e didn't git hat lunch.

It helps to know that said School Mom is originally from New Zealand. So here's the translation:

School Mom: You're Carter's dad. We ran out of food yesterday and he didn't get hot lunch.
Roger: Oh. Carter! I'm Carter's dad.! Right. We were wondering about that.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Cream and Dream

My favorite ice cream shop of all time. When my husband and I were in Prague, we went to this place every night.

Monday, May 14, 2007

How To Eat A Kumquat

My daughter wanted to try Kumquats for dinner tonight. We bought some but then became perplexed about how exactly we should eat them. Here's the video we found. I love the internets!

Friday, May 11, 2007

That's Opera Doc

The Numbers

Artist Chris Jordon's portrait of America in cellphones, plastic bottles, handguns, jet trails, pain killers, and more. Be sure to check out Ben Franklin where Chris depicts the amount of money our government spends each hour on the war in Iraq. Clicky clicky here.

Here's just one example: (photos on Jordon's website have better resolution).

2.5 million plastic bottles, the number used in the US every hour.

Partial zoom:

Actual size:


What is it? A robot effigy of our George dubya as a gladiator pulling a chariot. This was the fun ride at last weekend's Peninsula School Spring Fair. Your week can't be that bad when it starts like this can it?

Friday, May 04, 2007

Random Ten

  1. Bring Me Some Water - Eddie Money
  2. Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) - Arcade Fire
  3. Word Mule - Jim White
  4. My Old Kentucky Home - Paul Robeson
  5. A Goodbye Rye - Richard Buckner
  6. Icky Thump - White Stripes
  7. She Sells Sanctuary - The Cult
  8. Eulogy to Lenny Bruce - Nico
  9. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Patti Smith
  10. Cherry Bomb - The Runaways
  11. Black Holes - Needle

Be Careful What You Wish For

Or at least be more selective when giving out your address!

Goodbye to All That

Last Saturday was the kind of day that begins civilized enough - you know - chocolate croissants and strawberries - but around mid-day turns into a free-for-all with the kids toys strewn all over the house and you taking a rubber mallet and a crowbar to the couch. See about six years ago, our dog decided to eat a hole in the back cushion and the couch has never been the same. Some would argue (I would) that the end of the beginning came when the manager at our old apartment complex decided it was time to re-roof. This fine dust shook out of the ceiling and landed on the couch and instantly became ground in. But the demise of the couch has increased with the addition each kid. Our daughter sits at one end and eats her Amaranth flakes there (the side the dog chewed oddly enough) and well...it pretty much became her little nest. She stuffed her My Little Ponies underneath the cushions along with what appeared to be a whole box of cereal and crayons and money and, and, and. The kids liked to jump on the couch just to see all the crap fall out of it. Anyway, last Saturday we said goodbye to all that and pried the couch apart and took it to our local garbage collection site. I wanted to get out the chainsaw because for me, firing up the chainsaw is the adult equivalent of dancing the Hokey Pokey. It's what it's all about.

We didn't take pictures. Because to have thought about taking pictures. Taking pictures. Would have taken us out of the experience. We would have been projecting into the future. So as much as you'd like to see our destroyed couch, I can't accommodate such a requests. Sorry. Next time. Next time.

Believe It!

Fundamentalist atheists.

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Soup to Nuts

Miranda July's book promotion and tour schedule written on a dry-erase board...or is it?

The End of a 1,400-Year-Old Business

The world's oldest continuously operating family business ended its impressive run last year. Japanese temple builder Kongo Gumi, in operation under the founders' descendants since 578, succumbed to excess debt and an unfavorable business climate in 2006.

How do you make a family business last for 14 centuries? Kongo Gumi's case suggests that it's a good idea to operate in a stable industry. Few industries could be less flighty than Buddhist temple construction. The belief system has survived for thousands of years and has many millions of adherents. With this firm foundation, Kongo had survived some tumultuous times, notably the 19th century Meiji restoration when it lost government subsidies and began building commercial buildings for the first time. But temple construction had until recently been a reliable mainstay, contributing 80% of Kongo Gumi's $67.6 million in 2004 revenues. (another slice)

Not Saying Anyone is a Geek...
But if you're interested in taking the Kite-Launched Skydiver challenge or getting your paper airplanes to stay aloft for 20 secs, you might want to go here.

Not Saying Anyone is a Stuntman...
But ouch!

39 Ingredients and One of Them Explodes!

Twinkie, Twinkie...tunnel-busting Twinkie

POLYSORBATE 60

Thick cream and egg yolks are nature's way of merging water and fat for creaminess. Polysorbate replicates this, but lasts much longer. The emulsifier is made using explosive ethylene oxide. "They're using an explosive ingredient to make food," Ettlinger says. "That kind of blew my mind."



Tuesday, April 17, 2007

The Great Turtle Race

My son's school is one of the sponsors of The Great Turtle Race. Their turtle's name is Saphira. If you watch the Colbert Report, you may have heard there's a turtle named after Stephen - Stephanie Colburtle.



Check out The Great Turtle Race here.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

And So It Goes

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
1922 — 2007

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Strong Beliefs


"I strongly believe that the Hooters concept is something that Israelis are looking for."-Ofer Ahiraz

Check this out.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Henry Miller Reads


From Black Spring & The Colossous of Maroussi. Listen.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

How Big is Your Fish?

I'm guessing it's huge. And gorgeous! David Lynch explains.

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Amy Sedaris Craft Challenge

See the winners!

See a slideshow of all the submissions!

Hear the interview with Amy!

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Hey Sport

Sports are dangerous and tiring activities performed by people with whom I share nothing in common except the right to trial by jury. - Fran Lebowitz

Monday, February 12, 2007

Pavarotti and Friend

Who is Luciano singing with? Nope. Try again... Nope. Ha! You're colder than a bee with a yellow jacket. Click HERE and enjoy.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Grant Morrison Explains It All For You

This video is 45 minutes. Just so you know.


Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Apple 1984 & Colbert "Wag of the Finger"

Ridley Scott's 1984 Apple commercial


Colbert

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Why do you think they call them Puffins?


So much big crap these days. The small stuff can be overlooked. Birds and cigarettes. Addiction or just a bad habit? I hope they get help. Our homes may be next.

Monday, January 15, 2007

Presidential Wet Dream

Unlimited execu-power (stripped down post-Watergate), never-ending national security threats. Dahlia Lithwick gives the details here.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Bush's Bunker

He's delusional, he's a sociopath - he's our president.

Justin A. Frank, M.D.: I really think that Bush is not competent to be President. He is unconsciously destructive. He is out of touch with his cruelty. He is unable to think clearly when presented with new information. He cannot do it. He cannot read. He cannot pay attention to the Baker-Hamilton Report. He never looked at that report. He looked at the opening title, about a new way forward or something, and that’s what he’s been using as his slogan now. He is not able to process information. (more)

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Resolved

Hey. I'm still wrapping Christmas presents. Really. My husband's birthday was last Friday and I haven't wrapped his gifts, signed his cards or done that really special something for him. You know, bathed the dogs.

Why? I have a problem with time. Like for the past - let's just say several years. I can be "on time." Sure. But the big picture - let's just say for me it's pretty f-ing big. No edges, borders or frames. I thought it was bad when I was doing summer stock and all the days became the same. But things have become even less defined. Don't know what to make of it. Perhaps there will be
a pill soon.

But today. Today. I am resolved to clear off my desk.
How does this happen? Simple. First the kitchen counter gets covered with this stuff and then I clean up the kitchen and move it to here, thinking I'll get around to putting it away. But it never happens. It builds up over time and this is what I get. I dream of having one of those clean, minimalist desks like you see in Dwell, Real Simple, or Sunset.

I'll settle for some workspace.

So. Today. Since the babysitter canceled, I'm going to enlist my daughter and we're going to have at the desk.

Oops. It's almost naptime.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Friday Random Ten

  1. The Treasure Map - Sam's Rot N' Pot N' Pan Band
  2. Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens - Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five
  3. Ring Them Bells - Bob Dylan
  4. Rudy Can't Fail - The Clash
  5. Handcuffed to A Fence In Mississippi - Jim White
  6. The Moose - Woody Allen
  7. Wicked Little Town - The Breeders
  8. Shine On You Crazy Diamond - Transatlantic
  9. Sin Wagon - The Dixie Chicks
  10. Revolverlution - Public Enemy

David Caruso: Stylistic Genius

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Keith Olbermann: Presidential Shitkicker

Keith Olberman's Special Comment on Bush's new strategy of "sacrifice" in Iraq.


Transcript here (Crooks and Liars).
Here's how the First Family Sacrifices.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Who Put the Pie?

Yes. I'm aware that there is a general lack of pie on this blog (lot's of furcation though). I hope to remedy the situation in the next few days by posting some pie recipes and possibly even pictures of pies I'll be making.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Random Ten

  1. Andante from Piano Concerto No. 21 - Mozart
  2. Please Don't Bury Me - John Prine
  3. The Christmas Song - Dexter Gordon
  4. Riptide - Lou Reed
  5. The Hippopotamus Song - John Lithgow
  6. The Beast in Me - Nick Lowe
  7. Always - Leonard Cohen
  8. Frosty the Snowman - Fiona Apple
  9. A Small Plot of Land - David Bowie
  10. Me & Saddam - Bill Hicks

Thursday, December 28, 2006

A Matter of Geography

Geography. I'm a firm believer in it - especially when it comes to love, sex, and writing. I've been meaning to post this link for awhile but have been too busy re-reading to myself. Enjoy!

DEEP IN THE HEART OF IT
Where sounding dumb doesn’t equal being dumb.

by Roy Blount, Jr.

My tenth-grade teacher, a remarkable young lady named Ann Lewis, lent me a stack of New Yorker magazines. It was a revelation. As far as I could tell, there had never been a damn Civil War in there. Or a Crucifixion. Nobody even seemed to go to church. People drank a lot, and made cutting remarks, but they were civilized, funny, even high-minded in a Yankee sort of way. My teetotal, faith-based mother wouldn’t have liked them, but you could imagine them passing muster with Mrs. Folger.

In those old New Yorkers I smelled a secular heaven. Well, no, there was scant emphasis on smells, except when Joseph Mitchell, a Southerner, was writing about the fish market, so let’s say I glimpsed it. First chance I got, I went off up to New York. In l968 I became a resident. Kids, divorce, joint custody, and going freelance brought me farther north to semirural Massachusetts, which looks a lot like North Georgia, and I like it (except in February and March), but I doubt I’ll ever entirely settle in.

Here’s what happened when I moved to New York. I hadn’t unpacked my bag before people started telling me, “You’re not from around here.” Didn’t I know that? “I see you haven’t lost the accent,” they would say severely, as if I were willfully convicting myself of narrow-mindedness with every syllable I uttered. (more)


Sunday, December 24, 2006

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Of Which the Reverend Speaks

Anita O'Day sings Sweet Georgia Brown and Tea for Two

Friday, December 22, 2006

Anita O'Day 1920-2006


Watched a movie called "Jazz on a Summer's Day". Documentary footage of the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. What a lineup of artists. Louis Armstrong, Thelonious Monk, Dinah Washington, Sonny Stitt, Mahalia Jackson and Gerry Mulligan to name a few. But this was the day for Anita O'Day. This mesmerizing footage of an artist at her peak can be found on YouTube.com. Just search for Anita O'Day. The clearest footage is about eight choices down entitled "Anita O'Day-Sweet Georgia Brown & Tea for Two". There's also a trailer there (first choice) about an upcoming documentary about her life called "Indestructable".

All I Want for Christmas...

...these Abba boots.According to Gourmet Magazine, Americans eat 100 acres (or the equivalent of Pooh's forest) of pizza a day.

Friday Random Ten

  1. Humans from Earth - T Bone Burnett
  2. Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen
  3. The Chanukah Song, Pt. 2 - Adam Sandler
  4. After the Gold Rush - Thom Yorke
  5. Innocent When You Dream - Tom Waits
  6. I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry - Al Green
  7. Mister Heat Miser - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
  8. You're A Mean One Mister Grinch - Whirling Dervishes
  9. I'm Not Your Stepping Stone - The Sex Pistols
  10. Hombre Secreto - The Plugz

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Character Sketch

Weston Harris can’t stop twitching. Propelled by his own mysterious mojo and hot coffee from Denny’s.

“Rocket fuel.”

He’s wearing an olive green shirt. Short- sleeved and well-pressed. Blue slacks. Slacks, mind you. He’s not tucked-in. He’s spread out across the booth and gesticulating towards the ceiling with an unlit cigarette.


“Smoking is ghetto. I’m lucky I’m a sensitive guy because I’m well aware that cigarettes cut you off. If I quit smoking I’d be an emotional mess. You know what they say about touching someone three times don’t you?”

I’m suddenly aware that I’ve touched his knee, kicked his shoe, slapped his hand, and stolen his fork. I’m ahead of the game. He’s lost weight since going to L.A. Claims he’s happy in La La land. But I’ve never met anyone who was. Everyone is too shiny.

“They’re comparing me to Malkovich! Except they say I’m more butch. “

His enthusiasm takes him to his feet and he dances over to the counter orders two double Americanos and tosses a coin into the air. Mindful of the Tao.


He’s going to get work down there. His face. The camera sucks him up like lemonade through a straw. The deep crags from acne. Each one its own little Sea of Tranquility. His steel gray eyes. The left pupil torn like a cat’s eye marble. Cut by a piece of glass during a fight with his brother, Stan. His forehead, etched from worrying over his vast responsibilities and his fear of disappointing those close to him. I’m among those he cares about.

“My agent doesn’t know I’m back up here. I mean, she knows I’m up here. I haven’t copped to the permanency yet. I’m cabbing up here. Doing the longshoreman thing. I’m committed. I’m going to start being a labor organizer. That’s cool. I’m a born shit-stirrer.”

I can see his shadow stretched across the yellow wall behind us. He stops talking and ponders his situation, elbow propped up on the back of the booth, hand cupped over his mouth. He always looks up and to the left for inspiration. I always look to him.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Question #1

What surprises you?

Freedom & Responsibility

I think of a hero as someone who understands the degree of responsibility that comes with his freedom.” - Bob Dylan

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Like A Chimney, Part 1

The Christmas I was eight my dad quit smoking and I stopped believing in Santa Claus. He announced his decision at the dinner table pushing himself back so that his chair was on two legs while my brother, Wayne, sucked on a smoked pork chop and I tried to drop fat on the floor for our dog, Gertie, without my mother catching me. My dad’s belly stuck out white from underneath his t-shirt, a testament to late nights at the American Legion drinking with his buddies and my mother’s fried potatoes. “Buy me some hard candy when you go grocery shoppin’ tonight,” he said taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette and blowing the blue-gray smoke towards the ceiling fan. “This is my last smoke for as long as I live.”


My mother snatched my plate. “Stop feedin’ that damn dog,” she said smacking my hand. A crispy piece of fat flew across the room and stuck to the wall. We sat in silence as Gertie licked at it while the fat slowly inched its way down the wall.

I took a long time in the bathtub that night because I wanted to be up when the candy came. We weren’t allowed to have candy except in our stockings at Christmas. It was also the only time we had fresh fruit; oranges and tangerines, which I loved, along with nuts, Brazil and almonds,
which I didn’t. My dad figured me out though and made me go to bed even when I begged him to let me stay up. I was dead sure mom would need help unpacking the groceries. He wouldn’t give an inch. I pouted and dragged my feet into the bedroom. “You’re gonna trip on that lower lip.” “What an asshole,” I thought, but I knew better than to sass him back.


The next morning there was candy all over the house. On the coffee table next to my dad’s Lazy Boy recliner and in the telephone nook in the hallway near the stairs. It was in the bathroom in a Parkay butter bowl next to the baby blue crocheted toilet paper caddy my Aunt Betty had made. I sifted through the bowl with the sink water running pretending to brush my teeth. Butterscotch surprises, rootbeer barrels, peppermint curliques, and cinnamon bombs sifted through my hands like pirate treasure. I stuffed my pockets and headed for the front door. My mother was waiting for me with my Partridge family lunch box. “That candy is for your dad. You hear?” She waited as I emptied my pockets and then checked both my hands for strays. “I need candy too,” I explained. “I need it ‘cause I’m givin’ up butter. I’m givin’ it up for good.” Mother snatched a peppermint curlique out of my hand and shooed me out the door. “He’s gonna ruin Christmas.” I heard her say under her breath. “Ruin Christmas.”


My dad always ruined Christmas. Every year he found new and unforseen avenues to let the fizzle out of the holidays. He sparked no Christmas cheer and he wouldn’t be satisfied until we all were miserable and inpatient for the day to be done. I don’t think he was an evil man. Like I said, he was just an asshole who, for whatever his reasons, hated Christmas. Last year he yelled at me because I was scared of a piggy bank he bought me.

And who wouldn’t be? It was a haunted house with a smooth green hand that came out of the roof and grabbed your money. It gave my dad no end of pleasure – “Arlie! Looka that! It swiped that penny right outta ma hand!” I watched from the far side of the Christmas tree, quaking in terror. “Arlie! Arlie! Here’s a penny. C’mon and try it!” Why had Santa brought evil into my life? Hadn’t I been good? Hadn’t I? My dad’s voice sliced through my thought. “Dammit, Arlie. Git over here and put a penny in this here house. Where’s yer sense, girl?”


I came out from behind the tree and walked over to my dad. It was the only way out. Obey. I took the penny from his sweaty hand and held it out towards the house. “Yer got to git right up on it afore it kin retch it.” I moved closer. I held out the penny with my eyes closed. Creak! Whiz! The hand sprang out and snatched my penny. I swear it caught hold of my hand into the bargain. My dad let out a whoop. “A’ll be damned, if it didn’t do it again!” Apparently, like me, he could see the thing wrote its own rules. I screamed and ran to my mother. My dad’s face twisted up and he threw the bank across the room.


“I’ve never seen such a spoilt kid. You and yer mother you spoilt that girl, Pearl. Made her ‘fraid of her own shadda. Arlie- go pick up that bank and brang it here.” I stood there staring at him. “You hear me? Go pick it up and brang it here.”


It was wrong in every way. Curse the elf who built the plastic injection mold for that house. That house would torture my dreams until it burned up in the flames that were to engulf my room only two months later on one blistering cold February night. “Arlie! Pick up that gawd-damned bank and brang it here!”

Damn you Santa. Damn you Santa.

I reached out and picked up the house. It coughed out the hand and I screamed. A warm stream went down my leg soaking into my pink slippers and spilling onto the cherrywood floor.

Thank you for the humiliating memory, Santa. I wish I could die.


“Ruin Christmas.” My mother repeated as she shoved me out the door. I walked to school sucking on a cinnamon bomb I’d hidden in my shoe, convinced that. like my dad, Santa was bent towards the perverse.


To be continued…

Friday, December 15, 2006

Shock the Monkey

Just took the test to find out which historical lunatic I am and the result is...

I'm Nicola Tesla! Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

Yes. Darling Nicki. The parallels are astounding.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Friday Random Ten

  1. This Will Be Our Year - The Zombies
  2. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town - Joseph Spence
  3. Christmas Cookies - George Strait
  4. Long-Legged Guitar Picking Man - Johnny Cash
  5. Honey Bee - Cassandra Wilson
  6. Perfect Day - Lou Reed
  7. After the Gold Rush - Thom Yorke
  8. Innocent When You Dream - Tom Waits
  9. Better Days - Goo Goo Dolls
  10. I'm A Man - Iggy and the Stooges

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Nuthin' could be finah than a visit to Regina


I've been away from home twice in the last six weeks. Las Vegas, Nevada and Regina, Saskatchewan. My wallet and I choose Regina. Beautiful city of about 200,000. Round-trip airfare from San Francisco can be found between 3 and 4 hundred. Bike paths all over the place, although you might be a bit more comfortable on a bike if you wait til March. People are open and friendly. Canadian beer is tasty. Check out Sleemans. U.S.money goes a bit farther. 120 bucks got me about 133 Canadian. And fear not you Nevada nuts. There's a beautifully restored train station converted into a casino. Casino Regina has the same machines and tables Vegas has, but no smoking and all the bells and whistles are at half volume. It practically makes gambling healthy and relaxing. One other fun thing. Natives pronounce Regina as the above title suggests.
When you get back from your trip and tell people where you've been, I find even the most sophisticated of adults experience a "Beavis and Butthead" moment.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

The Rising Fallen

Two music videos from NYC theatre pals. They are Banana Bag & Bodice and the show - The Fall and Rise of the Rising Fallen opens at P.S. 122 in the spring of 2007.

The Shell


The Lot of Em

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Sunday, November 19, 2006

God's Gonna Cut You Down

MSCL

Seems the suits haven't gutted YouTube entirely yet. I can still watch episodes of My So-Called Life. Here's Part 1 of the pilot.

Friday, November 03, 2006

Cheese It

I hate it when the dog eats the cheese. You can blame the dog, but it's really your own damn fault for leaving it "within range." Dogs will be dogs. Yesterday, this pup consumed an entire 4 x 3 block of Mammoth Cheddar that was at optimal temperature. I had one slice. I cherish that brief moment. All too fleeting.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

CINEMATIC HELMET WARNING


CAUTION:Don't let the Helmet of Cinematic Popularity shield you from the following 3 movies.
DOWN IN THE VALLEY- A completely original yet familiar story that leaves you, like 2 of it's characters, steeped in both sweetness and horror, unsure of which to embrace.
THE DEVIL AND DANIEL JOHNSTON- Horror and sweetness, non-fiction style. This documentary of artist Daniel Johnston serves both up in steaming heaps.
THE PUFFY CHAIR-Brothers Mark and Jay Duplass and a stellar cast of actors you've probably never seen craft a deceptively simple story that for me either got so intense or so infuriating at points that I paused and walked away a few times. DVD's a beautiful thing. So's this movie. Check it out.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Random Items of Interest

  1. Did you know that six of the seven wonders of the world are gone? Vote for their replacements here.
  2. Images from the "Ectopia" exhibit at the International Center for Photography.
  3. The Final Note: short story here.
  4. Stephen Colbert Has America By the Ballots.
  5. According to my son: "there's no such thing as bunnies, they're really rabbits."
  6. Get a slice of book at Dear Reader. Each day you get a 5-minute email sample of a book. If you like it, you can get it at the library or your local book store.
  7. Turns 50 Celebrations - find one here.

Friday, October 13, 2006

The Rack of Hope


It's been a long day at work. Friday. Riding my bicycle home. Have to play a Nazi in a comedy, but not feeling it. I swing by Walgreen's on Market Street to purchase Crazy Glue to bond my monacle onto my eyepatch. As I'm locking my bike on a city bike rack, it looks up at me. A generic white sticker. On it, black Magic Marker print. "God Bless Our Brave Death Squads" Take heart. They're out there and they have a sense of humor. And I have the energy to be a Nazi tonight.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

KPIG 1510 AM


I'm not paranoid. Just realistic. I thought everything on the AM radio dial these days was owned by Clear Channel or Disney or Evangelists. I happened on this station while driving around San Francisco this week. Sounds like a college radio station run by people who've been out of college for 30 years. They play what they damn please. And good stuff too. Well, stuff I like. I've been out of college for 30 years. Check it out at 1510 AM soon, before the suits arrive and screw everything up.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Pirates!



My pirate name is:


Iron Ethel Read



A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Stephen Colbert Roasts Chevy Chase

Maybe They'll Try Waterboarding Next

Yep. Corporal punishment is back. In a post 9/11 world, if you spare the rod, you appease the terrorists. Its total war people, somebody has to make sacrifices. Bush has already mortaged their future, why not beat the crap out them to boot? Oh, and no surprise, James C. Dobson encourages the practice.
EVERMAN, Tex. — Anthony Price does not mince words when talking about corporal punishment — which he refers to as taking pops — a practice he recently reinstated at the suburban Fort Worth middle school where he is principal.

“I’m a big fan,” Mr. Price said. “I know it can be abused. But if used properly, along with other punishments, a few pops can help turn a school around. It’s had a huge effect here.”

Friday, September 29, 2006

George Bush Does Teletubbies

Smackdown

Trent Lott: Mother F*****G Racist A*****E

Lott: Bush barely mentioned Iraq in meeting with Senate Republicans
From CNN's Ted Barrett

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- President Bush barely mentioned the war in Iraq when he met with Republican senators behind closed doors in the Capitol Thursday morning and was not asked about the course of the war, Sen. Trent Lott, R-Mississippi, said.

"No, none of that," Lott told reporters after the session when asked if the Iraq war was discussed. "You're the only ones who obsess on that. We don't and the real people out in the real world don't for the most part."
Which world is that Mr. Loot, er excuse me, Mr. Lott? Of course, in Bushworld, where, it's, only, a, fucking, comma.

Read more from Paul the Spud at Shakespeare's Sister.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

White & Nerdy

Music video by "Weird Al" Yankovic from the album "Straight Outta Lynwood"

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

3 Is A Magic Number

Comma Splice

Battle Breaks Out in Media Over Bleak NIE Iraq Assessment
A pitched battle over an intelligence assessment, covered first by The New York Times and then The Washington Post, broke out across the media today. Former Secretary of State Alexander Haig went so far as blame the whole fuss -- over the negative view of the war in Iraq and the war on terror -- on liberal journalists. CNN aired an interview with President Bush in which he declared that one day the Iraq war will look like "just a comma."
If Iraq is a Comma

Punctuation Plus

A Period, Not A Comma

Otto René Castillo

You have a gun
And I am hungry

You have a gun
Because I am hungry

You have a gun
Therefore I am hungry

You can have a gun
You can have a thousand bullets and even another thousand
You can waste them all on my poor body
You can kill me one, two, three, two thousand, seven thousand times
But in the long run
I will always be better armed than you

If you have a gun
And I
Only hunger.



When the enthusiasm
of our time
is recounted
for those
yet to be born,
but who announce themselves
with a kinder face,
we will come out winners,
we who have suffered most.

To be ahead
Of one's time
Is to suffer much.
But it is beautiful to love the world
with the eyes
of those
still
to be born.

And splendid
to know oneself already victorious
when everything around
is still so cold, so dark.

Otto Rene Castillo was a Guatemalan poet "brutally tortured for an extended period, and then burned alive [by US-backed forces].

20 Years of Experience

“You know, to suggest that if we weren’t in Iraq we would see a rosier scenario, with fewer extremists joining the radical movement, requires us to ignore 20 years of experience,” Mr. Bush said. He added: “My judgment is: The only way to protect this country is to stay on the offense.”

Full article here.

From a radio interview with Noam Chomsky, September 18, 2001
A Saudi Arabian millionaire, Bin Laden became a militant Islamic leader in the war to drive the Russians out of Afghanistan. He was one of the many religious fundamentalist extremists recruited, armed, and financed by the CIA and their allies in Pakistani intelligence to cause maximal harm to the Russians -- quite possibly delaying their withdrawal, many analysts suspect -- though whether he personally happened to have direct contact with the CIA is unclear, and not particularly important. Not surprisingly, the CIA preferred the most fanatic and cruel fighters they could mobilize. The end result was to "destroy a moderate regime and create a fanatical one, from groups recklessly financed by the Americans" ('London Times' correspondent Simon Jenkins, also a specialist on the region). These "Afghanis" as they are called (many, like Bin Laden, not from Afghanistan) carried out terror operations across the border in Russia, but they terminated these after Russia withdrew. Their war was not against Russia, which they despise, but against the Russian occupation and Russia's crimes against Muslims.

The "Afghanis" did not terminate their activities, however. They joined Bosnian Muslim forces in the Balkan Wars; the US did not object, just as it tolerated Iranian support for them, for complex reasons that we need not pursue here, apart from noting that concern for the grim fate of the Bosnians was not prominent among them. The "Afghanis" are also fighting the Russians in Chechnya, and, quite possibly, are involved in carrying out terrorist attacks in Moscow and elsewhere in Russian territory. Bin Laden and his "Afghanis" turned against the US in 1990 when they established permanent bases in Saudi Arabia -- from his point of view, a counterpart to the Russian occupation of Afghanistan, but far more significant because of Saudi Arabia's special status as the guardian of the holiest shrines.

Bin Laden is also bitterly opposed to the corrupt and repressive regimes of the region, which he regards as "un-Islamic," including the Saudi Arabian regime, the most extreme Islamic fundamentalist regime in the world, apart from the Taliban, and a close US ally since its origins. Bin Laden despises the US for its support of these regimes. Like others in the region, he is also outraged by long-standing US support for Israel's brutal military occupation, now in its 35th year: Washington's decisive diplomatic, military, and economic intervention in support of the killings, the harsh and destructive siege over many years, the daily humiliation to which Palestinians are subjected, the expanding settlements designed to break the occupied territories into Bantustan-like cantons and take control of the resources, the gross violation of the Geneva Conventions, and other actions that are recognized as crimes throughout most of the world, apart from the US, which has prime responsibility for them. And like others, he contrasts Washington's dedicated support for these crimes with the decade-long US-British assault against the civilian population of Iraq, which has devastated the society and caused hundreds of thousands of deaths while strengthening Saddam Hussein -- who was a favored friend and ally of the US and Britain right through his worst atrocities, including the gassing of the Kurds, as people of the region also remember well, even if Westerners prefer to forget the facts. These sentiments are very widely shared. The 'Wall Street Journal' (Sept. 14) published a survey of opinions of wealthy and privileged Muslims in the Gulf region (bankers, professionals, businessmen with close links to the U.S.). They expressed much the same views: resentment of the U.S. policies of supporting Israeli crimes and blocking the international consensus on a diplomatic settlement for many years while devastating Iraqi civilian society, supporting harsh and repressive anti-democratic regimes throughout the region, and imposing barriers against economic development by "propping up oppressive regimes." Among the great majority of people suffering deep poverty and oppression, similar sentiments are far more bitter, and are the source of the fury and despair that has led to suicide bombings, as commonly understood by those who are interested in the facts.

The U.S., and much of the West, prefers a more comforting story. To quote the lead analysis in the 'New York Times' (Sept. 16), the perpetrators acted out of "hatred for the values cherished in the West as freedom, tolerance, prosperity, religious pluralism and universal suffrage." U.S. actions are irrelevant, and therefore need not even be mentioned (Serge Schmemann). This is a convenient picture, and the general stance is not unfamiliar in intellectual history; in fact, it is close to the norm. It happens to be completely at variance with everything we know, but has all the merits of self-adulation and uncritical support for power.

It is also widely recognized that Bin Laden and others like him are praying for "a great assault on Muslim states," which will cause "fanatics to flock to his cause" (Jenkins, and many others.). That too is familiar. The escalating cycle of violence is typically welcomed by the harshest and most brutal elements on both sides, a fact evident enough from the recent history of the Balkans, to cite only one of many cases.
Full interview here.

How Lucky We Are



Back in the USSR

  1. The Real Friends of Terror.
  2. United "Soviet" States of America.
  3. Impeachable.
  4. GI's in Iraq. Maintaining an Even Strain.
  5. Proud To Be An American.