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Jul. 6th, 2008 @ 03:10 pm Hope ya'll had a good 'un!

Jun. 7th, 2008 @ 10:21 am Beginnings.
When I was a kid, my uncle Ernest never called me by my name. He called me "city boy" because I lived in Athens. When my sister was 6 years old, she was summoned onstage by The Bermuda Strollers, a group of resort crooners with steel drums, to sing a calypso version of "It's A Small World." When asked where she was from, she said "Athens," which set off a rolling echo of "oooh"'s and applause from a parent-heavy crowd of vacationing New Englanders. It felt tingly and weird to be thought of as foreign. We weren't Greek, although Daddy's super deep farmer's tan and blue eyes probably seemed exotic to those who didn't know that he made his living basking in the hot embers of an Alabama barbecue pit everyday.

Immediately following Amanda's stage debut, I began a long campaign of cajoling her into singing for me upstairs at our house. This went on for years. And I've written about this before.

Today, I am pleased to report that thanks to my purchase of a fantastic cassette tape to .mp3 converter, I have finally built a tiny corner of the web where you can perpetually partake of my sister's pre-adolescent genius until the end of MySpace! From her collaborations with BFF down the street Brandy Reece to her recruitment of various cousins and siblings as a backing band to her soaring flights of solo glory, this is Amanda... for you!

The woman, her work, her world.

May. 9th, 2008 @ 01:00 pm Two Freckles In A Sea Of Milk.
I am newly fascinated by the redneck custom of instinctually removing one's shirt before throwing the first punch. One study suggests that 21% of all shirtless men will insist upon using a real name when given the opportunity to do porn. I once met a shirtless man who, it was rumored, had his social security number tattooed across his penis. "I need your help concealing my identity," he'd mutter towards annoyed gas station patrons. "Prove it" was his other tattoo, just to the left of his heart, handwritten vertically then safety pinned with India Ink. 

"Pave it?" I offered. 

"Naw. 'Prove it.' That's just the scar from my wreck."

So that's how I know.

May. 1st, 2008 @ 02:54 pm Portland!
 

Apr. 27th, 2008 @ 10:47 am Stage mistranslates earbud intimacy.
We're going over to Mark and Kelly's house on Saturday night for our first ever YouTube party. This kind of thing's happening everywhere, right? BYOB'ers contribute three URLs each... popcorn, projector, white wall...

There's no theme, so I'm still making up my mind. Here's an obsessional mixtape:

1) Anne Laplantine, "Goodbye Song," 2) Opal Foxx, "Please Don't Let Them,"  2) Guy Maddin, "Sissy Boy Slap Party,"  4) True Norwegian Black Metal (Documentary on Gaahl, Lead Singer of Gorgoroth), parts 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5, 5) Dawkins Vs. Tyson, 6) The Cruise (Documentary on Timothy "Speed" Levitch), parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11, 7) Whatever Happened To The Gender Benders (Documentary on New Wave-era London), parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, 6) Xavier Gautier, "Sketch 4," 7) Masonna, "Live at Bears and La Ma Ma," 8) Udo Kier, "Excerpt from Hungarian Rhapsody," 9) Unreleased Home Movies of Michael and LaToya Jackson, 1983, parts 1, 2 and 3, 10) Brontez reads from Fag School, 11) Genesis P'Orridge on Soft Focus, parts 1, 2, 3 and 4, 12) A Sermon from Joe Coleman, 13) Tempête dans les 50èmes, 14) Betty Catroux talks about life with Yves Saint Laurent, 15) The Wild World of Hasil "Haze" Adkins (Documentary), parts 1, 2 and 3, 16) The Evolution Control Committee, "The Fucking Moon," 17) From the window of the Marion Dufresne, 18) Brian DeGraw invite for James Fuentes LLC Inaugural Show, 19) Grace Jones Gets A Haircut, 1978, 20) Signe Chanel (Documentary on Karl Lagerfeld and the House of Chanel), parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and 20, 21) China Disabled Peoples Performance Art Troupe, "Buddha with 1000 Hands," 22) Carl Sagan explains the 4th dimension, 23) Excerpt from The Man Who Saw Tomorrow, 24) Chris Cunningham's set at Electraglide 2005, Japan.

Mar. 26th, 2008 @ 08:09 am I am totally USELESS!


My new article opens the issue, page 10! :)

Get on tha list, & join me and Miss H. as we trip the light fantizzy. Saturday night @ Participant.

Mar. 18th, 2008 @ 07:10 am Fill an hourglass with my ashes. Smuggle me into Spencer's Gifts.
I am writing a novel whose antagonist's full name is Jay Swee Dezolee. His insults contain sufficient insight to induce suicide, yet his undying love for the world makes him dangerously self-effacing.

Mar. 15th, 2008 @ 12:32 pm A condo, a dorm for life.

Feb. 16th, 2008 @ 04:18 pm It's not a booger. It's a scab.
Sarcasm without an accent seems unearned in the city. It reads like blogged protest of a genocide, of war skewed within keepsake diaries placed on perfumed pillowtops warmed by the nightly farts of servants. Why is Anderson Cooper's pronunciation of "N'Awlins" still winceworthy in spite of every noble deed and intention? For the same reason that his ass looks so pert and comfy in jeans... 

Mommy.

Feb. 6th, 2008 @ 09:24 pm The Ocean Will Win.
I've put in 26 hours over the last two days, uncrateing and installing an 18-wheeler-full of politically-charged South American expressionism. Too tired for insight, too tired to shave. The ceiling in our bathroom collapsed last night at 11:15 P.M. No joke. Most of the apartment smells like cancer. I smell like sock. I am so fucking third world right now.

Feb. 1st, 2008 @ 07:31 am Asbestos Soup.
Last night, David Lynch came over and installed this piece of kinetic sculpture on our bathroom ceiling. A second piece is in progress above our toliet.

Jan. 12th, 2008 @ 03:12 pm Cold Shoulder.
Driving north on I-65, just shy of the Tennessee state line, there is a billboard advertising a paternity testing service for the bargain price of $395. Totally cute bastard photograph runs alongside the text. A few thousand feet up the road, three memorial wooden crosses painted white poke from the dirt of the roadside, followed by a rest area darkened under the shadow of a retired Saturn IB rocket - its tip capped with a blinking red light. Warning to low-flying crop dusters? Last call for the greatest generation?

Such are the silent questions in the hearts of truckers everywhere.

Jan. 6th, 2008 @ 10:42 am Syruptitiously.
"Freddie Mercury once sang 'Radio Ga Ga' to me on a fur bed," he whispered. "I keep that in the front of my mind on difficult days."

Dec. 22nd, 2007 @ 02:19 pm 2007.











Dec. 17th, 2007 @ 08:32 am Morlocks Eat Eloi.
Coffeeshop again. I just heard the Windows start up jingle from someone's laptop meld perfectly with downbeat jazz on the radio. Dearest Bedhead Cableknit McTightjeans, how did your ass get so narrow? Your tats at bath time. Imagine.

Dec. 8th, 2007 @ 08:15 pm The Secret Wish That Understanding Could Somehow Lead To Exemption.


Spotted an angel this afternoon. Corner of University and Memorial.

Nov. 24th, 2007 @ 10:13 am Disneyland Stucco And Cosmeceuticals.
Enter one pudgy gay goateed man wearing tight t-shirt. Large cursive caption: “This is what awesome looks like.” Sure, sounds funny when written, but no one is laughing (or smiling) here in the morning light of the coffeeshop where he stands stirring cream.

At Pottery Barn, they’re pitching organic glass now. I noticed it last week - a small, nondescript bud vase near the entrance. Not that I’m proud of passing along such sad scrutiny, but what’s next? Stemware, cups, sconces? Christmas ornaments? Glass is basically melted sand, right? Did the Chinese inadvertently subject third world beaches to partial hydrogenation in the 80’s?

What I find most disturbing is the faux immortality vibe inherent in this trend...

“Relish these natural golden grains, harvested and heated in thousand-year-old tribal kilns by vegan Mexican nudists so that your child may live forever.” Makes me want to fill my tub with Evian, swab my ass with natural sea sponges dipped in Tibetan buttermilk, and contemplate all things handmade from the balcony of my condo while spitting soy-mucous loogs at the peasants below.

I know. I’m a broken record. Whole Foods is social Darwinism though.

Oh wait... answers.com says that organic glass is “an amorphous, solid, glasslike material made of transparent plastic!"

Nov. 20th, 2007 @ 08:14 am Gratis.
Is there some form of carpal tunnel syndrome of the foot related to insane standstill commutes where tiny increments of starting and stopping gradually dull tendons and (ironically) inhibit pedestrian ability? Is the future a quiet place peopled with grown-ups, Victorian manners, greenery, assigned parking, and instantaneous towing? Why is looped tabloid television a bathroom fixture in most gated communities? During strenuous grunts, stars often appear to all of us free of charge. Are the best things in life free? Janet Jackson's morning checklist: driver, earplugs, children (someone else's), colonics, foot masseur.

Nov. 9th, 2007 @ 12:45 pm I Heart J.D.!
 

Casey just sent me this link to JD Ferguson’s blog. Check it out! It’s a cool mention (with some great pics) of Word To Tha Mutha, the trompe l’oeil painting of my CD collection that I gave to Casey in exchange for his New York serenade, back in 2004. We even staged an uncrating ceremony at the Williamsburg Deitch, where I was asked by Mr. Jeffrey D. himself to name a price (he wanted to buy the painting)! After telling him that it wasn’t for sale because of my quid pro quo, his eyes widened and he asked me to repeat the story to a group of collectors standing near the entrance. No one could believe it, and I still can’t believe that I got to tell one of the most important gallerists in the world that he couldn’t buy my work.


Nov. 6th, 2007 @ 07:56 pm "Come out from among them and be ye separate, saith the Lord."
Hell has frozen over. I now own a cell phone. It wasn't my idea. Alton threatened divorce. I wanted to die an Old Order Mennonite, but life has proven to be more complicated than the inside of my Cracker Barrel.

Gloat... all... you... want.

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