be calm bean
a couple of laps leaping over furniture and then i duck squealing into the bathroom to collect myself. and apparently voraciously overscrubbed my face in so doing- such that by the time i got sherry + darin downstairs for good newsinaning, my face was bright red and they're like, "that's great! but what's wrong with your face?"
phone call said they loved it.
now it's to the owners, budget, getting the bid more finalized (yesterday's big relief came when i found that prices i thought i worried were totally off base were pretty ballpark- disaster averted....so far!)
it is still some way off, but maybe i share here so it has a little place to sit in the world even if it is never constructed.
left over snow
over due party picts:
the rum bird greeted you with coconut saliva at fuego's party
making fuego a fiery princess (or was it pukey princess)
mines party looked mostly like this to me
This one is after mine own heart- FRESH! purecandy- not diluted with any non-combustibles and ready to burn
over/under anyone?
Looks like the press is being prepped for Ezzie's prediction on bin Laden...the 'news' is like being at a loosely veiled free weekend retreat! that is one long infomercial setting the parameters for group think. It doesn't matter which group you pick, the boundaries of your suspicions and supports are set.
I want to know where the back exit is otherwise I'm going to put my hands over my ears, stick out my tongue and hum lullabys to myself.
or sing
Karaoke with Lawyers
Dropping what little of the Company Man the boy had ever been able to muster certainly landed us in a cab with a Partner talking about 70's punk + Nirvana on the way to K-town karaoke, but also delineated the calculated filter hanging about the table like Elijah at a Seder. A couple Partners were there, sure- on one side of the table with the younger associates across the way. The P's more or less tried to set the tone for the night- cussing through fabled times of dope smoking in their junior days of law, coked up seniors, sex in the file storage, yada yada.
No one is perhaps more aware of the boundary line of implication than lawyers. In revealing their awareness and comfort with the wilder days- these P's seemed to be saying- "For christ's sake, loosen the fuck up. I'm dying at the hand of all your cautious respect." Which isn't to say that the table talk wasn't lively, but that the younguns were scores more reserved than the boomers. Perhaps this is just a factor of getting more accustomed to the grey area between authority and personality, perhaps it is indicative of a general trend towards more obedient citizens (which I see replacing common courtesy and worries me).
But then how uptight can you be when your boss is belting out Billy Idol's White Wedding?
Yesterday's trip to D.U.M.B.O. (little sandwiched section on the Brooklyn side between the Manhattan Bridge + the Brooklyn Bridge) didn't get me any of that world class pizza (Grimalde's) or chocolate (Jacques Torres- you know from the food network maybe?) they gots, but I did find the last little bit of snow in NYC. Loving the holes burnt through this facade and the bridge barging through the building.
Bridge presence = very strong in this wedge of 'artisans' reminding all that infrastructure can be sexy.
A construction worker crossing the street while I was shooting tipped me off to the perfectly framed Empire State Building between the Ma'ha'an Bridge's legs if only I'd scoot to the middle of the street.
over due party picts:
the rum bird greeted you with coconut saliva at fuego's party
making fuego a fiery princess (or was it pukey princess)
mines party looked mostly like this to me
This one is after mine own heart- FRESH! purecandy- not diluted with any non-combustibles and ready to burn
over/under anyone?
Looks like the press is being prepped for Ezzie's prediction on bin Laden...the 'news' is like being at a loosely veiled free weekend retreat! that is one long infomercial setting the parameters for group think. It doesn't matter which group you pick, the boundaries of your suspicions and supports are set.
I want to know where the back exit is otherwise I'm going to put my hands over my ears, stick out my tongue and hum lullabys to myself.
or sing
Karaoke with Lawyers
Dropping what little of the Company Man the boy had ever been able to muster certainly landed us in a cab with a Partner talking about 70's punk + Nirvana on the way to K-town karaoke, but also delineated the calculated filter hanging about the table like Elijah at a Seder. A couple Partners were there, sure- on one side of the table with the younger associates across the way. The P's more or less tried to set the tone for the night- cussing through fabled times of dope smoking in their junior days of law, coked up seniors, sex in the file storage, yada yada.
No one is perhaps more aware of the boundary line of implication than lawyers. In revealing their awareness and comfort with the wilder days- these P's seemed to be saying- "For christ's sake, loosen the fuck up. I'm dying at the hand of all your cautious respect." Which isn't to say that the table talk wasn't lively, but that the younguns were scores more reserved than the boomers. Perhaps this is just a factor of getting more accustomed to the grey area between authority and personality, perhaps it is indicative of a general trend towards more obedient citizens (which I see replacing common courtesy and worries me).
But then how uptight can you be when your boss is belting out Billy Idol's White Wedding?
Yesterday's trip to D.U.M.B.O. (little sandwiched section on the Brooklyn side between the Manhattan Bridge + the Brooklyn Bridge) didn't get me any of that world class pizza (Grimalde's) or chocolate (Jacques Torres- you know from the food network maybe?) they gots, but I did find the last little bit of snow in NYC. Loving the holes burnt through this facade and the bridge barging through the building.
Bridge presence = very strong in this wedge of 'artisans' reminding all that infrastructure can be sexy.
A construction worker crossing the street while I was shooting tipped me off to the perfectly framed Empire State Building between the Ma'ha'an Bridge's legs if only I'd scoot to the middle of the street.
crickets
ok, so the castle was empty. the shot of whiskey wasted on nerves needlessly bent out of shape. brigade to regroup until friday, we hope.
onward. to the government castle in downtown brooklyn.
strip search. cavity search, "maam, what's in those zebra striped thumping headphone/earmuffs? is that public enemy?"
so i got tough with social security. actually i didn't, i got very silly whilst everyone else nudged and angled and berated the staff like little futile smoke stacks....... as if there were anything to do but find humor in it and crank the volume up to 92.
"jazz hands!" .... always seemed to work for elias the crouch.
more pictures to be posted soon soon.
going away dinner for the boy tonight. good bye law. good bye lies.
ok, so the castle was empty. the shot of whiskey wasted on nerves needlessly bent out of shape. brigade to regroup until friday, we hope.
onward. to the government castle in downtown brooklyn.
strip search. cavity search, "maam, what's in those zebra striped thumping headphone/earmuffs? is that public enemy?"
so i got tough with social security. actually i didn't, i got very silly whilst everyone else nudged and angled and berated the staff like little futile smoke stacks....... as if there were anything to do but find humor in it and crank the volume up to 92.
"jazz hands!" .... always seemed to work for elias the crouch.
more pictures to be posted soon soon.
going away dinner for the boy tonight. good bye law. good bye lies.
cousin canole
Man oh me, no one can embarrass you like family (who have access to old big bangs photos) can. Thanks for the kind words to soften the blow...dryer.
Man oh me, no one can embarrass you like family (who have access to old big bangs photos) can. Thanks for the kind words to soften the blow...dryer.
love
I hadn't checked her site for a short spell since the last post said she was taking a little hiatus from her bloglife -she's also behind the many diff types of such fasting-
There was the weeklong reading abstinence (kneejerk objections bend under further reflection on this one- it isn't like the world becomes more quiet when you stop this intake- you just start reading other things- or at least that is I imagine it to be like w/o doing it myself).
There was the month of not buying anything.
The month of paring down the visuals- going monochromatic.
A triangle between posts from other friends who have had some fun listing their values is forming for me. It reminds me of the time I found myself surrounded by folks applying for grad school- anguished over the "Statement of Purpose". They were partially struggling with interpretting the Purpose most suited to the instution at hand's liking and partially because they didn't really have a purpose in mind to their own liking. Of course I wrote my own. Something nebulous pertaining to the idea of entropy I was at the time mulling over. A thought before sleep was that it needed an update (which may or may not land on this page).
Reading a list of values reminds you of how very malleable and prone to dissection/exception the BIG words are- TRUTH is one of the scariest such to me- mostly because of its authority in invocation and assumption of abundance falsehoods in practice.
LOVE is another- which I don't find frightening, but demands further extrapolation.
....So emdot posting this little bit of zen from hiatus catches our attention.
"In order to develop love...one must accept the whole situation of life as it is, both the light and the dark, the good and the bad. One must open oneself to life, communicate with it."
Working on full force love application over here- mainly in the smaller moments of interacting with people.
I hadn't checked her site for a short spell since the last post said she was taking a little hiatus from her bloglife -she's also behind the many diff types of such fasting-
There was the weeklong reading abstinence (kneejerk objections bend under further reflection on this one- it isn't like the world becomes more quiet when you stop this intake- you just start reading other things- or at least that is I imagine it to be like w/o doing it myself).
There was the month of not buying anything.
The month of paring down the visuals- going monochromatic.
A triangle between posts from other friends who have had some fun listing their values is forming for me. It reminds me of the time I found myself surrounded by folks applying for grad school- anguished over the "Statement of Purpose". They were partially struggling with interpretting the Purpose most suited to the instution at hand's liking and partially because they didn't really have a purpose in mind to their own liking. Of course I wrote my own. Something nebulous pertaining to the idea of entropy I was at the time mulling over. A thought before sleep was that it needed an update (which may or may not land on this page).
Reading a list of values reminds you of how very malleable and prone to dissection/exception the BIG words are- TRUTH is one of the scariest such to me- mostly because of its authority in invocation and assumption of abundance falsehoods in practice.
LOVE is another- which I don't find frightening, but demands further extrapolation.
....So emdot posting this little bit of zen from hiatus catches our attention.
Working on full force love application over here- mainly in the smaller moments of interacting with people.
the end of winter?
This little man in his fetching suit seemed to be calling out in a very small percolating voice that the end of winter's dark and cold reign was approaching. Hark, color.
and flavor.
and skin.
and friends from afar.
and haribo gummy kids and adults love so.
and business cards with my name and my business. a sculpture for the remainding 9,500 (i feel a little unworthy and decidedly underconnected in the face of all these neat white cubic mountains) is yet to be conceived.
and going to sleep with thanks of thousands across my lips and fingertips.
Reasons for people not to dance at a dance party:
1. music not loud enough (surround enough) to drown out conversation.
2. not knowing enough people
3. knowing too many people
4. not drinking enough
5. drinking too much
6. waiting for other people to start first (despite hopes that it happens soon) asking- "are people really gonna dance?" To which I ask, WWMD (What Would Mos Do)?
Listen.. people be askin me all the time,
"Yo Mos, what's gettin ready to happen with Hip-Hop?"
(Where do you think Hip-Hop is goin?)
I tell em, "You know what's gonna happen with Hip-Hop?
Whatever's happening with us"
If we smoked out, Hip-Hop is gonna be smoked out
If we doin alright, Hip-Hop is gonna be doin alright
People talk about Hip-Hop like it's some giant livin in the hillside
comin down to visit the townspeople
We +are+ Hip-Hop
Me, you, everybody, we are Hip-Hop
So Hip-Hop is goin where we goin
So the next time you ask yourself where Hip-Hop is goin
ask yourself.. where am I goin? How am I doin?
Til you get a clear idea
So.. if Hip-Hop is about the people
and the.. Hip-Hop won't get better until the people get better
then how do people get better? (Hmmmm...)
7. the little man on the street here couldn't make the party
You know the Bean didn't stop making her dancing feet happy simply because no one else would- which eventually paid off for getting another half dozen booties into the harmonics of the funky universe.
Note to the Establishment Universe! I met Diana briefly at Julie Fuego's (aka Miss Party Pants) party. No idea how to contact her beyond the astroturf world.
This little man in his fetching suit seemed to be calling out in a very small percolating voice that the end of winter's dark and cold reign was approaching. Hark, color.
and flavor.
and skin.
and friends from afar.
and haribo gummy kids and adults love so.
and business cards with my name and my business. a sculpture for the remainding 9,500 (i feel a little unworthy and decidedly underconnected in the face of all these neat white cubic mountains) is yet to be conceived.
and going to sleep with thanks of thousands across my lips and fingertips.
Reasons for people not to dance at a dance party:
1. music not loud enough (surround enough) to drown out conversation.
2. not knowing enough people
3. knowing too many people
4. not drinking enough
5. drinking too much
6. waiting for other people to start first (despite hopes that it happens soon) asking- "are people really gonna dance?" To which I ask, WWMD (What Would Mos Do)?
"Yo Mos, what's gettin ready to happen with Hip-Hop?"
(Where do you think Hip-Hop is goin?)
I tell em, "You know what's gonna happen with Hip-Hop?
Whatever's happening with us"
If we smoked out, Hip-Hop is gonna be smoked out
If we doin alright, Hip-Hop is gonna be doin alright
People talk about Hip-Hop like it's some giant livin in the hillside
comin down to visit the townspeople
We +are+ Hip-Hop
Me, you, everybody, we are Hip-Hop
So Hip-Hop is goin where we goin
So the next time you ask yourself where Hip-Hop is goin
ask yourself.. where am I goin? How am I doin?
Til you get a clear idea
So.. if Hip-Hop is about the people
and the.. Hip-Hop won't get better until the people get better
then how do people get better? (Hmmmm...)
7. the little man on the street here couldn't make the party
You know the Bean didn't stop making her dancing feet happy simply because no one else would- which eventually paid off for getting another half dozen booties into the harmonics of the funky universe.
Note to the Establishment Universe! I met Diana briefly at Julie Fuego's (aka Miss Party Pants) party. No idea how to contact her beyond the astroturf world.
the short fuse
These days this computer is being held together with some duck tape and string. An occasional kick in the shins yields only vindictive repurcutions. The battle is nigh. Plus one, or, er, two for the Dell today. That last entry was blipped out by "operation timed out while trying to connect" blah. Time out for the computer last night, the girl was off to celebrate. It was only one moment of pity party for living so isolated from my friends these days, no phone calls but there was some love sent long distance, all the same.
The Reverend Moon writes poetry in mail (and song, and wool, and paint, and architecture...what is this- if you know her you already love her).
Lucky beans gets more, as the boy calls it, girl*dust- which I think is self explanatory.
Going to sleep after celebrating with Ezzie, I had the thought that this was the best birthday ever. It was no contest to the birthday my boyfriend broke up with me and I spent the day drinky in my room.
In all fairness, the circus magic my mom would send to school with me (magicians, clowns, cupcakes, what-have-you) were probably more awesome than I'm giving due - but it wasn't my doing. I spent the day stressing about this proposal I'm putting together for a big Manhattan club, until I thought about how great it was to be doing that at all. HuRayRay! Flip it on it's head, when your getting heavy, just dump the whole sad sack out the window. Followed by a little ridiculousness with the boy ala Renee Risque -"on the applicatin for International Pop Star they don't check your pee" and other vainglorious lines.
Big plans for Big Weekend. Got some glammed out high roller from LAla land rolling in for double bean + fuego bdays. Fuego's party is tonight- there's astroturf involved. Tomorrow, don't talk to me unless your hips are shaking and you're passing me some candy. Arwen says she's just gonna chill with the cool book the Super Mister Darin got me (full of drawings from a girl growing up in Iran). Arwen relates to the desert life, the political one less so.
* oh man, it just occured to me that it is a pretty amazing city that absorbs your thoughts so completely that seeing Paul Auster read for free at the closest B + Noble totally slips your mind. Or completely the intention of the author who unveils himself repeatedly in an obsession with recursiveness. His words indeed did fall from his mouth here to the floor to be swept under the mental carpet....Damn, he almost got me. That bookstore is pretty remarkable upon further reflection- the following night (last night), William Gibson, the Vonnegut of sci-fi, came in to do the same thing.
These days this computer is being held together with some duck tape and string. An occasional kick in the shins yields only vindictive repurcutions. The battle is nigh. Plus one, or, er, two for the Dell today. That last entry was blipped out by "operation timed out while trying to connect" blah. Time out for the computer last night, the girl was off to celebrate. It was only one moment of pity party for living so isolated from my friends these days, no phone calls but there was some love sent long distance, all the same.
Lucky beans gets more, as the boy calls it, girl*dust- which I think is self explanatory.
Going to sleep after celebrating with Ezzie, I had the thought that this was the best birthday ever. It was no contest to the birthday my boyfriend broke up with me and I spent the day drinky in my room.
In all fairness, the circus magic my mom would send to school with me (magicians, clowns, cupcakes, what-have-you) were probably more awesome than I'm giving due - but it wasn't my doing. I spent the day stressing about this proposal I'm putting together for a big Manhattan club, until I thought about how great it was to be doing that at all. HuRayRay! Flip it on it's head, when your getting heavy, just dump the whole sad sack out the window. Followed by a little ridiculousness with the boy ala Renee Risque -"on the applicatin for International Pop Star they don't check your pee" and other vainglorious lines.
Big plans for Big Weekend. Got some glammed out high roller from LAla land rolling in for double bean + fuego bdays. Fuego's party is tonight- there's astroturf involved. Tomorrow, don't talk to me unless your hips are shaking and you're passing me some candy. Arwen says she's just gonna chill with the cool book the Super Mister Darin got me (full of drawings from a girl growing up in Iran). Arwen relates to the desert life, the political one less so.
* oh man, it just occured to me that it is a pretty amazing city that absorbs your thoughts so completely that seeing Paul Auster read for free at the closest B + Noble totally slips your mind. Or completely the intention of the author who unveils himself repeatedly in an obsession with recursiveness. His words indeed did fall from his mouth here to the floor to be swept under the mental carpet....Damn, he almost got me. That bookstore is pretty remarkable upon further reflection- the following night (last night), William Gibson, the Vonnegut of sci-fi, came in to do the same thing.
good news
married shadows, us and the couple across the street
The boy's days are numbered in law. Freeform Ranting can start vivisections of drivers instead of subway riders, deals instead of contracts.
The team will be shifting schedule: no more late night delirious inspiration.
I'll have to be sillier in the early morning.
We've already booked a ticket to Jamaica.
This was most unnatural since we both prefer culture to climate, stimulation to sedation.
In this case, it is prescriptive. You can tell at a glance that we need some sun, that we need to get out of the city.
The upshot is that we can go low pro. I think it's still possible to skip the high-rise resorts, inclusive packages, jeeps... and leave without buying anything but bananas, jerky and rum.
married shadows, us and the couple across the street
The boy's days are numbered in law. Freeform Ranting can start vivisections of drivers instead of subway riders, deals instead of contracts.
The team will be shifting schedule: no more late night delirious inspiration.
I'll have to be sillier in the early morning.
We've already booked a ticket to Jamaica.
This was most unnatural since we both prefer culture to climate, stimulation to sedation.
In this case, it is prescriptive. You can tell at a glance that we need some sun, that we need to get out of the city.
The upshot is that we can go low pro. I think it's still possible to skip the high-rise resorts, inclusive packages, jeeps... and leave without buying anything but bananas, jerky and rum.
"Master of the Universe, please remove from upon us the plague of the artists, so that we shall not drown in evil waters, and so that they shall not come to our residence to ruin it."
Today's NYT got my goat. The local Hassidic jews are loudly protesting a newly converted loft going up in the hood under the pretense that their neighborhood is being challenged and that the $550/s.f. sales will pressure their own property values.
You can't have your cake and eat it too. Most of the existing lofts, including the one I am typing in and the one across the street and and and.... are owned by this same community. They rent to artists. This is the relationship we have between them- they own, we rent, they continuously take advantage of the market by themselves driving up prices. Reminder here folks that landlords aren't under any obligation to raise rent, it usually bears no reflection on rising costs for them- it's just opportunistic greed.
"They're saying that they want affordable housing, but they're charging extortionist rents to non-Hasidic people," said Mark Firth, a local restaurant owner and resident.
I'm trying to parse their actual motivation. It could be that another developer has entered the scene and one of their own isn't directly profiting. However I believe that it is more an issue of boundary. That the cow they milk has crossed the pasture and is now grazing in their backyard. Where they can see them, smell them, shop in their stores. Which is problematic when your community is desparately trying to insulate itself from the rest of the world (note, but not so much it is obstaining from milking the cow).
This sect of super orthodox jews dominates their own by cutting off education early, separating men + women (even weddings are completely segregated events), and shaving the heads of their women (and isolating them during menstration) to curtail their femininity. After walking a couple blocks beyond this Broadway divide into the Hasidic fortress, Heidi (visiting from CA, but perceptive all the same) nearly cried at the blatantly oppressive street scene. Hence the threat of seeing 'exposed women' and the worry of idea infiltration into their camp. Hence the steamy bean who believes in nothing if not the idea infiltration process which has been the one grace of humanity.
The victim of the artists plea is thus most incidious and makes me want to streak the southside in my skivvies with a banner in my hand proclaiming, "The world is a big fun place."
Today's NYT got my goat. The local Hassidic jews are loudly protesting a newly converted loft going up in the hood under the pretense that their neighborhood is being challenged and that the $550/s.f. sales will pressure their own property values.
You can't have your cake and eat it too. Most of the existing lofts, including the one I am typing in and the one across the street and and and.... are owned by this same community. They rent to artists. This is the relationship we have between them- they own, we rent, they continuously take advantage of the market by themselves driving up prices. Reminder here folks that landlords aren't under any obligation to raise rent, it usually bears no reflection on rising costs for them- it's just opportunistic greed.
"They're saying that they want affordable housing, but they're charging extortionist rents to non-Hasidic people," said Mark Firth, a local restaurant owner and resident.
I'm trying to parse their actual motivation. It could be that another developer has entered the scene and one of their own isn't directly profiting. However I believe that it is more an issue of boundary. That the cow they milk has crossed the pasture and is now grazing in their backyard. Where they can see them, smell them, shop in their stores. Which is problematic when your community is desparately trying to insulate itself from the rest of the world (note, but not so much it is obstaining from milking the cow).
This sect of super orthodox jews dominates their own by cutting off education early, separating men + women (even weddings are completely segregated events), and shaving the heads of their women (and isolating them during menstration) to curtail their femininity. After walking a couple blocks beyond this Broadway divide into the Hasidic fortress, Heidi (visiting from CA, but perceptive all the same) nearly cried at the blatantly oppressive street scene. Hence the threat of seeing 'exposed women' and the worry of idea infiltration into their camp. Hence the steamy bean who believes in nothing if not the idea infiltration process which has been the one grace of humanity.
The victim of the artists plea is thus most incidious and makes me want to streak the southside in my skivvies with a banner in my hand proclaiming, "The world is a big fun place."
it's written all over your door
the month of the bean is here! active celebrations for being alive to continue throughout the month. the actual day has no time for dinner. no time for gifts. the music must be ON and the booties must be shaking.
but that's not for a few days now.
it's been a pretty good streak of glow in these parts.
ms. cat power must find irony in showing up to a show scheduled friday the 13th the day before valentines, having a troubled track record beheading with impunity performances on seemingly less loaded dates. maybe we can hope the lonely hearts club day didn't find her with her a**hole boyfriend to fight with before showtime. a black cat isn't supersticious.
the lights off .... only a bed of her milk voice to lie on whilst the viola drawings pull thickening lines and piano clumbered on ahead leading the way to a burnt ice dream and a stale whiskey morning.
manhattan has paired up like noah's ark. with my monoscope aimed from the river's edge, i see the lines to the museums wrapping around the block, like hair tangled in so many drains. i see the parks treetops swaying from little boys and girls chasing each other armlengths at a time. half the windows pressed up steamy with casual acts of exhibitionism, the other half's curtains neatly drawn tight.
i take brooklyn.
for the third year running, the annual morning of power has pulled us from our warm beds and into a brisk, crisp, low sun early hour walk. the first such walk was after a certain morning talk in warm-not at all cold- covers- "i know i'm not supposed to, but i think i might have feelings for you" and put us in the long shadowed hands of trees, streetposts.
the rest is history- apparently living history.
the birthday gadget is an elph! we took the elph for a walk and this is what she came back with.
the month of the bean is here! active celebrations for being alive to continue throughout the month. the actual day has no time for dinner. no time for gifts. the music must be ON and the booties must be shaking.
but that's not for a few days now.
it's been a pretty good streak of glow in these parts.
ms. cat power must find irony in showing up to a show scheduled friday the 13th the day before valentines, having a troubled track record beheading with impunity performances on seemingly less loaded dates. maybe we can hope the lonely hearts club day didn't find her with her a**hole boyfriend to fight with before showtime. a black cat isn't supersticious.
the lights off .... only a bed of her milk voice to lie on whilst the viola drawings pull thickening lines and piano clumbered on ahead leading the way to a burnt ice dream and a stale whiskey morning.
manhattan has paired up like noah's ark. with my monoscope aimed from the river's edge, i see the lines to the museums wrapping around the block, like hair tangled in so many drains. i see the parks treetops swaying from little boys and girls chasing each other armlengths at a time. half the windows pressed up steamy with casual acts of exhibitionism, the other half's curtains neatly drawn tight.
i take brooklyn.
for the third year running, the annual morning of power has pulled us from our warm beds and into a brisk, crisp, low sun early hour walk. the first such walk was after a certain morning talk in warm-not at all cold- covers- "i know i'm not supposed to, but i think i might have feelings for you" and put us in the long shadowed hands of trees, streetposts.
the rest is history- apparently living history.
the birthday gadget is an elph! we took the elph for a walk and this is what she came back with.
fire in your pants valentines
these valentine drawings are pretty fresh and expressive, i think i might have to download some and pitch in for the cause.
these valentine drawings are pretty fresh and expressive, i think i might have to download some and pitch in for the cause.
pepped up on goofballs
or maybe it's just cocoa pebbles. or maybe it's just coffee. or the sugar + soy in the coffee. perhaps i'm all pepped up on pepper and pecans- one never knows what i've been snacking on.
greetings to mr. wing footed insectoball
It's oh so quiet upstairs
Sherry is hiding out in california. She escaped an ill fated car trip with her parents. They pulled a fast one getting her out there- the trip to hawaii turned into a road trip to texas with her parents who've been estranged for more than a decade. No surprise that san diego sunshine called. If you don't know what to do with yourself you can at least be warm and drunk.
Burlesque Bye Bye
pablo came to scoop up baharak. the night they left we stopped into galapagos for a casual burlesque toast.
bean: "oh! lady ace is a creative genius!"
lady ace: throws off a trenchcoat and is immediately down to pasties + skivvies
bean: "er...she's usually much more elaborate"
lady ace: proceeds to get dressed to You're as Cold as Ice - up go the long johns, the pants, the 3 layers of socks, the long shirt, the second long shirt, the sweater, the puffy jacket, the gloves, the earmuffs and strides sassily through the broken chunks of laughter bouncing about the room.
Korean Hardcore
The Card Counter from Korea dropped into town in usual fashion. This time we properly prepped- caffeine, carbs, and saturated fats for dinner. The Korean club house on the third floor of an innocuous office buiding in midtown greets us with a rapid succession of Black Label shots. Every table tells the same story- bottles Johnny Walker Black Label (or two or three)with a pouring spout, a carafe of cola, a huge plate of melon, a dish of Kim-Chee or some such. The bathroom scene in this joint- one of the only times the Bean gets to scope the tops of everyone else's head- the sensation is less unsettling than being surrounded by girls wobbling and puking. The equation of one shot per five minutes plus melon snackies on a 95 pound girl surprisingly doesn't work out in their favor. Even the Card Counter's Korean friends begged, "What's the race?"
Beaten at the Banya Until the Sweat Turns to Blood
Luckily we got out early since they had just landed from the 14 hour flight. All charged up with no where to go but the Russian Banya (bathhouse) whence the Blackbelts arrived from Connectycut. Banya is a beautiful thing. Perhaps one of the best things the Financial District has to offer. A huge basement made filled with Russians saunaing with wool caps on, being beated by eucalyptus branches (so good, so much hotter that way), followed by a plunge into the ice cold pool. With your heart now jumping out of your chest and your vision bisected- what else is there for you to do but drink pepper vodka, eat pickles, dried fish and cherry jam in a robe until the next round? This ritual is always followed by boscht, pierrogi, slaw, and lamb upstairs. My stomache is now twice it's normal size but my pores are virginal.
Awesome vs. Amazing
The Blackbelts Ph.ds (he's the physicist ph.d, she's the slavic studier ph.d, they both have blackbelts in aikido- clearly we've got to refer to them via their titles- i'm just waiting to see how they'll both pull off being knighted) have a tough choice ahead of them: Sweden vs. Japan. They're in Stockholm as we speak scoping out the Quantum Physics lab and pastry shops. February, with only 6 hours of sunlight, can be a hard sell, but Blackbelt Girl is already hopeful for the enchanted element of brightly colored houses lit by constellations of candles sitting in a deep pack of powdered white sugar. Either way we all win.
* oh so cool, check out the ICE hotel
or maybe it's just cocoa pebbles. or maybe it's just coffee. or the sugar + soy in the coffee. perhaps i'm all pepped up on pepper and pecans- one never knows what i've been snacking on.
greetings to mr. wing footed insectoball
It's oh so quiet upstairs
Sherry is hiding out in california. She escaped an ill fated car trip with her parents. They pulled a fast one getting her out there- the trip to hawaii turned into a road trip to texas with her parents who've been estranged for more than a decade. No surprise that san diego sunshine called. If you don't know what to do with yourself you can at least be warm and drunk.
Burlesque Bye Bye
pablo came to scoop up baharak. the night they left we stopped into galapagos for a casual burlesque toast.
bean: "oh! lady ace is a creative genius!"
lady ace: throws off a trenchcoat and is immediately down to pasties + skivvies
bean: "er...she's usually much more elaborate"
lady ace: proceeds to get dressed to You're as Cold as Ice - up go the long johns, the pants, the 3 layers of socks, the long shirt, the second long shirt, the sweater, the puffy jacket, the gloves, the earmuffs and strides sassily through the broken chunks of laughter bouncing about the room.
Korean Hardcore
The Card Counter from Korea dropped into town in usual fashion. This time we properly prepped- caffeine, carbs, and saturated fats for dinner. The Korean club house on the third floor of an innocuous office buiding in midtown greets us with a rapid succession of Black Label shots. Every table tells the same story- bottles Johnny Walker Black Label (or two or three)with a pouring spout, a carafe of cola, a huge plate of melon, a dish of Kim-Chee or some such. The bathroom scene in this joint- one of the only times the Bean gets to scope the tops of everyone else's head- the sensation is less unsettling than being surrounded by girls wobbling and puking. The equation of one shot per five minutes plus melon snackies on a 95 pound girl surprisingly doesn't work out in their favor. Even the Card Counter's Korean friends begged, "What's the race?"
Beaten at the Banya Until the Sweat Turns to Blood
Luckily we got out early since they had just landed from the 14 hour flight. All charged up with no where to go but the Russian Banya (bathhouse) whence the Blackbelts arrived from Connectycut. Banya is a beautiful thing. Perhaps one of the best things the Financial District has to offer. A huge basement made filled with Russians saunaing with wool caps on, being beated by eucalyptus branches (so good, so much hotter that way), followed by a plunge into the ice cold pool. With your heart now jumping out of your chest and your vision bisected- what else is there for you to do but drink pepper vodka, eat pickles, dried fish and cherry jam in a robe until the next round? This ritual is always followed by boscht, pierrogi, slaw, and lamb upstairs. My stomache is now twice it's normal size but my pores are virginal.
Awesome vs. Amazing
The Blackbelts Ph.ds (he's the physicist ph.d, she's the slavic studier ph.d, they both have blackbelts in aikido- clearly we've got to refer to them via their titles- i'm just waiting to see how they'll both pull off being knighted) have a tough choice ahead of them: Sweden vs. Japan. They're in Stockholm as we speak scoping out the Quantum Physics lab and pastry shops. February, with only 6 hours of sunlight, can be a hard sell, but Blackbelt Girl is already hopeful for the enchanted element of brightly colored houses lit by constellations of candles sitting in a deep pack of powdered white sugar. Either way we all win.
* oh so cool, check out the ICE hotel
red tape
All wrapped up in a box in the corner of my closet, at least for the moment, lies my fear of completion. Just in time too- no sooner did the boy suggest a more spicey ending to tape drawing no. 1 than i pulled out an orange roll and started the outline. This photo gives more scale to how big this guy turned out to be and how everyone who comes into the loft bears witness to a living testimony of just how anal i can be (this may come as a surprise to those more familiar with the Shotgun Bean- blasting approximate targets and gingerly dancing over the carnage in favor of seeking the next big thrill).
_background on the lightbox before it gets put to rest_
one day, a girl + a bean on a walk through the neighborhood happened upon a very large (8' x 3' x 1'), lots of potential display case. it immediately housed some sketchbooks, some polaroids, and always wanted to host an urban butterfly garden.
it ended up as a meta-perspective rendition of the loft we made pretty this summer (meta-meta given that the lightbox itself is represented in situ). off to the right of the acres of arthritically adhered tape (each piece cut by yours truly folk- yes i know there are different sized tapes readily available in this wide wide world, but how disturbing would it be to just buy it? not very)- off to the right sat for a very long time and unfinished outline of the spiral staircase. it was spatially pleasing, but by then i was already tired of the piece. it seemed too monotonous and controlled for me to love.
then the boy suggests i do our room instead of the stairs. kabam. red + orange and new life flowed right outa his mouth and into the edge of the exacto.
of course it has already met a reiteration filter and become a new collage thing. what? it's been done for an hour already...
All wrapped up in a box in the corner of my closet, at least for the moment, lies my fear of completion. Just in time too- no sooner did the boy suggest a more spicey ending to tape drawing no. 1 than i pulled out an orange roll and started the outline. This photo gives more scale to how big this guy turned out to be and how everyone who comes into the loft bears witness to a living testimony of just how anal i can be (this may come as a surprise to those more familiar with the Shotgun Bean- blasting approximate targets and gingerly dancing over the carnage in favor of seeking the next big thrill).
_background on the lightbox before it gets put to rest_
one day, a girl + a bean on a walk through the neighborhood happened upon a very large (8' x 3' x 1'), lots of potential display case. it immediately housed some sketchbooks, some polaroids, and always wanted to host an urban butterfly garden.
it ended up as a meta-perspective rendition of the loft we made pretty this summer (meta-meta given that the lightbox itself is represented in situ). off to the right of the acres of arthritically adhered tape (each piece cut by yours truly folk- yes i know there are different sized tapes readily available in this wide wide world, but how disturbing would it be to just buy it? not very)- off to the right sat for a very long time and unfinished outline of the spiral staircase. it was spatially pleasing, but by then i was already tired of the piece. it seemed too monotonous and controlled for me to love.
then the boy suggests i do our room instead of the stairs. kabam. red + orange and new life flowed right outa his mouth and into the edge of the exacto.
of course it has already met a reiteration filter and become a new collage thing. what? it's been done for an hour already...
rad
On a peep back into the "TV on the Radio" kids' (who are up in your underpants local) blog, I see I done was at 3 right places at the right time.
I personally think that since they practice up the block and since sherry had this already made, they must have smelled this mythical musing in the air inbetween.
They had posted this:
[first things first .... tenderpants, juno, milo, liontrain, others, need you to draw us a picture for our "reverse kids" gang... we are thinking ---- a naked lady riding a metal unicorn as it jumps over blue flames under a "shades of gray" rainbow in the night sky.... top three designs will get the " package of certainty" from us . deadline for submissions is feb. 5th, 2004. packages will be sent out march 5th. somebody will pass the dutchie on april 5th. submissions should be sent in jpeg format to tvotr@yahoo.com
good luck!]
Upstairs to Sherry's studio where sits the only painting not at the I-20 gallery; Our hero in an equestrian balancing act perched on the edge of a cliff on a Musical-Fire-Breathing-Unicorn-Winged-Pegasus-Pony. What good is being a painter if you can't even summon up your own goddam fantastical pony anyhow?
Today we find that Sherry was the clear and uncontested winner.
Though no disclosure of there intentions or link to her website.
On a peep back into the "TV on the Radio" kids' (who are up in your underpants local) blog, I see I done was at 3 right places at the right time.
I personally think that since they practice up the block and since sherry had this already made, they must have smelled this mythical musing in the air inbetween.
They had posted this:
good luck!]
Upstairs to Sherry's studio where sits the only painting not at the I-20 gallery; Our hero in an equestrian balancing act perched on the edge of a cliff on a Musical-Fire-Breathing-Unicorn-Winged-Pegasus-Pony. What good is being a painter if you can't even summon up your own goddam fantastical pony anyhow?
Today we find that Sherry was the clear and uncontested winner.
Though no disclosure of there intentions or link to her website.
groen hok!
This bean is about to de-stinktify and may very well have to solely represent at the awards ceremony tonight as one member is wintering in Argentina and the other just called to say she just got violently ill (food poisoned over a white wine architecture lunch). I have no inclination that we will be receiving any mention other than having our stuff exhibited at the Center for Architecture. I just know they would have called first to make sure we put on something fabulous first if this were the case. I, of course, don't need any reminding for fabulocity. Or even an award.
This is a little sneak a peak preview...I realize the image is probably too small to see the beautiful hand contoured line drawing Jake did, too small to see Christina's kayakers adventuring through new marsh land, too small to see Ez + Sherry biking across the sculptural bridge and but maybe not too small to see the coolest verticle boat parking lot? We're talking about doing a little site for the project, the images might even be larger. There might even be more text than was in the original (another clue that we aren't winning- we didn't spell it out for the jury). We tried to not end up at the 5:30 am delirium deadline, but couldn't seem to get around it this time.
This bean is about to de-stinktify and may very well have to solely represent at the awards ceremony tonight as one member is wintering in Argentina and the other just called to say she just got violently ill (food poisoned over a white wine architecture lunch). I have no inclination that we will be receiving any mention other than having our stuff exhibited at the Center for Architecture. I just know they would have called first to make sure we put on something fabulous first if this were the case. I, of course, don't need any reminding for fabulocity. Or even an award.
This is a little sneak a peak preview...I realize the image is probably too small to see the beautiful hand contoured line drawing Jake did, too small to see Christina's kayakers adventuring through new marsh land, too small to see Ez + Sherry biking across the sculptural bridge and but maybe not too small to see the coolest verticle boat parking lot? We're talking about doing a little site for the project, the images might even be larger. There might even be more text than was in the original (another clue that we aren't winning- we didn't spell it out for the jury). We tried to not end up at the 5:30 am delirium deadline, but couldn't seem to get around it this time.
erased words
From the days when erasing words meant they were lifted back into a right winding transparent ribbon which accumulated hesitant "Dear Sir" "Attention Mr. Delinquent" "Hey Frank" "with this, I'm leaving"...misplaXced lett3rs...
A parallel (and more lonely) existence than the left spinning opaque ribbon studded with the confidently blasted long line of soliloquy: an articulation of the absent.
From the days when erasing words meant they were lifted back into a right winding transparent ribbon which accumulated hesitant "Dear Sir" "Attention Mr. Delinquent" "Hey Frank" "with this, I'm leaving"...misplaXced lett3rs...
A parallel (and more lonely) existence than the left spinning opaque ribbon studded with the confidently blasted long line of soliloquy: an articulation of the absent.
jabean disjointed
(preface- really to all things writ here- while I could write in a manner that carefully connects the dots while holding the reader's hand, I like operating under the assumption that the attentive reader can see what I'm pointing to without totally spelling things out. Whether or not this is the case, it makes me happier to believe one space where it is true and you, my reader, will always be most perceptive in my mind's eye.)
J-list (exporter of Japanese anime, hello kitty vibrators, black chewing gum, squid ink candy, and Manga aplenty) sends me little notes on Japanese culture from an American expat's eyes.
"Another core concept that any pop Japanologist needs to know is the often-quoted-by-gaijin-who-are-experts-on-Japan phrase "deru kui wa utareru" (DE-ru KOO-ee wa oo-TAH-reh-ru), which translate as "the standing nail is driven." This describes the tendency of Japanese society to eact unfavorably to those who don't conform as they should, and force them back in line -- individuals who stick out too far are "hammered down." In school in Japan, for example, there's subtle pressure on kids to behave as they're expected to."
This reminds me of conversations heard from Christians on 9.11.01, "I hear they suicide bomb because they put their faith in life after death." I hear they also hate us because of our 'freedom'.
We also just have different expectations of what our kids should be like. This, of course, varies from family to family as well.
Do you think kids are rambunctious and sassy? Do you think they don't really know what they are saying? Do you think kids are prone to injury and sickness or need your constant attention? Do you think kids should be guarded from the evils of the world?
Or do you think kids can and should look out for themselves and learn from the cumulative interactions they face in the world?
Do you think children 'these days' don't have the attention span to interact with anything that isn't on video or doesn't involve some multimedia platform?
Do you think children should stand up to authority?
Kids, like many adults, live exactly up to our expectations. Their survival mechanism equips them almost exclusively to masterfully read these boundaries.
At any rate, on first read, I was also immediately reminded of Howard Dean. The whole 'yeaah' overplay never seemed more than America's conformity police formally expressing discomfort that he wasn't playing the game by the rules. The 'yeaah' itself was taken out of the context of a wildly screaming crowd (coverage here shows a video from a couple feet away where you can barely hear him and rightly implicates the media as a judge + jury with no trial) and hardly seems worth mentioning. We fancy ourselves as the nation into individualism, but how many nails aren't driven?
The frankest and most passionate of the presidential candidates officially got hammered. Kerry the bland, the politics as usual (though not as bad as Lieberman), will now probably take the nomination. No, it's not that his electorates have amounted to much yet, but the urge to follow the leader has already been whetted.
I'd like to do a study comparing the ratio of war/conservatism/patriotism in the US to concerted expatriotism.
(preface- really to all things writ here- while I could write in a manner that carefully connects the dots while holding the reader's hand, I like operating under the assumption that the attentive reader can see what I'm pointing to without totally spelling things out. Whether or not this is the case, it makes me happier to believe one space where it is true and you, my reader, will always be most perceptive in my mind's eye.)
J-list (exporter of Japanese anime, hello kitty vibrators, black chewing gum, squid ink candy, and Manga aplenty) sends me little notes on Japanese culture from an American expat's eyes.
"Another core concept that any pop Japanologist needs to know is the often-quoted-by-gaijin-who-are-experts-on-Japan phrase "deru kui wa utareru" (DE-ru KOO-ee wa oo-TAH-reh-ru), which translate as "the standing nail is driven." This describes the tendency of Japanese society to eact unfavorably to those who don't conform as they should, and force them back in line -- individuals who stick out too far are "hammered down." In school in Japan, for example, there's subtle pressure on kids to behave as they're expected to."
This reminds me of conversations heard from Christians on 9.11.01, "I hear they suicide bomb because they put their faith in life after death." I hear they also hate us because of our 'freedom'.
We also just have different expectations of what our kids should be like. This, of course, varies from family to family as well.
Do you think kids are rambunctious and sassy? Do you think they don't really know what they are saying? Do you think kids are prone to injury and sickness or need your constant attention? Do you think kids should be guarded from the evils of the world?
Or do you think kids can and should look out for themselves and learn from the cumulative interactions they face in the world?
Do you think children 'these days' don't have the attention span to interact with anything that isn't on video or doesn't involve some multimedia platform?
Do you think children should stand up to authority?
Kids, like many adults, live exactly up to our expectations. Their survival mechanism equips them almost exclusively to masterfully read these boundaries.
At any rate, on first read, I was also immediately reminded of Howard Dean. The whole 'yeaah' overplay never seemed more than America's conformity police formally expressing discomfort that he wasn't playing the game by the rules. The 'yeaah' itself was taken out of the context of a wildly screaming crowd (coverage here shows a video from a couple feet away where you can barely hear him and rightly implicates the media as a judge + jury with no trial) and hardly seems worth mentioning. We fancy ourselves as the nation into individualism, but how many nails aren't driven?
The frankest and most passionate of the presidential candidates officially got hammered. Kerry the bland, the politics as usual (though not as bad as Lieberman), will now probably take the nomination. No, it's not that his electorates have amounted to much yet, but the urge to follow the leader has already been whetted.
I'd like to do a study comparing the ratio of war/conservatism/patriotism in the US to concerted expatriotism.
sometime you want to live in a flash animation
This cat is so fucking talented, it hurts. As Donovan recommends, put on headphones or hook into good speakers as the sound itself is singularly impressive.
Enjoy the beat from the guy who made this site: Tokyo Plastic.
This cat is so fucking talented, it hurts. As Donovan recommends, put on headphones or hook into good speakers as the sound itself is singularly impressive.
Enjoy the beat from the guy who made this site: Tokyo Plastic.
for those who haven't noticed and the choir
I generally make it a point to not post my growing animosity toward what is happening to our country. It is bad for the skin. Also I assume most people who read this are already able to navigate through many sources on the internet and probably also have a clear picture of how fucked our economy is, that social security is about to be an arcane word paring, a keen sense of eroding civil liberties, familiarity with our global isolation, and how this is benefiting a few very very very wealthy people and corporations. You probably also see the daily news headlines of how many soldiers got blasted in Iraq today and have pieced together an oblique picture of how the USA is farming future terrorists. Blah blah blah.
Today, I figure I've already posted porn + whale guts, why not the truly filthy smut peddled by the White House?
But, just in case you haven't had time to notice or if you have children on whose behalf you have assigned an implicit trust of GW to protect from the bad guys:
Here'sthe most recent Halliburton (you know, the company chaired by Cheney until 2000 who got the contract for handling Iraq stuff without ever submitting a bid) overchargingness scandal that you'll probably never hear about on Fox new's but if you're lucky you can see Janet Jackson's nipple jewelry from the Super Bowl (for which, you'll remember that the Move-On.org's commercial about our nation's children paying off the enormous debt we've got going these days- was deemed 'too controversial').
Haven't read up on our impending fiscal doom? Check the Congressional Budget Office report if you didn't already notice that those tax reliefs didn't benefit you...or anyone you know....or anyone they know.
Really though, reading isn't all painful, in fact it makes listening to the GW quite humorous. And renders foreign immigration laws pertinent.
I generally make it a point to not post my growing animosity toward what is happening to our country. It is bad for the skin. Also I assume most people who read this are already able to navigate through many sources on the internet and probably also have a clear picture of how fucked our economy is, that social security is about to be an arcane word paring, a keen sense of eroding civil liberties, familiarity with our global isolation, and how this is benefiting a few very very very wealthy people and corporations. You probably also see the daily news headlines of how many soldiers got blasted in Iraq today and have pieced together an oblique picture of how the USA is farming future terrorists. Blah blah blah.
Today, I figure I've already posted porn + whale guts, why not the truly filthy smut peddled by the White House?
But, just in case you haven't had time to notice or if you have children on whose behalf you have assigned an implicit trust of GW to protect from the bad guys:
Here'sthe most recent Halliburton (you know, the company chaired by Cheney until 2000 who got the contract for handling Iraq stuff without ever submitting a bid) overchargingness scandal that you'll probably never hear about on Fox new's but if you're lucky you can see Janet Jackson's nipple jewelry from the Super Bowl (for which, you'll remember that the Move-On.org's commercial about our nation's children paying off the enormous debt we've got going these days- was deemed 'too controversial').
Haven't read up on our impending fiscal doom? Check the Congressional Budget Office report if you didn't already notice that those tax reliefs didn't benefit you...or anyone you know....or anyone they know.
Really though, reading isn't all painful, in fact it makes listening to the GW quite humorous. And renders foreign immigration laws pertinent.
adult sex starlet RAYLENE wetter than ever
I bought my first porn magazine. Browsing for some hard to find design and japanese magazines, I sauntered to the back of the store....automatically turned my attention away when I saw a wall full of shiny flesh and flashy fonts facing me, then noticed that Mad magazine, crosswords and some children's issues were right below this wall. Put on automation mode, I'm unfortunately programmed to prudish settings and far more likely to say no than yes. Luckily, I can occasionally catch this and throw myself full heartedly into the briar patch. My reward was immediately finding the first instance of my name in print....in 172 size font across the cover of XES.
I'm almost always behind some shiesty sweaty guy paying for porn at the counter and almost always have visions of him lurking outside the door, etc. This time I was the one to march to the counter and lay the smut down. The two guys behind the counter were obviously uncomfortable with the dissonance between me + my raunchy purchase. HA! To my surprise, this flesh porn + my design porn (Frame Magazine) came up to nearly $30. Porn for Designers cost more, but then again they obviously spent more on photography, lighting and printing. At any rate, I've been carting my namesake around in my purse and sharing with girls who haven't seen the variety of contorted anuses and shaved vagina close ups (occasionally the girl's face in the distance manages to smile for the camera) these rags have to offer. Surprisingly, the male friends are more uncomfortable with the ladies perusals.
Whatever. I'm going to try to do some life drawing from this, though the lighting doesn't allow for shadows and the positions are, um, awkward. I promise not to share my humour here on this any further.
While I'm alienating my readers this morning, I may as well share this photo of the whale that exploded in Taiwan last week. While the close up picture of the moto-scooter swimming in a pool of guts a good 30' away from the whale whilst an onlooker expresses the rancorous smell is definitely more en scene, this photo reminds you how you never see a 56' sperm whale on the bed of semi cruising through major American metropoli anymore.
I bought my first porn magazine. Browsing for some hard to find design and japanese magazines, I sauntered to the back of the store....automatically turned my attention away when I saw a wall full of shiny flesh and flashy fonts facing me, then noticed that Mad magazine, crosswords and some children's issues were right below this wall. Put on automation mode, I'm unfortunately programmed to prudish settings and far more likely to say no than yes. Luckily, I can occasionally catch this and throw myself full heartedly into the briar patch. My reward was immediately finding the first instance of my name in print....in 172 size font across the cover of XES.
I'm almost always behind some shiesty sweaty guy paying for porn at the counter and almost always have visions of him lurking outside the door, etc. This time I was the one to march to the counter and lay the smut down. The two guys behind the counter were obviously uncomfortable with the dissonance between me + my raunchy purchase. HA! To my surprise, this flesh porn + my design porn (Frame Magazine) came up to nearly $30. Porn for Designers cost more, but then again they obviously spent more on photography, lighting and printing. At any rate, I've been carting my namesake around in my purse and sharing with girls who haven't seen the variety of contorted anuses and shaved vagina close ups (occasionally the girl's face in the distance manages to smile for the camera) these rags have to offer. Surprisingly, the male friends are more uncomfortable with the ladies perusals.
Whatever. I'm going to try to do some life drawing from this, though the lighting doesn't allow for shadows and the positions are, um, awkward. I promise not to share my humour here on this any further.
While I'm alienating my readers this morning, I may as well share this photo of the whale that exploded in Taiwan last week. While the close up picture of the moto-scooter swimming in a pool of guts a good 30' away from the whale whilst an onlooker expresses the rancorous smell is definitely more en scene, this photo reminds you how you never see a 56' sperm whale on the bed of semi cruising through major American metropoli anymore.
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