Ah but for a chewy post, can I send you to Free_Form_Ranting? Today's breakdown gets a little financially technical, but basically evaluates in dollars and sense what the War on Terror breaks down to as an investment. Bottom line question: If we are to spend $200 billion on the War on TerRRrorrRRr (instead of say, rebuilding our own damaged country with it)- is this the most effective way? Gone are the good old days of clandestine insurrection... eh, they weren't so hot anyways.
Another small and incomplete thought, if anti-american sentiment is the root behind terror, should we be bullying people into liking us or investing in their well-being without actually exploiting them?
Only feel like posting pictures today. Luckily I've got some help from the Pacific Northwest, a highly presentable Manhattan wedding (I know you've already got links a plenty in your inbox, but do you have Moby + saris + deconstructed kimonos?) and a last tada from the woman who'd like to put herself at the end of every lens.
::photos::
ghosts + garbage: Reverend Moon sends images of her new home in Seattle. We believe she peers out superhero style through the fenestrated mask.
gutter glam: I'd blame the escalation in wedding wear and impromptu fashion shoot (au currant contrast to concrete intended) on the simultaneous one happening across the street...we all know better. Sherry quietly in the car, "hmm, I wonder what other people are wearing"
capitale: Site of this weekend's wedding- a gorgeous and huge old (and appropriately named) bank in Soho
sherry + renee: Rene Risque + the Art Lover's closed out the wedding with a little help from Moby on guitar and guest appearance on the Jah's harp, Sherry Wong
farewell song: Fair warning to all... I'm on the hunt for a new muse
bonus: In case any of all y'all were looking for a spot to host your next Honky Hoedown or nuptuality check out the Capitale site complete with photos.... this New York Metro review was too much to skip:
Garish opulence haunts this Stanford White-designed Beaux Arts national landmark that once housed the former Bowery Savings Bank. Now it’s part of the crumbling David Marvisi nightlife empire that includes the recently shuttered Exit and Spa. Featuring a ballroom with 65-foot ceiling supported by marble Corinthian columns as well as a 4,000-square-foot restaurant and four private tasting rooms with Internet access, Capitale is outrageously over the top, with its billowing curtains and ferns-in-urns décor, particularly in these economic times. Private functions only, though a high-end restaurant is open for business. A monstrosity of excess redolent of the go-go 1980’s and truly the height of metropolitan vulgarity.
::photos::
ghosts + garbage: Reverend Moon sends images of her new home in Seattle. We believe she peers out superhero style through the fenestrated mask.
gutter glam: I'd blame the escalation in wedding wear and impromptu fashion shoot (au currant contrast to concrete intended) on the simultaneous one happening across the street...we all know better. Sherry quietly in the car, "hmm, I wonder what other people are wearing"
capitale: Site of this weekend's wedding- a gorgeous and huge old (and appropriately named) bank in Soho
sherry + renee: Rene Risque + the Art Lover's closed out the wedding with a little help from Moby on guitar and guest appearance on the Jah's harp, Sherry Wong
farewell song: Fair warning to all... I'm on the hunt for a new muse
bonus: In case any of all y'all were looking for a spot to host your next Honky Hoedown or nuptuality check out the Capitale site complete with photos.... this New York Metro review was too much to skip:
After this morning's sily six a.m. shower, Ezzie + I awoke Miss Wong for her morning flight to Roma. The girl has a Budget of Nothing but a Bank of Theo, who is a living trust fund of fun ideas that cost nothing. The last time he was in NYC they went to Night Court which is filled with people pressing full charges against people who shake machines for quarters and countless lovely ladies. She packs in her Jah's Harp (no longer jew or jaw, only playing for Jah), Donovan's guitar, her titanium clad G4, paints, papers, puffball socks, peppers and tortillas - the driver outside honks and Our Lady of the Rainbow is off to the land of tomatoes.
As if my head weren't already swimming in nostalgia for the lush life of low-anxiety europa, this morning I stumble upon a fellow snapping photos of Paris. The blog proper currently has photos of my favorite parisienne bâtiment, Fondation Cartier, which ought to thoroughly confuse the eye (as well as the noted birds) as the huge glass panels blur the line, plane and volume of inside to out. Gautier out of bread, I concur, is about as French as is gets (well, if the bread artists had gone on strike....) The underground tour is peppered with glowing details like the floor clock, Turrell-esque tunnel installations.
o.la.la.je.manques.paris. buon viaggio cher sherry!
While we're on foreign concerns.... < sarcasm > Hurray for the USA handing over FULL SOVEREIGNTY to the Iraqis!!!! We're so awesome, we did it two days ahead of schedule- and to think people doubted us. Good thing we've locked those people up or bombed their civilian facilities. Apparently, the only problem that remains is getting Iraqi police to actually be able to fire on fellow Iraqi citizens. Those people just hate freedom. This morning's news of continued ambush against the formerly occupying troups has baffled me though, after we've given them a constitution of their very own and liberated them with a sovereign government - can you believe they're still not happy? < /sarcasm >
As if my head weren't already swimming in nostalgia for the lush life of low-anxiety europa, this morning I stumble upon a fellow snapping photos of Paris. The blog proper currently has photos of my favorite parisienne bâtiment, Fondation Cartier, which ought to thoroughly confuse the eye (as well as the noted birds) as the huge glass panels blur the line, plane and volume of inside to out. Gautier out of bread, I concur, is about as French as is gets (well, if the bread artists had gone on strike....) The underground tour is peppered with glowing details like the floor clock, Turrell-esque tunnel installations.
o.la.la.je.manques.paris. buon viaggio cher sherry!
While we're on foreign concerns.... < sarcasm > Hurray for the USA handing over FULL SOVEREIGNTY to the Iraqis!!!! We're so awesome, we did it two days ahead of schedule- and to think people doubted us. Good thing we've locked those people up or bombed their civilian facilities. Apparently, the only problem that remains is getting Iraqi police to actually be able to fire on fellow Iraqi citizens. Those people just hate freedom. This morning's news of continued ambush against the formerly occupying troups has baffled me though, after we've given them a constitution of their very own and liberated them with a sovereign government - can you believe they're still not happy? < /sarcasm >
Watching world championship soccor (especially at an open face West Village pizza joint), will certainly find you lots of foreign friends and reminds you that even in the most remote villages of otherwise isolated third world countries, you'd better believe that if there's a single t.v. in moderate operation - it is proped up on a stool in the middle of an open crowded square with extension cords connecting it back to a generator. It is the world's game. Hoity English commentator and o-la-la's aside, the Greeks most certainly did prove that they belonged on the EuroCup2004-Portugal field. Astoria, as we speak, is still breaking glass and drunk on ouzo.
When Mioko calls to invite us to a party at an apartment she thinks we must see, we can't say no, no matter how tiring the week has been. The 'She's A Pony' CD release party was just what the doctor ordered as topical ointment for a flared case of misanthropy.
Which reminds me that co-op co-habitant of San Luis Obispo days and Little Wings front and backman, Kyle Fields was found in the music review section of this month's ReadyMade Magazine (the one that aptly ends in the McGuyver reader challenge- this month- the reuse of altoid boxes- the winner? altoid box speakers made from headphones, 2 playing cards, and 2 altoid boxes).
The Trip Inside Hula Report: pictures now available and online at the Renegade Lemonade Stand.
Big Trouble in Little Beandom: After a Fat Frenchie Recovery Brunch in the Burg, what is better than sauntering through the hipster street sales, kids and adults alike raising rent money (aside: Grandpa G. told stories of rent raising parties back in the day when it was ok to make a party out of not having money. They'd start out like this- "Ray, bring your drums and your sack of weed," and end with a future uncle who, thanks to toddler feasting on one spiked one, never ever ate anymore watermelon.).... and finding a portable cordless record player. Purchased steps away from the brand-I-knew-it-was-gonna-be-trouble record store that opened 63 paces from my doorstep. Party's on the move folks, better watch out. It's time to take it to the park!
::photos::
:doggie drinks: hotter than july alright, compasionate owners bringing the 'collapsible bowl' summer style to the streets and parched pups of nyc
:pizza soccor: every foreigner who passed by peaked under that canopy to catch the score and see what countries were making the moves
:mioko smiles: in the crazy ass bathroom. behind her a plaque commemorates 'pat's closet' which is deeper 12' deep and has a wall controlled conveyer rack. jacuzzi tub, bidet, remote control light changer, foos ball table -not shown.
:dj catastophe: i thought this might be a good dj name for sherry, but since i'm the one with the portable rca...?
What's that playing now? Hotter Than July by Stevie Wonder. Swear to god I cried today just listening to his soul pour out of this battered little needle. This album is dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and reminds us that, in fact, things have always been fucked up and worth fighting for- the only anomolie that lulled us into pacified leisuredom was enjoyed at the Golden Apex of the US Empire. Stevie Wonder's answer? Love harder.
Everyone’s feeling pretty
It’s hotter than july
Though the world’s full of problems
They couldn’t touch us even if they tried
From the park I hear rhythms
Marley’s hot on the box
Tonight there will be a party
On the corner at the end of the block
Didn’t know you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet nobody ever told you that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
You would be jammin’ and jammin’ and jammin’, jam on
They want us to join their fighting
But our answer today
Is to let all our worries
Like the breeze through our fingers slip away
Peace has come to zimbabwe
Third world’s right on the one
Now’s the time for celebration
’cause we’ve only just begun
Didn’t know that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Bet you nobody ever told you that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
You would be jammin’ and jammin’ and jammin’, jam on
Bet you nobody ever told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I know nobody told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
We’re jammin’, jammin’, jammin’, jam on
You ask me am I happy
Well as matter of fact
I can say that I’m ecstatic
’cause we all just made a pact
We’ve agreed to get together
Joined as children in jah
When you’re moving in the positive
Your destination is the brightest star
You didn’t know that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet you nobody ever told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Don’t you stop the music, oh no,
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Na, na na...
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Nobody told you oh, oh, oh, you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet you if someone approached you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Yesterday to tell you that you would be jammin’ you would not believe it because you never thought that you would be jammin’
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Jammin’ ’til the break of dawn
Oh, oh, oh, you may as well believe what you are feeling
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Because you feel your body jammin’
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Oh, oh, you would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
.....I'm off to get batteries...um, and maybe one more record.....
When Mioko calls to invite us to a party at an apartment she thinks we must see, we can't say no, no matter how tiring the week has been. The 'She's A Pony' CD release party was just what the doctor ordered as topical ointment for a flared case of misanthropy.
Which reminds me that co-op co-habitant of San Luis Obispo days and Little Wings front and backman, Kyle Fields was found in the music review section of this month's ReadyMade Magazine (the one that aptly ends in the McGuyver reader challenge- this month- the reuse of altoid boxes- the winner? altoid box speakers made from headphones, 2 playing cards, and 2 altoid boxes).
The Trip Inside Hula Report: pictures now available and online at the Renegade Lemonade Stand.
Big Trouble in Little Beandom: After a Fat Frenchie Recovery Brunch in the Burg, what is better than sauntering through the hipster street sales, kids and adults alike raising rent money (aside: Grandpa G. told stories of rent raising parties back in the day when it was ok to make a party out of not having money. They'd start out like this- "Ray, bring your drums and your sack of weed," and end with a future uncle who, thanks to toddler feasting on one spiked one, never ever ate anymore watermelon.).... and finding a portable cordless record player. Purchased steps away from the brand-I-knew-it-was-gonna-be-trouble record store that opened 63 paces from my doorstep. Party's on the move folks, better watch out. It's time to take it to the park!
::photos::
:doggie drinks: hotter than july alright, compasionate owners bringing the 'collapsible bowl' summer style to the streets and parched pups of nyc
:pizza soccor: every foreigner who passed by peaked under that canopy to catch the score and see what countries were making the moves
:mioko smiles: in the crazy ass bathroom. behind her a plaque commemorates 'pat's closet' which is deeper 12' deep and has a wall controlled conveyer rack. jacuzzi tub, bidet, remote control light changer, foos ball table -not shown.
:dj catastophe: i thought this might be a good dj name for sherry, but since i'm the one with the portable rca...?
What's that playing now? Hotter Than July by Stevie Wonder. Swear to god I cried today just listening to his soul pour out of this battered little needle. This album is dedicated to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and reminds us that, in fact, things have always been fucked up and worth fighting for- the only anomolie that lulled us into pacified leisuredom was enjoyed at the Golden Apex of the US Empire. Stevie Wonder's answer? Love harder.
Everyone’s feeling pretty
It’s hotter than july
Though the world’s full of problems
They couldn’t touch us even if they tried
From the park I hear rhythms
Marley’s hot on the box
Tonight there will be a party
On the corner at the end of the block
Didn’t know you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet nobody ever told you that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
You would be jammin’ and jammin’ and jammin’, jam on
They want us to join their fighting
But our answer today
Is to let all our worries
Like the breeze through our fingers slip away
Peace has come to zimbabwe
Third world’s right on the one
Now’s the time for celebration
’cause we’ve only just begun
Didn’t know that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Bet you nobody ever told you that you
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
You would be jammin’ and jammin’ and jammin’, jam on
Bet you nobody ever told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I know nobody told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
We’re jammin’, jammin’, jammin’, jam on
You ask me am I happy
Well as matter of fact
I can say that I’m ecstatic
’cause we all just made a pact
We’ve agreed to get together
Joined as children in jah
When you’re moving in the positive
Your destination is the brightest star
You didn’t know that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet you nobody ever told you that you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
Don’t you stop the music, oh no,
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Na, na na...
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Nobody told you oh, oh, oh, you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
I bet you if someone approached you
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Yesterday to tell you that you would be jammin’ you would not believe it because you never thought that you would be jammin’
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Jammin’ ’til the break of dawn
Oh, oh, oh, you may as well believe what you are feeling
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Because you feel your body jammin’
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
Oh, oh, you would be jammin’ until the break of dawn
(we’re in the middle of the makin’s of the master blaster jammin’)
.....I'm off to get batteries...um, and maybe one more record.....
Puffin Pie Research Day
so team, i'll be out of the 'office' today...no rambling posts from me as i'll be crossing the upper west side to the west village in search of 'the perfect bakery'. someone's gotta do it. the last bakery i'm scheduled to land at this afternoon promises not only our favorite greekette architekt, vaso.. but a greece vs. france soccor game (pubs are charging $20 for the game, bakeries will calm you with carbs).
hulaing went well, the dj's had the jams and the best part of the whole shibang was the inspired civilians picking up one hoop after another and going after it. sherry is still mod-blue eyed and wrapped around our living room foam.
so linkies i shall leave you with:
Beefcake Baby!: he was in my face all day yesterday and now he's in yours. If they can make more of these they may have to revise child labor laws.
More Different Truths ruling apparently allows Fox to slip past British gov't regulations on "due impartiality".
In the future, I hope to send the someone's dear to me NanoBoquets.
so team, i'll be out of the 'office' today...no rambling posts from me as i'll be crossing the upper west side to the west village in search of 'the perfect bakery'. someone's gotta do it. the last bakery i'm scheduled to land at this afternoon promises not only our favorite greekette architekt, vaso.. but a greece vs. france soccor game (pubs are charging $20 for the game, bakeries will calm you with carbs).
hulaing went well, the dj's had the jams and the best part of the whole shibang was the inspired civilians picking up one hoop after another and going after it. sherry is still mod-blue eyed and wrapped around our living room foam.
so linkies i shall leave you with:
Beefcake Baby!: he was in my face all day yesterday and now he's in yours. If they can make more of these they may have to revise child labor laws.
More Different Truths ruling apparently allows Fox to slip past British gov't regulations on "due impartiality".
In the future, I hope to send the someone's dear to me NanoBoquets.
come tonight!
oh man, i've been locked out of the internet all day. back to good old pen and pee colored drawing paper for raebean...but it prevented me from spreading word on my professional hula hooping debut (along with kp + sherry)at piano's in the lower east side. Renegade Lemonade + DJ Soulcracker will be spinning.
They made a most groovalicious poster to set the beat. This is going to require a disco nap from the early rising bean.
oh man, i've been locked out of the internet all day. back to good old pen and pee colored drawing paper for raebean...but it prevented me from spreading word on my professional hula hooping debut (along with kp + sherry)at piano's in the lower east side. Renegade Lemonade + DJ Soulcracker will be spinning.
They made a most groovalicious poster to set the beat. This is going to require a disco nap from the early rising bean.
Since the issue has crossed my path twice within the last 12 hours...
The US has about 120,000 licensed architects... roughly 1% are African American (compared to 4-5% of doctoral lawyeral fields - duh the conclusion here is that when they get the chance to work their asses off in school, they preferred to be paid once they get to the other side). Of these 1,400 or so, 160 are female. My client claimed last night that he could tell I was mixed, but didn't know if I knew.
Pah-lease.
As if the kinks in my hair never made me hate a brush. As if I wasn't introduced to jazz by my grandfather and betrayed by my Golden State of California a mere 50 years ago when interracial marriage was illegal (until 1948). As if I didn't spend the summers searching through my uncles bathrooms looking for something besides a pick to puff out a wave of big bangs. As if 5th grade kids didn't chant, "African Queen! African Queen!" through the echoing halls of my new school. As if my tan from March had already faded. As if my husband didn't thank my daddy daily for my 'well proportioned to my body' ass.
We then got into the discussion of those who could see it in me and those who couldn't. [We didn't get into the topic of 'passing', which I was accused of by two college boys whom, oddly enough, I had told my ethnicity to within minutes of meeting.... while being I have boastful feelings about being mixed, experientially it is a hard row to tow with folks from both sides feeling somehow deceived or like its my parlor trick.] The most common situation for inquiry came in my days as a waitress. If I was serving an interracial couple, they'd inevitably ask the "what's your ethnic background" question - to which I'd always want to skip ahead and just answer, "yes, if you had kids they'd come out looking like me".
While the clients pointed out that 1/4 black is still black to black folk (and twice as black as Jefferson's much discussed lady friend), I don't know how anyone would feel about me (assuming I stay in the US long enough to go through the heinous licensure process) tallying into the 160 black female architect elite.
The US has about 120,000 licensed architects... roughly 1% are African American (compared to 4-5% of doctoral lawyeral fields - duh the conclusion here is that when they get the chance to work their asses off in school, they preferred to be paid once they get to the other side). Of these 1,400 or so, 160 are female. My client claimed last night that he could tell I was mixed, but didn't know if I knew.
Pah-lease.
As if the kinks in my hair never made me hate a brush. As if I wasn't introduced to jazz by my grandfather and betrayed by my Golden State of California a mere 50 years ago when interracial marriage was illegal (until 1948). As if I didn't spend the summers searching through my uncles bathrooms looking for something besides a pick to puff out a wave of big bangs. As if 5th grade kids didn't chant, "African Queen! African Queen!" through the echoing halls of my new school. As if my tan from March had already faded. As if my husband didn't thank my daddy daily for my 'well proportioned to my body' ass.
We then got into the discussion of those who could see it in me and those who couldn't. [We didn't get into the topic of 'passing', which I was accused of by two college boys whom, oddly enough, I had told my ethnicity to within minutes of meeting.... while being I have boastful feelings about being mixed, experientially it is a hard row to tow with folks from both sides feeling somehow deceived or like its my parlor trick.] The most common situation for inquiry came in my days as a waitress. If I was serving an interracial couple, they'd inevitably ask the "what's your ethnic background" question - to which I'd always want to skip ahead and just answer, "yes, if you had kids they'd come out looking like me".
While the clients pointed out that 1/4 black is still black to black folk (and twice as black as Jefferson's much discussed lady friend), I don't know how anyone would feel about me (assuming I stay in the US long enough to go through the heinous licensure process) tallying into the 160 black female architect elite.
Rolling Stone releases spinnet on Bjork's upcoming album....it's apparently going to be all vocal with Rahzel of the Roots, aka "the Human Beatbox", doing the bass line. Good omens abound.
origami sekkai: computational origami
The boy leads us to NYTimes article profiling an orgiami master, Dr. Huffman, from
UC Santa Cruz. This camp is going to have to crack open the 3-D Geometric Origami: Modular Polyhedra book we've been intimidated by....in a world where paper is invisible in its abundance- what could be more magical than bending it to its beautiful potentials?
We hope the Reverend Moon, alive and well and designing origami public ampitheatres (seriously) in her new home town of Seattle finds this in her morning cup of tea.
This weekend, paper folders from around the nation will gather at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York for the annual convention of Origami USA. Oh how I hope it's not on the same day as the Mermaid Festival.
The mathematician G. H. Hardy wrote that "there is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics."
amen.
The boy leads us to NYTimes article profiling an orgiami master, Dr. Huffman, from
UC Santa Cruz. This camp is going to have to crack open the 3-D Geometric Origami: Modular Polyhedra book we've been intimidated by....in a world where paper is invisible in its abundance- what could be more magical than bending it to its beautiful potentials?
We hope the Reverend Moon, alive and well and designing origami public ampitheatres (seriously) in her new home town of Seattle finds this in her morning cup of tea.
This weekend, paper folders from around the nation will gather at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York for the annual convention of Origami USA. Oh how I hope it's not on the same day as the Mermaid Festival.
The mathematician G. H. Hardy wrote that "there is no permanent place in the world for ugly mathematics."
amen.
Drawing Club strikes again. Meeting No. 2 was about to double the size, but then Julie-Fuego and D-Pak cancelled at the last minute.
Tips from the founding members:
1. start with a warm up
2. not every place has the same vibe- St. Helens Cafe keeps pace with the turtles in the pond, Fabienne's on Bedford may as well be highspeed hurtling through space (space being cluttered of course with hipsters, bottle seekers, kids doubled up on bikes, and now babies)- you gotta find your own piece of each place to live in with your pen ... e.g. - I drew quick ups of the people passing by whereas Teddy drew the details of the dripping air conditioner and signage
3. drink tea
4. don't talk too much- i agree with betty edwards that seeing and talking are competing parts of the brain
5. bring a pencil, a thin pen, a thick pen and paper
6. if you don't like something at first, make it a monster or add some color when you get home...but never ever rip anything out- it's like erasing a memory.
::drawerings::
candy mama: she was so saucy the ink from the page behind her tried to sneak a peak.
street folk: the man with the cans. biking with veggies. big bellied blind man.
Tips from the founding members:
1. start with a warm up
2. not every place has the same vibe- St. Helens Cafe keeps pace with the turtles in the pond, Fabienne's on Bedford may as well be highspeed hurtling through space (space being cluttered of course with hipsters, bottle seekers, kids doubled up on bikes, and now babies)- you gotta find your own piece of each place to live in with your pen ... e.g. - I drew quick ups of the people passing by whereas Teddy drew the details of the dripping air conditioner and signage
3. drink tea
4. don't talk too much- i agree with betty edwards that seeing and talking are competing parts of the brain
5. bring a pencil, a thin pen, a thick pen and paper
6. if you don't like something at first, make it a monster or add some color when you get home...but never ever rip anything out- it's like erasing a memory.
::drawerings::
candy mama: she was so saucy the ink from the page behind her tried to sneak a peak.
street folk: the man with the cans. biking with veggies. big bellied blind man.
Jigga posts the latest out of Detroit, Motowners have apparently taken off the Rip face mask for a more fabulous look at the annual Hair Wars.
MetroTimes Detroit has got the story and the impressive photos of all-hair coiffure and couture at it's competitive exotic edge. Props to the pops of the event for not selling his people out to exploitative reality t.v. The rest of us will remain voyeurs at distance until we find our own hairspray artistes.
"Past shows included the “hairycopter,” a hair-draped, remote-controlled toy helicopter that perched on a model’s head, then flew off and zoomed over the audience; a live python extracted from a beehive hairdo; and an enormous bouffant with a zipper that opened to reveal champagne service for two."
MetroTimes Detroit has got the story and the impressive photos of all-hair coiffure and couture at it's competitive exotic edge. Props to the pops of the event for not selling his people out to exploitative reality t.v. The rest of us will remain voyeurs at distance until we find our own hairspray artistes.
"Past shows included the “hairycopter,” a hair-draped, remote-controlled toy helicopter that perched on a model’s head, then flew off and zoomed over the audience; a live python extracted from a beehive hairdo; and an enormous bouffant with a zipper that opened to reveal champagne service for two."
"When atoms are travelling straight down through empty space by their own weight, at quite indeterminate times and places, they swerve ever so little from their course, just so much that you would call it a change of direction. If it were not for this swerve, everything would fall downwards through the abyss of space. No collision would take place and no impact of atom on atom would be created. Thus nature would never have created anything." Lucretius
Still a little intoxicated from weekend swerving, going to wrap up the whole bundle of yesterweeks skin put it in the colorsafe wash and meditate through the spin cycle. Will post detailia post-laundroma. For now, adjusting to simple things like my evolving relationship with craigslist.
ez: "whacha working on?"
bean: "being an ENERGETIC! DYNAMIC!! personality for another interior design host posting...how to briefly describe myself as a jumping bean"
ez: "I'd describe you as already having enough on your plate."
This cafe job is going to be more involved than even the owners know and while I'm sure, at the end of it all, I'll be working for centivos...I also know that's not my actual payment on this commission. This summer is all about lasers and gardens with chess sets and nightclubs running in the background. Which reminds me that Sweet 101's chesstryoshka
webpage has been updated with the limited edition aluminum baby on board.
In other good news, Teddy strays from her temporary glitch of glass crashing to make the defiant Hello Kitty Toaster imprint a happy apparition.
Still a little intoxicated from weekend swerving, going to wrap up the whole bundle of yesterweeks skin put it in the colorsafe wash and meditate through the spin cycle. Will post detailia post-laundroma. For now, adjusting to simple things like my evolving relationship with craigslist.
ez: "whacha working on?"
bean: "being an ENERGETIC! DYNAMIC!! personality for another interior design host posting...how to briefly describe myself as a jumping bean"
ez: "I'd describe you as already having enough on your plate."
This cafe job is going to be more involved than even the owners know and while I'm sure, at the end of it all, I'll be working for centivos...I also know that's not my actual payment on this commission. This summer is all about lasers and gardens with chess sets and nightclubs running in the background. Which reminds me that Sweet 101's chesstryoshka
webpage has been updated with the limited edition aluminum baby on board.
In other good news, Teddy strays from her temporary glitch of glass crashing to make the defiant Hello Kitty Toaster imprint a happy apparition.
in the season of the bitch, the year of the scavenger...
....of course David Bowie lives and writes of New York. The most genial of gentle hearts have unfurled a venomous tongue and witching evil eyes. I held my tongue through winter on the premise that one can only complain and truly loathe the effects of a single season lest they loose their credibility and while nearly everyone else
chose to take issue with winter's doldrums, I've saved up all my sass for suck-ass summer. While I'll complain about not drying after a shower, sweaty-cell-phone-convesation-ears, endless fatigue, and a vague but pervasive irritability...others have declared open season on the subways, in doctors' offices, holding the line-to-brawl at a tenuous domestic truce amoung non-strangers. "Are you going to eat all those icy cold vegan oreos????" I think it's time to start packing my squirt gun on daily outings. "Cool the fuck off"
Little flash flood drama at our doorstep last night, within ten minutes of the sky opening up the basin below our window filled up a couple feet. Watching people normally so comforted by the steel wagons around them stall competed with the huge bolts of lightening directly overhead. Several huge wheeled delivery trucks had trouble negotiating the lagoon...the avon lady minivan and the soccor mom volvo were stuck the longest. Like little castaways stranded on their islands, they waved their hands in a panic as if they'd die, stranded forever on this corner and their families would never have known that green onion potato chips were on the way...
avon lady (to me): "can you call the police?"
soccor mom: "i said i just called them, they're on their way"
avon lady: "well call again, i mean...blahdsfjashdad (lots of hands in the air)shfahjahdfahsdklahdgjhajklh"
me: "this happens every storm, your car just needs to be pushed out, dried out and you're on your way....worse case it drains in 10 minutes after the downpour stops"
avon lady: not consoled but also relenting
In all fairness, it's a totally fucked situation that happens every year. The concrete folk across the street stream cement runoff into the gutter. Gutter gets clogged. Cars get stuck. The city comes with a huge gianormous jack-drill and clears it out on the tab of (not the culprit) but the tax payer. They probably can't charge them even if they spent the time to figure out cause and effect since these same concrete folk are probably the ones who encased that pesky Hoffa fellow a ways back. For which they ar eternally indebted if not still belabored by new and more corrupt unions (editors note: In triumphant favor of the power of collectivity here, but in the city it is a corrupt animal).
::photos::
my waterside property view (my stoop in the foreground is now a pier)
don't think the firefighter pantsuit is waterproof, but their lights reflecting niceties
st. ezpei (in all white with a williamsburg bridge halo) offers insight to the problem's source....unfortunately the dozen civil servants on site are band-aid (aka hero) sighted only
....of course David Bowie lives and writes of New York. The most genial of gentle hearts have unfurled a venomous tongue and witching evil eyes. I held my tongue through winter on the premise that one can only complain and truly loathe the effects of a single season lest they loose their credibility and while nearly everyone else
chose to take issue with winter's doldrums, I've saved up all my sass for suck-ass summer. While I'll complain about not drying after a shower, sweaty-cell-phone-convesation-ears, endless fatigue, and a vague but pervasive irritability...others have declared open season on the subways, in doctors' offices, holding the line-to-brawl at a tenuous domestic truce amoung non-strangers. "Are you going to eat all those icy cold vegan oreos????" I think it's time to start packing my squirt gun on daily outings. "Cool the fuck off"
Little flash flood drama at our doorstep last night, within ten minutes of the sky opening up the basin below our window filled up a couple feet. Watching people normally so comforted by the steel wagons around them stall competed with the huge bolts of lightening directly overhead. Several huge wheeled delivery trucks had trouble negotiating the lagoon...the avon lady minivan and the soccor mom volvo were stuck the longest. Like little castaways stranded on their islands, they waved their hands in a panic as if they'd die, stranded forever on this corner and their families would never have known that green onion potato chips were on the way...
avon lady (to me): "can you call the police?"
soccor mom: "i said i just called them, they're on their way"
avon lady: "well call again, i mean...blahdsfjashdad (lots of hands in the air)shfahjahdfahsdklahdgjhajklh"
me: "this happens every storm, your car just needs to be pushed out, dried out and you're on your way....worse case it drains in 10 minutes after the downpour stops"
avon lady: not consoled but also relenting
In all fairness, it's a totally fucked situation that happens every year. The concrete folk across the street stream cement runoff into the gutter. Gutter gets clogged. Cars get stuck. The city comes with a huge gianormous jack-drill and clears it out on the tab of (not the culprit) but the tax payer. They probably can't charge them even if they spent the time to figure out cause and effect since these same concrete folk are probably the ones who encased that pesky Hoffa fellow a ways back. For which they ar eternally indebted if not still belabored by new and more corrupt unions (editors note: In triumphant favor of the power of collectivity here, but in the city it is a corrupt animal).
::photos::
my waterside property view (my stoop in the foreground is now a pier)
don't think the firefighter pantsuit is waterproof, but their lights reflecting niceties
st. ezpei (in all white with a williamsburg bridge halo) offers insight to the problem's source....unfortunately the dozen civil servants on site are band-aid (aka hero) sighted only
Invasionating!
Only slightly different than envisioning and more stylish than run-of-the-mill-who-invited-you-anyways invading seems to be abounding.
Ear Invasionators: it turns out have been responsible for this vertigo topsy turvy world I've been living in since spring. I confess that I did feel fancy when the doctor said the inner workings of my ear had produced tiny crystals (do they sparkle? are they glistening yellow wax that looks so fascinating under a microscope? when do I get to meet my petulant creation?). She got paid the big bucks to bend me over and turn my head into different positions to coax these crystals out through the x,y,z axes drums that give coordinated readings which keep us balanced. No fab crystals came tumbling out of my head, much to my dismay.
Park Invasionators: I know Central Park isn't that wide. I know I consulted the kiosk map as designated spatial graphic reader (in my defense, I was distracted by a cookie ice cream sandwich rapidly melting in hand). I know that we were trying to find the Great Lawn filled with thousands of fired up operatic park invasionators and that it shouldn't have taken an hour for us to finally get situated. I know. But I didn't know that the these same thousands were there for competitive picnicing and not sonic seduction. Talking candles, low tables, wine glass holders that raise the odd shape above the grass line...wow. Madame Butterfly is a reminder of the disparity of potency in expressing anguish over gaity. Unfortunately we booked it just as the truly beautiful melancholy third act got it's weep on.
Dream Invasinators: obviously inspired by much mental meditation on the topic of 'luscious garden' left me with a vision of a phone booth like space- 3 glass walls, one entirely carpeted in fuzzy moss and filled with colorful tiny flying insects. Arwen mutated into a torus like shape wherein I had to help her stuff extra parts into her hungry horizon line, a feline black hole of sorts. The fur and flesh were rather unweildy- the task got tiresome since I just wanted to watch the paths of ladybug/butterfly like creatures buzzing about me.
Raebean Invasionators: dearest bloggy readers, I now see (via stats!) that you are joined by some international wanderers. While we figured out that most sherrying international visitors come via mis-spelled searches, my guests are more sereptitious in their way finding. Many peops come looking for Kingdom of Loathing tips...to which I'll offer this: the strange leaflet secret code (and more) is to be found here and this site is a great item locator....adventure on... In the past 2 weeks or so, we've been joined by Canada, Australia, UK, Germany, Norway, Finland, (these last three somehow come through this image from this post not sure if I should be concerned?) Estonia, Israel, Oman, Singapore, Iran, Korea, and Brazil. Hello everybody! I apologize for the lack of ear crystal photos.
Only slightly different than envisioning and more stylish than run-of-the-mill-who-invited-you-anyways invading seems to be abounding.
Ear Invasionators: it turns out have been responsible for this vertigo topsy turvy world I've been living in since spring. I confess that I did feel fancy when the doctor said the inner workings of my ear had produced tiny crystals (do they sparkle? are they glistening yellow wax that looks so fascinating under a microscope? when do I get to meet my petulant creation?). She got paid the big bucks to bend me over and turn my head into different positions to coax these crystals out through the x,y,z axes drums that give coordinated readings which keep us balanced. No fab crystals came tumbling out of my head, much to my dismay.
Park Invasionators: I know Central Park isn't that wide. I know I consulted the kiosk map as designated spatial graphic reader (in my defense, I was distracted by a cookie ice cream sandwich rapidly melting in hand). I know that we were trying to find the Great Lawn filled with thousands of fired up operatic park invasionators and that it shouldn't have taken an hour for us to finally get situated. I know. But I didn't know that the these same thousands were there for competitive picnicing and not sonic seduction. Talking candles, low tables, wine glass holders that raise the odd shape above the grass line...wow. Madame Butterfly is a reminder of the disparity of potency in expressing anguish over gaity. Unfortunately we booked it just as the truly beautiful melancholy third act got it's weep on.
Dream Invasinators: obviously inspired by much mental meditation on the topic of 'luscious garden' left me with a vision of a phone booth like space- 3 glass walls, one entirely carpeted in fuzzy moss and filled with colorful tiny flying insects. Arwen mutated into a torus like shape wherein I had to help her stuff extra parts into her hungry horizon line, a feline black hole of sorts. The fur and flesh were rather unweildy- the task got tiresome since I just wanted to watch the paths of ladybug/butterfly like creatures buzzing about me.
Raebean Invasionators: dearest bloggy readers, I now see (via stats!) that you are joined by some international wanderers. While we figured out that most sherrying international visitors come via mis-spelled searches, my guests are more sereptitious in their way finding. Many peops come looking for Kingdom of Loathing tips...to which I'll offer this: the strange leaflet secret code (and more) is to be found here and this site is a great item locator....adventure on... In the past 2 weeks or so, we've been joined by Canada, Australia, UK, Germany, Norway, Finland, (these last three somehow come through this image from this post not sure if I should be concerned?) Estonia, Israel, Oman, Singapore, Iran, Korea, and Brazil. Hello everybody! I apologize for the lack of ear crystal photos.
Thickening up here. Can barely breathe. Air like hot stinky honey sealing your morningtime eyes shut. The vertigo is back. I blame the humidity for swelling my inner eardrum.
All members of the "I Like to do Drarings" club (me + teddy) met for our first weekly session. Ansty beans been poking about for continued learning sessions in a structured environment and actually found a pretty good deal ($99 / 8 sesh ink drawing class in the L.E.S.)...until we figured the price of a cup of iced coffee was better so long as our indie class takes funtime seriously. The boys who put St. Helens Cafe together (slotowners: think Linnaea's by ironic youth....rest of the world: pick up this month's Nest magazine for a profile) live upstairs, make stuff in the basement and greet people admiring the deer antelers with wine and coffee in their cozy lusterous black box. You'd think they'd be satisfied. Until you went up the street to check out their Tattoo Parlor/Asian Antique/Avante Guarde fashion boutique. My mind is definitely spinning the best of cafe design LP these days.
Madame Butterfly is planning on fluttering by Central Park this evening in the first leg of the free summer opera series. "Free" in an expensive city of 10 millionish highly motivated people on the pulse of goings on is most certainly not free. And the little pictogram next to my inbox has been flashing lightening bolts for the past three days. But something about the rich soprano vibratos hovering on this sweltering bed....sipping white wine at the epicenter of the luscious broadcase from the big green void whilst all those tall stoney figures lean in a little closer to hear the peace of papillion - well allures me despite the crowd, despite the soaked walk home, despite (er, now this one's a little harder to be so cavalier about) the grease of design I'd like to be lathering myself in all the night long.
::photos::
teddy in front of st. helens tattoo + antique store (those are giant ceramic ants)
ezpei practicing levitation one small step at a time
All members of the "I Like to do Drarings" club (me + teddy) met for our first weekly session. Ansty beans been poking about for continued learning sessions in a structured environment and actually found a pretty good deal ($99 / 8 sesh ink drawing class in the L.E.S.)...until we figured the price of a cup of iced coffee was better so long as our indie class takes funtime seriously. The boys who put St. Helens Cafe together (slotowners: think Linnaea's by ironic youth....rest of the world: pick up this month's Nest magazine for a profile) live upstairs, make stuff in the basement and greet people admiring the deer antelers with wine and coffee in their cozy lusterous black box. You'd think they'd be satisfied. Until you went up the street to check out their Tattoo Parlor/Asian Antique/Avante Guarde fashion boutique. My mind is definitely spinning the best of cafe design LP these days.
Madame Butterfly is planning on fluttering by Central Park this evening in the first leg of the free summer opera series. "Free" in an expensive city of 10 millionish highly motivated people on the pulse of goings on is most certainly not free. And the little pictogram next to my inbox has been flashing lightening bolts for the past three days. But something about the rich soprano vibratos hovering on this sweltering bed....sipping white wine at the epicenter of the luscious broadcase from the big green void whilst all those tall stoney figures lean in a little closer to hear the peace of papillion - well allures me despite the crowd, despite the soaked walk home, despite (er, now this one's a little harder to be so cavalier about) the grease of design I'd like to be lathering myself in all the night long.
::photos::
teddy in front of st. helens tattoo + antique store (those are giant ceramic ants)
ezpei practicing levitation one small step at a time
the weekend left a trail of unexpected treats....
the movie: Control Room
A documentary of the al Jazeera newsrooms at the start of the Iraq Invasion/Occupation. It could have been more biting, it is thankfully not Michael Moore (who tends to respond to propaganda with a preaching to the choir zeitgeist of his own) which allows it to be viewable by those on the ethical fence who are interesting in switching camera perspectives. The Manhattan audience found many scenes particularly funny (mostly watching Rummy and baby Bush eat crow in their proclaimations of 'liberation' and prisoner liability). Memorable perspectives include the zoomed out view of the staging of Saddam statue toppling- which shows an empty square filled with American tanks, and about 20 young (I'll take the film's que and not say Iraqi) men surrounded by 4 or 5 cameramen- followed, of course, by press conferences talking about these very flag-waving images as the sole claim to Iraqi support....and the unbelievable scenes of smart-bomb planes striking the three Arab media stations in one fatal and unapologetic censuring mission. I wonder how many Americans believe al Jazeera to be an untrustworthy renegade media outlet in cahoots with terrorists while watching Fox news. Apparently many BBC reporters defect to al Jazeera- if I were a reporter I'd probably also favor an organization that wasn't censured by government interests. What a refreshingly American idea.
the rendez-vous:
Making the call to not grovel for the sake bar job was, as you know, one that had me pulling my hair out. It is sometimes in hindsight where we get validation (likewise punches of remorse). Not wasting my energies kept me open for new seedlings...one which was planted on thursday has already sprouted a new project. Stay tuned folks for one cafe completely designed (talking garden, furniture, interior, lighting, cups, logo, t-shirts) by yours truly. Best part is working with uber cool couple with a vision to bring a little jewel to Bed-Sty (you've seen 'Do the Right Thing' or um, listened to hip hop...no?)...vision is actually a 'rose in a freeway'...cause anyone can put a rose in a garden.
the well timed peops:
Amy + Brian were out for a lovely Saturday drive from Boston to the Rhode Island coast and musta took a right where they should have gone straight...ending up 4 hours later at the loft. What else is there to do than immediately take ourselves to another loft party...complete with stage and folks covering Yo La Tengo and a most impressive Japanese man who rendered the delicacy of Edith Piaf (in Japanese) and the gasping contortions of Bjork's State of Emergency (it really was all in the face)?
the all around upset:
Even non-basketball folks should be watching this Final series. The Era of Arrogance (oh- reminds me further elucidation on the Age of Nuance yet to come) for the Los Angeles Lakers is coming to a brutal close. Princess Kobe can't get past their defense and the hissy fit faces get half-time montage reruns and lots of hootihooos from the bean. While you do feel a little sorry for Hall of Famers Payton + Malone who took huge salary decreases to play this season for a ring....you really can't beat Detroit anecdotes. The fans not only watch the away games at the arena, but have been keeping the Lakers awake at night standing on top of a parking lot next to their hotel and hollering while others circle it in honking cars. The dethroning of the long-reigning glam boys by the city with soul is one game away.
the super secret Tshirt project:
I'd tell you more about it, but then I'd have to kill you.
the movie: Control Room
A documentary of the al Jazeera newsrooms at the start of the Iraq Invasion/Occupation. It could have been more biting, it is thankfully not Michael Moore (who tends to respond to propaganda with a preaching to the choir zeitgeist of his own) which allows it to be viewable by those on the ethical fence who are interesting in switching camera perspectives. The Manhattan audience found many scenes particularly funny (mostly watching Rummy and baby Bush eat crow in their proclaimations of 'liberation' and prisoner liability). Memorable perspectives include the zoomed out view of the staging of Saddam statue toppling- which shows an empty square filled with American tanks, and about 20 young (I'll take the film's que and not say Iraqi) men surrounded by 4 or 5 cameramen- followed, of course, by press conferences talking about these very flag-waving images as the sole claim to Iraqi support....and the unbelievable scenes of smart-bomb planes striking the three Arab media stations in one fatal and unapologetic censuring mission. I wonder how many Americans believe al Jazeera to be an untrustworthy renegade media outlet in cahoots with terrorists while watching Fox news. Apparently many BBC reporters defect to al Jazeera- if I were a reporter I'd probably also favor an organization that wasn't censured by government interests. What a refreshingly American idea.
the rendez-vous:
Making the call to not grovel for the sake bar job was, as you know, one that had me pulling my hair out. It is sometimes in hindsight where we get validation (likewise punches of remorse). Not wasting my energies kept me open for new seedlings...one which was planted on thursday has already sprouted a new project. Stay tuned folks for one cafe completely designed (talking garden, furniture, interior, lighting, cups, logo, t-shirts) by yours truly. Best part is working with uber cool couple with a vision to bring a little jewel to Bed-Sty (you've seen 'Do the Right Thing' or um, listened to hip hop...no?)...vision is actually a 'rose in a freeway'...cause anyone can put a rose in a garden.
the well timed peops:
Amy + Brian were out for a lovely Saturday drive from Boston to the Rhode Island coast and musta took a right where they should have gone straight...ending up 4 hours later at the loft. What else is there to do than immediately take ourselves to another loft party...complete with stage and folks covering Yo La Tengo and a most impressive Japanese man who rendered the delicacy of Edith Piaf (in Japanese) and the gasping contortions of Bjork's State of Emergency (it really was all in the face)?
the all around upset:
Even non-basketball folks should be watching this Final series. The Era of Arrogance (oh- reminds me further elucidation on the Age of Nuance yet to come) for the Los Angeles Lakers is coming to a brutal close. Princess Kobe can't get past their defense and the hissy fit faces get half-time montage reruns and lots of hootihooos from the bean. While you do feel a little sorry for Hall of Famers Payton + Malone who took huge salary decreases to play this season for a ring....you really can't beat Detroit anecdotes. The fans not only watch the away games at the arena, but have been keeping the Lakers awake at night standing on top of a parking lot next to their hotel and hollering while others circle it in honking cars. The dethroning of the long-reigning glam boys by the city with soul is one game away.
the super secret Tshirt project:
I'd tell you more about it, but then I'd have to kill you.
MonkeyTownHQ(.com): I don't believe I've ever explained in a convincing manner the environment that surrounds the blissful experiences described in entries of days gone by (like last Friday's viewing of For All Mankind)...perhaps by design considering the commodity of space vs. how deeply the urge is seeded to attend as many of these happenings as I can. In all fairness, I've brought as many people with me who are willing. The shared experience is always rich and relaxed. Somehow one of those things that is so cool it almost seems boastful to share it with folks who can't make it.
Alas, the damn can't be held in any longer: Village Voice reviews the Monkey Town H.Q. Montgomery Knott created and we cross our fingers we can still get a seat and ceviche at our favorite cinema cube.
Alas, the damn can't be held in any longer: Village Voice reviews the Monkey Town H.Q. Montgomery Knott created and we cross our fingers we can still get a seat and ceviche at our favorite cinema cube.
Encounters with sad signs ought only be followed by long walks.
walk it off, walk it off
He's in town alright...late night news had him on for a few reflections on Ray Charles (Ezzie called them 'Sightists: those who think all blind black men playing piano with unprecendented soul are the same')...and whilst we got up at 5 am and made our pilgramage to Bryant Park, Mr. Wonder was otherwise engaged. Perhaps he partied it up in the newsroom studio. Perhaps he got lost somewhere in the hotel and doesn't want to ask for help. Perhaps the prophet was needed to conSOUL his musical family. Good Morning America offered no comment. Only Dido.
We stand about rubbing our eyes for a moment and watching mostly tourists stand contorting their faces into the shape of disappointment until we got cold.
Folded our "Hi Williamsburg, Brooklyn!" sign back into our pockets.
Got coffee.
And got southbound au pied on Broadway.
6:30 am is normally early for New Yorkers. Not that there weren't people everwhere we went despite the Market being closed and Stevie Wonder god knows where. Large expanses of sidewalk you could make out for blocks at a time. The luxury of stopping to take unobstructed pictures.
:photos:
: sad sign in bryant park...no one wants the Dido prize.
: this guy with three legs did seem to have it a bit worse though
: the fashion district has entire blocks dedicated to buttons
: setting up for farmer's market in union square (who gets up before farmers?)
: our walk first drops topher off to his l.e.s. photo studio
: a self portrait made out of three
: death to death
walk it off, walk it off
He's in town alright...late night news had him on for a few reflections on Ray Charles (Ezzie called them 'Sightists: those who think all blind black men playing piano with unprecendented soul are the same')...and whilst we got up at 5 am and made our pilgramage to Bryant Park, Mr. Wonder was otherwise engaged. Perhaps he partied it up in the newsroom studio. Perhaps he got lost somewhere in the hotel and doesn't want to ask for help. Perhaps the prophet was needed to conSOUL his musical family. Good Morning America offered no comment. Only Dido.
We stand about rubbing our eyes for a moment and watching mostly tourists stand contorting their faces into the shape of disappointment until we got cold.
Folded our "Hi Williamsburg, Brooklyn!" sign back into our pockets.
Got coffee.
And got southbound au pied on Broadway.
6:30 am is normally early for New Yorkers. Not that there weren't people everwhere we went despite the Market being closed and Stevie Wonder god knows where. Large expanses of sidewalk you could make out for blocks at a time. The luxury of stopping to take unobstructed pictures.
:photos:
: sad sign in bryant park...no one wants the Dido prize.
: this guy with three legs did seem to have it a bit worse though
: the fashion district has entire blocks dedicated to buttons
: setting up for farmer's market in union square (who gets up before farmers?)
: our walk first drops topher off to his l.e.s. photo studio
: a self portrait made out of three
: death to death
"Let's go get stoned" with the memory of the man who sung those words, Ray Charles
Oh man, in a blurry eyed moment rushing out the door early yesterday, I grabbed some CD's one of which I hardly ever listen to and end up cruising through on repeat all the day long. Ray Charles just made the day smoother. He very much reminded me of my own jazz age grandfather also named Ray. Smooth cats, them. A bit of nostalgia even crept in for the age of the Ninas and Rays who told it like it was in way that anyone listening would likewise know it through. I didn't know that this was to be his last day on earth.
"I was born with music inside me. That's the only explanation I know of," Charles said in his 1978 autobiography, "Brother Ray." "Music was one of my parts ... Like my blood. It was a force already with me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity for me, like food or water."
Bootikat posted this news with a comparison to Reagan's recent death. Charles was definitely in my tribe whereas Reagan was my first visual embodiment of 'the man'. The first 'the man' is no easy feat in a house influenced by political radicals. He will remain linked forever in my mind with the defeat of the first female oval office candidate (I still owe a thank you to my uncle for taking me to hear Geraldine Ferraro speak at age 8). While I could have done without the hourly "breaking news" updates that induced creepy thoughts of wilting high humidity 4 day old dead bodies as I watched his corpse lift off in a jet through the misused miracle of a live-feed at a cafe yesterday---one redeeming turn of events has shaped a better impression of his passing. The markets will be closing tomorrow in his honor. Which leaves one the boy free to join me for a rare 7am Bryant Park appearance by the living prophet, Mr. Stevie Wonder. And that, we hope, will inject many mojo points for us to share after just such a week.
Oh man, in a blurry eyed moment rushing out the door early yesterday, I grabbed some CD's one of which I hardly ever listen to and end up cruising through on repeat all the day long. Ray Charles just made the day smoother. He very much reminded me of my own jazz age grandfather also named Ray. Smooth cats, them. A bit of nostalgia even crept in for the age of the Ninas and Rays who told it like it was in way that anyone listening would likewise know it through. I didn't know that this was to be his last day on earth.
"I was born with music inside me. That's the only explanation I know of," Charles said in his 1978 autobiography, "Brother Ray." "Music was one of my parts ... Like my blood. It was a force already with me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity for me, like food or water."
Bootikat posted this news with a comparison to Reagan's recent death. Charles was definitely in my tribe whereas Reagan was my first visual embodiment of 'the man'. The first 'the man' is no easy feat in a house influenced by political radicals. He will remain linked forever in my mind with the defeat of the first female oval office candidate (I still owe a thank you to my uncle for taking me to hear Geraldine Ferraro speak at age 8). While I could have done without the hourly "breaking news" updates that induced creepy thoughts of wilting high humidity 4 day old dead bodies as I watched his corpse lift off in a jet through the misused miracle of a live-feed at a cafe yesterday---one redeeming turn of events has shaped a better impression of his passing. The markets will be closing tomorrow in his honor. Which leaves one the boy free to join me for a rare 7am Bryant Park appearance by the living prophet, Mr. Stevie Wonder. And that, we hope, will inject many mojo points for us to share after just such a week.
C'est affreaux- (les voitures).
Paris pushing ban on SUV's and I'm sure Americans will take it personally. This camp is already too emotionally tsunamic today to delve further into Franco-'Erican relations. A move-on.org PSA nearly swelled up tears and there's no way I'm coming close to the NYTimes. Desolé.
It’s turning white outside folks. Like swimming through a viscous pool of white heat, you gasp for air and lean on any edge for moment’s rest completely drenched. Ear sweat disturbs my peace more than frost-bite (which is most pleasantly cured by a well equipped St. Bernard). I’m drilling for the team sport of guiding cell phone conversations to their absolute minimum, a calculus based exercise charting clarity against the approach to zero.
Shall we stroll through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens on this fine don't-open-the-windows-ozone-warning-heat-advisory day?
photos: if you don't have anything nice to say....post pictures of more congenial moments, like refreshing breezes crossing reflecting ponds and lifting a pleasant humidity parched park breath
Paris pushing ban on SUV's and I'm sure Americans will take it personally. This camp is already too emotionally tsunamic today to delve further into Franco-'Erican relations. A move-on.org PSA nearly swelled up tears and there's no way I'm coming close to the NYTimes. Desolé.
It’s turning white outside folks. Like swimming through a viscous pool of white heat, you gasp for air and lean on any edge for moment’s rest completely drenched. Ear sweat disturbs my peace more than frost-bite (which is most pleasantly cured by a well equipped St. Bernard). I’m drilling for the team sport of guiding cell phone conversations to their absolute minimum, a calculus based exercise charting clarity against the approach to zero.
Shall we stroll through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens on this fine don't-open-the-windows-ozone-warning-heat-advisory day?
photos: if you don't have anything nice to say....post pictures of more congenial moments, like refreshing breezes crossing reflecting ponds and lifting a pleasant humidity parched park breath
On our American hopeful Smarty Jones: "He was good people, even if he was a horse" NPR morning edition can crack you up if you stayed up late late watching the NBA finals forgetting that you were getting up at dawn to ride the morning tidal wave of traffic over the Whitestone Bridge with your goddamned handsome husband. Or maybe a little sleep deprivation made the congressional "Official Bereavement Referendum" giggle worthy. Perhaps just needing a little laugh at the world's expense in these pompous days of Princess Kobe.
Connecticut today. Went looking for a "white house with a white picket fence" and actually found it and the lasers in the basement. More personalized keychains but no new keys. Hiding out from INDEX 100 heat warnings in an air conditioned PR office. Some anxiety building by being surrounded by piles of self-help books:
"Real Life 101: A guide to stuff that actually matters"
"Fire Your Boss" (which is a sticky one for people to agree to promote in the Age of Nuance)
"The Six Fundamentals of Success" (the seventh got cut because of ineffectuality or short attention span?)
"How to be Ageless"
and my favorite, "Why Not?" which was once a motto the monkey rallied behind to replace the instinctive "no thanks" response that cuts out the random factors, nonsense and half-baked belligerence.
Did I mention I'm in an o-f-f-i-c-e? Complete with cubicle, off-white aplenty, the feeling we're perpetually about to have our balls busted and disgruntled workers drawing little pictograms of husbands -happily adrift in a map of the eastern seaboard in pencilled rowboats. Also today my name is officially, Renault. Yes it is French.
Connecticut today. Went looking for a "white house with a white picket fence" and actually found it and the lasers in the basement. More personalized keychains but no new keys. Hiding out from INDEX 100 heat warnings in an air conditioned PR office. Some anxiety building by being surrounded by piles of self-help books:
"Real Life 101: A guide to stuff that actually matters"
"Fire Your Boss" (which is a sticky one for people to agree to promote in the Age of Nuance)
"The Six Fundamentals of Success" (the seventh got cut because of ineffectuality or short attention span?)
"How to be Ageless"
and my favorite, "Why Not?" which was once a motto the monkey rallied behind to replace the instinctive "no thanks" response that cuts out the random factors, nonsense and half-baked belligerence.
Did I mention I'm in an o-f-f-i-c-e? Complete with cubicle, off-white aplenty, the feeling we're perpetually about to have our balls busted and disgruntled workers drawing little pictograms of husbands -happily adrift in a map of the eastern seaboard in pencilled rowboats. Also today my name is officially, Renault. Yes it is French.
over the weekend:
Ronald Reagan died and today Mikhail Gorbachev's respects in the New York Times regretfully indicts the arrogance of Bush jr. by highlighting the non-dogmatic integrity his conservative idol deployed in the face of contentious international relations.
Bonn, Germany countries of the earth unite in commitment toward alternative energy sources. As a concession to the US they did't put any timelines or specific targets on the resolution.
Bush jr. goes to Europe to drum up support for his freedom fry operation in Iraq. Thousands of protestors are squelled in Italy and France to make the leader of the free world feel mo' better. Freedom isn't free afterall, at least not anymore.
Boondocks comic strip finally caught up with the suggestion by the President that it was the prison not the behavoir to blame at Abu Ghraib. The architect is always to blame.
The Pistons handed the Lakers their deflated yellow balloon on a platter on their home turf. Hot damn folks, that was a good game- bean heart beating extra fast the whole time. Given the youth of Detroit and the tired match ups of the Nets/Lakers (I've already been scolded for rooting for Detroit when the Nets are about to truly be Brooklyn's home team) the teams came on to the court with a lot of 'feel you out' energy and D was able to keep the D hot and consistant on the Laker's lethal weapons. Well, no one living can really stop Shaq, but if you put two or three people on him, you can fuck up Kobe's world some. All joy to watch them act as five and go in equal handedly for fearless offensive penetration. Next game is Tuesday 9pm est.
Harry Potter gets less plot (the books are getting longer, the films will stay the same length- time to read the books), more scary (the girl next to me watched hands ready under her chin- don't know how the other Brooklyn kids faired). Thumbs up for 'Y tu Mama Tambien' director for kicking it up a notch. In the meantime, DUMBO and illegal-art.org are putting out satircal distortions of the wizardly mischief and one asks when our own Sherry Wong will release per force her own comic adaptation of Horny Potter and the case of Hermoine's Missing Hymen? Iron is hot.
Don't think I normally due much reviewing, at least not en masse like this. Not sure it's a trend but the weekend had this air of ever breaking news while BBQs went on situation normal.
Becker's 12 floor plant, fish and view saturated lair on 29th Street is always a good place to get your city on.
photos: looking down the alley crack there's quite a nice little garden- or course this is filled up in a collage of density shadowed by the empire state building; my new favorite self-portrait technique; some feet and plants suspended on the fire escape
Ronald Reagan died and today Mikhail Gorbachev's respects in the New York Times regretfully indicts the arrogance of Bush jr. by highlighting the non-dogmatic integrity his conservative idol deployed in the face of contentious international relations.
Bonn, Germany countries of the earth unite in commitment toward alternative energy sources. As a concession to the US they did't put any timelines or specific targets on the resolution.
Bush jr. goes to Europe to drum up support for his freedom fry operation in Iraq. Thousands of protestors are squelled in Italy and France to make the leader of the free world feel mo' better. Freedom isn't free afterall, at least not anymore.
Boondocks comic strip finally caught up with the suggestion by the President that it was the prison not the behavoir to blame at Abu Ghraib. The architect is always to blame.
The Pistons handed the Lakers their deflated yellow balloon on a platter on their home turf. Hot damn folks, that was a good game- bean heart beating extra fast the whole time. Given the youth of Detroit and the tired match ups of the Nets/Lakers (I've already been scolded for rooting for Detroit when the Nets are about to truly be Brooklyn's home team) the teams came on to the court with a lot of 'feel you out' energy and D was able to keep the D hot and consistant on the Laker's lethal weapons. Well, no one living can really stop Shaq, but if you put two or three people on him, you can fuck up Kobe's world some. All joy to watch them act as five and go in equal handedly for fearless offensive penetration. Next game is Tuesday 9pm est.
Harry Potter gets less plot (the books are getting longer, the films will stay the same length- time to read the books), more scary (the girl next to me watched hands ready under her chin- don't know how the other Brooklyn kids faired). Thumbs up for 'Y tu Mama Tambien' director for kicking it up a notch. In the meantime, DUMBO and illegal-art.org are putting out satircal distortions of the wizardly mischief and one asks when our own Sherry Wong will release per force her own comic adaptation of Horny Potter and the case of Hermoine's Missing Hymen? Iron is hot.
Don't think I normally due much reviewing, at least not en masse like this. Not sure it's a trend but the weekend had this air of ever breaking news while BBQs went on situation normal.
Becker's 12 floor plant, fish and view saturated lair on 29th Street is always a good place to get your city on.
photos: looking down the alley crack there's quite a nice little garden- or course this is filled up in a collage of density shadowed by the empire state building; my new favorite self-portrait technique; some feet and plants suspended on the fire escape
for all mankind
"We choose to go to the moon, not because it is easy, but because it is hard." Kennedy is refreshing to listen to and this NASA documentary filmed partly by the astronauts themselves is mind blowing.
Despite knowing the outcome, I was in hold-your breath mode with tears of amazement throughout the movie. You can't help but love our little blue oasis drifting in sheer nothingness and bend under the humanity of our desire to adventure. I wish this were required watching for children- not for some patriotic heroism, but to better stitch themselves to this statistical oddity we're taking for granted. Any one with access to a projector and people with summer night to spare
should buy/rent this movie and share it. Oh, and do what you can for a sound system since the soundtrack by Brian Eno + Daniel Lanois will likewise blow you away.
drawings: inspired by the learning to love you more assignment to draw a scene from a movie that made you cry...i rendered the moment the boys released their booster and the first orbit around earth, wherein the astronauts could see other nomads burning fires in the deep dark of the desert
"We choose to go to the moon, not because it is easy, but because it is hard." Kennedy is refreshing to listen to and this NASA documentary filmed partly by the astronauts themselves is mind blowing.
Despite knowing the outcome, I was in hold-your breath mode with tears of amazement throughout the movie. You can't help but love our little blue oasis drifting in sheer nothingness and bend under the humanity of our desire to adventure. I wish this were required watching for children- not for some patriotic heroism, but to better stitch themselves to this statistical oddity we're taking for granted. Any one with access to a projector and people with summer night to spare
should buy/rent this movie and share it. Oh, and do what you can for a sound system since the soundtrack by Brian Eno + Daniel Lanois will likewise blow you away.
drawings: inspired by the learning to love you more assignment to draw a scene from a movie that made you cry...i rendered the moment the boys released their booster and the first orbit around earth, wherein the astronauts could see other nomads burning fires in the deep dark of the desert
seriously can barely handle how cool this is and how much it augments my desire to get a mini cooper despite having absolutely no use for one in the city- mr. man made a mini cooper transformer (doesn't change back) but it can stop on coming cars
transformer link here.. i highly recommend watching the video shorts.
in my world it's true and it's coming to you via I-95 so watch out.
transformer link here.. i highly recommend watching the video shorts.
in my world it's true and it's coming to you via I-95 so watch out.
happy 400th posting!
Check out the Baghdad Photoblog for life like pictures of our 51st state.
Our professional breakdancing/dj friend TIII posted easy links to his latest battle sets. A couple of weeks ago I checked his nunchuk while spinning style (video 2) at the Virgin Union Square at an MTV swarming, Xcutioners judged preliminary battle. Long story short he went on to place at the mid-atlantic rounds.
things for today:
* work on tape drawing started at Ford's country house- expect more tape, more obsessive origami turned into photocollage...wait, did I not post the last piece as finished? hmm...
* revitalise the art of the Casserole for the modern 21st Century woman (recipe to follow)
* join a gym. Either the public Metropolitan Club w/ swimming pool (public + swimming pool + brooklyn doesn't seem like successful triumvirate) or the sort of sketchy non-extant rock-bottom price investment in Core, Inc... which ought to be opening 2 blocks from my house.
* find some time to listen to Toni Morrison + Cornel West speak about present American shinanigans
* Possibly check this out later in the eve..the posting sherry sent was interesting enough, some allusions to dangerously slimy chinatown steps in the wily directions and previous events involving chickens is all that's needed to peek my interest. oh and the eamses progeny too. Perhaps some nyc readers want to join me? this or NASA films set to Brian Eno + Pootie Tang at closeby at MonkeyTown.
C-Level presents:
Slide Lecture by Eames Demetrios on Kymaerica
Kymaerica presents a North America you haven't seen. Using
landscape and close-up photography, Eames presents a subtly
pervasive alternate reality. Slide lecture, photowork, and
perhaps a video and historic plaque or two.
C-Level
Go to Full House Restaurant, 963 N. Hill Street in
Chinatown. Locate the alley on the left hand side of Full
House. Walk about 20 feet down the alley (away from the
street). Stop. Notice dumpster on your right hand side. Take
a right and continue down the alley. Exercise caution so as
not trip on the wobbly cement blocks underfoot. The entrance
to C-Level is located 10 yards down on left side, behind a
red door, and down a black staircase.
7:30p; $free
http://www.kymaerica.com/
http://www.c-level.cc/map.html
NOTE: Who knows if this will be any good, but c-level has
hosted events with live action video games and something to
do with chickens. And the address above is one of the best
we've ever listed.
photos: origami about to be transformed into landscape; the narrow sky scene behind the solicitous restaurant (unfortunately doesn't pick up the speed of the Times Square lit clouds, the sounds of Fleet Week, the garbage stench, or the bewildered look of the 12 other designer hopefuls crammed in this sliver between buildings w/ me)
Check out the Baghdad Photoblog for life like pictures of our 51st state.
Our professional breakdancing/dj friend TIII posted easy links to his latest battle sets. A couple of weeks ago I checked his nunchuk while spinning style (video 2) at the Virgin Union Square at an MTV swarming, Xcutioners judged preliminary battle. Long story short he went on to place at the mid-atlantic rounds.
things for today:
* work on tape drawing started at Ford's country house- expect more tape, more obsessive origami turned into photocollage...wait, did I not post the last piece as finished? hmm...
* revitalise the art of the Casserole for the modern 21st Century woman (recipe to follow)
* join a gym. Either the public Metropolitan Club w/ swimming pool (public + swimming pool + brooklyn doesn't seem like successful triumvirate) or the sort of sketchy non-extant rock-bottom price investment in Core, Inc... which ought to be opening 2 blocks from my house.
* find some time to listen to Toni Morrison + Cornel West speak about present American shinanigans
* Possibly check this out later in the eve..the posting sherry sent was interesting enough, some allusions to dangerously slimy chinatown steps in the wily directions and previous events involving chickens is all that's needed to peek my interest. oh and the eamses progeny too. Perhaps some nyc readers want to join me? this or NASA films set to Brian Eno + Pootie Tang at closeby at MonkeyTown.
C-Level presents:
Slide Lecture by Eames Demetrios on Kymaerica
Kymaerica presents a North America you haven't seen. Using
landscape and close-up photography, Eames presents a subtly
pervasive alternate reality. Slide lecture, photowork, and
perhaps a video and historic plaque or two.
C-Level
Go to Full House Restaurant, 963 N. Hill Street in
Chinatown. Locate the alley on the left hand side of Full
House. Walk about 20 feet down the alley (away from the
street). Stop. Notice dumpster on your right hand side. Take
a right and continue down the alley. Exercise caution so as
not trip on the wobbly cement blocks underfoot. The entrance
to C-Level is located 10 yards down on left side, behind a
red door, and down a black staircase.
7:30p; $free
http://www.kymaerica.com/
http://www.c-level.cc/map.html
NOTE: Who knows if this will be any good, but c-level has
hosted events with live action video games and something to
do with chickens. And the address above is one of the best
we've ever listed.
photos: origami about to be transformed into landscape; the narrow sky scene behind the solicitous restaurant (unfortunately doesn't pick up the speed of the Times Square lit clouds, the sounds of Fleet Week, the garbage stench, or the bewildered look of the 12 other designer hopefuls crammed in this sliver between buildings w/ me)
our male model to be...debating blue steel vs. magnum
sherry ads, "let me get this straight: your mathematician, lawyer, co-designer, bond analyst husband is going to be a male model now? what are you married to buckaroo bonzai?"
on why i heart christina: i send her an email
to elicit an east river boating buddy
(ezpei thinks he'll need a tetnis shot from the water)
and she sends me this. i think we're on.
holy hysterics!
just got back from learning everything there is to know about laser cutters and more only to get two emails in quick succession with news that makes a bean hysterical. multiple deep breathing "ok ok ok" sessions.
1. marebo + berger are following the most awesome auntie bean plan! tricky girl writes "p.s. i'm pregnant" which is so not a post script. SO can't wait to meet that girl for lunch (more laser hunting) next week. Coolest part is I know they won't be all freaky about it, we'll def still see them and their kid will def be cool beanz. How long til I meet it? How long til it can do tricks?
2. the boy, (my the boy!) joined the ranks of the rest of the members of this house and was accosted on the street last week by scouts w/ cameras sitting on Bedford Ave looking for handsome men for CARGO mag. The woman came running up to us and started to describe this all to me- which wasn't making sense until I realized she was waiting for the go ahead from potentially territorial female- ah, please, total street cred. Anyhows, I was grood girl and didn't post until he got the call to come in for a fitting tomorrow (and maybe be flown to Toronto this weekend?) which flipped my lid and there it is.
um. so neither of these parties actually gave me permission to share...a warning for future friends funfuns to give express non-permission.
just got back from learning everything there is to know about laser cutters and more only to get two emails in quick succession with news that makes a bean hysterical. multiple deep breathing "ok ok ok" sessions.
1. marebo + berger are following the most awesome auntie bean plan! tricky girl writes "p.s. i'm pregnant" which is so not a post script. SO can't wait to meet that girl for lunch (more laser hunting) next week. Coolest part is I know they won't be all freaky about it, we'll def still see them and their kid will def be cool beanz. How long til I meet it? How long til it can do tricks?
2. the boy, (my the boy!) joined the ranks of the rest of the members of this house and was accosted on the street last week by scouts w/ cameras sitting on Bedford Ave looking for handsome men for CARGO mag. The woman came running up to us and started to describe this all to me- which wasn't making sense until I realized she was waiting for the go ahead from potentially territorial female- ah, please, total street cred. Anyhows, I was grood girl and didn't post until he got the call to come in for a fitting tomorrow (and maybe be flown to Toronto this weekend?) which flipped my lid and there it is.
um. so neither of these parties actually gave me permission to share...a warning for future friends funfuns to give express non-permission.
About to adventure into the deep dark heart of the ever mysterious Long Island to see about a laser contraption of ultimate dream embarkment...
but must first share these words as posted to a string of emails (anyone who wants a 1 GB gmail from the beta google service lemme know- it's awesome for stringed discussions from many parties). Too bad it looks as though I'll never meet Dr. Rico:
Hi all. I won?t be coming this year. Here is why ...
I quit work end of December, sold my car, emptied my apartment and left for Brazil. I spent two months there, and have spent two months in Argentina. I am heading north to Columbia to catch a sailboat to Croatia and will not be in North America for a year or two. While I wander and revel on my own, I am studying shamanism, acupuncture, ayurveda and catching up on a decade of lost sleep.
I wish I could be with you, but I will probably be in the Atacama desert in the north of Chile. I am sure you understand. Please remember me, but know that I have absolutely nothing to throw into the fire.
Rock on
Rico
but must first share these words as posted to a string of emails (anyone who wants a 1 GB gmail from the beta google service lemme know- it's awesome for stringed discussions from many parties). Too bad it looks as though I'll never meet Dr. Rico:
Hi all. I won?t be coming this year. Here is why ...
I quit work end of December, sold my car, emptied my apartment and left for Brazil. I spent two months there, and have spent two months in Argentina. I am heading north to Columbia to catch a sailboat to Croatia and will not be in North America for a year or two. While I wander and revel on my own, I am studying shamanism, acupuncture, ayurveda and catching up on a decade of lost sleep.
I wish I could be with you, but I will probably be in the Atacama desert in the north of Chile. I am sure you understand. Please remember me, but know that I have absolutely nothing to throw into the fire.
Rock on
Rico
Dear Architecture,
I know I said some harsh things down below. I think I was trying to hurt your feelings to make the break-up smoother. Well, it's not going to be. I want us to be friends and sometimes we may cross the line. I'm even perverse enough to imagine a future with us together...but I want us to be happy and healthy. So I had to smash you up a bit right now. We can work it through.
Love,
R.bean
I know I said some harsh things down below. I think I was trying to hurt your feelings to make the break-up smoother. Well, it's not going to be. I want us to be friends and sometimes we may cross the line. I'm even perverse enough to imagine a future with us together...but I want us to be happy and healthy. So I had to smash you up a bit right now. We can work it through.
Love,
R.bean
on the importance of keeping people around who aren't afraid to shake a baby
stretch your neck or come back on break because i feel it's gonna be a long one, musta been all pent up from low posting- sorry. capitals can't even slow me down. at least it's in two parts.
CASE O:
a week ago mi amigo emails his doubts about moving to NYC...while he doesn't doubt that the city is alive in ways other cities don't even dream of, he can't help but point out that to the outside observer, we newyorkese seem suffer constantly. perhaps the net is in fact a loss. he says he reads between the lines here- but i think he reads right into the screaming complaints about the weather ihn all seasons, the fatigue, the crowding and people acting stupid in crowds, the nightmares, the shiesty landlords, the everyone ripping you off, the pushing, the shoving, the inexplicable pounding eminating from the recycling dump next door as i type at 12:49am - despite nyc itself not recycling- we don't even need to draw on our super microscopic vision powers to see that this place is also the pits and rotting us live.
to move here, you should probably be painfully aware that no one invited you. in fact, in all probability most folks who love you should have by now put in some solid advice and perhaps even some bribes to snap you out of it. you should only come, imho, if you feel it is what you must do. the bone ache. compelled by your own insane vanity or hunger or. you may still leave dejected, but at least you won't feel as victimized by circumstances out of your control (say your job moved you here poor soul).
to be clear, i offer no incentives to folks who don't already want to be here, but perspective to those who don't see it daily and occasionally a little booster shot + insight to those at the edge of their contentment.
but i did indulge in this flipped moment. yes, it's a hazing ritual and an indulgence into pain. i came to be around people who want to take over the world in bite sized pieces and who have the same knack as mi amigo for taking away the rose lenses and seeing the view in its 360 stark nakedness and pass out in the bliss of a very rich humanity in the back of a taxi at 4am zooming through the flickerings of light, stench, and sound aplenty.
just as this email had me shking my head 'of course he's right' and making minor confessions about my own impending (not soon folks, but someday in sight) exit plans, this life of mine in this fair city treats me to a never-ending makeout session. mostly within blocks of my brooklyn.
a ridiculous range really, so perfectly balanced- the intimate engagement w/ a friend we rarely see at monkeytown [a converted mechanics loft that went all out on the season's end fiolms- another patron upon walking into the four screen futon envelope decries' this is heaven!'..wait til the ceviche + pinot gets here guy]; a perfectly sized bday party for the boy where none of the guests objected to our 5 course all blended meal served in wine glasses; followed by a day of dropping into the set of our favorite canadian cartoon character- the final scene of which was him taking the two german tourists next to ours to buy sexy lingerie. already in here is the curse of the city- that having very interesting people for friends necessarily means their resources are likewise tapped and you're lucky to see them.
which leaves you reading emails in the dark from friends a continent away with a bit of a heavy heart. true.
but those moments of golden confluence are something i'll live to tell other people's grandchildren about. or maybe just you. or (most likely) no one but the patient cab driver...who isn't listening to the belligerent backseat drool, but has his cab driving brother on an earpiece ms. doublevisiondrunkonhumanity couldn't see even if her eyes weren't focused on the race along the rooftops edge through the rear window.
case b:
and let's be honest, the other case has been sitting in me a week while this one pulled me out of bed w/ brim boiling head and a bruised heart.
whereas my two arm defense nearly thru up a fortress like guard to my sacrosanctimonious temple of d r e a m s some molecules had the training to hit 'pause' and hear the point out. one arm lowers and i hear the things i already know....
the chosen dream, architecture, is another one of these suffering scams. like first fiddles at the juilliard school, we get sold a pot of worthless gold.
ooohhhh ehh, woo now. but if we all come out of the gates believing we can make rockstar status before 70 without lots of people ahead of us dying first, well, we will find ourselves exactly where we are: fish fighting for limited food in a very small, very fashionable pond. this part, i admit, i knew. i bit the bait all the same and fattened myself through a fierce regiment of not sleeping (some fish, you see, will eventually sleep) and ultimately not caring that i once again had set my missile to seek suffering....again in exchange for these moments of blissful motherload.
only, i can get an nyc contact high from a 2 stop subway ride in the right car, in the right mind. architorture has no freebies. its real world application (i can't begin to delve into the post-capital-post-human-condition methadone treatment some of us are on) it is inextricably tied to capital not in your pocket. the best conditions find you not competing broadscale w/ other designers (to say nothing of doing this for free ... aha! or paying a fee to have the honor of submitting your ideas...i tell you were sick suffering puppies us) witha willing contractor, a visionary client, an enlightened design review board and the thing can still hit the brakes. all spinning wheels from here- you can even ask rem.
the other arm came down slowly when i recognized the voice as one whom i've strategically placed right next to my ear for the express purpose of calling out bullshit when he sees it and replacing it with visions of what could be. what it is saying is that it can't stand to watch me as i start up sleep deprived and skinny, swimming rockets ahead into that nicely detailed concrete wall forehead first. and i must ask this of myself too.
the heart does some sulking sonata and my hand almost pulls back into reactionary fist or desparate clutch until some wiser molecules form a "but if not this then what?" as if slavery were the only way the country could survive, the only way the children would eat.
this voice, god this voice! it keeps. me. up. so. alive..... do small things all the time. do anything you can. make architecture into art and spread it wider than one man holding all the cards. "make a cool splint our of plywood and sell it to the army."
stretch your neck or come back on break because i feel it's gonna be a long one, musta been all pent up from low posting- sorry. capitals can't even slow me down. at least it's in two parts.
CASE O:
a week ago mi amigo emails his doubts about moving to NYC...while he doesn't doubt that the city is alive in ways other cities don't even dream of, he can't help but point out that to the outside observer, we newyorkese seem suffer constantly. perhaps the net is in fact a loss. he says he reads between the lines here- but i think he reads right into the screaming complaints about the weather ihn all seasons, the fatigue, the crowding and people acting stupid in crowds, the nightmares, the shiesty landlords, the everyone ripping you off, the pushing, the shoving, the inexplicable pounding eminating from the recycling dump next door as i type at 12:49am - despite nyc itself not recycling- we don't even need to draw on our super microscopic vision powers to see that this place is also the pits and rotting us live.
to move here, you should probably be painfully aware that no one invited you. in fact, in all probability most folks who love you should have by now put in some solid advice and perhaps even some bribes to snap you out of it. you should only come, imho, if you feel it is what you must do. the bone ache. compelled by your own insane vanity or hunger or. you may still leave dejected, but at least you won't feel as victimized by circumstances out of your control (say your job moved you here poor soul).
to be clear, i offer no incentives to folks who don't already want to be here, but perspective to those who don't see it daily and occasionally a little booster shot + insight to those at the edge of their contentment.
but i did indulge in this flipped moment. yes, it's a hazing ritual and an indulgence into pain. i came to be around people who want to take over the world in bite sized pieces and who have the same knack as mi amigo for taking away the rose lenses and seeing the view in its 360 stark nakedness and pass out in the bliss of a very rich humanity in the back of a taxi at 4am zooming through the flickerings of light, stench, and sound aplenty.
just as this email had me shking my head 'of course he's right' and making minor confessions about my own impending (not soon folks, but someday in sight) exit plans, this life of mine in this fair city treats me to a never-ending makeout session. mostly within blocks of my brooklyn.
a ridiculous range really, so perfectly balanced- the intimate engagement w/ a friend we rarely see at monkeytown [a converted mechanics loft that went all out on the season's end fiolms- another patron upon walking into the four screen futon envelope decries' this is heaven!'..wait til the ceviche + pinot gets here guy]; a perfectly sized bday party for the boy where none of the guests objected to our 5 course all blended meal served in wine glasses; followed by a day of dropping into the set of our favorite canadian cartoon character- the final scene of which was him taking the two german tourists next to ours to buy sexy lingerie. already in here is the curse of the city- that having very interesting people for friends necessarily means their resources are likewise tapped and you're lucky to see them.
which leaves you reading emails in the dark from friends a continent away with a bit of a heavy heart. true.
but those moments of golden confluence are something i'll live to tell other people's grandchildren about. or maybe just you. or (most likely) no one but the patient cab driver...who isn't listening to the belligerent backseat drool, but has his cab driving brother on an earpiece ms. doublevisiondrunkonhumanity couldn't see even if her eyes weren't focused on the race along the rooftops edge through the rear window.
case b:
and let's be honest, the other case has been sitting in me a week while this one pulled me out of bed w/ brim boiling head and a bruised heart.
whereas my two arm defense nearly thru up a fortress like guard to my sacrosanctimonious temple of d r e a m s some molecules had the training to hit 'pause' and hear the point out. one arm lowers and i hear the things i already know....
the chosen dream, architecture, is another one of these suffering scams. like first fiddles at the juilliard school, we get sold a pot of worthless gold.
ooohhhh ehh, woo now. but if we all come out of the gates believing we can make rockstar status before 70 without lots of people ahead of us dying first, well, we will find ourselves exactly where we are: fish fighting for limited food in a very small, very fashionable pond. this part, i admit, i knew. i bit the bait all the same and fattened myself through a fierce regiment of not sleeping (some fish, you see, will eventually sleep) and ultimately not caring that i once again had set my missile to seek suffering....again in exchange for these moments of blissful motherload.
only, i can get an nyc contact high from a 2 stop subway ride in the right car, in the right mind. architorture has no freebies. its real world application (i can't begin to delve into the post-capital-post-human-condition methadone treatment some of us are on) it is inextricably tied to capital not in your pocket. the best conditions find you not competing broadscale w/ other designers (to say nothing of doing this for free ... aha! or paying a fee to have the honor of submitting your ideas...i tell you were sick suffering puppies us) witha willing contractor, a visionary client, an enlightened design review board and the thing can still hit the brakes. all spinning wheels from here- you can even ask rem.
the other arm came down slowly when i recognized the voice as one whom i've strategically placed right next to my ear for the express purpose of calling out bullshit when he sees it and replacing it with visions of what could be. what it is saying is that it can't stand to watch me as i start up sleep deprived and skinny, swimming rockets ahead into that nicely detailed concrete wall forehead first. and i must ask this of myself too.
the heart does some sulking sonata and my hand almost pulls back into reactionary fist or desparate clutch until some wiser molecules form a "but if not this then what?" as if slavery were the only way the country could survive, the only way the children would eat.
this voice, god this voice! it keeps. me. up. so. alive..... do small things all the time. do anything you can. make architecture into art and spread it wider than one man holding all the cards. "make a cool splint our of plywood and sell it to the army."
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