DayTrippers

The Derelict and I most definitely are kindred spirits. No question. I called him frantically asking a rhetorical that he was none too happy to answer anyway. "Why am I such a tard?!" I lost my keys tonight, so it begged the rebel yell and this is so very typical. I lose everything, including love, and keep threatening to get more organized. My heart rate exceeded its maximum potential and my cheeks burst into plum tomatoes. How else to find brick-heavy keys? Of course, my professor, who of cooourse I have a secret, darkroom crush on, entered the picture. He was there for the chivalry. Then, after all the slightly composed dramatics, I found my keys at Public Safety and his day was done. I digress, the Derelict answered with a, "Well I've given this a lot of thought..." and obliged. His explanation went something like this -

I've been trying to figure out who was worse. I used to think I was a little better off and you were just a bumbling tard floating through life clueless, but now I think maybe you're winning and I'm just a bigger one. The problem is we're daydreamers - living as if we had all the time in the world to be creative. We don't want life to progress because we haven't achieved our goals. Change is hard on us.

The Derelict said a lot more that was pretty hilariously poignant, as he fumbled around to find his wallet.

Running Woman 11

My sister made me run today. It will be the first at 38 years young. What a difference the fall air makes. It tasted like my freezer. I crawled and clocked in at 2.5 miles. It should have been faster and longer, but I'm older now.

Jojo

Tonight I met up with a monster.

The kind that breathes under

your bed within the

deepest, darkest, corner

of your mind. Living loveliness

from a bouquet of roses.

In the end

a windy walk home.

I was flirting with danger

all along. A long, humiliating night

listening to the music

that was never gone too far.

I am who I am.

Even on my

birthday, I can

sing. So, tiny little Monster,

I give you -

my stars.

Seen & Heard

* Baby #7 crawling on wet grass straight toward a big puddle as super Z mom and her college B gal pal watched in awe.

* "I'd rather deal with a player than a p*ssy." - Queen(s) M w/wine glass in hand, legs crossed, & tude in full effect.

Darkroom Diaries

I printed until my eyes burned and my back gave out. The result was dark and moody and maybe "obvious." Note to self, the O word hurts more than "unoriginal." Reminder to my other self, everything isn't original and nothing is ever obvious.

Darkroom Diaries

I have begun my Photo 2 class - a room full of young, starry eyed art majors each with something immensely important to say/show. Me... I dunno. I lost 3 cameras recently. My heart gets a little crushed every time I think about this - losing 3 eyes, 3 perspectives, 3 time machines. I have nothing terribly important to express except that loss sucks and mourning sucks more.

3 weeks later and my new, very old, very used, usually trusty Hasselblad has arrived. A scary strapless beast with a silver lens. What if it can't be tamed? What if I suck? A good friend of mine says that ONE is the secret to success. I hope he is right.

Our first day Photo 2 assignment was to submit an art proposal. Mine will be to explore lost objects. I would elaborate as I did in the essay I presented my professor last week, but it was immensely convoluted & slightly hopeful. It was something to say.

Liquid Television: The Bunnies

Thank you, CC, for reminding me of my bunnytastic angst over Jaaaake!
John Hughs RIP

Seen & Heard

* Two cute, cynically hopeful, anti-chicklit, but pro-Amy-n-Meryl, New York gals sharing sweet pad thai and The Office dreams.

* "I think Black sleeps with dolls" - Cupcake

... in the fog

Seen & Heard

* Sand, sun, river, and rain in Long Island City as the master, Jellybean, played a house track with a "Summer" chant.

* "I just woke up one day and realized I was a stranger in a strange land." - The Derelict

The Secret to Surviving NYC

analyze
adapt
overcome

...in the midst of Beauty

Becoming Bacon

Sometime in June, I lost my voice. I've been sore a dozen times, but this was different. I felt drowned in charcoal. Most of the week I tried not to speak. But the worst of it was not being able to sing. The steam from my morning showers drifted in to the very chord and nothing. No song. It's dramatic to say, but I didn't exist. When I saw this painting - the figure - it reminded me of June. Bacon is my June.

Running Woman 10

i took my first spill ever. in my defense, the neighborhood is a bloody obstacle course. as if a g*d damn forest was trying to reclaim its name by force. it was also hotter than hell, my legs were heavy, and i was simply not ready to just do it. the tingling on my knee began when i rolled over. then it was burning. then my face was. i got up, finally, shrugged off the cellphones and eyewear, and kept on running. it was good to get up like that.

Rossetti Rising

It seems Dantes keep coming in and out of my lives every few hundred years. Happy Memorial Day, D, whenever you are.

the story of stuff

Running Woman 9

Am I running from autonomy or towards it?
..................................................................Almost made the mile mark.

Butoh in the Box

I went to see this man, Imre, perform last night. The most beautifully bizarre, demented dance form I've ever witnessed.

Luton

I met an 80 plus year old gentleman in Luton, who moved here from Ireland by way of a passenger train. He jumped off nearly breaking his toes with not a pence in his pocket. It would be a better life, he thought. A future for his Irish gypsy bride, too. She was a jealous one. Always watching like a hawk to see if there were any flirty false moves. "I can't help it," he told me she'd say. He, on the other hand, stood proudly at 6'2" when men at the pub so obviously admired her beauty. This Irish gentle giant had boxed his way through a rebellious youth until they met. Indentations and scars. A crooked nose. Though fighting was quite lucrative in gypsy world, his wife wouldn't have it. Can you blame her? She was tough and devoted. And all her insecurities spilled out over tea and then beer. Time passed in Luton - the stories repeating each time with a brighter twinkle in the old man's eye. When the sun started to set, we both realized it was a miracle to remember the sky blue.

lower east side

Below is part of an art exhibit my buddy, Bill, curated on Valentine's Day. The peeping tom snapshots of the photos are mine, but the text is all his. View and read at will.

A Relationship Left for Dead on the Lower East Side
Cuchifritos Gallery / Project Space

A few years back my old friend, Patrick Cunningham, handed me a photo album he'd found lying on the curb somewhere on the Lower East Side. He knew that I had a soft spot for "found photography" and figured I'd appreciate the anonymous trove.

I went home that day and spent a considerable amount of time pouring over the album. From what I can tell, it is the chronicle of a gay couple's relationship through a good number of years in the 90's. The pictures are intimate, personal, and, as one might expect, range from silly to sober. Haircuts evolve, fashions change, weight is gained and lost. A collection of tiny moments memorialized but nothing special, really, aside from the fact that this carefully constructed record of a relationship was left on a curb in the Lower East Side.

Revisiting the album after some time, I noticed something unique about it: The two men never appear in the same picture. They never sit next to nor hold one another. They never ask friends, relatives, or strangers to take a snapshot of them together. Each man simply poses for the other, the camera lens uniting them. These pictures tell a story of isolated admiration/adoration made manifest only through the architect of the album itself.

I often wonder if the couple is still together. I hope to meet them one day and, as difficult as it would be for me to part with it, return the album to one or both of them.

--Bill Previdi,
Independent Curator, NYC

Here's hoping what we find in this life is worth keeping a while. I'm off to make some images of my own. Overseas. Heading EAST.