21 and 6 tool shops with side by side antique stores, fit to suit national standards, or this might be my popular mechanix sort of day. Walking with ghost shadow of reflective glass and chrome stop action frame windows, speckled tile store fronts and mosaic welcome mats. The smell of tar, the heat rising off the brick streets and the spicey talk of some beautiful Latinas. Venture for story, step over crack in sidewalk, venture for fun, what to do when the crack is so large you can no longer straddle so while teetering, you surprise yourself that you are well on your way, once again. Retro deluxe keeping my home ship shape, how many faux spun plastac� earth tone colored lamps from 1973 can you have? One is never enough. I love my Fiesta-Ware coffee set complete with demitasse cups, St. Xavier weightlifting club t-shirt and K-tel how to dance disco long play record album. Frequency modulation happens indecisively at two locations: walk and don't walk. Don't worry, it's the same everywhere, and this continuity, this survival apparatus, is what helps you navigate urban jungle, deceptively bucolic enviroments. Magazines are a paen to the future, see 149 No. 2 Popular Science Monthy for August 1946: Bikini Was Like This Loudspeaker Beams Voice 1,000 Feet How Your Dial Phone Works What to Look for in Pre-Fabs Make 1,125,000 Matches in an Hour 60 Second Shiner Dream Darkrooms Gauge Block Scribes Center. Have you ever seen so many ideas? That future, that optimism is now. Meanwhile all these referential notes and scribblings, hanging out of my jeans pocket in the Go�Modern store specializing in fine designer collectibles, furniture, 40's tableware and Magic Chef logo retrospectives. I puchase antique carpenter's ruler made of boxwood, inlaid with brass marked Lufkin no. 386 made in U.S.A. 1919. Dark pencil led and sawdust patina, heavy with the romance of making and demarcation. Makers, their tools, their markers, constructives mass operatives of building, you build, me forward, go now.
10:33 PM :
This is very disturbing, as spectacle, as entertainment, as education. More from the VillageVoice
3:39 PM :
Tuesday, June 05, 2001
Most of all, this quiet time of night, turning the television set down watching it glow, whereas landscapes and life seem at a standstill wherever you are. For a moment a hush and pause between inhales and ex. I catch myself looking at my reflection in the glass, muscular in gray gym shorts standing shirtless and barefoot, my little boys haircut, all wavy locks trimmed back for modern convenience and quick grooming. Stirring about, I open books, page 255 gelatin silver prints, a color slide of a Renaissance painting falls to the floor and reaching I am suddenly dancing Robert Longo's Men In The Cities. I catch myself as auteur in untitled film stills. Duplicity of artist, observer, voyeur, consumer creator. Blue film flickers as votives on cityside window sill. Fantasy in black and white, a consumer california 1944 Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. But then you see, nothing quite as complicated as Walter Neff, more so a sleepy Spencer Tracy; nice suits, great scripts.
10:08 PM :
The true-life stories of the famous and infamous men and women who lie buried in the world famous Victorian Valhalla, Highgate Cemetery.
10:08 PM :
Auto-American or notes on Gen H0lZr-ISM 1BAB KRYOUGR-ISM. Vanity license plates, a cry for help? You create elaborate shrines in the back windshield of your cars. Voracious acquisitions and placement of knick knacks; crown air freshners, beanie babies, McDonalds bags, and Peterbilt trucker hats. Do you create elaborate shrines on your television sets too, lucite photo cubes and Glade Air Freshners? Shrine Paralysis: The tendency when faced with a decorating dilemma to create a shrine.
12:21 PM :
Monday, June 04, 2001
Excuse me if I bristle with excitement upon our introduction, whoever you are. Don't be put off by my gregarious nature often described by others as loud. I have that certain 'joie de vivre' that some find refreshing. You see, personalities are what I find so fascinating, data mining distinct individuals and discovering layer upon layer. I'm not so interested in what makes you tick or tock, or what you present or don't present. I'm in love with the everyday qualities of people and yes, places. When I meet you, I will paint you, in my head, at least for the first few hours and how, that funny way you smile or laugh will lend itself to color and brush stroke. Your humor, the brightness in your eyes, your heart, or perhaps you have an evil streak, nasty in every way, tantrums like a child deserving of an economy of haptic device. I'll be gentle with you in line, drawing as you converse with me, I can give you my full attention but please understand that I will make your ears stick out funny, or your lid heavy with the romantic. You won't ever notice, as I can hide what I am doing inside my head, until you catch me drawing on scrap paper, editing on napkins in restaurants with my black Expresso Fine Point Pen. Oops, no, don't worry, that water stain is good, I like it, no you cannot have this, I need it to know who you are.
12:51 PM :
Sunday, June 03, 2001
This is the polyester pant suit brigade, brown orthopedic shoes in an ultra suede world. The ladies are on a strict coffee watch, holding a gossipy court over the big silver bullet shaped percolator that is only brought out for special occasions. Rows of antique Franciscan-Ware decorate the table, depression glass punch bowels, milk glass coffee cups sit on pretty embroidered linens. The two of us sit on opposite sides of the pink kitchen; a gorgeous summer afternoon and the huge oak tree outside hisses a woozy wind blown tone. Sleepy kitchen music, conversation, fresh bread, cake icing and coffee. You are my niece, pretty and funny, 14 years old on your shampoo planet, guest of honor at your graduation party with a subscription to Jane, and Seventeen but wanting one to Thrasher because you skate. I eavesdrop and collect mental notes, sitting rather uncomfortably in my pressed khaki dress pants, white shirt and retro 70's game show host tie that cost more than the whole ensemble of shirt, pants, shoes and socks. Me as an overgrown kid busting out of my collar, feeling a very buttoned up 10 years of age. I look at you across the room as we grin, laugh and groan to a soundtrack of Jerry Vale, and Deano Martino. This is an obligatory yet celebratory food fest, bread, pasta, tomato and cucumber salad, punch, cookies and more. We make a run for it, down the hall to the back room with the piano. We talk about the new Weezer, you really like Radiohead, crepe paper and boys too. Sitting at the piano, a moment of quiet, you softly play the opening lines, and we bust out laughing!
6:30 PM :
