Headphone hook up to a collection of music titled 'grunt work'; Pantera, Black Flag, Rob Zombie. Shell shock drumming and set up to motor sweat and speed bumps. Ultra crisp Autumn morning run with a reluctant drowsey labrador retriever. My legs are still sore from the beat up set of squats on Wednesday, 245lbs for 8 and a partial dizzy spell near the waste basket with chuckles from workout partner. Asics running shoes, cut off Nike sweats unfashioned for shorts, House of Pain cut-off wrestling shirt and retro Montreal 1976 Olympic style wrist bands. Tuned into inner angst for terra verde turf works. I am godamning through the first few meters exceedingly inspired by this readymade morning. October November tilting axis refraction, approaching western hemisphere winters, we are closer to the sun for light like Hopper, light like Vermeer, light like Saenredam, light that shines to explode the silver leaves and treads of water traps making the going wet, nasty, fun. I'm taking the park today with far too many hills and obstacles for my liking but up for the challenge. I was never a runner, far too bulky but I am now proving worth my weight as muscle mass grows and pushes me on. The pooch has learned my pace as I indulge him with the occasional foray into the woods to chase squirrels up muddy foothills for a bark and chatter back and forth. I can hear the cheers of a later than usual junior varsity game at the high school, the smell of burning leaves and brain wash of a super serotonin rush as the pigskin is hiked. I'm hitting my stride uphill noticing 'test' patch marine muscle daddy pushing through the largest hill on the path. His cobra like back and V shape roundness hug the haphazard asphalt, he is beautiful with his white sweat soaked FTLs sticking out from the deep crevice in the small of his back - It looks funny and hot. I think I'd like to snap it playfully but decide that overtaking him on the hill is better pay back and a stronger flirt. Insanity sets in 3/4 up as I'm crashing through floors of a my burning building. Down fall never means quitting but ignoring weakness leaving the body, I dig my heels in and style that pick me up /hi karate stride leaving Muscled up Marine-Daddy to conquer the hill alone. Sorry, no brotherhood today only the daily reward of a very long hot shower for big finish. Later morning with Basmanti Rice, Peas, Books and research. Hmm, I wonder if the guys would make fun of me for bringing my shave items to the gym in my Super-Friends lunch box? Too damn bad, Green Latern is a super hottie!
Chewey Gui and super fine design. The Pixture studio indulges my Thunderbirds fetish with a super groovy set of icons. Smoking hot content with Durran's Altered*Ego site from Utrecht.
11:11 AM :
Friday, November 02, 2001
What is bravery, what is courage? I know that it has to be Reuters photographer Dan Eldon. He was stoned to death in Somalia in 1993 when he was 22. He lived an extraordinary life; he led a relief mission across Africa; worked as a graphic designer in New York; studied at four colleges; traveled through Europe, Africa, Japan and the U.S.; founded a charity for Mozambiquan refugees; directed a film; written a book; started up his own photography business; and become a photo journalist for Reuters news, and kept extraordinary sketchbooks/journals. The Journey Is the Destination is a collection of pages from Dan's 17 extraordinary journals, edited rather skillfully by his mother, Kathy Eldon and chronicling his work from age 14 through his death at 22. The pages are densely layered, collages of writings, photographs, and drawings; the initial works are packed with color, quotes, labels, and photos, while the later pages are simpler more somber. He is a masterful artisan combining pop culture items and ethnographic icons with text. A powerful and poignant memoir of artistic depth in the midst of famine and civil war. Photo journalist, humanitarian, entrepreneur, adventurer, and student of the world. His accomplishments serve as an inspiration to artists everywhere. Visit daneldon.org as a point of departure, inside, you can access educational and biographical materials, a gallery of images, insights, and more.
1:26 PM :
Thursday, November 01, 2001
Hot damn, I'm on top of things, NEW NOVEMBER PLAYLIST. Take note of the slightly darker industrial bent to the retro list, don't fret plenty of new flavor to keep you busy. I Should be working but glued to 'Momento' on DVD while I'm supposed to be looking busy.
Black Flag does not host TV-PARTY but they should. Mmm Mmm good, stuck in the past and always will be. Extensively sick (sick in a good way) it isn't merely a flashback its more of an atomic flashburn. Supermatch game shows of the 1970s. Kids with guns. Although they are missing the Honey Comb Hide Out, there is a swell section on Saturday Morning TV Commercials. Browse the sitcom 'Good Times'. Archives and on and on. Don't forget the scathing section on the outrageous Tallulah Bankhead. Here's a quick teaser; "Tallulah Bankhead was outrageous and outspoken on stage and in public. "Cocaine isn't habit-forming," the actress was quoted as saying, "I should know - I've been using it for years." And she had!
Sorry to see the Daily Dean close down his zeit, it was a great run. Looking back to the time before Jockohomo.com I was doing some heavy duty daily reading of Jonno, Littleminx, Sturtle and Ultrasparky. Not only did/still do find their work enjoyable, I found the whole 'daily' concept fascinating. They continually marked and cataloged life with a great deal of finesse, and humor, I was just blown away by the whole concept of a series of blogging and journaling. Yes of course they each have their individual style but they continually produce, and write. Hey, wait a minute, maybe I should title this, My Blog Heroes. Initially I had a bumpy start, one or two entries a week and a whole bunch of editing of topic and graphics, and to some extent this still might be the case-no excuses but...oh hell what I'm trying to say is, THIS right here has become my catalog too, a record of some sort I have yet to understand. Online Sketchbook. No, I don't assign any grandiose meaning to anything I put out and hell that's important. Its true, this is the good the bad and the very ugly of writing, posting and graphics, but it is what it is, a record. Its product, its production and in many ways it helps me to stretch. Entries keep me focused on the precious part of NOW, and that's where I need to be. The Fantastic Four always put it in perspective, keepin' it up front and real un huh, so thanks buddies!
2:05 PM :
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
Rare blue moon tonight and spooky clusters. Now back to work "Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights hast thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble..."
3:34 PM :
Browse among the non superflous miscellanea of my links page which is now making a come back in basic black.
No chocolate milk and cigarettes, just barbells and big fun w/big gay Billy plastic pleasure pumped 'sust and test' doll with deliciously sexy boyfriend Carlos. (Yea, checkout Cop Carlos) and their own set of books shot by famed photographer Dianora Niccolini-see post George Platt Lynes and pre Mapplethorpe and David Leddick (The Male Nude Now and George Platt Lynes). A Stockhomo outfit offers up Billy's gay disco, ahhhh as the mirror ballturns. More on Dianora Niccolini.
Working joes used to brag about ecounters with fame no its the reverse. Firefighter chic blue collar reality and the folk hero archetype. This halloween most kids are opting out of the horrific get-ups for Bob The Builder, G.I. Joe, Mr. Policeman and Fireman Jake disguises. Thankfully no one wants to go as Christy Lane or Wink Martindale. The worst halloween costumes ever What kid didn't want to be "Leather Guy" from The Village People?� I suppose this might have been several kids second choice after the Richard Simmons costumes were sold out.� At least it's already got a built in protective vinyl coating. Andre Gide, French author and critic (1869-1951) provides the thought for today: ``There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.'' but I still think its creepy that Harry Houdini died in Detroit of gangrene and peritonitis resulting from a ruptured appendix on Halloween.
11:26 AM :
Monday, October 29, 2001
A small note to the fuckwit who broke into my locker at the gym and lifted my wallet, $40.00, a vintage St. Francis de Sales baseball shirt, my underwear, and various other sundries. May you rot in hell or even better yet, may a large puss riden rabies infested sewer rat crawl out of your toilet in the middle of the night and bite your face. You suck, you thieving moron.
6:34 PM :
