Gertrude Stein Abstracts My Continuous Present. Her flat on the rue de Fleurus was gallery and salon, her friends; Picasso, Matisse, Pavel Tcheltchew, Francis Rose and so forth. She once gave a party for some painters, arranged the pictures on her wall so that each guest would be seated opposite his own work, thereby ensuring his happiness, or perhaps their complete discomfort, a brave move.On her first trip to the Louvre she mainly noticed the frames and loved staring out the windows.In Italian museums she would lie down on the red benches so she could both sleep and wake in front of the Tintorettos and Botticellis. She once said; ‘Geniuses see another reality. Complications are always easy but another vision, that of all the world is very rare. That is why geniuses are very rare, not to complicate things in a new way that is easy, but to see things in a new way, that is difficult, everything prevents one, habits, schools, daily life, reason, necessity of daily life, indolence, everything prevents one, in fact there are very few geniuses on the world.’ Most expensive painting by a 20th century artist ever sold at auction, excluding Picasso; George Suerat’s ‘Paysage, Ile de la Grane Jatte, sold at Sotheby’s in New York on May 10th 1999 for a cool 32 million.

Short and concise this week, surrounded by the radiant smell of Mysore Sugandhi Chandan Dhoop, damn that’s some sweet shit! India produces some very good fragrance for contemplation. Inner city citizens await public transportation. People who wait are eventually whisked away from nightown, escaping further exposure to brutal buzzing neon signs that flicker Liquor. The cool dark night is stark, deep, hard, and honest. I can hear the noise of the factory rusting citron industry. Fading is the heaviness that has been in the air, broadcasting from the CHUM radio network, NPR and NBC radiolands. Missing fighting angels, in military groupings, I either hear or I don’t and those I don’t, all the best. This is the war about stockpiles, shifts, and discoveries, yet to see destruction, waiting on dismantling. Attitudes adjust accordingly, at the Henry Rollins concert, tattoo Daddy Hank snorting about Patriotism; ‘yeah you have alot of that now, Well, where were you when the homosexual was getting his ass kicked…if you want to be a patriot, you have to be a patriot 7 days a week…There’s a crisis in America every mother fucking day!’ Nervous sort of intensity mixes like Lake Erie water and Machine Oil. Through the anger stage, through any or all angst, buddy me up to ‘Living My Life on the Edge of a Knife’. Brain food or soggy hoagie, you decide.

‘The black concrete walls and steel constructions of modern industry, midsummer streets with the acid green of close cut lawns, the dusty Fords and gilded movies, all the sweltering golden life of the American small town, and behind all, the sad desolation of our suburban landscape. he derives daily stimulus from these, that others flee from our pass with indifference.
Edward Hopper writing about Ohio painter Charles Burchfield and perhaps writing about himself?

‘Increasingly, I have felt that I don’t see a painting until I turn away from it and don’t read a poem until I close the book. What I know or retain of either, depends on what I am able to invent in their place. Oh I refer to them, but mostly I draw on my own blindness,and ignorance, insight and knowledge’…Mark Strand

Looking is transient, looking is passing and turning away is moving or acting as an active veiwer.

You are now approaching a Pee Diddy/Media Blitz Free Zone…

Observations on Television sitcoms past and present: Mothers routinely cook full breakfasts, bacon eggs, waffles for their family even though the husband and children never seem to have time to eat them. Why is it always possible in TVland to park directly outside the building you are visiting even in NYC!

The Paradise Garage was located at 84 King Street (between Hudson and Varick Streets). Co-owned by Mel Cheron and Michael Brody THE club had an eleven year run from the 1976 opening night to the 1987 closing party. The Godfather himself, Larry Levan was behind the turntables. (Though there were many guest DJs) Larry was the club’s only resident DJ supreme. Mel Cheron unleashes his self published novel ‘Keep On Dancin’ My Life and the Paradise Garage via his long running and historic label ‘West End Records’. His book is a return to the glory days of gay disco, drama, drugs and more.’West End Records’ from “Sessomatto” by Sessa Matto which, according to Grandmaster Flash, was the first instrumental break to be scratched by DJs as break-beats through favorite ‘garage’ hits like the lush ‘Do It To The Music’ by Raw Silk and my personal 16 minute favorite ‘Work That Body’ Taana Gardner. Breaking it down and bringing it back old school, gay history 101. Check NuYoRican’s survey of ‘Paradise Garage’ classics 76-87.

Somebody please tell Uncle Jesse the virgins are for the martyrs only.

Honey, put the TIAN in the oven!

Bravo! Daily Dean always kicks ass! I’m moist toweletting (new verb) my screen for ultimate viewing pleasure!

I have a hard time meeting other refluxophiles in my area. Back to abnormal? I felt naughty/guilty ‘TV cruising’ chelsea boys and hot beefy NY Firemen? I’m not alone!

Please excuse downtime if it happens perhaps around 3:00 a.m. EST.

Down a cool Nate Hentoff Commentary Cocktail and follow with a Sharon Lerner chaser, both examine why haste lay waste to liberty.

MTV apparently draws (the line) at new boy bands�it’s almost impossible to break a cutie combo on the channel these days, especially with its new somber tone�so testoster-pop Svengali Lou Pearlman went elsewhere to start up his latest bunch of boppers. His new male group, Natural, is being marketed strictly through Claire’s Accessories stores, a plan Pearlman claims has made the band bigger than hair barrettes. Michael being La Dolce all over the place.

Son, you’ve done good, I’m proud of you!

Sound Dust for a lunch box full of orchestral experimentations and symphonic blowback. Later at the disco I’ll be having a full order of a Barry White/Silver Convention Inspired Funk Odyssey. I might need to bring it down a bit, Re-hab operates a ‘cure all’ of Back To Mine. In case of emergency break glass.

If you are in the Akron Ohio area, John Water’s provides a good evening of bad taste. Check it out for yourself at http://www.outinakron.org and beware of pop-ups and hostile applets!

Silent slate born atmposphere, coolness collects the city that exhales blue. Your keen observation of the dashboard instrument panel reveals an obsession for the gas pedal roulette wheel. Beatitude of revolving door commuter symphony and taxi cab crescendo sings ‘Col suo soverchio; e solo a quello arriva La Man che ubbidisce all’intelleto.’ Mediterranean Ph�eton awakens from the cold slumbering ‘Leger’-polymath as American heroic object, painter, laborer, builder, author, cowboy. Charlie Parker plays you on vinyl and vision as sensual contemplation.

I haven’t missed a single episode of Eastenders in over 3 years, I now know that the goings on of Wolford and the Queen Vic provide a rich educational experience. Go! Peggy Mitchell Butcher!

Viewing Pleasures J’aimerais pas crever un dimanche/Don’t Let Me Die On A Sunday 1998 French film about a 19-year-old girl who dies of an ecstasy overdose (perhaps she should have contacted dance-safe) at a rave. A morgue attendant makes love to her body thus resurrecting the techno lovin’ drug child and unleashing a wild S/M relationship followed by a subsequent kidnapping of an Aids patient. Controversial, exotic silly ponderous and dark commentary on the 1990s.

Mantis in Lace-Let her show you the heat of desire — the face of sin! “Groovy pad you got here, a little kinky, but it’s out of sight.” – Tiger Baby! Superbad 1968 sexploitation film about a psychotic go-go girl who hacks up her lover’s with a meat cleaver while freaked out on LSD. Highly recommended for pyschotronic cinema deviants. Cinematography by Laszlo Kovacs of ‘Easy Rider’/'Ghostbusters’ fame. ‘Mantis also known as just plain ol ‘Lila’ was originally released in two versions, one for horror fans and one for the soft core porn crowd. The DVD is the longer sexier version but contains outakes of the screamarific psychedelic murder scenes. Bundled with a high school standard drug scare film; ‘LSD Trip or Trap’ and the short ‘Alice Goes to Acidland’ File under A plus Acid Sleaze.

An interesting fact page on the country of Afghanistan. WTC scam watch.

The Spectator’s Mark Steyn’s Very Well, Then Alone. �When I take action,� said the President, �I�m not gonna fire a $2 million missile at a $10 empty tent and hit a camel in the butt. It�s going to be decisive. On the other hand, if it�s just the US plus a few British Harriers, it will be able to do what it deems militarily necessary. It is the serious threat of force that impresses your enemies, not reaching out to them. Seumas Milne’s rhetoric tantrum notes the end of Clinton Schmooziness. More Cowboyaphobia.

Cyberspace, the noun/catchword is derived from the English word Cybernetics or the communication and control of living things or machines, I would like to expand the deifinition to include the excessive fear of computers and mechanization coined in 1948 by American Mathematician Norbert Wiener. Wiener probably derived it from Andr� Marie Amp�re’s ‘Cybern�tique’ or the art of governing. ‘Cyberspace’ coined by William Gibson, American science-fiction writer in his 1982 short story ‘Burning Chrome’ and later in his 1984 novel ‘Neuromancer’. Cyberspace therefore is the notional ethereal environment in which electronic communication occurs; virtual reality. Are Terrorists winning the ‘cyberspace’ battle? Just for the record Afghanistan has the fourth largest illiteracy rate in the world, as defined by the United Nations, 85% of females cannot with understanding, both read and write a short simple statement on her daily life.

From Ada, Ohio, despite his promise, Sbarro manager Bruce Hart failed to keep his talk regarding proper straw-receptacle-refill protocol short or sweet. “He could’ve just said, ‘Don’t overstuff the straw dispenser, because it’s hard to get them out when you do that,’” cashier Evan Rees said. “Instead, he spent 15 minutes going off about how much straws cost, and how customers don’t like it when they have to claw at the dispenser, and how it can be unhygienic if the wrappers get torn.” Rees said that Hart occasionally keeps it short or sweet, but never both at the same time. I suppose this would follow bad human factor design.

Be sure to submit your site/story to webArchivist.org, they are working with The Internet Archive in collaboration with the Library of Congress to identify and archive pages and sites related to September 11.2001. They are especially interested in finding sites by individuals — that record their feelings, experiences or opinions to secure a solid historical record of this time.

Langston Hughes wrote ‘What a sight these towers of Manhattan are, glittering with millions of golden specs, soaring endlessly, as if they were going to touch the sky!’ The Great Buildings Collection documents over 1,000 buildings, hundreds of leading architects with 3D models, photographic images, drawings, commentaries, bibliographies and more. These two structures are of particular importance. More on the arresting monoliths.

W.H. Auden’s ‘September 1, 1939′ is strangely prescient of last Tuesday’s events. Written in response to Germany’s invasion of Poland, we find Auden at his best, passionate, engaging the issues of human imperfection, spirtuality and justice. Author Eric McHenry beautifully illustrates why this fine poet still resonates engaging the structures of knowing and unknowing.

What is the quickest way to clear out the men’s room at your office? Say “Nice Dick”. Things you are itching to say at work: ‘Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed’ or ‘If I throw a stick, will you leave?’ Remember age doesn’t always bring wisdom sometimes age just comes alone.

Top Ghetto Drinks (excerpted from somewhere ‘List’ I think)
Thug Passion -Hennesy and Alize
Colt 45 and Hawaiian Punch
God Father -Amaretto and Scotch
Dirty White Mother-Brandy or Cognac w/Kalhua and Cream
Champipple -Champagne and Ripple
Merlite -Merlot and Sprite
Jolly Rancher -Midori, Chambord, Lemon Juice, Stoli, O.J., Cranberry Juice
Cisco and Old English
Corona w/splash of Grenadine

Whoa, damn! Tell us how you REALLY feel.

“In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility — I welcome it.” — President John F. Kennedy, inaugural address, Jan. 20, 1961. What are you willing to sacrifice? A recent survey indicated that the gap between the richest and poorest Americans is becoming is even wider. In some ways we’re like two separate societies, one that watches its bank account grow and the other that watches a whole lot of wrestling. Go Steve Blackman!

This item strikes me as being a bit strange.

The rich dark coffee, warm brown sweetened sienna based liquid waves back and forth as I walk down the street. The steam rises rather artistically above my hustle, and dark rings form and disappear within each gate. The oscillatory window shopper stares at his reflection as the autonomous alternating brain function trigger happy sharp shooter. I imprint data for future paintings, urgency to adapt new work to render context current. Simultaneously I am enveloped by the cavernous shell of the moviehouse. I memorize these visual moments and record the added input of audible blipping, the ambient on off chirping of nonsensical conversation. I feel my brush today is going analog as my canvas is digital, all the while wanting to buy a camera, but does it signal a change? An unwillingness to record automatically the moments that I fear, or love, am repulsed by, uneasy at or unable to. The heinous act of rendering the questions I ask as mere journalism? Where will it steep and swell alarmingly? Where will it burn? Hijacking is a dirty word, traumatic brain Armageddon changes all context. I hear the passing radio signal as it calls for a return to normalcy, and won’t you settle for a redefinition of that term? Normalcy. Hauntingly the celluloid film flickers previews a Hollywoodland coming attraction, pass, pass, pass, pass me a big helping of frivolity as abductions and explosions equal hits. I feel the shift underneath my feet and wonder where the platelets will settle. Virtual museum walk throughs occupy computer screens, abandoning space for a table top experience. Where is light and the visual experience therein. Lost hands rise and rotate the clock face, wiping down the hours, closing silver screens. Saturation and clicking of the projector, nostalgia, direction, heyday, Double Indemnity, Metro, Warner’s Noir, that which sheds light on, gives illumination to and exposes. Computers, robots, machines stream news that is inescapable, but providing the fibrous connective tissue to primary sources and stories. What was it like last week, what did you do, what will you do and several other vows bear witness to what was and what will be and most importantly what will be forever archived.

A Homemade Memorial Brings Strangers Together. In New York Galleries A New Concept Remakes The Art.

Music Heals and the Mood Changes.

Suddenly we are asking questions. Building an attack q and a.

I want this too, but it’s unlikely, given that the nation harbouring a coward now wants to talk and we want to act.

The recent tragedy demolished this city’s native sense of invincibility, but to threaten the diversity that is its other signature with sudden requirements of flag and faith only adds another casualty to the list. Working to the bone, surviving in the toughest times, finding friendship in a swarm of 8 million�these are the feats that make a New Yorker. Time was, being a New Yorker was more than American enough. From the Village Voice. This article concerns me.

I grew up in the city, and not that my urban neighborhood was unsafe or dangerous although it had a reputation for being ‘bad’ tough kids, tough school, the nasty Puerto Rican gang. It’s just that growing up in that environment you learn the unwritten rules of survival. Don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you, friends are forever, a family, your allies, fuck with me and I will fuck you up. I learned to fight because I had to, I learned because I didn’t want to keep getting my ass kicked. I learned that sometimes, a good right hand is the best sort of reasoning. Thugs, cowards, sometimes that’s all they understand, and you have to take them down. It’s a peculiar feeling, one that I have right now. Damn the bastards, the terrorists that tried to steal our safety, our liberty, our peace. Yea, I got a black eye, but you never caused me to fear you, it won’t happen.

Question ‘Urbanity’. IO_dencies locates urbanity in a field generated by city inhabitants and by the city itself as an emancipated partner. Non-hierachical electronic networks provide experimental fields for other ways of collaborative/ connective ways of dealing with urban forces. This tool reads the forces present in particular urban situations, and offers experimental collaborative interfaces for dealing with these force fields. The aim, however, is not to develop advanced tools for architectural and urban design, but to create events through which it becomes possible to rethink urban planning and construction. By using special tools (“attractors”), Internet users may intervene in these force fields. Every modification in these zones changes the flows, and these interventions are displayed immediately. However, users see not only the changes and consequences of their own interventions, but also the interventions and desired changes effected by other users “working” in the same hypothetical urban area.

Francis Bacon’s art has to do with the human body, sex, violence and strong emotions. Usually strong colour staining an unprimed side of canvas, the raw surface provided the right �tooth� for his paint. Usually a figure was established in black and white and the face was handled with an urgent scrumbling effect. Quick brush edits and summary suggest an aggressive often violent handling.’The Mews Studio’ in South Kensington, London was Bacon’s home and working space for the last thirty years of his life and it was here that Bacon produced some of his best work. Dublin’s Hugh Lane Gallery removed the whole of Francis Bacon’s chaotic studio in August 1998. A team of archeologists mapped the entire studio space for accurate removal and reconstruction in Dublin. Over 7,000 items were cataloged into a newly designed database which visitors can scan through. Connect contents with creations at The Francis Bacon Image Gallery. Cunty-Web is a study for a web site on Francis Bacon otherwise known as:”an irreverent and levity-laden on-line look at the life and work of that great British artist and outrageous old homosexual, Francis Bacon. Yes, our task here at Cunty is to demythologize the old fag and explore his paintings and his milieu in a spirit of fun!” Don’t miss out.

The Virtual Collection is the Museum of Modern Art’s online database of work by artists with HIV/AIDS. 3,000 or so high-resolution images of works by 150 artists who have died of AIDS or are living with HIV/AIDS. The purpose is to make available a large body of art that might otherwise be lost or widely dispersed. Artists with work in the collection of The Museum of Modern Art who are also represented in the The Virtual Collection include Joe Brainard, Scott Burton, Keith Haring, Frank Moore, David Wojnarowicz and Martin Wong.

Words of Art compiled by Robert J. Belton of The Fine Arts Department at Okanagan University College in British Columbia, Canada, is a highly practical on-line glossary of theory and criticism for the visual arts. Hypertext links abound within the lexicon.

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage…Anais Nin

There is an old U.S. Marine Corps saying that goes something like; ‘pain is weakness leaving the body.’ Well, then what is anger? Anger makes me mad, I want to sock someone in the eye, destroy, deny, stuff it down, rip it apart! I want to act out physically, strike brutally, everything but listen to what this anger is telling me. I now see my anger as a large smoking lightning bolt that is illuminating my way, fuel that burns deep inside. Damn it, the old way is dying and my life is being born. I refuse to use it as my master, only as a guide in that things are changing, renewing, being reborn. Anger is friend not foe, it speaks of betrayal and lets us know when it is time to act in our own best interest. Thanks to Jonno, even more perspective.

In one day, the local Fireman I wrote about yesterday, collected: $94,000 dollars for relief efforts!

I’ve been grinding my teeth all day, shot through with the sort of angst I haven’t felt in a long time. I know it’s blind anger and I’m shoving it down, it’s overload and I’m shoving it down. It’s how I deal, and sometimes that’s just the way it is. I know it’s nothing compared to people who feel like the walking dead, carrying their loss on mini posters. I wish I could take their hands in the dark and lead them, help them to gain peace and understanding, renew their faith, but how?

I often feel lost and inept these days, not knowing. The stories from television are gut wrenching, they sting and hurt. I try to have courage for those who have lost their own, or the heroic workers who haven’t slept in days and need to press on. I try to collectively send them spirit and power. Today, several glimpses of heroic acts, even strength.

Small acts locally were evident, like the fireman that ran up to my car while waiting in traffic, asking for donations, I just gave him what I had in my pocket, what was crumpled and loose, no questions. The boot carrying the donations was filled and overflowing, evidence of how generous people can be. All over the city, I could hear people singing, holding hands, gathering, holding in their thoughts, those whom we call brother and sister.

I walked through the art museum, less for amusement, more for a reminder that things get created, not destroyed. The visit renewed my commitment to ‘making’ now, stop putting off…doing. Oh the simple joy of a visiting curator smiling, in line at the museum cafeteria, laughing, because they had bottled lemonade and it reminded her of being a little girl and growing up in Ohio. The sound of air planes, chatter and the smell of pretzels and hot dogs on the street corners. Coffee and small talk outside, upward the sky, was all Vermeer, glowing Autumn clouds all day long. I wore red white and blue today, and was proud.

Nearby, The Frank Gehry building is racing to completion and it is a marvel, it soars to new heights and makes me laugh, renewing my faith in what man can achieve. Everyone is heart heavy, candles burn on the porches in neighborhoods.

Helping.org if you are interested in contributing to relief efforts. If you can, please make a cash donation to one or several of the institutions listed, 100% of your donation will go to help. Please don’t forget about the United Way, call [1-800-give-life] for blood. Congratulations to Blogstalker, we are proud of you! My buddy Jimbo puts a face on this terrible tragedy.

I’ve been holding out for inspiration, or eloquence, awed by the courage of so many and saddened by the work of madmen and heretics. I want to believe that life will return to normal, I participate in the charade, going through the physical motions hoping to convince my heart and soul. I know this is a lie, that things will be different from now on and remain so for a long time.