*Show me on the doll where the bad man touched you
*Style & Substance Abuse
*Jesus kinda likes me
*Too Smart for L.A. too dumb for N.Y.
*I’d be a vegetarian if animals weren’t so tasty
Dumb humor for smart people, 1/2 baked fresh at the Fresh-Product Shop fine t-shirts from medium to beefy, get fresh.

Chi ben comincia � a met� dell’opera! I just returned from carbo loading with Ma and Pop, wait, let me rephrase; I just returned from lunch with my parents up in Little Italy. We had the full spread, all the courses, fresh bread, desserts and some incredibly strong cappuccino. The excellent meal was matched only by the dreamlike scenery of the city. A few inches of snow fell last night, fat snowflakes continue to blanket the narrow streets, while handsome black haired ‘Guido’s’ brush off the sidewalks. Old fashioned garland and Christmas lights crisscross the streets overhead, I half expect Cary Grant from the Bishop’s Wife to come popping into the scenery. Fully stuffed, dragging my feet, returning to work with a slight glazed over look. I have to finish up a few things, close the door, turn the lock and head out of town. I already have all my gear packed and a few new CDs on the passenger seat. Happy Thanksgiving, have a piece of pie for me, I’m back late Sunday night.

BUTT FAG MAG – The international faggot magazine for interesting homosexuals and the men who love them. Finger exercises for hand jobs, jack-off parties for charity, international text for international men who lead an international lifestyle, Music, Wolfgang Tillman, hot studs and boys who say I love you. Call Bruil & Van Der Staaij at +31 522 261 303 (Netherlands) or pick it up in NY at St. Marks bookstore, Magma in London, Collette in Paris and other fine establishments. From laughable to hot, Edge-play bedtime reading w/Tough Guys.

What do you do when your ‘leather daddy’ is a neatnik biker from hog heaven? You guessed it, keep dribbling your smoothie all over the carpet. Handsome humpy biker dad is the benevolent leader of the ‘honeycomb hideout’, where a group of guys are watching a Saturday afternoon sporting event. Chrome dome is built like a brick shit house, rippling muscles, neatly trimmed goatee, and outfitted in some handsome leather attire. ‘I love to keep a clean club,’ he says, then barks at one of his less thoughtful buddies upon entering, ‘Wipe your feet…The boys get so rambunctious sometimes.’ Several of the men in the living room then shout in jubilation and spill their drinks. Muscle Dad continues, ‘So I got myself the Pro-heat, Protech beauty. It’s the only one that cleans and provides Scotchgard protection, all in one beautiful machine.’ He rolls the machine past a biker sitting on the white carpet, as he does needle-pointing next to a poodle. Another biker is sitting at the table, arranging a vase of flowers. Wow, talk about incongruity! Stop, you’re killing me, cut back to baldy. All this tech talk, you’d think he was explaining the ins and outs of his new crotch rocket. Then he takes his mug of fruit smoothie and meets the other’s mug, spilling onto the rug. It easily cleans up. As he lays ala Joe Nameth, on the rug and rubs it gingerly with a sigh, he closes by saying, ‘It’ll put any neatnik in hog-heaven.’ Damn man, I need a Bissel too! This commercial always cracks me up, loosely considered ‘Gay Vague’ by advertisers, the actor has been so popular with the ‘Leather Community’ he’s getting his own billboard in Times Square. The art directors deftly keep the ad from focusing on so called ‘gay stereotypes’ and play more broadly with ideas of masculinity. Hell it gets my attention, and it’s damn funny too. Watch the advert or see the storyboard stills here.

My insulated carafe holds about 18 ounces of freshly brewed black coffee, I’m pounding the caffeine down to stay awake, it’s just one of those mondays; plenty to do, plenty to grade it’s going to be a long day. I have to motor across campus…nearly late.

I was one of 105,000 who crammed into the ‘Horse-Shoe’ in Columbus, Ohio to see the Bucks crown their undefeated season by beating the crap out of Michigan 14-9. I was shitting a brick as it came down to 1 pulse pounding second, the Buckeye crowd holding it’s breath before a scarlet and gray explosion of cheers, beers, paper cups and anything else that could be flung skyward in jubilation. A crushing mass of bodies spilling out onto the field to attempt the removal of the goal posts, which never did come down, but it was fun trying. I have to hand it to the Wolverines, and quarterback John Navarre, they played with a whole lot of heart, but in the end, it was our awesome defense that brought them down. Now that we are Feista Bowl bound we can kick it up a notch and bring home that National Title that we so richly deserve. Hey, don’t cry, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere near any stinky feet, hardy har har.

Quickly, the photo on my splash page is a bad shot of the tollbooth on the A54 at St. Martin en Crau France. This strip of motorway shortens that long journey when driving between Spain and Italy. The main facade which faces south provides a stream of air to keep drivers cool on those hot afternoons through Van Gogh country. I believe the structures were designed by Parisian architect’s Beguin et Macchini. The gently sloping canopy practically lifts those Euros right out of your pocket!

Freaka-delic Flash boy Kikkoman kicks some ‘Ultraman’ ass. You’ll never look at ‘Soy Sauce’ quite the same way again. Then again, after reading text in a foreign language for an hour, I’m stumped when seeing the word Tomatoes on the menu at the deli…TOMA-TOES? What the hell is that, oh yea TOMATOES! Doh! Hot damn, I love English, head like a hole, it must be brain drain time, or the end of the week, that’s cool though, because it’s snowing and damn I look tough in my new ‘Red Wing’ boots. Happy to see ALDaily back up, your source for ideas, criticism, culture, debate, trends and breakthroughs. They do a good job of tempering some of the intellectual bilge with articles on the aesthete Proust, James Bond, and the ‘Upside of Stripping’. If hierarchal anarchy is your thing, Day-Pop is back as well, if you feel the need to track the latest. Currently, I am out of witty transitional phrases but here comes a jolt; cold rain and wet snow today, I’ll be in the studio tonight, working, Columbus to see the Bucks womp the Wildcats in typical Tressel fashion tomorrow, it won’t be pretty but hell, it’ll be a win over the damn dingle berries. Last night I was so zoned, in and out of consciousness on the bed with the hound, hey, did Will and Grace jump the shark or what? It’s still pretty damn funny and definitely has it’s moments. Thinking a trip to London, possibly next year, to see what my favorite Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson has done to the Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall. Meanwhile if you live in Brooklyn then you know the thrill? of transferring from the F train to the J train at Delancey. The subway doors open and there is a mad dash to the narrow connecting passage ala Steering Behaviors for Autonomous Characters, hey check it out, would I steer you wrong? Hee hee ‘steer’ damn that’s corny

Things I’m writing other than my THESIS…
Sports Drink, Sports Drink Flavor or Amusement Park Ride?
1. Sierra Twist
2. Riptide Rush
3. Cascade Crash
4. High Tide
5. Glacier Freeze
6. Scream
7. Propel
8. Arctic Shatter
9. Magnum XL 200
10.Main Stream
11.Green Squall
12.Caribbean Chaos
13.Hyddra-Maniac
14.Mountain Blast
15.Cytomax
16.Accelerade
17.GPush
18.Gold Rusher
19.White Lightening
20.Atom Smasher

Answers: Alright I have to quit having these Endorphin Highs, sources are Gatorade Coca-cola products, Powerade, Six Flags Nationwide and Cedar Point of Ohio. The following are rides- 1,6,9,10,12,13,18.

Please, do not look at this unless you are a real sicko and want to laugh your ass off: Jacko dangling baby incident, what the networks didn’t show you.

Your dichotomy is killing me or how to embarrass yourself daily parts one and part 2, soon to be retitled by studio executives, why my text-editor spell check is giving me an inferiority complex. Abso-friggin-lutley pristine afternoon, who’d a thunk Indian summer would last until late November. Glad I loaded the mountain bike onto the car early this morning, for one last muddy ride on the national park trails, and before it gets too cold to grip the handlebars. It’s just the damn wild turkeys that scare the bejesus out of me, they aren’t as bad as the buzzards though, yikes, that is one ugly looking bird. Now the embarrassing part, I’ve got ‘The Chronic’ loaded up on the iPod, lyrics so tough it’ll knock the good grammar right outta ya;

Fallin back on that ass, with a hellafied gangsta lean
Gettin funky on the mic like a old batch of collard greens
It’s the capital S, oh yes I’m fresh, N double-O P
D O double-G Y, D O double-G, ya see
Showin much flex when it’s time to wreck a mic
Pimpin hoes and clockin a grip like my name was Dolomite

Hell, I just need a break from the ‘indy‘ scene. I have a ‘plenty pack’ of PB & J and some Red Bull for fuel, going to pedal fast and beat the darkness and please, break me the hell out of work pronto. Seriously though, if you aren’t watching Michael Jackson dangle little light skin babies out of windows, you might want to check out something interesting, The NYTimes stand-off with Iraq site. Good for an excellent historical background on the U.S./Iraqi standoff, as well as breaking news, An excellent resource filled with archived articles from the end of the Gulf War in 1991 to the most recent U.S. patrols over the Iraqi no-fly zone. Interactive pop-ups with information and graphics explaining the U.N. inspectors’ methods, where Iraq’s weapons sites might be, and the country’s vast oil supplies. Read only if you need something other than black eyed peas and Nescafe oh yea…I’m off…

More new shit than you can shake a shitty stick at, Missy Misdemeanour Elliot in brand war with Queen Elizabeth and other such nonsense, read on read on read on…Not so much of a re-design as a refreshment of the site. A bit of newness, cleared out some excess code, organized the data, added some new graphics, rehabbed the bio, links, color and a new set of photos. I’m working again, painting actually, which has reawakened a love of color theory and the use of dissonant color marriages. I keep my 1940′s reprint of Paul Klee’s ‘Pedagogical Sketch-Book’ handy, a collection of his lectures from the Bauhaus. Klee imparts enough advice to save any visual artist from the default job of creatively arranging parsley around the meat at the grocery store. He deconstructs the basic building blocks of an image, the line, and progresses to moving onto proportion, structure, balance, gravity and ending on kinetic and chromatic energy within the image. How can the knowledge of our natural environment be imparted to the agents within an artistic system? The dude would have flipped over computers and rewritten every word of his lectures, but thanks Paul, you’ve already transcended all my ‘isms’. That said, poke around, the links page is being re-designed and updated for increased utility. I promise more daily yea yea yea blah blah blah…new ways of working and all that kind of crap. A high five to all my buds who popped me some mail during my absence, I’m working on popping you back! before I forget I need to get something out of the way:

Dear God, please let the BUCKS beat the piss out of Michigan, may the pork face demons go down, way down. Not only is the pride of Sir Brutus at stake, but a small amount of money riding on this, so um…bring papa home the bacon kay kay? I might even spend a little on Christmas gifts, wink wink

More Art, this time Kendell Geers’ site. He had the brilliant piece ‘Tears For Eros’ at the 2000 Carnegie International. The bastardized edited version of his work would be titled; ‘sensory overload’ or when good Feng Shui goes bad. In reality his work examines technological media as the dominant means of today’s global communication which is further reflected in his emphasis on the physical aspects of technology-tv monitors, VCRs, exposed cables, wires and various monitors.

When dumb ideas are well, just dumb. As promised Missy gets her freak on Queen Elizabeth…nuff’ said.

Slip into the autumn shade
I could sleep for days
But I like the sun when
I can hear another sound
It’s a long way down

Saturday all nervous energy, gym-time, shoulders; it wasn’t enough to do my workout once, I performed the whole damn routine twice, around again until I could no longer lift my arms above my head, I was feeling pumped and ornery. Unleashing releasing, leaving re-releasing, popping the clutch on my intensity, grinding the gears. I struggled in the locker room to remove my sweat soaked t-shirt, dorking about and spending an inordinate amount of time soaking under the stainless steel shower head. Washing off all that made my head spin mad, made my head rush and sputter, all that needed to be shoved down, shoved away and or spent, all that needed to be cleared out in order to fill back up. Afternoon sessions, on my own, a landscape by Anselm Kiefer, oxidation deterioration dissipation, Lot’s Wife. Shiny black top, the mist rises up from the sewers as the rain pours down, turning colder. I walk around the market freezing my ass off. Tangerines from the sexy middle-eastern boy who throws in extra and jabs a knife blade filled with pineapple my way, I’m startled by his long shy smile, a nod to something we both understand. I carry a giant cup of coffee, I can’t resist my vice, or is it weapon, against shoppers and tourists, I cannot say. The smells, the multiple languages feel like home, for this is the place of me and my father when I was young, all this that we used to share, propel my afternoon. I never noticed so many hip urban fags down this way, taking in the local color, for a minute I have to remind myself not to be so protective, me, who places a quarter on the bar for change, for anything that constantly evolves. I’m unusually wayward, in the pit, for that which does not destroy me, makes me stronger. It all makes you stronger, nothing can destroy you. But…I grew so very restless, and stumbled, I was sleepless and blank, I walked to the edge and jumped, I walked over the side and closed my eyes and fully expected to fall. St. Michael I cut the rip cord, St. Michael I removed the safety net, and cut away the halo, and cut away the horns.