By pressing down the special key, it plays a little melody…no excuses, I’m hacking away at some projects that are taking up my time, right here, right now. I’ll get back to something regular soon, it is astute of you however, to ascertain that certain priorities are an impediment to regular posts, giant steps, almost to the finish line (see endnotes, footnotes whatever the fuck they’re called). And, despite reading Gore Vidal’s latest book, I’m not making a ‘hegira’ out of the U.S. see, ‘The Worlds A Mess It’s In My Kiss’.

I’ll be on job interviews and a little vacation until the end of the week, back Thursday or Friday, enjoy!

They say he was in a band called the ‘Face Fuckers’, but that was long ago. Today he wears a skinny tie like a noose around his neck. In his honor I trashed the office and pulled all the fire alarms in the building, running around screaming and laughing, it was all whirlwind flash and fire. Within a week I hit New York, standing in the lobby of the Hotel Edison, that boy, Johnny looked at me, it struck a chord.

The new issue of Art Forum is out on the news stand. It’s a spectacular 40th Anniversary edition that looks at the disparate voices and critical models of the first half of the 1980s. David Rimanelli expertly lays out his initial 80s time capsule that begins with Fassbinder’s ‘Berlin Alexanderplatz’ and ends with 1985′s ‘Wigstock’. Amazing essays by and with people who surely inspired me to create art, Glenn O’Brien; ’1981: New York New Wave’, Diedrich Diederichsen’s examination of ’1981: Scritti Politti’s Jacques Derrida’, a Nan Goldin interview, Cindy Sherman interview and so much more. A must buy!

If you are in London between March 22 and May 26, 2003. Stop by the Lisson Gallery (52-54 Bell Street, London, NW1 5DA) they will be hosting ‘bewitched, bothered and bewildered, spatial emotion in contemporary art (group show) featuring my favorite twin video artists, Jane & Louise Wilson, as well as Anish Kapoor and James Casebere. This promises to be a ‘honey’ of a show. The Wilson sisters always serve up something interesting in the video department.

I love Johan Holm’s photographs, He is so vastly underrated.

Blow your load on a love explosion, listen to some sexy electro non static dance from Kid Goesting’s queer electronic night @ Club Mazzo, Amsterdam. More mix voor divine from the Dutch broadcasting corporation VPRO.

You decide what this means, miniature parking spots, and a seizure inducing online Industorious Clock.

More than just another superlative-infused press release, Art Krush presents an innovative approach to the visual arts via the written word. In print between 1986-1996, M/E/A/N/I/N/G combined the immediacy of artists’ voices with real critical engagement. M/E/A/N/I/N/G Online pursues this very same mission, available now to a new generation of artists, instantly, globally, 24/7, from ArtKrush.

It’s the edgy shit that needs to go into my work, but a ‘Jackhammer Jesus’ dildo? Jesus Fucking Christ is right! You’re going straight to hell with this 10″ ‘Glow-in-the-Dark’ replica of the crucifixion. More Jesus? You bet, Jesus is always with you.

Has the ‘macho man’ really bitten the dust, replaced by something just as tough inside but softer at the edges, are you a metrosexual? Up marketed? Tracked down by a Cool Hunter? What’s the old adage, I don’t want to be a member of a club that will have me as a member?

TROPHIES OF THE COOLHUNT

What do the experts see as the next big things? A few cultural trends on the horizon:
1. “Mediapeds”: 24/7 online interconnectivity through mobile phones and the coming text messaging boom.
2. ’70s sleaze: Vintage porn culture inspires fashion.
3. Expanding continuum of sexual identity: Anything goes, from masculine/feminine extremes to a neutral middle ground (wispy boys/aggressive girls).
4. Neotraditionalism and cocooning for uncertain times: Stay-at-home moms, gardening, arts and crafts, scrapbooking.

Sic transit gloria mundi moments pass. Filtered light at exactly 4:35 p.m. Regular coffee in a ‘to-go’ cup, through the foggy windows of the bookstore the snow looks like melting paraffin. My tiny ‘put put’ golfing pencil has worn down to a nubbins, my notebook is shredding. I realize that my life is the opposite of bucolic, whatever the opposite of bucolic would be, that word that would provide a distinct and perfect contrast. I see you’re off browsing through the CDs as I blow through a second Latte in the ‘filler-up’ caffeine kiosk. Shit, their Chai completely sucks here, that’s what I really wanted, Chai, the delicious fancy variety made with bitter black tea and spice, hell I guess that’s my tough luck. I draw a little cup of Chai in my notebook, noting the steam. Dearest Diary/Blog, I kicked some ass yesterday, bringing life down like an axe and splitting up a few mighty molecules. Chalked up, belted in, an ample 2 day scruff drawing my mouth and jawline, sufficiently torqued, testosterone fueled wise guy, warrior ready to mow down the regular joes in a little Bench Press Contest. I’m no giant at 5’6″, but it was for charity, and a nice introduction to power-lifting, hell, why not! Entrance fees went to the Police Athletic League, I know, I’m getting a hard-on myself, it wasn’t all ‘that’ though, alot of fat guys named Steve, who looked like they’ve spent way too much time hiding from the boss in the Port-o-San. Trust me when I tell you there were enough beefy Daddies and juiced up muscle boys to satisfy any healthy homosexual. I maxed out of the competition at 315 pounds, nearly gagging on my wad of double-mint, placing a respectable 12th out of 60 men in my weight class. My poundage wasn’t good enough to qualify for the finals, but the consolation t-shirt is quite a handsome souvenir and it was great fun. Later on, my buddies treated me to a special red meat carnivore delight dinner at Dave & Buster’s. Yes, I know it’s a chain restaurant but damn, after dinner you can blow off some major steam in the ‘Million Dollar Midway’ where a mind boggling array of video and virtual reality games await sensory overload. I’ve already blocked out the surreal image of 5 and 6 year old children brandishing plastic pistols for a kill down in the sniper games. Who said this country isn’t ready for war? Shit, I made a really horrible virtual Cop, but won a nice stuffed animal for my video boxing skills. Woo Hoo! Exhausted, not looking forward to Monday.

Tomorrow is my first powerlifting contest, if I can get my bench going I’ll definitely place and qualify for the finals on Sunday, wish me luck. If your gym going is ‘going’ but really ‘isn’t', try this one of a kind workout from ‘Mens Fitness’ that will build out your V shape. Be sure to avoid these weight training mistakes, guilty as charged on at least two counts.

Throw out that poly-yesterday, tomorrow land is calling you direct, mate your Mac with your cell phone and turn it all on. If you love art interface, then David Small loves you too. His firm is responsible for some of the most innovative museum design/info kiosk i-design/e-apparatus or to quote Metropolis Mag; ‘beguilingly poetic interfaces that hide the machinations of computers.’

Tid-Bits: Something I am going to write about next week has me staring at my ‘Go-Go’s’ signed picture sleeve. Belinda Carlisle was once one Dottie Danger, then again, Dottie was nothin’ without Lorna Doom, if you know what I mean? Yep, you’re right, that is onetime Robert Mapplethorpe model Robert Sherman a.k.a. Constance in the Christina Aguilera video.

I’m trouble with a pop-o-matic penis, I’m a catholic fag at the religious take-away. Drive through service for ashing of foreheads, marked with an X on this day after ‘Fat Tuesday’. Fog and precipitation hurl us toward a record breaking 100 inches of snow for the season. A long lunch and the luxury of having my hair buzzed way down at the barbershop. Maxim magazines aside, I enjoy chatting with my barber, a former Marine and amateur comedian. I pay the extra money for a hot towel, steam rising from my scruff, fogging the nearby mirrors. Warm lather is slathered all my chin as he attacks with a rather menacing looking straight razor. The glint catches my eye as he swipes expertly at my stubble, the smell of ‘chew’ and ‘pernod’ permeates the ritual. He gruffly slaps my face with a handful of aftershave that awakens me from my pampering. Gingerly he finishes me up, I again feel smart, and resurrected from a bullish week of week. He cleans my glasses, straightens my tie, I shy away from the elaborate grooming, but adore it as well. I can hear the chatting of the various customers in the barbershop. I’m surprised, the lack of God damn, almost no talk of women in this world of ‘men only’. A secret society in which gay or straight we communicate with each other in subtle quiet ways.

Yet somehow, in the present crisis, American democracy has let itself be represented as American despotism. Some in the European antiwar movement see the whole bundle of American values�consumer capitalism, a free market for information, an open electoral system�as having been imposed rather than chosen. Harold Pinter told peace marchers in London two weeks ago that the United States was a �monster out of control.� And while representatives of the Iraqi exile community in Britain narrated stories of the atrocities their families had endured at the hands of Saddam Hussein, banners in Hyde Park equated the Stars and Stripes with the swastika. More on this idea of ‘Ameriphobia’ from the New Yorker Magazine.

Miss Electronica informs me ‘do not hang up, your call will be answered in the order it has been received.’ Then again, who is she to tell me what to do, please pause for the golden age of the wireless. Silence, ‘flash forward’ to things I will tell you in covert ways, things that will bring you closer to understanding all this ephemera. True, I am seriously behind on e-mail, reading, work, printmaking, art making, writing, linking, laundry, thinking…everything, and I can’t seem to figure out where the balancing act teetered out of control, where did my ‘Walenda’ go wonky? Could it be the 20 minutes I wasted watching the ‘feral children of ‘Fear Factor’ eat bowls of maggots? Perhaps it was the few minutes I spent drooling (slightly) over the hot ‘son’ on ‘Meet My Folks’… argh! I suppose items add up, blah…bam and I want to hold a giant fucking ax and hit the destroy button today, routine and monotony, they drag me down. Since the switch has tripped the breaker on the back of my brain, I give to you, not a lengthy paragraph, but a listing of those things common and uncommon. Press Start Now…

1. Your free gift includes the hit House of Jealous Lovers by my favorite band ‘The Rapture’ Fuck art, let’s dance.

2. Bollywood song stylings from Panjabi MC. Catchy and topping the charts in the UK.

3. Giant sheets of ice keep sliding off the roof of the ‘new’ Frank Gehry building at C.W.R.U, endangering students and causing school officials to close off the surrounding sidewalks.

4. Free Live XXX Jock-Strap Action from Mardi Gras via AudBlog, pics babe, pics!

5. So like the emperor Augustus Semper Festina Lente or ‘always speed forward deliberately.

6. The Cleveland Museum of Art, anticipating their Vinoly expansion, pick up 5 giant Charles Meynier paintings. Now if we can just get them to curate something after 1970.

7. A. I like to argue B. I think I could argue this one, no problem C. I find this article funny. D. You spit on me, I’ll go all Hulk Hogan on your ass.

8. You sold out for milk!

9. I can’t tear myself away.

10. From Wired News: ‘That is the question. But if you think Shakespeare is a tough read, try taking on Hamlet in text message shorthand. We bring this up because of a 13-year-old Scottish girl who, asked to turn in an essay on what she did over her summer holidays, responded: “My smmr hols wr CWOT. B4, we used 2go2 NY 2C my bro, his GF & thr 3 :- kids FTF. ILNY, it’s a gr8 plc.” What the wee lassie was saying was this: “My summer holidays were a complete waste of time. Before, we used to go to New York to see my brother, his girlfriend and their three screaming kids face to face. I love New York. It’s a great place.” But it was her jawdropping explanation of why she wrote her essay that way that stunned the teacher: It was easier, she said, to write in shorthand than in standard English. That should send a shiver up anyone’s kilt.

10.5. Man, I have to get some work done!