Monday, September 14, 2009

all eyes

We all seek some form of validation. Whether it's someone laughing at your dry jokes, your mom telling you she's proud of you, or a wink from a stranger.

Tonight at work I met a man, Earl, who considers himself an exhibitionist. I knew this man was special, (special is a euphemism for weird, kooky, etc.) when he immediately stated after I poured his coke that he quit drinking a year ago, cold turkey. He did it in a rather odd, rushed manner. Next thing I know he is showing me a flyer for the documentary short film he just screened, that was about him. I scanned the CUFF blurb and realized that Earl is into some kinky stuff.

I was very conscientious that he wanted a reaction from me, but quite frankly I've pretty much seen and heard it all. He was extremely enthusiastic and forward to share with me his penchant for getting
aroused whilst posing nude. I mentioned that when I was in college I did nude modeling for figure drawing classes, and I sketched models in art school. I understand that sometimes men just can't hide their excitement; and the next thing you know there's a very awkward perpendickular angle you must now incorporate into your sketch. I also mentioned a piece that Dash Snow did where he had several different men 'finish' on a huge canvas with the words, "How much talent does it really take to come on the New York Post, anyway?" He was unfamiliar with Dash Snow's work, and yet became visibly sad when I mentioned he died this summer. Earl really thought he could work with Dash Snow. Another topic I brought up with Earl was an article I read in the NYTimes about an orgasm commune in San Fran. Run by a slightly feminist woman helping women find peace, confidence, and pleasure in having at least one orgasm day.

Several times throughout the conversation Earl told me, "That's hot" or "Have you thought about posing nude again, but for a photographer?". No Earl, I have not thought about doing porn. Although I truly don't think he sees it as porn, more so artistic expression or just being naked and free. However, I'm sure he's just an old perv.

The other odd thing that comes with this already peculiar man is that he is a huge Bible banging Baptist. I suppose this isn't too much of a shocker, I feel as if I've read about a similar man or woman in a Dear Dan Savage article . The best/weird part was at the end of our conversation Earl gave me a hand written note that said,
" Earl Smith

I will spare the salacious end to the note, but he closed it all with a big puffy exclamation point.

Before leaving he asked one more time if I've thought about posing nude for a photographer. I said, "Earl, there was a time in my life when I needed existential validation for my body, but now I'm more open to/with myself and have less of a need to be open to others."

Never was I creeped out nor did I feel sorry for him. I think we all want attention.
Earl just wants it while he's naked.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

waiting away

hushed tones in an ear that used to belong to you. it's still familiar and you're fond, but possession is lost. whispering in that ear before meant a longing desire of some sort. now it's to inform or make a nervous joke/observation.
tide changing relations. the morph to friends and so on, you wait and wait til you can be comfortable. then when the moment arrives it seems so seamless and uneventful. former anxiety falls and ease sets in.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

clouds roll by

i've been attending more shows in the past month than i have in probably the past year.
this is good.
this is how it used to be, 2-3 shows a week on the regular. steamy, cramped house shows in some
one's kitchen or bedroom. woozy from the heat, sharing nods and glances/ interspersed with smiles and glee.

last night i had the pleasure of seeing silver pines. my knowledge of this band was solely based on one song, and that they hailed from austin.

no pretense on style or coordinating color palate, just simple slowness. my comparisons lean towards mazzy star with a wee bit of beach house, but you can decide for yourself.
with this sanguinly swealtering heat and syrupy steam, it forces me to choose still-quiet-languid songs. bill callahan being another show i've attended recently and a musician that falls into the aforementioned category.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

life is a blast when you know what you're doin...


reborn: journals and notebooks, 1947-1963

blue highways
scent of desire

summer i missed you. missed you so.

sin nombre, was a film that made me cover my eyes, clinch my teeth, and wipe away some tears. throughout i could almost smell the fear and desperation in the principles. one of the silent characters that resonated most with me (aside from the trains and scenery) were the the tattoos. thier integral role of identifying gangs, despite current adherence, remain a caustic mark.
reminded me of a tattoo artist that donated time and ink to cover up old gang tattoos to retired/former members.

during a quiet moment when the removal of a tattoo signifies the resignation of the main character's past- was poignancy at its best.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

wish i remembered to bring my camera to my dream last night

to do list

i am cuba (again)
the creak runs red
jeanne dielman
unknown passage: the dead moon story

go see:
new modern wing

get out of town

Thursday, April 30, 2009

poppy-petalled metaphysics

recently my rad and talented buddy, stiff bequeathed a blog to me that posts old 7"s that t-totally hark back to my youths.
not really into them now, but this ep/album was pretty much on heavy rotation when i was 19.

in other news, remember this lady?
well she's all grown up and got herself an MFA!!! super proud of her!!! and her work is totally majestical. seeeeeee:

Sunday, March 15, 2009


i recall my mom reading to me, at a rather young age 'the raven'. i've always appreciated her insistence to include culture in a multitude of mediums in my upbringing.
that is why when i was watching this and heard this poem by poe it perked my ears and warmed my heart.


Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.


Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! -how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!


Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now -now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!


Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people -ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells,
Of the bells -
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.