Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Curious tapping

Making my hands, making my hands, making my hands, making my hands, making my hands...

More polemics, perhaps.

Am grateful for the opportunity I s'pose. Been a haphazard luxury to commit the hands to feelers to push, mush, crush wooden templates onto paper. This is what I do. In some sorts... dome and home... I want to convey sorrow for the passing of my dear lovely cat in all of this; alas the spiritus of up/down/to/fro freezes the head and well? shitfire if I'm not staying busy as a precedent of deeper avoidance. All that aside...

A picture and puncture.
Have it merry and hairy.
I haven't washed in days.
The door's unlocked, however.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Monday, December 21, 2009

... froms the sum=/ber

Ah, my finger digits. A digital tour (as it were) of Tabor, Czech Republic, from the summer of our lady '09. 
I apologize for the compression on this one, although it looks perty snazzy on a mobile device without too much muck-a-lugging. At any rate, from the summer: I spent the better chunk of my fishiness, gloaming and glopping about in Tabor, at the CESTA art residency. This here picture assemblage is a wee vista as to the many in's and out's, up's and down's. Good gravy! And e-special thanks to George Cremaschi, whom also features in this video. Good man, great coordinator, and one bad ass mustache.

Thursday, December 17, 2009


Alright. As a perfectly silly dweeb, I've taken to some perfectly silly methods to process the price of life being nearly always on its head. Here is a rendering of what computer dictation does on my perfectly silly smartphone. It reads like spam mail, sure; but to some of us, spam reads like poetry.

Well the good Glenwood have their own with Boston from Jerry would
doing the next bay what would you know that a good Cheyenne would have
their own decks take states with low winds today was a dumb well you
know process of building mess most recent Albona you my added features
is good three whatever good women other fun things with rubber I
brought my gut on flopping statements intended to be a well it was fine

(dot dot dot)

(eyes used for tooth support)

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

and a quick vis-a-vis mit Ralph-son

Tried to upload this piece yesters... will see if  such do's it plural and not plutocratic (the Interweb can be so fickle). 

Re: video.
Ralph has some grand hiddens amongst his tucked house in a seemingly stoic neighborway stashed along the western hillocks of Virginia. I won't tell you where-where, although a simple sleuth would  be able to deduce. At any rate, his abode is a cleanly face with some awesome deposits, relics, and fur-pieces. Most sculptors should be so bold! In addition to this, is his graciousness, friendliness, and obvious humorous outlook, lending to the beginning of what would turn out to be an absolutely wonderful journey down south. 
Great gentleman. 
Grand time. 
Brilliant artist.

on oops'ing poops, clouts, gouts, and lisp reading

Maddening flights.
Shoulda' seen the wind today. Dunnae on the pic of ol' inflata-babel... seemed to serve a good brine to echo the storm of beach splash and such out at the ol' Mitchie field, down the neck from the Big Boy Farm. 
Not a day for paratrooping. 
Good dang dangle op for some wicked recordings however. Have contact mic, will traverse into forty mile an hour windsweeper-frontal (about face) westerly, aiiiii yi. 
Do good done.
Now go be mobile again.

Monday, December 14, 2009

'pon the return, my fare ladle

Long little spate and spat spitteningly graced the plovers and legs of bitterns and such; now we were back, and all at once, everything had changed. I haven't been to the beach yet-- too many colleges letting out, festivus celebrations inebriating one quite celibate, and rifles all about: damn snow! Return, return. Back to the former and dormer window red wince grin bellow scratch heft sand lisp limply stretch (again) with echoes of the sadness, spoken in France, mispoken here, understood elsewhere, and scribbled down into recipes that only a dietician or nutritionist or ouest/rian would spare a glimpse to glamor ready sects nuances relish that there day, that there dia, them's there lunes. The rabbit-headed boys and bonus girlfriend click-boxes (sign here:____________), they were on that reach, long armed brine, callous and luxuriant, brimmed and rhymed with fortitude clasps and the cough of carbon plunder. Often I was made out to be a made man, left for guilty or minus the candor, reeling from slow-over sifted, handsomely wah-wah'd, and bereft of clefts, chins more closely studied, coveted in a pelt and hair quite satisfactory. Oiled in the pins, however. Fattened tusks and sing's end song, pushed in between folds and hidden ready-to-leap with appeals' pallor and heaven-heavy bread-handed. All a riff in the end, and probably well suited to the task, no matter how clearly hidden the job might be under less subtle occasional frequent forays to minor wet humid calendar dearing sported frocks and fables, ables retina or patina wedging tight fits of frantic and ocean front angel diminishing.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

pooling and pludd vatches and jim leftwich's blog

Cheggout Jim Leftwich's stuff! He does a meaty little flux-bloog here on the otherwise pale pasty pate of the usual interweb.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Monday, December 7, 2009

bite sized amaze

There's a real-men-love-Jesus bumpersticker that doesn't want me to pass him. Route 421 is a low gear winding drive down to Sanford, North Carolina which, eventually turns right onto 87, and thereafter Fayetteville.
"you're going THERE?" (my lefty friends chime)
"you're going THERE?" (my lefty friends chimed when I said I was heading below New England, and not just New York, but Mason-Dixon)
Seems there's more exotic shock value to traversing here than when I was in say, Tábor, Czech Republic this past August. Funny lefties; not terribly open minded.
But the Jesus stickered truck on the state highway is a shoe-in for a Southerly trek. And my Darwin fish trunk ornament prob'ly suggests something combative (open mindedness aside); especially for the feisty little Toyota Echo that I drive. At any rate...
The tour is over.
I finished in Fayetteville, North Carolina last night, on the bidding and invitation of Greg and Woodie, two potters (one of which is my brother), who figured this would be a real coup for a conservative town (for those who don't know, this place is home to Fort Bragg)... and all coups aside, the show probably was my most assertive, direct, "formal", and thusly, FUN. Sure, there wasn't the blaze and glory of high volume distortion for an hour---but I don't hate mankind, see? Heh. And what spelled different for this night, spelled the difference for ALL the nights on this tour: the crowds here could really show us Northerners a thing or two. On open mindedness. On a whole slew of other things, too. If anything, I've fallen hard for this place and plan to return.
The pic is from outside Greg's gallery. I unleashed Lady Liberty (or Gliberty, if you must know, as I am a proud card carrying Gliberal)... folks hooted and hollered and hurrah'd her inflation. And yes, like liberty and my silly show that more often than not, secretly smiles and makes soft pokes at the paradigms, she rose, toppled, wobbled, and let her air out. We'll let the whole thing rest with her big salmon grin-- like I said, the tour's over!

And this picture is for extra shits and giggles for all my dingbat lefty friends. This is from the hold-out room when in the forseeable future, aka, the Zombie Armageddon arrives... this is where you'll wanna hide. My brudda, Woodie, is an avid collector of Enfields and Mausers and other sorts of heavy caliber rifle from the turn of the century. The big Q is, if you're dumb enough to break into this house, it's not, are you going to get shot, it's what caliber? What year was the rifle made? How many rounds in the magazine? What model, make, and country of origin was the rifle manufactured? Haha.
The South rules!

And as a last note, this snap is from Carrboro.
We here noise artists, when option arrives, have our own formula for calibers, and so it was a nice little moment of C O O L (!) when these fat slugs all got hogtied into one massive daisy chain. You shoulda' heard Scotty (Clang Quartet) baptize the crowd with his initiating set. Tremendous!

Sunday, December 6, 2009

nope nope yep yep yep

Don't trust this man

Don't list your concepts

Don't forget to right

Saturday, December 5, 2009

on account of not knowing hu

Well and
Well and

In my lower cases.
It's another rain in North Carolina... feel it in my legs and the woosh of wheels outside in passing traffic. Snow, too (they say). The mush of December indiscriminate whisker and cotton-eyed texting this while's all of the you's/other's snooze. Carolina? Yeah. It's been nothing shy of riches. Or maybe I've just been feeling brave. Old wubbly fingers and 5-O's showing up; 4 eyes 6 eyes 8 eyes and that ridiculous spinning gen gen gennies and getting hell for it from very cool people. Carrboro or Richmond or Roanoke or Greensboro. Guitars and the drone of a lingering E minor to take out the sips and tubes and squAwks and mildly leaving a smudge (don't take too too long); it's funny what the hell makes you strong. I'm not leaving or actively pursuing a trail this time though-- you should see the hard drive already. Besides, quantity is what it is: collective minutae. Say it---- "beh".

As it goes
And goes
I'm playing and playing and playing again. Leaving puddles even in this rain.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Below: Sam's father's vagina birdhouse. Greensboro, NC

Thursday, December 3, 2009

midst and mires

At the end of the night all the clicks go out and you're left with the slight salt and wince of ammonia socks, the gentle wubble of heaters in states that shouldn't need them combines with the orange green lamps and other more pressing concerns: bed, odd shapes, odder smells (than feet), drawling drawn dialects, happy? Twice I hear it ("this is the NEW south"). Or seven performance scores for a dog named Shu- Shu. Or white knuckles. Waffle Houses. Maya. Triple. Water Heater. Carry on carry on. Get them to moan, ohm, and stomp. Here is Ralph:

(eyes used for tooth support)

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

rrrrrrichmond and eye

Do it well and sweaty wet wheatened and wry.

Aaah the crossover into the South.
I'm burping out a microtour, tapping during a spate of insomnia. Sleeplessness is a common twin: strange lands and beds combining acts for short bursts of lid closure and long bouts of monkey brain. Oh it's not that bad, actually-- the long trek down to DC the previous day prob'ly had something to do with the molecules not lining up--- lots of mileage and wrinkly eyes staring between wiper blades and tolls.
Tour you say?
Just a wee one, and an excuse to visit my hermano in North Carolina. Or maybe that's vice versa? Heh.
Primal thoughts on last night's affair--- first shows are never quite as I'd expect: there's the synthesis of where things should fit, like props and puns; then there's the electronics and where all that shit flies; lastly there's the sudden realization that I'm playing a show--- and that no amount of preparation and prop application will work unless I decide to leap. So it was a leap, a good one, once the cogs worked loose. But more important was the larger leap I felt of simply getting out a certain headspace to come down here. December isn't a conducive or perhaps ideal travel month-- the light sucks, I wanna curl up and stay home, playing bad guitar for my cat, and admire the bleak grey with silly existential malarky while sipping craggy black caffeinated stuff. Why leave that?
Hee hee.
A last minute dash maybe, before the snow flies. And it feels like a race!
And so, yes, shows. More to follow, too. I'm plopping out and expunging some old ideas I've had over the years, mixing em with newer tricks, and seeing where it all lands. It's all new though; that I realize. Just being present and engaged sorta unlocks the gates, and all ideas (past or present) come to the surface as one explosion improv.
As a tangent, I'll leave with this picture. Now and again I get to witness some fantastic stuff in between shows, miles, and bouts of flappy fish outa water'ness. Yesterday also featured a penny tour of our nation's monuments with an old pal of mine who works for NOAA. A little bit of Abe for your day!

(eyes used for tooth support)