Process and timewise

Headspace

I remember how the darkness doubled

I recall lightning struck itself

Months Away...

It seems that my absence has spanned many days, to be specific, back towards 

the end of February.  What a strange and terrifying reminder of 

the perpetuating tumor of idleness!  

Regardless.

catch y'all on the flip side.

It's TUESDAY

Recording a shit load of tracks lately.

New song almost out of the womb.

The labor pains are strong, and this song is kicking us all in the collective uterus every chance it gets what with random drum clicks, strange static we thought we erased, and general nonsense that comes with the territory of attempting to record a song in your living room.


But whatever.

It's.....OUTFIT TIME!

outfit details:

Ratty T-Shirt: thrifted from some amazing Goodwill Outlet store that charges you BY WEIGHT.  And it didn't even have lice!

High Waisty Shorts:  Alloy

Black Cardigan: some dollar store in Queens

Striped Tights: Target

Socks:  Mountain Hiking Socks

Shoes:  Boots from Santa

You can see this exact same picture on lookbook.nu when I decide to post it!  

What? Winter? Pssshh!

My Christmas List went largely ignored by the general public,  and most especially the public directly responsible for buying me presents.

Way to go, guys.

However, eff that.  The best present I could ever possibly ask for is that it is February, and February is mercifully short and has slowly been injecting light back into the world.  Oh, that's right February, I have been taking notice.  Your greatness has not escaped this bedraggled individual.

OH AND GOOD NEWS

Bed Lush has a new song!  It's called "Honey Thunder" and it's real fun to spin around really fast to!

http://www.myspace.com/bedlush

gogogo!

Christmas List 2010

It's so exciting to start a Christmas list with such a beautifully Sci-Fi year attached. 

2010 was so easy to say.  It's a shame the apocalypse didn't hit this year...future humans would have relished the ease with which the date and THE event of the century coincided.

Regardless.  

Humanity has not been reduced to ashes and scraggly things, so as far as I'm concerned, Santa Clause is still coming to town.  And this is what I want him to bring me.

 Gemma Slack.  Anything by Gemma Slack.  Even that amazingly terrifying Hannibal Lector face mask.  I'll wear it to the grocery store on a late night grab for soy milk, I swear it.

and

I'm a consumer.  

I'm sorry.

I'm also a murderer since I killed The Dude's computer, so we need a new one because as grateful as I am for this supplicant Eee PC...I've been spoiled by the lure of "Technology for Idiots" that Apple has so perfected and can't turn back now.  

Some form of a 60 key semi weighted MIDI controller keyboard so I can herald the gods down from their lofty encampments just beyond the reach of man into the faces of The Unworthy Mortals.  Even if it's my own face I'm flaunting this in front of.  Or the cats.

Either way...a must have.

 

A seven toed, gray Maine Coon kitten that I can dress up in various neck scarves and take outside and train to come when I call "Lucifer!"  I already had a dream about this cat so it's obvious to me that it is only a matter of time.

This list includes several other things, but I can't bring Lightning Hopkins back to life or stuff the entirety of Radiohead in my closet with all that other things I've got in there already, so maybe next year.

Moe

 

This is, in my opinion, an unsung hero.

While it is true that anyone worth their salt knows that Maureen Tucker is a pure genius, knows that her influence is what made The Velvet Underground the legendary band that it grew to be, that without that golden, driving heartbeat Lou and John could never have soared to Iconography Land...I still feel as though the wealth of talent that is Moe Tucker should be more of a household name.

Any kid that ever bangs on a plastic shelf of a high chair should do so with her face at the bottom of the baby food bowl.

Just to drive the point home.

We who are about to die, O Tyrant of the Tom Tom, O Sultan of the Snare, salute you.

Let Bygones be Winespills...

The inevitable has finally come to pass.

After years and years of good, solid use, of true moral fiber and utmost dignity, and the grace to allow me the ability to look up obscure things on The Internet whenever I so choose...the inevitable.

It is with great sadness and enormous guilt that I am forced to admit that gravity got in between my hand and the wine glass and the result was a short circuted MacBookPro and the potential loss of everything on it.

This.
Sucks.

Essentially, our entire life's progress was on that motherboard.  The beginnings of our musical interest which unfolded into a full scale artistic pursuit, all the photographs, all the writings...everything.  The worst part (and it truly is The Worst Part) is that this computer was not even mine.

NO, this computer, I am distressed to say, was The Dude's.

Luckily for me, The Dude often shows a great expanse of inner grace which he extends to my ridiculous existence time and time again.  In this case, he is being extremely forgiving and understanding instead of hotwiring the remains of the machine through my brain and projecting the information out of my eyeballs (which I may not forcefully resist, truth be told...)

syd

honey love you honey little honey funny sunny morning love you more funny love in the skyline baby i scream scuse me i seen you lookin good the other evening

 

please leave us here close our eyes for the octopus ride

oh where are you now pussywillow that smiled on this leaf

Blue Paint Series

This is the result if a 3 day long panic attack over an in-house paint job, yielding a madness induced photo shoot and, finally, a really awesome new room.

Eat your heart out, gen-pop.

Artwork

Inamorato

46" X 34"
canvas, red wine, acrylic

My latest painting.

The title is an Italian phrase used to describe the object of one's affection, in this case, the male whom you desire.

wink.

head space

New Post

It's been a long time.

As the war continues to rage upon itself in the crinkles of my brain cavities, somewhere a desire to return to the internet has made itself known.

And so, here I sit, armed with a delicious Bloody Mary, a pair of boxer shorts, and cat hair in my eye, writing my first post in months.

At some point, this entire endeavor became a source of discontent. My usual existential ponderings kept pulling me in the direction of constant judgment, a nagging suspicion that I wasn't living up to my full potential, that there were thoughts to be developed and diatribes to be composed, and here I was posting pictures of hot girls.

As most things do, it all became too frustrating. The source, of course, was merely the voices in my head. Of late, I have begun to see them for what they truly are, that the feeling of having bats swooping around inside of your skull are only half real, the other half are paper cut outs that cast eerie shadows.

In a triumphant return to this wasteland, I guess it only makes sense to pick up where I left off.

Yes.

This is Charlotte Kemp Muhl, girlfriend of Sean Lennon and the second half of band "Ghost of a Saber Toothed Tiger.

Miss Kemp Muhl is known for her spidery vocals, whimsical fashion sense, and being excessively attractive.

Clearly.

In addition to...

Let's see what this does...

This is something that Google gave me called "Feed Shark."
It is supposed to track my progress in the blogosphere...or something to that omniscient effect.

Ping blog

Body Shot

3.6.10

Spring has sprung.

Naysayers be damned.

And after that pitiful excuse for Summer '09, The Empire State is well deserving of a little bit of sunshine.

Keeping those hellish memories of last year in mind, Boyfriend and I decided to venture out into the slowly thawing universe that is Our Neighborhood in search of delicious dinner ingredients (Broccoli Rabe!) and the camera somehow managed to make its way into the game plan.

Here is what today looked like.


















So here's to the earth's miraculous turn back towards the sun, for longer days, shorter nights, and the excuse to be drunk all the time.

Here's to spring!