24 July 2011

dearest schu

i have a crush on a bartender at this bar schu and i went to. frankel wasn't impressed but he has high standards. schu's ponytail was honey. the lesbian bartender earlier, on vanderbilt, read aloud to us from a piece of paper she hadn't memorized yet. i asked the girl in front of me in line outside the bathroom if the girl inside the stall was her sister. "she's my sister. and my girlfriend," she said. really though, i could have sworn they shared the same code. it's hot outside.

2 bodega cats, 1 hipster dog

fucking hipsters. this is antonio with our bodega cat! he was putting stickers on her head when i arrived. antonio works 6 days per week from about 730 to 730.

babes hot

it was 102 in the city yesterday. this means that you sleep on the floor because your sheets are hot or you purchase an air conditioner. i choose the former, if only because i remember this past christmas's snow fall. the 'white stuff,' he said. so i choose the hardwood floor. it also means that you only eat watermelon all day and also coconut water. chloe had 2 liters. i had one liter, each glass over 5-6 ice cubs. at 8 you can finally eat, and maybe you do so with a beer. that beer in a heat like yesterday's is equivalent to 4 pints in the winter; and so it produces the following faces...this week chloe moved into a 1-bedroom, our friend recovered from surgery, i saw dearest schupak, i had an altercation with a close friend that has not yet resolved itself, and i thought about what ERB has been saying to me during our visits. it's about the shape of things, an ingenious way of asking a stubborn person like myself what an alternative looks like...what does "it look like" to be ___ ? what would "it look like" to ___? it's ingenious. and on my bike riding around in 100 degree weather this week, i have felt massive shifts, to the day, to the minute (*WE TAKE NOTES*), the kind of shifts you imagine happening when you hear of mercury finally entering your 5th house (the door has been unlocked all this time, i thought), etc. etc. etc., i envision the shape of things, i sketch it in my mind and with my body and with my presence and in my interactions...and i color it in, and begin to fill out its shape. it looks not like an object, but like something more mercurial, decisively. positively mercurial.

photo by ms. brazil 2011


my intern on whom i focus before i execute what i hope to be this thing called 'miss quintero.' sarita and i are checking over my fotos and both acknowledge focusing is not easy with the razor sharp piece of equipment i have been using. my intern and i don't look UNalike, is what i'm thinking. anyway, i know the korean family at enla is enjoying scanning my photos. christ.

23 July 2011

broadway, 26 (full bulb)

hojas/difference (flushing)

i had this idea in those 2 hours riding to rockaway beach in bright neon yellow...the fields/groves (?) on the way out to rockaway along the highway underneath the planes are the definition of hunter green. no variety, just solid green turtlenecks in hunter green (LLBean)...i thought that i would bike back and paint leaves to go along with my remixed flowers. when i was a child orange and green was my least favorite color combination.

22 July 2011

camilo + marina, circa 1957

© Professor Curmudgeon / Captain Cantankerous

fortuna friday

© p. marlow
today we have a friend in the hospital being tended to by trained professionals...this is good because we need this person and all of his body parts to be here with all of us on this dirty soiled humid dusty moist tragic comedic wide repugnant fragrant terrain we like to call nuestra tierra. there are many worlds (we've created) but this is the one that matters most. carpe denim, capezio diem, etc...it matters most because this is the spot to which we all congregate, gathering around the same clock, in the same backyard, eating off the same dish - get it? it's important that this young man stay on this planet for at least another 60+ years. because just, yes, and because he needs to and will be a wonderful father some day...i know this because of his internal tickings, the way he moves and the way he provides, the way he would probably mow a lawn is the way he probably does everything - thoroughly, lovingly. he has a wonderful, fuzzy chest that is the perfect height for embracing, the perfect width for laying upon, the perfect temperature and mood for calming newborns, etc. you know this is the place to be and you know these long arms around you are the type of arms that erase whatever's out there. you get lost for just a second and you envy his kids-to-be, and get why the lively petite one has rested there for so long...you don't wish for this chest until you've had spaghetti embraces, from people with more words but less power, and then! you begin to long for the hold from this unassuming barrel chested, native american dreamcatcher motherfucker who keeps it calm and quiet, and soothing like some loop of whale songs from leagues away, bee bopping underwater like, notes from the bottom of the sea...in the end that's all you heard in those embraces by the front door - ear to chest to this heart beat, steady and deep and on loop, on loop, on loop, on loop.

broadway, 26 (sherri after church)

18 July 2011

for me

more bad luck (times 3)

bring it. que cosa, "el destino"?


new york titty (permavacay)

shout-outs to baby bird © chloe champagne

chlover crimson, chlover washington, baby bird, mama bear, cole chapman, whateeeeeever: SBW.

© cat glennon

17 July 2011

sarita / saharita

mad curls, mad appetites, mad povs, mad, mad, mad wonderful everything.

cosas que me gustan del www, #24

© max marshall

kate wood goode

shiny shit (just a little)

mirrors frames windows

iris swimming in lilac

broadway, 23 (gutted)

sarita's rollei

this motherfucker was looking ATME. like AT me. this is like taking a photo of pablito's brush, or charlie's horn, monks' keys? no? i feel that way.

15 July 2011

14 July 2011

13 July 2011

another day made possible by the one and only (c. 1998)

tudie. le sigh, le phew, le why, le meow. i have a photo of tater's wedding dress and i'm dying. she is a perfect hourglass (I AM RIGHT). elegance. made even KB cry, and that's no easy feet. pheate. pheat. feat: being my bosom buddy. it's like i need a shot to the spinal column, brain jolt, or to the heart, with those chest zappers like in films and TV where the actors go "CLEAR!!!" and then the patient jumps in the air with shock, like a cow on the fence after sticking her wet nose through the metal just tryna get to that sweet patch of berries...CLEAR!!!!! she has the combination to all of my padlocks; there seems to be a few.

behind us is el Cap; i get the feeling you've seen this photo before. do tell...the valley we are in i have not been to since 2001. this rock is still there, although perhaps i have chipped away at it a bit. now it is in the shape of a swan? shut up. the best from this roll is one of tudie caught skipping. glee. before the show.

my god how alarmist

Is It Over?

Answers - if titles matter to you :-)

12 July 2011

broadway, 22 (cleveland)

young g. anzaldo (when your eyes are closed, i hope i'm the man you see)

Young G.1.28 - 2.18. when jackie and i were taking dance classes religiously in 2004 and 5 and 6 there was this kid like 16 or 17 years old. this was him. he was a beast, and i told him as such at the end of some show where he was the only thing you could watch on stage. it's like mj being surrounded by an amazing cast of professional dancers but it doesn't matter, it's only him you're able to look at - it's only stars that pull your gaze. honestly, like there was no other star in the big black sky. he's coming into his prime now, like 22 or something. he's like the boy equivalent of grandmothers who never leave the house without their coiffe and makeup, tights and shoes on. this kid was coiffed - tight from brow to tennis tips. meticulous. you can see that in the way he moves - sharp, nothing extra, to the point. every hit is exact. every moment curated; there is no in between. yes, i would say curated...

#29, #54, #88, #94

i like the way this was written. How To Say I Love You, by Paul Ford.

11 July 2011

s. mostyn (the three of hearts)

he went to norway. and then zimbabwe. i have similar questions. his photos are subtle but substantial.S. Mostyn.

peacock (s. murakami)

in other news, one of my favorite choreographers from BDC, sheryl murakami, has a whole piece to "peacock," a retarded song (retarded), floating around the web, featuring some of my favorite dancers from bdc. above dexter carr - only kid who could wear turquoise doc martens in summer time. he is a beautiful gumby, and rarely smiles when performing. thank you... they're young, OUT, talented, charmed, and allowed to dance to whatever fucking katy perry song they want to. this piece of hers is so exemplary of her choreography in its thrashy, slutty, overt nature...its bigness! of elbows and hips and walks. she owns everything about herself, from how she dresses to what she says to how she moves. at bdc she has hoards of followers hanging on her every affect, her every attitude, every word slightly left of normal. i know they repeat what she says at school. there is a "way" about this population of young dancers that i've been meaning to write about. it spans from sf to nyc. later. the first class i took with her at bdc she paused, and while walking from right stage to left she said to the class, "now get it right or i'm gonna slap your vag...."

happening. 45th and 8th avenue, every day. i am so envious of these kids. like, envious...