31 August 2011

ol' four eyes (© Michele Abeles)

© Michele Abeles, trick is crazy! in the way you want to be...etc. etc. etc...on sunday i was walking in the wake of irene with katrina (pause) and tiny k. we stopped to stare at this guy walking two dogs, one black and one very very very very white, with poofy hair, and huge great dane proportions. she was hypnotizing and electrifying - like a cotton ball with personality, or an 8-ball of peruvian coke with eyes. anyway, the owner caught us staring, and shook his head adamantly telling us not to call her over because she wasn't friendly. just looking, just looking, we said...but i guess it's true, if you just look you don't run the risk of anything, including breaking, or buying.

30 August 2011

swan/cygnets (c. maya daniels)

© maja daniels, from a collection of photos entitled "christiania." the red head twins she photographs remind me of jenya's females, but less fantastical. "cygnets" is quite a word, ditto the shape of their necks quite a shape. supposedly swans mate for life, slash adhere to something modeling monogamy.

ms. quintero, III

tater singing pretty with john

videohere is a privileged p.o.v., one i miss, from about 1997-2007.

29 August 2011

the shower at the trailer, santa cruz


obstructed view of gg bridge from pov borjita (the marina, sf)

fortuna


i've been going to psychics, and while the photographs are crap (a huge orange candle, huge red curtains made of carpet) their statements are not. i don't know what it means (it doesn't) but i'm fanning the fires and taking notes and drawing my life lines in with marker and photographing that/it/me. this woman is stationed in santa cruz, california. tater and i came here a few days before the wedding. i can't remember what my fortune said; it never matters, does it.

self publish be borja (SP/BB)

9/13/11 - last night there was a full moon, there was a full moon and all of it was in pisces. chloe and i saw it together from sterling and park place, off of franklin. it was warm yellow, like an off-white candle. i lay on the hardwood floor, admiring her handy work around the new apartment! we read, ate, drank, i rode, showered, slept. self publish be scrappy . this blog sees a few things, peoples, opens its arms to a lot of 'types' (there is no one type that is the beauty!) and to tater i say you are right, it is a field with no finite spaces...she did not win over my loss! goddamn, tater...sometimes i feel like a stray cat who found a home at 30 sometimes like i had a home just once sometimes like i saw my home off on a plane sometimes like this is home itself and so in that respect i guess you could call me a landscape photographer. actually, don't call me anything, just from the airport if you need to. somebody was born today i'm not sure who, though...i know i'm missing sommmmmmmmmmeone...que si, que si! y a veces, que no.

close (like LA to NY)

best house guest i ever had, females make me anxious, i guess. 4th time around, like bob dylan said. he also said obviously 5 believers, a whole bunch'a shit in don't think 2wice (all of it poignant) and in sooner or later (one of us must know) some more fairly fair fare-thee-wells, and in pledging my time he had some pov's...in sum: same dude different phases. same dude different moons, same dude different moods, same dude different typhoons, same dude different duds, same dude different planes/planes, same dude different deal...if breezy quits it all, some day, i will trudge to the top of the mountain and see him sitting there being a fake-bald man, holding still that 4% siberian face. he is either a master zen or just quietly thinking about the pizza in new york and the streets and the black jackets and the bite and the cold...new york new york not sinatra's but another kind of grey. if i had to compromise my life i'd be real bad at it, really really bad...but if i suppose if a hector of troy was involved, i might consider living in LA, too.

matty on abe

© matty has been away all month. not good for me but maybe good for him. things affected by matt: my diet, my pop intake, general relaxation practices, general well being, degree of hatorade stored up, my ego, etc.

things we say on the www means nothing or something





27 August 2011

for my wonderful friend sarita (everyone g.f.y.)

bite like a rottweiler, demeanor like grace kelly. i would say to her that on those afternoons where i write her things that hint at the pathetic: i know she catches it, mulls it, prays on it, and tosses it back out into the universe where i know she wants me to be, too. then i get up, leave the desk, and ride free to wherever i'm going, with our prayers in mind. prayers in a non-denominational way, of course. that makes sense. everything tbd, obs. its 2011 and erb says life is tbd, and that i hate people or situations i can't control. erb says that if my arrow has been shot in one direction, it doesn't mean i get shot in the same way. f usually stands for fuck. g usually stands for go. tiny sooz says lig, sarita says ftg, kt says ubw, and in the end, pma means nothing where pms, ocd, fhb, faw, lstbd, wwibf, is concerned, youknowwhatimean, jelly beans? i got your abreevs r.h., kid, rrrrrrrr hhhhhhhhh...irene viene; pero nbd bc she's just that brilliant typhoon of a woman who lives with sooz on s. 5th street. women are forces of nature, right? typhoons dudes, raincoats are for prudes.

cosas que me gustan del www, #26






25 August 2011

24 August 2011

sigh (© Esther Teichmann)


borges (dreamtigers) 8/24/1899

© f. scianna. i always loved this photo of borges by scianna, even if i couldn't wrap my head around all of what he said i felt it and certain things stay with you if they need to stay with you, however minute or out of context. words are words; you give them meaning if you want to. one of his many areas of expertise was metaphor, and one of his many beautiful traits was overwhelming but sincere humility. to hear him speak about poets is humbling in its directness - there are maybe 2 or 3 greats, he says. fact. but if he had little to "contribute" to the cannon of metaphor it was because he agreed that in this life there are a few certainties, and looking at them through metaphor and poetry was perhaps where magic, meaning, and beauty came to cohabit - - sleep/death, women/flowers, life/rivers, fire/battle, etc. etc. etc...what else is there? one of his favorite along these lines was: "she walks in beauty like the night," maybe for its complexity, in just 7 (english) words, 4 of them being/meaning everything (she, walks, beauty, night). a grandfather like this wouldn't have been so bad...! i heard a recording of a lecture he gave once - not one "um," "like," or "soooo" - he was speaking the most perfectly paced english i have ever heard, and everything from memory...i imagine, then, a lecture he might have given with an argentinian lilt to be the closest thing to god, or at least to any i'd ever want to listen or look to, for anything and everything...

cosas que me gustan del www, #25 (doty man, petiteness)



when aliza was back in israel, looking after her Pop in the hospital, doty was at home recovering. he had plans to fix up this girls' bike that had been abandoned in their neighbors yard so that aleez could ride it when she got back, but at the time both wheels were flat, the chain and pedals were rusty and gross, everything was unridable. somewhere between him making me jalapeño poppers (with chevre!?) and a watermelon + mint slushy and aliza's return he fixed up the bike. it is now a dainty tank, with shiny black wheels, and a lustrous frame...if a tank can be dainty, this is that - although imagining aliza fly back and forth to israel and in and around various hospitals in the big apple makes me think that such a petite thing could be a tank, a tank indeed...i think the basket on the front could probably fit flowers or produce from the saturday morning farmer's market at mc carren park, or maybe it should just house a whole bunch of open space; affording a weightlessness in the front that she probably needs to make it easier to get over the humps that brooklyn, the borough, presents its riders from time to time...in their apartment is a catalog of various birds accompanied with beautiful illustrations, a book by goethe on color theory, red-hued snapshots from the late 70s and 80s of blond baby boys and tan baby girls, unicorn coasters, a mini-suitcase, a horned animal skull, a guitar, a soft couch that i offend with the bottoms of my popcorn-smelling vanned-feet, and an abundance of fresh sky blue and warm, familial rose...i see and feel these colors as i hear his murmurs, the surprising nature of which ignite the brightness and clarity of her suspended, infectious, quakes of laughter.

22 August 2011

cheese, world, dog (nikita pirogov)




©nikitapirogov.org, not so much magenta in russia, i gather.

18 August 2011

wonderful pomp

sarita and i love this one's twitter feed. guffawing in the middle of the work day is always good. aside from logorrhea, he also talks here: colberg.

such a bitch


this owl was such a bitch. i do an excellent impression of her. it involves closing my eyes as i pan from left to right, then opening them when i'm at 180 degrees away from you. on the other hand, i'd be a bitch, too, what with those wings and those claws and that vision all in that box.

tater day, 7/30/11



© a. mendonça

16 August 2011

© emile hyperion dubuisson (virile tree trunks)




in 2008 i sat at dog eared books on valencia and swatted through a collection of black and white photographs seemingly taken years ago and neglected since...the negs were scratched, there was snow but not jenya's snow...beyond this collection i realized 3 years later was EHD's, you can see (on the website) a few virile trees at night, tights, blossoms, and monumental chests...