rilke said that...
30 April 2010
29 April 2010
substitute sun
once, i was on the ground, amidst fallen petals, and this blonde beast with a pacifier and half-up ponytail came into my sun.
Bean Begins The 26th Year of Her Life
...always wanted to live somewhere with a red door, and a crystal doorknob...for bean's birthday i bought her an english version of 'the little prince.' i haven't read it but she seems to like its whimsy and the space travel and the part about adults not understanding anything. inside the book i wrote to her that i hope she finds some joy on this planet...in OUR lifetime, so that i might witness some of that joy......some of us are bitches, some of us are bitchin' machines, some of us reside in the peanut gallery, some of us are disappointed easily, some of us miss home...she claims all of these a little bit but not as much as she would have us believe...i have always felt her to be less "BITCH!" than a puppy dog with great expectations and transparent emotions and as such deep, quick, disappointments...she covers all of this with a leather jacket and marlboro smoke but i know, and she knows, she's a bean sprout inside : roots in paris, sprigs in new york, and branches......ya veremos. grow baby girl, and drop the 'tude, 'cause we all know you're a peach...or at least, the ones who care, do.
Joyeux Anniversaire Mon Cacahuete! Or as I say in English: "joyeeu ann-ih-verr-sayree!"
24 April 2010
Joseph
...a few minutes after this photo i overheard an insanely racist conversation regarding robert de niro and black women...'dark meat,' is actually how i believe the women were being referred to. time portal? where am i? 2010? kind of incredible. granted the dude reading the paper, and his instigator ("ey, look at bobby...he likes those black women..." "what's wrong with him?" "ey, i don't know, maybe ee likes dark meat...") both looked like they were stuck in some sort of time warp too...so if we don't evolve, the conversation doesn't either.i didn't make eye contact and was glad the baby i was with was only able to concentrate on her ice cream.
a house for dan
hi dani...dani and the pajaros...when he wants maybe he will make a bigger house and an entrance slightly larger - for whatever it is that he chooses to inhabit his life, etc. etc., etc.
22 April 2010
Dos Labios (Catch It, Callejeros...)
on this day i saw a red TuLip amidst much greenery, a red stop light against a forest spread, and a red car hidden behind some green birch trees. fuckin' christmas around here...
shaq P - the set uP
hey sweet pea. here's to a better summer than last. i owe you fourteen pounds of basil, several canon 5D's, and a coupla pep talks. lucky for us that acquisition is going to take a hot minute, so we have a few more coffee breaks in which
to
kick
it
juntos,
and watch
that
basil
grow...
<3
Nueba Jork, Ciudad Soltera
...won't really understand this photo for another 5 years or so. that's how it's been going, lately. slow to recognize, realize, or rasterize... at night and on the train alone or over bridges in the morning i love hardest. i like to think the other is riding somewhere, too, or that he is still dreaming, violently, of bears or losing teeth, in his own solitude...he is slow to understand that love is about protecting and nurturing the others' self - independence - solitude. the opposite is a horrible cliché of chains and balls and dumb white bread promises...i read the other day that memories fade but emotions remain. reading is at times a detriment to my um, emotions...the sun is awfully lonely, i know this to be true -- in every remix of the phrase.
Machees
Machees' parents were professional ballroom dancers. He has this posted outside of his room, next to Matty's, at 248 McKibbin, where the boys get down a few times every month...in the genes, etc.
in a recent new yorker i read this and appropriated the sentiments communicated forth by one muriel spark
"...when people say that nothing happens in their lives i believe them. but you must understand that everything happens to an artist. time is always redeemed, nothing is lost, and wonders never cease..."-M. Spark
fotilla por IPL, last may. uuf.
20 April 2010
there's something inside of you
i apologize for taking photos at the moma, i apologize. in reality the camera took this photo not me. this exhibit was so beautiful. the performance artist i am speaking about blew my friggin' anklets way off. i don't - TRADITIONALLY - give a hoo wa about performance art but this woman...anyway - believe and care and buy in to what you want, question it or don't, ignore it or embrace it. at this exhibit i chose to embrace it and identify how i was feeling whilst/after each piece. the artist has already performed this piece you see here, but it was her retrospective and so she had hired people to 're-create' her original works...here, quite simply, she builds on the idea of buddhists who meditate for hours/days in rooms filled wish ashes of the dead. anyway, as the woman breathes in and out, so rises the skeleton - as if still alive, and breathing. quite simple really. it is - again - as complicated or beautiful or tragic or dramatic as we want it to be.
exhibition desnuda
we just stood there...watching her raise her arms, sitting like da vinci's figurine on a bicycle seat going nowhere...
Hey Mark Steinmetz
Hey Mark Steinmetz, I enjoyed your book on Greater Atlanta. I made a lot of exhalation noises while I was reading it on east 13th street. I thought Susanna and I were the only dummies who still take photographs of things like hearts made in chalk or in snow or by a branch or on the window of a dirty minivan. Sidenote: not calling you a dummy. Second sidenote: hearts are serious business; thanks for making that a point of entry in your books. Hearts are directly related to the releasing of the shutter. I believe this more and more as I get to know people who photograph and their particular photographs. -smb
Maria Poppins
sometimes when i talk to olive, the things i say take on the air of hearing them, really hearing the meaning and the design of words, for the first time...or maybe i just read into everything and i'm so self-involved that everything, even 'row row row your boat' relates to me...but it does...at least the remix might...we're rowing we're rowing, we're rowing /
less gently than quite violently /
upstream not down the stream /
quasi-merrily /
and yeah fine, life is kind of a dream.
so when she drops a stick on the ground and we're moving fast with her stroller i say "oh don't worry, you'll find another one." this relates to everything i want to be true about my life. other ones / another one / better than / again --- these are phrases familiar to some and frightening to others and i just live in fear most of the time, that there isn't another one.
and when she points out that my zipper's broken: "hara - zipper's broken - ZIPPER'S BROKEN!!!" it makes me a bit shaky because yes, the zipper is broken and so seems everything unfixable. can't even take my fucking jacket to the tailor and get a new fucking zipper. zipper's broken, baby.
and when i ask her ANYTHING - the answer is almost always one or many of the following, in any order : "mom. and dad. and olive. working. look 'hara airplane. moon. milk."
16 April 2010
best thing about the chelsea gallery scene last thursday
gallery kitteh has private showing next door to yossi milo gallery. light refreshments will not be served. back will be turned to you entire time. price of indifference upon request.
T.I. - I'm Sprung
...i like to stick my face in cat bellies and spring blossoms and then sneeze consecutively 34 times...it's worth it every time, be it cat belleh or tree blossom...inhale --- anything beats winter in new york and the non smell of snow and the routine of cold feet finger tips tip of nose...this winter was tough even on a warm heart...erm, especially, on a warm heart.
07 April 2010
Having Nothing To Do With Egg's Freezer
...i have an internship on wednesdays and thursdays at a fine establishment, in the photo department. i keep my ears open and my mouth closed. i haven't had a mirror in my room (in transit, you see) in the 3 months i've been there...so i arrive a bit disheveled and with an oversize backpack...manhattan she, is, not...i think they must think i'm a bit quiet, super curly and very accommodating. ha! (except for the curly part)...anyway, the coffee in the fridge area is horrible PERO HORRRRRRRIBLE...and the freezer looks as if it hasn't been utilized since when avedon shot the sections platon has, as of late, monopolized...unfillable shoes - and i'll stop there.
Me and Some Dude From Oslo
this week i developed a roll and a digi roll of some puttin' around midwood, brooklyn, and bushwick, brooklyn...today at my internship i happened to come across this dude born in poznan who currently resides in oslo, norway...he had placed these two photos (as posted) on his website...i thought some of his stuff was ok and some was repetitive and typical of 'contemporary' 'thing' 'photography' and then i realized we had shot the same thing. oops...see what happens when you judge?! anyway, i never would have put my hose and my smushy window together, but that's because mine don't go together, obviously...while his might...
06 April 2010
Chino
(seriously....)...this week i saw old vatos roller skating to biz markie in central park, and old vatos blowin' bubbles with their younguns by the east river...i heard once that men don't really want any trouble...they just wanna kick back with they gators off, and watch they lil' gull blow bubbles...essssssssssso carrrrrrrnal - i support this.
Miguel Ángel, Cubano...
...the father of pablo antonio borja died two days ago. it was related to the heart, so it was said.
Camo Lamb
...i am now in the habit of entering peoples' backyards...is it just that nobody is home, ever? or there's too many rooms around which to wander in that big house...thus, you miss me and olive from the window, assaulting the flora and fake fauna of your midwood, brooklyn...
La Leche
(Soy Yo...). I've been told this numerous times, it's a compliment...strawberries n' leche is better than mice in the sink, eh ma? We movin' on up, or east, over here in borjita ville...
05 April 2010
Mister Four Five / (La Règle Du Jeu)
i met this kid when i was 15 but i wish, with much of my teenage self, that i had met him when i was 25...26 maybe...27...yeah, 27 was a goodie...maybe he knows this maybe he doesn't, maybe that thought is 'nowhere with nowhere,' as my step father used to say...and i know most things are out of sight out of mind and that includes me and that is fine, that's the way most people operate...i just mean to say, here, having lived far apart from loved ones all my life, thoughts transcend the hypothetical and have had to take on an air of the real...less wishy washy than concrete...less flattery than sincerity...to think of anyone daily, as i do everyone in my life, is not obsessive or possessive or whimsical or hopeful...that is unless believing in the open ended and believing that life is long and sometimes takes after novels....is hopeful...but for the most part, i know, borjita, lo que pasó SIMPLY pasó...and one should never write past midnight, if one is easily moved by the planets, or a black sunday sky....and then there is this photo...this photo was sent to me from overseas and it is precious because i know and do not know this kid. i feel and do not feel this kid. i am all parts divided on this kid. i remember and i try to forget this kid. i recall and i repel this kid.
i take back and regift that which was received skeptically /
such high walls and so they were scaled /
too easy but who was fighting?
bah...i have no control over my memories and yet, as a point of reference, he has a stake in some of the more profound scenes that remain latent within me. and i know this kid has a gaze just as piercing today; it would imply knowledge of self, no? or is that a shield? ...the stillness and the pride twice as strong now, maybe...and i wonder who broke his heart or what he wanted to be then or who took the photo and if he's bald or fat or lame or brilliant and shiny and charming and brave and happy or just playing happy...if he builds things or fixes things or breaks things or cares for things and who he loves or if he does...and i guess...well, that is it - i wonder...this afterthought is still too much of me, or too much from me - either way, it's an afterthought in passing dressed as a birthday wish...these are the circumstances and the rules of 'tit for tat...'
i saw the kid's most beautiful face once, because no one else was watching, and right then and there - he turned himself into memory...
happy birthday, flaco - get yours.
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