VSM

This is a painting for the cover of a forthcoming poetry book by Barbara Mor. I'm not sure what other commentary to add other than it was created of my impressions of the stream of conscious work.

Death Can Dig It

Mixed media, paint, collage, and some digital touches. The heat has been restored, making our bedroom somewhat warmer than it was. It took an inspector to make that happen though. And so the "tale of two cities" continues, and I'm just wondering when we hit the chapter where wire cut our "affordable housing fencing pens", kick down the poor doors like Bastille Gates and sent our de facto gentrifying aristocracy to the guillotine. "NY Ambassador" (what a joke) Taylor Swift, stepping up to meet her fate can say "Tis a far better thing I do than anything I have ever done in my music career." [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="444"] Class segregating fences. This is now a thing here.[/caption] Yeah, I'd make that little roped off area extremist art central if I lived there. I've gotten to the point where I court haters, at least among white supremacists thirteen years my senior with the writing skills of the mean girl from your 7th grade class. But silly rabbit, veiled threats admonishing me to be silent just encourage me to spout more opinions and put more stuff out there. Because at the end of the day, the only Haters I actually have any respect for are these: [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NroBNygAE7c&w=420&h=315]

Alchemical Marriage/(S)HE IS STILL HER(E) art show

This piece,complete, mounted, framed, and ready to go to this art show, in honor of Lady Jaye Breyer P-Orridge:

https://www.facebook.com/events/698102706933903/700849903325850/?ref=notif&notif_t=plan_mall_activity

Mr. Shaman Bring Me A Dream

A horrifying hippie/new-ager. Though on second thought, the new-age sort probably goes somewhere a little more...upscale than Mr. Shaman and the other psychics who advertise in the back of freebie newspapers. Or maybe...that IS "Mr. Shaman".

Woman's Beaten Body Found

Veins, veins, burning pain, swelling skin and blood.

Sensing that separateness is a lie.

Finding Beauty In Terror?

Ok, I think I've gotten the post-apocalyptic nightmare fuel feel I was after.

Eric & I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary this Monday! We celebrated by getting matching spiral ear jewelry at Unimax, the Chinatown based purveyors of all things tattoo and body modification (except actually getting work done. It's a supply outlet.)

Perhaps apropos to September 11th, which was today, lately I've been thinking about the shame tinged pleasure - or is it pleasure tinged shame, that comes from something apealing coming out of something atrocious. Not 9/11 specifically. It was a very painful time here in NYC, and the various agendas that clung to it's coattails -- from Operation Shuck and Jaw to the attempts at Machiavellian manipulation attempted by our upstairs neighbor -- fill me with nothing but disgust. Consider things more like LSD - initially developed for governmental mind-control experiments, sort of does the opposite. Or Krav Maga - tool of oppression employed by the IDF, but an effective martial art. Or even these ISIL videos/stills...their methods are reprehensible and their agenda fascistic - but one of those guys has this one knife I'm so jealous of. (Though, as analysts have pointed out, there is more than one knife in the first video.)

Soon these will be the kinds of thoughts we'll be carted away for writing. They may even be now. But since I was little, that which frightened me had to be fixated over. And now I leave you with a journal excerpt.

A Dream Worth DANCING For

Cheap 99 cent store poster paints on a free newspaper.  This is our cat Enzo, the one who loves to dance. He's a subway busker today, because the city has decided that subway dance crews (comprised mostly of inner city kids) are against the law. However, the cop who murdered Eric Garner over what would essentially be a misdemeanor charge still seems to be in will-he-face-charges-or-not limbo. So...Dance is worse than Death, but mainly depending on who's dealing out either. Got it. </sarcasm>
And my trains of thought still derail into tunnels of disaster, given that all I was trying to do was post a painting of a cat.

Painting: "Visionary"

acrylic on canvas board, 5" x 7" , 2014

Why do I keep getting stuff posted when I'm just too tired to write anything of interest?

Hello Blogspot

Well then. It appears Wordpress has re-done their site in a chaotic jumble of dead or misdirected links, so here I am setting up camp on blogspot. I have friends who use both platforms. Maybe it's best for me to spend some time here.

Anyway, tomorrow night Eric will be playing with Future Blondes at Nothing Changes, 131 Chrystie St.