Earlier, I had a near religious experience (not only was someone sky writing x and y all over brooklyn, but…) when I crossed Manhattan bridge by foot, the light came behind the brooklyn in such a way that it cast a magnificent reverse gothic arch shadow across the flaming sunset water… the key hole arches both cut out in fire on the water. It was only there for about sixty seconds, but good shit it was glorious and luckily I was on a nikon safari. New York is just a magnificent place sometimes and its filled with people that you know and love, but didn’t know were living so close to you. One big urban reunion project.

And with my Gowanus run and greasey fingers I find that
All the world is an oil slick
which is to say a sort of cracked mirror
by which to reflect our polluted lives,
but my Jeseus gonna be here, he gonna be here soon
with a great golden shot gun
he gonna shoot out the fuckin’ moon
He gonna cover my head in red Poppies
and Blanket of pure yellow sonSUN
and then he’s gonna open up the back
of that gold Chariot Cadillac
And ride me up to the great gig in the sky
Where I’m gonna get God drunk on sweet Irish whiskey
‘Till he pisses on the world so hard
you’d swear that thunder bolt bastard
was the devil
cause he is.
I mean the arrongant fuck claims to be “All Things”
So he should own evil too,
but he wakes up on Sunday and can’t recall a thing
and Ezekial and Noah are whispering in the pews
about the hookers and all that coke
and of course the pissing.

There was a sign on the door that said: “Jesus was here, but sometimes he comes late… like around ten o’clock. But Jesus says not to worry. He will always come to take the trash out.”

I took this sign as a sign, because, of course that’s exactly what it was… you know something to read, telling you about the trash… but still, it’s good to know that Jesus is coming, even if late, and that he’s got the trash covered. So I got that going for me… etc.

The player here is Veho because I burnt most of my megs at vimeo. Nice thing about Veoh is that you can play the vid full screen and it allows you to run longish vids with fairly high rez. I con’t much like the player bar at thebottom, but it’s servicable for todays blog diptyque.

The Video is from today when I dropped the dog off to cut a summer trim (and stop the pant pant) I went walkabout to the park and museum and Library (there to check on possibly showing the Library Project collabs… got to contact the currator). I found the Technology Share Fair for Brooklyn Schools while walking the halls of Brooklyn Museum… I ran into Cash while wanting something to quench my thirst. He offered up lemon ginger ale… it has been the basis of my ever evolving liquids all day (adding coke and lemon juice and wine sorbet and only leaving it for Miller Time).

The music here is from Dave Chapelle’s Block Party CD (from Brooklyn Public Library) and is Mos Def and posse. Bill Batson gave me Mos Def shirt years ago when the Queen kicked me out of the Kingdom and had me Siddhartha sleeping on couches without clothes or money. I always wore it with pride… but am only learning why now. Mos Def is most def…. Busy Bee me. No sleep in Brooklyn.

Once I saw the changing of command on the USS Pittsburgh at Grotton, CT with my brother from a Bolex mother. When The Captain leaves the ship they blow a dog whistle and say: “Pittsburgh going Ashore.” It is as if the soul of the boat has left the boat. When The new Captain walks the gangplank, the dog whistle is blown in opposite progression and the Ensign speaks these magic jazz hand words: “Pittsburgh Coming Aboard!” and it is as if the boat is born again.

Me and Pat call melady Young Pas (or green onion in Korean, or Sly to the Midwesterners or Sylvie to you… etc.): Pittsburgh. She is the Captain my Captain. She is the queen of that little steel Swiss, but rusting Town in the middle of the Eastern Sea Board. I was throwing out all my old clothes yesterday and getting rid of all the wire and plastic hangers… nothing but wood is good quoath Pittsburgh and I concurred while wearing the buddhist Stettson and the silk guns and the Star Wars blasters still in the a tiny casket to be burried by the IRA somwhere beside the river Liffey. I tripped and fell upon a Bazooka shell full of old memories of Pittsburgh’s youth and there were steller shots of her as Stella amongst the stars and my street car named desire and some calling cards from old beaux and a shot of her leaning away from a dire wolf… him stealling kisses and trying to eat her heart out and I realize it is good to walk with pax but always have silk guns in a silk casket somewhere… the silent big stick as the Church on the Hill said, or was it The Mac daddy Author, or Ike? Yes Ike who I like if only because he said, “Beware the military industrial complex”… The king can speak the truth, but the wolves are still there… stealing kisses, and hearts, and gold, and souls.

I became quite green with jealousy looking at the explosive contents of the shell… and then I found a receipt for the first futon we ever shared and a letter I wrote to fair Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh when I was in the Tower of Pain and hats and song. It was not the most regal of things… a manic all night scrawl on yellow legal paper… but you know what? It was really a very romantic letter. It brought a single tear to my eye that dropped into the vast Atlantic… How can a shell hold such wealth I thought? For in that moment I realized that this was a contract signed thirteen years ago… So Why has it taken me so long to honor it and honor fair Pittsburgh?

… Because you see, I have been hiding in plain sight, playing the fool on the hill. Now it is time to wear the purple robes and take the crown that is mine. Today Pittsburgh. Tomorrow the world. It is my job to be her knight in shining armor coming to her emotional rescue on a fine Arab charger. It is my job to keep the dire wolves at bay. Hail Pittsburgh hail the Queen.

I was at Freddy’s the night Sly Fox left for Las Vegas and I gave two guys my moleskin and said, “Make me a drawing, buy me a beer…sort of as a joke…and I went outside to smoke… when I got back they had drawn this and bought me a magic hat #9… it is names of the superbowl champion (two years in a row) Steelers from the seventies when I used to wear the black and gold slicker to protect me from the hard rain…. Coin see dances coincidences…. They were Pittsburgher… friends from many moons ago… reunited in the city on a drunkes Spree… fiddle di di.

or: I went eating and wine tasting at Tribecca festival. If you want to be treated well in life, I suggest you roll with beautiful Korean women, you’d be surprised what people will give you for free, just because of those lovely smiling eyes. Then off to the temple on the mount for Noahs Barmitzvah… havanagela and MORE wine and food and dancing of the horah and on and on. You cant make this sort of stuff up. It is just wild eyed JOY…. Be Attitude and Beat Less.

This is Harry Twep… an Id character that I drew on a retreat when I was maybe thirteen years old, or so… ironic…. My mom scanned it for a my fortieth birthday card. She’s some kind of witch or something… I mean that in a good way.

Music is a mash up of Animal Collective, some annoying kid kicking the subway seat with glorious train glee, and The one and only John Lennon and his fabulous Beatles, produced by Phil Spector if you can believe it Jackson Pollock.

http://wbpaley.com/brad/biosImagesCvs.html

http://monkeytownhq.com/monkeybook2.html
W. Bradford Paley has been doing visual work on computers since 1973, has been recognized for contributions to the design and art worlds (e.g. at MoMA and the Whitney, by NYSCA and NYFA). He practices in New York City and often teaches at Columbia University. For details see didi.com/brad.

post in progress… tune back later.

image: Library Project collab of driftwould and Bradley Wind… AKA driftwind (Say I).