the animated bunny is from Brian Raszka for The Library Project. The first image is of my archive under my house in CT where all the old days are stored… outdoors… it’s a long story… you should read the old days of the blog, etc…. anyways I made that shit to last and last they shall and fuck time and fuck space and rain and….
gee don’t I sound like king lear?
Well a house devided, etc.
animated Hell Money essay from the same time as the slide sheet I sent to Dadi Wirz. I just reunited all my hell money. That should be good luck right? Maybe now I should burn it?
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.
travlog on going to see Dave Conrad Eat the stage as Henry V at New Jersey Shakespear THeater. We got lost and ticketed and came back to brooklyn for Blue Ribbon Sushi and laughs and always thoughts on music:
A vlog fooling with painting and Lou Reed and Bowie and thoughts on upcoming Royal Wylds music Video for Kimbo and some documentationof my work next to Crista Grauer’s at Artflux last week and just, you know, loving spring in Beautiful Sugar Mountain Brooklyn.
ABC is as easy as 1 2 3 as easy as Do Ray Me, you see?
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.
city scape by Brian Raszka, Xfactor stencil was sent by CMIII
spent the weeks and days mixing potions and notions in Venetian glass bottles where Jean Jeanie crickets once lived and the the small icecream cone of lead and lusterous jewels were stored. I waved my jazz hands and tapped three times with the torah reading stick of Elder and Larch and Low and behold the scream rainbow burst forth and landed on my members only and I became very large and then later very small where in I went into the earch beyond the shadow cave to a great rank garden and in the dirt there I found shiny rocks and precious metals. I believe these were treasures that Dennis Wilson had thrown off his yacht in drunken fits of paranoia. His ghost told me once: “No man is poor, if he has a half a million dollars in gold and silver sitting in the sand and choral beneath his yacht… you just dive down and retrieve you treasure… he never cam back, but who can blame him… on the other side, he was whole and the band was still together and brian and him wrote a whole album together called Silver Surfer, or something, but I digress. With the above mentioned treasures, I made a fetsh in the rank garden. I am casting my spell. A Wizard at work.
Meanwhile, back in the real real world I am going to Tribecca food and wine walk and then back up the mountain to break bread in the Temple and dance the Horah and drink the wine and form a quarum around Noah who will build an arc some day.
This is more or less a birthday gift to myself. I’ve been drawing it on every page of Moby Dick (using two books to get both sides of each page) for months. The soundtrack is built from searching “moby dick” on You Tube (I was looking for Orson’s Preacher from the the John Huston film), I couldn’t find the preacer, but you find tons of Led Zep and drummers doing Bonzo and a little Orson reading from the Novel for a failed Italian T.V. film…… makes for a nice Melville in the end.
Cinqo de Mayo I turn Forty. Ahhhhhhh the French Champagne.
Another vlog while I scan and scan. This remix has a lot of Goddard clips and a Brian Eno mash up. The drawing is a finish of a Carloine VK start from The Library Project. Stangely today Moby Dick came on TCM. I missed, however, Orson’s Sermon.
the Library project based vid Butterfly (A collab of A. Saunders, Raszka and Me) made the the daily reel top ten last week and since I’m below water working on Moby Dick, I thought I’d repost it along with a new Book Collab from Caroline VK of The Library project. The infinite butter.
