Bud was talking too much. He’s always talking too fucking much. He was off on arpeggios. He’d been up all night smoking pot and practicing arpeggios on his acoustic guitar. He started recording them on his midi and stacking them together until at some point all the broken chords coalesced into a solid sound… “a sort of magnificent white tone,” he called it, but that’s not really important. The thing was that Bud was talking too much and too loud and we were walking by beautiful Brooklyn mothers with their precious, or at least expensive kids and the way Bud kept screaming, “ARPEGGIO! Arpeggio!” must have sounded filthy coming from his manic mouth. The ladies covered their kid’s ears with mittens and I said, “You can’t say arpeggio like that in public. You’re freaking people out.”
“What?” bud asked. “Doesn’t anyone study music anymore?”
“Sure,” I said. “But does it have to be so loud?”
He was quiet untill he said, “You sound like a mother.”

Listen to arpeggios here

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This is another wood block and paper variation. Above that is my Valentine play on Courbet’s The Origin of The World… Seems obvious to me, but clearly most people still think the heart of things is really a heart.

Out of the snow and out of the clothes and wet and drying. This is a variation on that block of wood I’ve been working with and a monoprint from that same said block. The two were digatally collaged: so it’s paper kissing wood kissing stone (silicon), or something.

Press play for music

Everything is now heavy in the blue of the white and the trees are creeking and moaning like strange ghosts outside the window. I am mourning the death of people who are lies, or rather I finished a novel… It is a strange sadness to know I won’t be living with them tomorrow.