Monthly Archives: May 2006
Azalea
Mamarches
Arches
Floating Clouds
Walked all around Brooklyn and stopped into BAM to see a Naruse film called, “Floating Clouds”. It was odd, in that it seemed like the negative space of a film… in that maybe what we were watching wasn’t the movie, but the events that might happen outside of some other movie maybe playing in another theater somewhere in the building… It was like the opposite of a movie and then later we watched “Shop Girl” on DVD and you could see how maybe Naruse got it more right, even if it was sort of tough going at times. Any ways, they seemed like a kind of perfect accidental double feature of love gone wrong.
Out Of The Blue And Into The Pink
My father and I shared a birthday and that day was, or is today. I suppose I received many gifts from my father over the years – for all sorts of occasions, but the only book I remember getting from him (other than a Nietzche text he’d designed and printed himself at the Gewerberschule Basel) was a novel by Stendhal. I was already in college by that time and sort of overwhelmed with reading and I actually never really got around to reading it. Here’s an odd thing that happened yesterday while I was hunting dandelions and jet planes. I came upon a box marked “Free” and the only thing inside was copy of Stendahl’s, “The Red And The Black” . This edition was printed by something called “The Modern Library of Great Books”… I don’t know when, as I think it’s missing most of its front pages ( however, I do know that it was owned by someone who went to Yale and was a memeber of Pierson College: P is for the P in Pierson College is the only college fight song worth a damn.)… What’s really interesting to me is the picture of Prometheous (?) carrying the torch that was the gold, embossed logo for “The Modern Library”. It seems like the other side of the Butoh demon dandelion god I was making… Knowledge is I suppose, a two edged sword and there are demon ghosts and angels dancing on that razor’s edge.
Away
It Comes Through Shadows With A Gift Of Ashes And Onions
Sniff Sniff
And the clouds came in with a light rain and all day long the city still smelled of smoke and I had a viscious headache.
an old friend sent me a poem:
Swing, huevos
On steel rice nipples
Hills of love dirt, hills of cat
Pad yr antlers with silver
With lunar fat, and all that
While a sabulous cinnamon punk
– The Monk!
Churns his dumb chrysanthemum
“One must imagine Jesus happy” -JBoyreau
The Smell of Smoke And Flowers
I’ve been working on a large burning figure, sort of based on the Butoh Dancer below, but then I was walking around Williamsburgh yesterday and the whole place filled with smoke from the Greepoint fire. Coming home fron the Cherry Blosssoms, I caught the ploom and siren of the Propane tank explosion on the Dowtown Cop Shop roof… so the last few days have been weirdly war zoneish and with the pleasant skies and lovely weather, its hard not to flash back on some of the intense 9/11 memories… Anyway, I walked by some flower and it gave off a soothing beautiful perfume.