A noisy frog, blood gobbling mosquitos and the ABFF….

•June 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Miami is hot as hell!!! I just thought I’d add that right at the top since I’m sweating like I’m evading the IRS and I haven’t moved so much as an inch in 10 minutes. The ABFF is upon us and I’m finally getting my chance at the dance (and I don’t even have shoes on) despite not having an actual entry into the festival. I can’t say that my start to this trip has been a smooth one with the writer/producer Kennedy Ross having the misfortune of purchasing tickets from a striking airline and with me breaking my phone on my very first day here; my breathing techniques are helping out big time.   The vibe of this town on this particular trip is saying something to me but I’m not trying to listen too much because that type of auditory influence I cannot cope with due to my superstitious nature. I have met quite a few people that are interested in my little films down here and most of these people were bone sober when speaking to me so I don’t know if it’s something in the water or if they see something that my overly critical self cannot see.  Some feedback has come in on the film front that was quite candid and truthful from some respected and some not so respected sources but candid nevertheless and I understand now that while I like it to come with no chaser I still have to have the constitution for the drink and let me say this right here, right now, I can rub the ink off a label of hooch so keep pouring it straight. I feel as if I’ve entered into the realm of legitimacy with having my first session of film firebombing fresh in the air while I hold my film DVD still in its case complete and I realize that this is truly a great feeling. I’m not some masochist that wants to dodge tomatoes and funky eggs or something preposterous like that, I’m just happy that if I didn’t have a film I wouldn’t be of note one way or another and that would truly be deserving of some firebombing.   The hour is late and more pertinent, relevant issues will be touched upon after the first day but for now I’m running to the gun shop to get me some frog killin weapons and a mosquito nuke em device and with that said I’m gone.


Howdy 2009

•January 2, 2009 • 2 Comments

shapeimage_21“I live another year, isn’t that grand”

Dance” by Earth People stomping me into the AM bringing me back to circa 1990 even as 2009 is freshly upon us. I used to smash this track with all the energy of a new pup trying to find himself in the social scene that was NYC “back in da’ day” and I would be an absolutely piss faced liar if I said I didn’t long for those days where I really could just “Dance” until I dropped from cramping, sweating out all of the impurities of my then life until I was cleansed thanks to the freedom of that sweet exhaustion; now where’s my time machine. Enter 2009: New President, New Hope and some real issues on the horizon but that will play out how it plays out and there’s not much I want to speak on pertaining to these weighty things during this writing, instead I want to talk fireworks. Yes those loud, colorful distraction that go “BOOM BOOM BOOM’ piercing the night and jarring the nerves. Those wonderful celebratory distractions that for a brief time can accomplish much of what those sweaty NY Clubs could accomplish way back when. Have you ever tried to think of anything significant during a live fireworks exhibition <rhetorical> it’s virtually impossible because of the non syncopated rhythms of the BOOM BOOM and the SIZZLE SPARKLE AND MEGA BOOM! Fireworks (depending on proximity) force you to stay in the moment and acknowledge them and only them creating a period where you are free to just “be” until that last bombastic symphony erupts and you must return to your body and subsequently your life.  Every year I trot to Prospect Park Brooklyn -alone- to catch the show an feel the energy of a couple a hundred strangers and a few winos with no expectations other than “a 15 minute reprieve”. This year it was BRICK enough to make the “Snow Miser” proud and my fingers felt as if they were going to snap off at the shoulder but I thought warm thoughts of hope and promise and all of that good type of stuff. Starbucks coffee had a truck parked at the Grand Army Plaza entrance bestowing the gift of free hot chocolate upon the frigid masses and I couldn’t help think how this sort of looked like a bread line scenario and it gave me uneasy pause for a few seconds. The truck might be the future of Starbucks since they are closing so many locations nation wide; now if they could figure out how to strap a rolling couch on the back for those 08’ trendy hipster holdouts that absolutely must sit at a cafe to check their emails and look fly.  DAMMIT!!! I’m still only 1 tumbler of wine in and I need to get a move on it if I’m going to get soused and knock myself into a stupor in order to slow my mind down long enough to sleep (curse my over active brain for it will not let me rest well these days).

Christmas redub:

Christmas was cool but I jacked up my family offering (a coffee cake) because of a really stupid decision on my part to put a pizza pan underneath my malleable silicone cake pan (for stability) therefore the heat didn’t transfer resulting in a sqwooshy nightmare that wasn’t fit for a hog to ingest. damn I really hate failing in the kitchen but I shall rise again from this culinary disaster to bake again, that’s a promise. Speaking of failure, I just can’t shake this painting funk I’m in, I couldn’t draw water from a well right now and it’s frustrating as hell. It would seem that my social damnification is causing set backs of the like that it’s an arduous task just to rise in the morning let alone function properly on an artistic level. I’m rugged as a bushman’s heels but even I can be overwhelmed.——Someday——

My family was cool and all and the kiddies had a great time and that made the day worth while. Santa is still a motherfucka because I still haven’t received my “Ricochet Racers” or jack stamp of what I asked for so that bastard can slide down a chimney laced with sulfur and land on a keg of gunpowder!!!! (nahhhh the world needs Santa so he gets a life time pass from my wrath).

The vision of the fields of tall grass and the hollow eyes still hold true

but my hair still hasn’t grown to it’s proper length

I’m still solitary, alone and prone,

can’t I just go home?

Please can I just go home?


There will be more to come on the film front, more to come on the art front and (I PRAY SO HARD) that there will be more to come on the peace of mind front but 2 out of 3 ain’t bad now is it. Peace to Mommy and Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa Murray, Grandma and Grandpa Kendall, Uncle Waynie, Uncle Junior, Great Aunt Fan and Great Aunt Dessie, Uncle Lindsey, Katie, My boy Freddie, Hervy (AFROOOOMAN!!) and all the rest. You will not be forgotten as long as I have life left and I WILL see you again.  Peace to my family and their friends, Peace to all of my friends and their families and friends and may 2009 bring you joy, peace, prosperity, health, harmony and all that good stuff.


Enter Travis Bickle

•December 14, 2008 • Leave a Comment

travis-bickle-21Man with a Harmonica” by Ennio Morricone is up to bat and I can’t say that this doesn’t bring back some very fond memories of a time where being transfixed by some superficial entertainment didn’t seem like such a wasteful exercise but then again that was then and this is now as so it is. While I was preparing to write this entry I took a stab at some rather fiery Chili (I must say that it came out well) and I watched a french horror film, À l’intérieur . Now I don’t know what was on the minds of the individuals that created this film but surely they are in very good standing with the Devil himself and I’m sure he’s extremely proud to say the least. This film was absolutely revolting and vile and that’s just the tip of the situation; I felt as if at any moment a portal would open up and suck the entire image straight into the deepest recesses of hell (smoke bellowing, demons hollering, flesh crackling in the timbers and the whole lot) but it was….dare I say, well made. For what it was trying to accomplish (I believe rendering one speechless or breaking the record for the most regurgitate inducing moments) it did it’s thing and it shows that with a little money and some vision you too can craft a blood curdling sordid piece of exploitative cinema ready for the “The Grand Guignol”.

Now to the title of this entry and it’s inspiration, one Mr. Travis Bickle. Travis was a poor misguided character in the 1976 Martin Scorsese film “Taxi Driver”and without getting into the plot, let’s just say he flipped out, shaved his head and started shooting the living shit out of people. Now I absolutely DO NOT condone this type of abhorrent behavior but  I do sort of share the characters approach to self fortification in preparation for some life altering occurrence. Mr. Bickle was quite the crazy loon yet he was definitely on to something with his approach at “preparing” for his delusional armageddon; we should all take it upon ourselves to get “sound” for there is some real trouble brewing on the horizon. Everyday it seems that some new economic mortar  has gone off pushing us closer to the inevitable collapse of our system and with that will come a whole heap of issues that may have us all cutting our hair and going tribal like Mr. Bickle.  <“Cloudburst” from George Winston> is up now as the hour grows late but I must press on because there’s more work to be done indeed. I have been labeled so many things during my life that I feel as isolated as Mr. Bickle in many ways but not to fear, I will NOT be gunning folks down to their knees with a .357. I rarely feel akin to any one person and that isolation has created the type of loneliness that with all the words in all the languages could not possibly quantify so I have to foster feelings for the world as a whole and go from there.  I have begun the slow obsession with my physical conditioning and my mental acuity as well as boning up on my world affairs for I feel that I’m preparing for a heavyweight bout that will encompass the entire world and many will get caught with that “duhhhh” face as the gavel drops on their livelihoods. Now I’m not a town crying harbinger of doom or a conduit for all things negative, I consider myself just to be a dude that felt a dis-ease  a bit before others picked up on it and I guess that makes me unfortunately fortunate (go figure).  Never the nihilist more like the realist I love to say “it is what it is” but what “it” is these days is more like sh”it” and I’m not alone in my observations this time around. My regimen consists of some good old vitamins and plenty o water, rest and exercise as well as reading reading reading and some more reading; my only real regret is that I will face this future as a man alone, reticent but with conviction but like I always say “it is what it is”.

On another note I would like to conduct some sort of study on the therapeutic properties of music and its various applications. I truly believe that if music were removed from existence there would be bedlam in the streets with angry, musically frustrated individuals impaling people with guitar necks or slinging hard hat symbols like Captain America’s shield, beheading people at all turns; I’m not joking. Music can really cure the savage beast and bring people of all walks of life together in a harmonious union and outside of some psychotropics I don’t know of anything else that can accomplish this. I walk to an internal beat and I click my teeth together to create rhythm sections between steps composing an impromptu session whenever I can. I don’t know if other “visual artists” find themselves enveloped in music at all times but I find it quite the phenomena and I would be truly lost without it. Music keeps me and I welcome it with open arms and for that I’m eternally grateful but when I say “music” I am selectively omitting that repetitive commercial pablum that is (in my opinion) the equivalent of an auditory colostomy bag filled to the brim . Now if we could only get the “bankster” detritus that’s ruining the world with their greed and plots to just pick up instruments instead of crashing markets and devaluing currencies we might have the worlds lousiest garage band but at least we could just tune them the fuck out or better yet storm the stage boots first!

The curtain now closes on this entry <“The Swan” by George Winston> and Mr. Bickle and I (uncommon brothers together in preparation albeit apart in application) shall fade into the cyber darkness to be reborn another day, another keystroke and with that said, I’m gone.


Dancin’ at The Brooklyn Museum

•December 7, 2008 • Leave a Comment

shapeimage_22“King for a Day” by Jamiroquai is keeping the parting going in my head long after the last of the lactic acid burn; what the hell am I talking about??? Dancing at the Brooklyn Museum of course!!! I had my monthly fix of sweat and ass shaking and all sorts of aural jubilation to hold me over for a few days before the realities of “this” world comes to put cement in my galoshes. <Rouge Rouge “C’est presque ça” up to bat now>. I started out the day trying to sort some mess pertaining to my crummy day job and had just about enough when 5 PM rolled around and I could feel my big toe start to tingle and I KNEW there would be some dancing in my immediate future. I met up with some regulars at the Museum and it seemed like the only thing that would come in abundance was the impending snow flurries for the place was on the anemic side. Not concerned by the lack of patrons I would spend some time in the auditorium catching some live jazz before the inevitable rush of the fashionably tardy shuffled through the doors.  Now I wish I could say that I could shake the sticks (I have pelican legs so what) like years past but I am sadly not in form yet I can still get by and score a rug if I can’t manage to cut all the way through. Dancing brings me back to the days when my Auntie Barbara would let me be her dance partner to entertain her guests or when my Mommy would “get down” with me and show me all the hot, fly steps of the day, this is why I will always dance and keep dancing until my knees turn to powder and my hips fuze from age. I shook what I had and commenced to acting the fool with my fool partner “the infamous” Milk and as usual we entertained as sweaty ice breakers letting the people know that we Brooklynites bring the party with us wherever we go, after all the saying goes “is Brooklyn in Da’ House”? Nuff said. I danced to prolong the moment and defy the natural perceptions of time because that’s what the Dj ordered and YES “Last Night a DJ Saved My life” believe it.  Moments after vacating the museum I found myself looking at my breath amidst some slush & slosh and a few hundred former dance partners pondering my next move; “I guess it’s the computer and some late night grub for me” I thought (and I was right). Sooooo no weighty messages or grim pontifications this time out <nope> no morbid ruminations allowed for I DANCED tonight and that’s what tonight was about, period.  Me thinks I will put up some info on the small film I’m lensing  as well as some art work and stuff in the morning but now I’m off to dream some good dreams about some gooodie good things and maybe I can do a little two step with Mommy while I’m at it; after all it is a dream right? Remember dance is a celebration of life so make it your business to put a little “gettin down” in your future.  With that said I’m gone……

P.S.20 & “The Gruffalo”

•December 4, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Mulatu Astake “Tezeta” on the Tunes and a little “Black Swan” Chardonnay going down the tubes as I sit satisfied after building my latest creation, a lasagna. I built this thing at such a late hour not because I was jonesing for a piece of my favorite dish but more of an exercise in simple concentration; I set a goal and I accomplished it, headache and stress worries be damned and for that I take a small measure of simple satisfaction (more on this later).  I had a chance to experience a bit of the young life yesterday with my little cousin who was kind enough to allow me to accompany him to see the british stage production of the children’s story “The Gruffalo” at BMCC.  My Auntie fixed us little lunch bags with chips and sandwiches, sip boxes and other tasty goodies and we headed over to the theater in a yellow school bus.

NOTE: These things should be put out of action for fear of lawsuits. The lack of suspension on these things can only be tolerated by someone under 80 pounds with malleable bones and healing powers that rival Wolverine i.e: children, NOT ADULTS!!!! I felt as if my colon would drop out of my ass and my tongue would get snapped off at the tip due to this outrageous jarring and tossing about; definitely not a pleasant ride to say the least.

The little kids were running about engaged in their social clicks and just having the time of their young lives and why shouldn’t they after all their only purpose at that moment was to do just that. With the focus of lasers they fixed on to that objective and LOCKED ON like little sugar infused missiles, bless their little hearts.  I really wish beyond wishes that I could someday recapture that ability to stay in a moment without worrying about bogus bailouts and the economy and whatever personal trauma I’m undergoing at the time but without being 4 foot tall…absolutely not that short again. The performance was a good one and the Gruffalo was sufficiently stinky and oger-ish and he had the kids eating out of his paws or whatever he had for hands; such POWER!!!! “the gr gr GRUFFALO”!!!
Now the Adult enters the Blog……booooooooooooooooo

I really took a look at some things today for just a brief moment and I had to damn near recoil in disgust because I read some news about the FDA finally admitting that mercury in fillings has neurotoxic effects on children. Now for those that know me know I am into health food and vitamins and I’m very much against most of that FDA approved gawbage because I don’t think they give a rats left foot about any of us if we don’t have a huge stock portfolio featuring some drugs they’re backing. These absolute vomit mongers issued this warning as a condition in a lawsuit being settled with several health groups!!! so NOWWW because of some legal issue they can tell you that these fillings are bad for you even though they knew this all along..hmmf!  These pigs along with their loved ones should have all of their fillings replaced with molten Plutonium and they should have fresh holes drilled by the ghost of “Dr. Christian Szell” and then -just maybe- will they have a human feeling even if it is stark raving terror. I try so hard to take the Sherlock Holmes approach to information and news and remain semi ignorant to certain things because I know that I will become incensed and frustrated but ever so often I pull off my cloak and expose myself to that ugly soft tissue. These companies just like these banksters (it’s a new tag so it’s not misspelled) are nothing but debased flotsam that is undeserving of the privilege to be called human and only a hollering stint in hell’s cauldron No. 23 is befitting. I am trying to see the roses daily I truly am, I want to see the sky and not see that chemtrail crap, I want to read some food ingredients and not feel like I’m in chemistry class, I want to look at the TV and not feel like some exec is laughing at just how stupid he feels I am and I want to look at this world and not feel that we are in the times of change that usually results in a biblical purging but I CANNOT; so I look at the kiddies. <dig that segue> They can keep to their immediate goals even if frivolous and progress from there and I must learn that again. I do not intend for this blog to be redacted due to my inability to conceal my distain for these times or my inability to channel a “cartoon” Ostrich but I do not want to come across as a kvetching sod so what am I to do now??? I will keep on keeping on and with any good fortune I won’t let the bile spilleth over too much. Now I’m fully down one bottle of Chardonnay and I still have more laundry to do so with that said…..I’m gone