Weekly Picture 181
SKORJ, IKEA collage on paper, 2010
on view for One Swallow Doesn’t Make a Summer, opens April 20, 6-9pm
lilacs
Lilacs are now in full bloom here in Pittsburgh, and with the weather turning cool again this week, they may stay in bloom longer.
The Best Book Ever
Old but still good.
Aw. hang it
I feel bad about Rick’s and Danny’s friend Hugo, so here is a song for Hugo. And Hugo’s friends. From David Johansen. Yeah, him.
Hugo
A passing today…
Hugo is my friend’s dog, an Otter Hound, whom I came to know shortly after coming to work for “the greensman” five years ago. We were in the early days of the new greensman. Hugo came to the office with Kristopher. He was a Big Boy, his head above my waist as he stood on all fours. We “made friends” right away. (I rubbed his ears and whispered sweet nothings in them. I calmed him when Kristopher flew out the door, often a little late for a client meeting, when Hugo would whimper after him, standing at the door.) Hugo, would accept my call and come sit by me, often leaning into my leg, then lie down on the floor beside me to wait for Kristopher’s return.
I saw him immediately as an old soul. He was the oldest, grandest Knight in the roundtable of pups, Kristopher saved from certain destruction. Hugo spent fifteen years with Kristopher. I was fortunate to spend a few months with him at my side. In these years after, whenever we, Danny and I, would visit Kristopher wherever Kristopher lived, for cocktail parties and such, Hugo would sidle up to me, lean into my leg, I’d rub his ears, whisper sweet nothings. He would just hang with me for a while. Honestly, the biggest expression of unconditional love I’ve ever experienced. I can hardly speak another word. In his passing, oh, I started to say a light has gone out, but his light will still beam in my memory.
Balloon Dirk Nowitzki
From an exhibit at the Downtown Dallas Sheraton
(photo by Danny Hurley, from the Dallas Observer)
Prelude (Detox)
Oblique references to my experience of mortality, loss, and orphanage — and the vain yearning that it all might have been different, that one might have been different.
One or the other.
from the comments
I dreamed last night that Daryl invited someone for dinner (that right there is pretty dreamy because he’d never do such a thing), but anyway, he invited this youngish guy and his wife, and the youngish guy had what looked like a tommy gun or some kind of semi-automatic weapon and somehow I got into a shootout with neighbors and took out, oh, a couple dozen of them. I was a surprisingly good shot, everyone thought so. Then we went to the back yard where we were going to eat, and the wife took a phone call and presumably the caller asked her if we were barbecuing and she told the person no, they were going to have to eat just vegetation.
Stages of a Photographer
via Robert Benson
WoW
For the video game nerd, a great documentary that traces the genealogy of World of Warcraft.
Recycling the past
My family reunited in Santa Barbara this weekend to pick through the last of my grandmother’s belongings in preparation for her house to sell.* Running on the stories of other families’ heirloom wars, I braced myself for shameful bickering and tearful fights but we had none. In fact, I found myself the sole protector of priceless photos, love letters, and sturdy kitchen tools from bygone days. Perhaps I’ll find a story worth telling in amongst the keepsakes of my great-grandfather and his firstborn son — but mostly it shames me to think of my family’s disinterest in these objects without resale.
* Sheila, I thought of you throughout.
silk brain implants
John Rogers led a team of materials science engineers at the the University of Illinois to develop silk brain implants that can be used to control and monitor seizures and help transmit signals to a prosthetic.
The team printed tiny strips of metal electrodes each just five times the thickness of a human hair onto a thin plastic mesh.
“The entire thing rests on a sheet of silk that provides a ‘handle’ for manipulating the device as it is mounted on the brain,” Rogers told LiveScience. The silk came from cocoons of the caterpillar Bombyx mori.
Once placed on the brain, a small amount of salt solution is used to dissolve the silk.
“As the silk dissolves, the metal electrode mesh gently wraps the curved surfaces and folds of the brain, to establish intimate contact for the purpose of recording electrical activity,” Rogers said.
fourth generation iPhone
Photos of the fourth generation iPhone surfaced over the weekend.
I’m pretty sure this is the one I will upgrade for.
I Have A Question
I went to the Post Office first thing this morning to fetch a package. Ahead of me was a guy who had a P.O. box application. I learned–from his escalated conversations with managers–that he had gone online to the USPS site early this morning, found that this particular branch had boxes available, reserved and paid for one, and made a special trip to finalize it. Turns out, only one person–the branch manager–can issue a P.O. box, and he’s on vacation. The customer (early 30s, smart, fat–has to be an IT guy) obviously was not happy with the poor service (I snorted when the manager on duty said to him, “How online suppose to know what we got at this station?”). But what the guy was really upset about was that he needed a P.O. box today. Right now. And he wasn’t about to leave until he got one.
So I ask you, dear clusterflock: Why might a person be so in need of a same-day post office box?
things I overheard but haven’t used so far
She’s developed a fear of public washrooms
Whoa! Whoa! These are the good old days of our song
I’m going to sit here and read my own tweets
I have a representative who handles my money
I’m going to put it on my wish list and see if it’s still available
I like Fred
I love looking at their mouths
What? What? This is better than the titty bar
It looks like it’s wearing lipstick
That one’s a bottom feeder. (That’s what she said.) It works for everything
That’s a world class mustache right there
from the spam
I like that you think.
Lost Opportunity
Last night I dreamed that David Johansen worked at an old-fashioned filling station in Dallas. He had taken the name Lorenz as his filling station name and had it embroidered on his shirt. We flirted, and I strongly hinted I’d like to go out with him. He suggested I stop by the station office once I was done with my filling station bidnis.
Like a fool, I decided I had to walk home to Dutton Drive and change clothes or maybe freshen my make-up. Once I got back to my childhood home on Dutton Drive, I collapsed and took a long nap. I really had to hustle to get back to the filling station, and I got so damn hungry that I finally stopped at a little snack shop where I bought a couple of slices of cold pizza. I wanted to warm them, so I put them in a dilapidated old toaster oven. It turned out that the toaster oven was also a charcoal grill, and the pizza slices dropped down onto the hot coals — hot cheese bubbling like lava. But I retrieved what remained of the slices and resumed my walk to the filling station.
And then I woke up. Damn it.
David Johansen almost joined the list of those I almost fucked in my dreams.
One Swallow Doesn’t Make a Summer
Installation image of TRUN, 8.5 x 11 inch collage from the 2010 IKEA Catalog, 2010
I am pleased to announce I will be participating in the group Exhibition, One Swallow Doesn’t Make a Summer.
I will be showing 9 collages like the one pictured above along with a 2 Channel Video entitled, Under My Thumb, A New Hope.
OPENING RECEPTION, TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 6-9pm
Installation locations: 210 Guadalupe, 416 W Cesar Chavez, 117 Lavaca, 233 W 2nd, Republic Square Park at 4th and Guadalupe
Artists include Justin Boyd, Paul Druecke, Mads Lynnerup , Leslie Mutchler, Carlos Rosales-Silva, Barry Stone, and Jeff Williams, as well as the collaboratives Circulatory System , Nancy Douthey & Jacinda Russell, Michelle Marchesseault & Virginia Yount, and Skote.
MANY MORE EVENTS RELATED TO THE EXHIBIT AT COOK&RUUD.
Treme
Anybody else watching Treme? I’m getting disappointed.
Now you’re my ectopic Santa
National Record Store Day
I was at monorail music store and caught RM Hubbert playing some great acoustic tunes. It was a good change from regular gigs with the sunlight pouring in from the skylights above with a laid back easy vibe.
The Avett Brothers – Murder In The City
I stumbled across these guys today – I needed to share.
from the comments, translated
What a wonderful goat milk from the mother can suck on my line of sun burn ring finger little finger!
quote out of context
I believe the “social trust” scenario for spending cuts is overlooked because it raises the relative status of groups which people who favor spending cuts do not wish to raise.
Inter Milan Maicon’s juggling goal
Wow.
