Howling Man | Guts | Kevin Ayers | John Cale
There’s an apocryphal story surrounding the men in these two clips, but it don’t matter. It’s just vulgar naturalism.
Above: “Howling Man”. Kevin Ayers and John Cale. 1981.
Above: “Guts”. John Cale. [0:00-3:10]. 1983.
De La Spam
possessive. enlargement remarkable cobweb discrepancies . . .
Can you dig it?
Today is one of those days I remember
when Dallas boys were inspired and went to London.
Barry (Tyler) Beard and Brian Pappageorge. London. 1972.
’Scuse me
for not saying nothing today. Hope you weren’t thinking me rude. I was just busy. Had to drive up into Wisconsin and back.
Not watching. It.
Because I still yearn to believe in truth. And beauty.
So I’m watching the ball game.
Falling in Love Again
I have fallen in love with my work again. I have fallen in love with the business of bringing it from that endlessly in-love first process of pressing pen to paper watching the ink flowing until it is done, of taking the photograph, of receiving the idea - those sensual moments of happeningness - and now, through a five month process of moving shyly and excitedly toward each other, as I construct, edit, reconstruct, collaborate (with Ross Bonadonna, Brooklyn composer, producer and my squeeze) and make these things available for other people to see and interact with.
From clusterflock friend Lucy Foley — from Enniskilen: Initial Thoughts.
Just makes me giddy. In a really good way.
Lena won’t share the good bits
The midpoint of a brief sequence.
She leaves me indigestible viscera and heads with beady black eyes.
Love Update
I am still in love with a drunken raccoon.
But this is the only photo you will see of him. I can’t bring myself to blind the little guy again.
Ain’t he cute?
It’s true. Sarah Palin is in a corn maze.
Sarah Palin is in a corn maze. This does not mean that Sarah Palin is actually in a corn maze, but that there is a corn maze made to look like Sarah Palin. You have to be looking down on the maze and not in it in order to see the likeness.
Courtesy of Jamie Rhein at Gadling.
A Portland Moment
Or so my Portland friend characterized it.
Last Sunday all of the old folks had spilled out of the concert hall after the symphony orchestra’s matinee, and they were walking to their cars — guardedly, as this was, after all, downtown. Street people, you know.
And my friend was walking behind a gaggle of elders when what should appear on the near horizon but the ultimate nightmare — five or six scruffy black-clad ruffians, droogy-looking guys in their twenties and early thirties.
Fear and trembling.
And just as the one party passed the other, with perfect timing, one of the ruffians said to another, “Well, I hope ya don’t think I only wanted ta eat her pussy ’cause I wanted ta score another bag offa her.”
After Life
Stained With A Past Life. Aghios Ioannis (Άγιος Ιωάννης, Κρήτη) Crete. Phil Bebbington.
If any of y’all are going to be in the Texas Hill Country the next couple of months, stop by the Watson Studio Gallery, where the After Life exhibition features this photograph by clusterflock friend Phil Bebbington.
After Life runs from September 27 to November 22, 2008. The Watson Studio Gallery is on North Nugent in Johnson City, Texas.
Cinema of Dreams, Dreams of Cinema
I dreamt about watching a film with Alek, but I cannot for the life of me recall whether it was a dream-version of an actual film or whether it was an imaginary film we watched.
Classics Illustrated: “Lofty Skies” (Marc Bolan; Tyrannosaurus Rex)
Sat ‘neath the eyes of the lofty skies
We were chained by the rain to the pain of our love
We kissed and cried
Held ‘neath the bars of the tangling stars
We were pinned by the might of the warrior night
We kissed and cried
O this time of love moves me
“Lofty Skies” (Bolan) from Tyrannosaurus Rex, A Beard of Stars (1970).
I hate it
that my Galveston friends’ house was looted before it was flooded.
The looters could at least have had the decency to burn it down. Would have made dealing with the insurance company easier.
Devil Take the Hindmost
Done made that last payment on the 2005 Honda Element. Ain’t no repo man can toss me off’n my tailgate now. Finance company done sent me the title and everything.
Still a lien on my soul but I got me a man working on a real sweet deal.
Does this not captivate you?
Caught Between Realities, Heaven And Hell Perhaps. Grand Parade, Bath.
From the photo blog of clusterflock friend Phil Bebbington.
Raving Fave
I love Lucy.
John Cale | An interview (14 October 1984)
Dear clusterflock | The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Or so it is said of imitation.
I got to thinking about mimicry on learning that clusterflock friend Phil Bebbington can imitate the sound of his cat Timmy B vomiting.
For my part, I can (with the aid of a cardboard tube) imitate the voice of Big Tex, the 52-foot cowboy figure who announces events at the Texas State Fair. Sure, you can hear a sample of Big Tex’s voice here, but my imitation is funnier in that I say, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”
Who or what can you imitate?
Dan Savage on Rick Santorum on Sarah Palin
“She will learn and she will, she will learn at uh, you know, with uh, with a, with a firehose attached to her mouth. I mean with she’s, uh, it’s gonna be pretty tough.”
Well, that depends, uh, on how fast the woman can swallow, Rick.
Via Slog. Thank you once again, Aaron.
Goat Update
Derek White and Jess have yet to acquire their very own goat, but apparently both goats and goat-like creatures abound may be found in Kenya. From Goat Rodeo (essential reading for the goat aficionado):
The other goat-like creature in our life is a fellow named Fluffy. He has some issues like hearing loss, peeling skin on his nose, and eternally watering eyes, but when given the opportunity, he will eat garbage in the same style and grace as a goat.
It occurs to me . . .
. . . that I may have been in one of them hypnagogic states you hear tell of.
Dear clusterflock:
Where in tarnation have I been?
And what the flaming hell have I been doing?
Editorial Judgment
Today, minutes after my hair appointment with Kristine, I tried to take a camera-phone snap of myself. Okay, I did not merely try. I succeeded in taking the photo, but then I trashed it. I was hoping I’d look cute and kind of sexy. That’s how I recall the image reflected in Kristine’s mirror. But I wound up looking more than a little like Ray Davies circa 1969 or so. Lola vs. Powerman era. Not a bad thing, but not what I’d been hoping for.
Still, I’m kind of sorry now that I trashed the photo.
Gmail Chat Nugget (20 August 2008)
Amanda Mae: You know you sound like a crazy person, right?
Sheila: Oh, yes. It’s all part of the persona.
Amanda Mae: It’s totally working.