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.
In Which I Proclaim My Love for Sarah
Everything changed the night I saw Sarah speak at the Republican National Convention. I was captivated by her passion, her perkiness, her adorably flat accent. Wouldn’t I just love to hear her say my name — to call me her own special “bad guy”? You betcha.
I have already composed a list of nearly three hundred catch phrases and special little pet-names we can use to ignite exchanges of whispers, giggles, and knowing looks with each other. I can’t wait.
Adjacent strip mall signs
“Lily’s Bridal Wear”
“Elite Fighting Academy”
This Is Love
Yesterday I was doing some cleanup on my hard drive and came across this picture of Daryl. He posted it here back in July, after finding it in an old family photo album, and I saved a copy on my work computer.
I looked at this photo, and I was filled with the very love I felt for Daryl when I first came to know him, nearly 29 years ago. The kind of love that makes a person feel light and weak and hot. The kind of love that feels as if it might kill you.
This post is for all readers who wonder if an all-consuming love really can last forever. The answer is yes. Yes.
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?
When we separated
I kept the salt well. She took the pepper mill.
Don’t let flocking make you stupid.
Y’all? Sorry I haven’t been around much. I’m doing this work-and-school thing, you know? And all my blog-reading time has been completely soaked up. But I did want to respond to something from over in yesterday’s open thread, where Jake wrote,
I mean this in all seriousness, since I was seven when Dukakis coughed up a 30 point lead. Is this the beginning of a meltdown, or is this something where people who see this as ridiculous on its face [are] just having a really good time with this?
I’m in Spain and kind of self-select my media through RSS. What kind of serious discussion is this getting Stateside?
and Cindy replied,
Jake, after 8 years of Bush/Cheney, it takes a lot of stupid to bring on a meltdown. I will say, though, that I was happy to find colleagues at work discussing the interview when I arrived today, and it was featured on NPR this morning.
So. At school on Tuesday, in a class that has a different guest speaker every week, we had a great session with Ethan Zuckerman, whose basic argument was that while the Internet provides us with this unprecedented ability to exchange ideas with people from all over the world, in fact what tends to happen is that we hang out online with people who have very similar lifestyles, values, and opinions as ourselves. And so sometimes we don’t realize that everybody else doesn’t think the way we do until it’s too late. He gave as an example the profound astonishment and disappointment of Howard Dean supporters in 2004. Insert your candidate of choice here. Read more
Uncle Silas by Sheridan Le Fanu
“She was very beautiful, curiously beautiful, for a person in her station. She was very like that Lady Hamilton who was Nelson’s sorceress– elegantly beautiful, but perfectly low and stupid. I believe, to do him justice, he only intended to ruin her, but she was cunning enough to insist upon marriage.”
The Danish Poet
via Paideia
More dancing with vehicles
torn from (last week’s) headlines
A grandmother was arrested for driving with her granddaughter on the roof of her car.
The woman said Thursday she would never let anything hurt her granddaughter. She says she was driving at “snail-speed” and holding the child’s leg.
I dream of my dentist
He is the Donatello of dentistry. Italian-American Brooklyn boy. Played in a racially mixed soul band in the mid-to-late sixties. Edging up around sixty, one of those ageless men who won’t begin to look old till they’re past eighty. Long curly-wavy hair, just going salt-and-pepper.
And he is an artist, I’m telling you. At the very least, a gifted gifted craftsman.
And he can flirt while you’re in the chair and you don’t feel creepy, just really really relaxed.
Happy Anniversary?
I believe that a certain flocker enjoyed an anniversary yesterday …
Incestuous Speculation
I wonder if anyone has made love to Brandon Hobson lately.
I wonder if Deron Bauman will make love to Mike Dresser.
I’m in love
with a drunken raccoon.
Seriously. Sunday night before last, maybe it was, I was camped out on the tailgate of the Honda Element just, you know, hanging out in the parking lot in the middle of the night, listening to a raccoon banging around in a garbage bin in The Shed, chittering and chirping and snarling and grumbling. (What the raccoons do, you see, come Sunday night, is they dive into dumpsters stuffed with weekend detritus — stale pizza, puddles of flat Bud Light — and let the good times roll. They get drunk in there. I just know they do. And I was . . . well, I was just out there loitering and waiting for the party to commence.)
Six degrees of separation
A US study of text messages suggests the theory that we are all linked six steps to anyone else may be right — though seven seems more accurate.
Half Remembered
“Some Alephs are bigger than others, but infinity is still infinity” he whispers, circling that sideways eight endlessly on her arm.
“Oh you’re not gonna Aleph-null your way out of this one, Mister.” She says, unimpressed.
Austin Handbill Culture
We are just back from two days in Austin–had a fine time. One of the many things we like about the place is the abundance of odd announcements pasted, taped, and pinned on windows, poles and message boards all over the place. There’s something about the sheer fecundity of it that speaks of life. For instance:
My barber had a dream
My barber had a dream last night. His dream was that I would show up today in need of a hair cut. And I did. He told me this while cutting my hair. My barber has dreams about me? I suppose that this type of thing could creep a guy out, but I played it cool.
New website for designers reaching directors
The body of this post has been deleted. We don’t mind people promoting themselves, or even their products. We would prefer that if the Christopher Walken account is used for this purpose, some effort be made to engage the clusterflock audience and to come across as a person who values the site.
Copying and pasting marketing text isn’t what we would suggest.
Update: Savannah writes:
Hi there,
I’m Savannah, founder of veaux.org
I understand completely wanting to remove us due to the marketing of veaux. The last thing I would want is for people to feel that they are being bombarded with marketers or something that might seem like spam. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what the protocol for blogging really meant. For that I really apologize. If I knew differently, I would have gone about it much differently.
Veaux is something that I created to want to help emerging artists become known in the marketplace and to connect with each other and get work in the process. It’s something I truly believe in and so does the veaux team. The team is very passionate to make Veaux a successful venue for these artists. I don’t want my mistake to take away from that.
If you look at the site and feel that it isn’t what clusterflock or any other blog site wants to post, I understand. If you like it, I would…well…we would like another chance.
My sincerest apologies,
Savannah
farting armpit girl has two daddies
I’m posting this article about whether two Swedish publishing houses are too politically correct simply because I enjoyed this paragraph.
Together the two small publishers have so far only released about a dozen titles, including a book about a boy who wears pink sandals, and a story about a girl who likes to make farting sounds using her armpits, who just happens to have two dads.
My first marriage
was made official by a civil ceremony conducted in Dallas, Texas by the Honorable George L. Allen, Sr., who advised us to be sure and wipe the jelly off of our babies’ faces because that’s what attracts the rats.
I spent over $5k to get out of my first marriage
Is it ever acceptable to tell your best friend that her fiance is an uninspired, unmotivated douchebag and that marrying him will inevitably lead to huge attorney fees and possibly restraining orders?
Put more simply — What do you wear to a wedding that has “2 years max” written all over it? Sequins?