Sunday, October 31, 2010


Originally uploaded by William Keckler
When I found this t-shirt in a thrift store a year or so ago I had to 1) have it and 2) photograph it.

I just put it on Flickr.

I had no idea there is a big movement out there that goes under this banner.

I found the following on some blog (from 2007):

What is WeaselCraft?


WeaselCraft is a collective effort to present tactics, strategies, tools, and most importantly, mindset

for self protection/survival in the environment most of us find ourselves in, namely, an urban environment.

We are not proposing a stunning new invention, nor are we proclaiming our way is the best. What we are

doing is presenting information that each of us has found to be true by virtue of being in some not so

nice situations. All of us involved with WeaselCraft do not present this information as theoretical,

we have lived and learned by using these tools and tricks.

What sets us apart from the majority of self defense/martial arts out there is the realization that

mindset trumps any technique, the value of principles and concepts, and, more importantly, the need to

integrate this area of life with all the other things we must do each day. Except for a small minority among us,

we cannot live life defensively, walk about armed to the teeth, and use military or LE tactics in dealing

with society. Rather, we have jobs, family and friends, and a life outside of these pursuits. WeaselCraft

has some valuable things to offer in the realm of military, LE defensive tactics, martial arts, street survival

and the like, but it is hoped to be a resource for the regular person who realizes the world we live in requires

skills not offered in regular life. It is our sincere hope that you will find this helpful, it will open your eyes, and

allow you to live in a more peaceful, relaxed manner.

We also will provide links to other websites and organizations that provide valuable information

that can help you as you decide what you need to be safe, whether that be traditional martial

arts, weapons, survival, or other instructors.

Some of the information contained here will seem extreme, some humorous. There will be

articles on subjects you may not have considered, and discussion concerning some unsavory topics.

We believe that to have a realistic outlook, and chance to survive, you must have an open mind,

and educate yourself. Plus, we do have a sense of humor some would call twisted, and you can't go

through life serious all the time.

Lastly, this site is to help you, so if you do not find something you need here, write us. We will

either answer your question, or direct you to someone who can.

Thank you.


There are many people, teachers, and organizations who have influenced the formation of WeaselCraft, and there

will be links provided for most of them on our links page.

Here in this section, I would like to spotlight the most influential in my personal developement.

Mushtaq Ali: My primary teacher, friend, and wise old man. He has shown and taught me more about logical chains in

movement, and, more importantly, living than he knows. Find him at or

Bobbe Edmonds: My Brother in all but blood. He gives me guidance on the fighting arts that form the core of the physical aspect

of Weaselcraft, shares my sense of humor, and is hands down, one of the best martial artists and teachers I have had the pleasure of meeting.

Learn more about Bobbe at either or

Don Rearic: Another Brother. Don is a flat out genious when it comes to the practical application of fighting, self defense and survival.

He is a great reality check, a pioneer in this field, and an expert on covert and sneaky weaponry. Read his excellent website here:

Marc MacYoung: Marc took me under his wing when I was a young punk bouncer, and started me on the path I am on.

MAA James Keating & Datu Kelly Worden: These two came roaring out of the martial morass in the early 1990's, and planted the seed

of realistic self defense, knives, and street effectiveness in your art. Both are still the top of their game, and you cannot go wrong by learning from them.

Respectively, their sites are; &

Coach Scott Sonnon: Coach Sonnon is the most incredible athlete and coach I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. His "exercise"

programs are the most advanced, and effective I have used. His skills as a fighter are awesome as well. For lifelong mobility, flow, and clubbells

visit Coach & the rest of the Tribe at;

There have been many more, and I will mention a few of them here.

Fred Perrin, Richard Dimitri, Dennis Martin, SouthNarc, Sal Glesser, Kevin Menard, Pancho, Wim & Montie, Doc,

the team and members of TPI, Guro Buzz Smith, Guro Jay Carstensen, Maha Guru Stevan Plinck, Guru Chas Clements,

Paul Gomez, Tracii Guns, Pak Herman Suwanda, Maestro Sonny Umpad, Shaykh Taner, Punong Guro Mike Blackgrave,

Noah Walt, Mark Hatmaker, Steve Barnes, Steve Perry, Ralph Grasso, and Carl Cestari.


Although WeaselCraft is more of a mindset, there is a core of physical movement to teach the principles and concepts

of movement and offense required to stay alive.

I will state up front, WeaselCraft is a weapons based method. There are reasons for this, but the main ones are efficiency and

the reality of having to defend yourself against assault. Efficiency comes on two fronts, first, if you learn weapons, it makes the translation to empty

handed defense easier and more accurate. Secondly, we are teaching you to respond or react to an attack already launched upon you.

You are already behind the curve in this situation, and likely, physically overwhelmed, either by a bigger, stronger attacker, or multiple

attackers. Either situation sucks, and you need all the help to regain initiative you can have. Weapons equalize the equation, and give you

a chance to survive that being empty handed does not. Now weapons do not have to mean guns or knives. It can be anything in your environment

you can use in your favor. It can be a pen, a flashlight, a trash can, anything. The only limit is your knowledge and ability to identify useful tools.

We do have a few categories that our tool use falls into, and they are;

Knives; We teach four grips and methods to use a knife. There are unlimited possibilities based off these four. They are reverse grip edge in,

reverse grip edge out, forward grip edge down, and forward grip edge up. These also translate to the next segment of the WeaselCraft


Short Handheld Impact Tools( or, oh SHIT); This segment covers the widest array of tools, including improvised weapons. The core base

used is; Blackjacks & Saps, Koppo Sticks, Flashlights including lowlight fighting considerations, pens and other improvised tools of opportunity,

Impact enhancers; including knuckles, Stingers, Travel Wrench, and other variations.

Medium range edged weapons; Machetes will be the main emphasis

Walking Stick/Cane; Self explanatory, but we combine this with the longer edged weapons mentioned above, for continuity and ease of translation.

Flexible weapons; This will include how to use the chain, bandana, belt, etc, but will also delineate the difference in each category.

In each of these modules, where applicable, we will teach the empty hand translations of the movements.

Empty hand fighting; The base core of our empty hand skills come from five main sources: Pencak Silat, Wrestling, Boxing, FMA, and Close Combat.


We are not here to try and give you a philosophy, religion, or idealogy to follow, but thought it would be important to mention where we are coming from

in this regard. All of us involved have our own belief systems, from Pagan to worshipping Cthullu. More importantly, we are a collective group of people.

Our bonds to each other do not end at the martial, we are a family. This is also the mindset we would like to impart to you. We believe that caring for people,

and helping each other in progressing and living is far more important than anything else we can do in this world. Communism as a political movement

is a losing proposition, and slow suicide, but, for a small group, collective, communal assistance is necessary to get along in this world.

In this light, please let us know if there is anything we can do for you. We will do our best to help you.

Read more:

The Gummi Files

The Gummi Files
Originally uploaded by Megan :: NWCorazon
Another one from the group.


Originally uploaded by zippythesimshead
I LOVE LOVE LOVE the Gummi Bears photo group. One of the candies I gave out for Trick or Treat was bags of Haribo Gummi Bears. But I think Lee got the ones left over darnit. I need Gummi Bears for a photo shoot now!

A Lot of EBAY Sellers

are selling items as Halloween items, even though they really aren't.

But they might work that way. As decor. Or whatever.

Here are two that caught my eye. They're up for sale now if you're struck. The tintype's at 4.99 and I don't think the plate has a bid. I think she wants 35 for that.

Both interesting.

The blue eyes are clearly touched up digitally and sort of misrepresenting what he or she's selling.

Harbor Seal

Harbor Seal
Originally uploaded by William Keckler
He's a heartbreaker fer shur.

cats were not meant to swim

Love this Flickrer's dark sensibilities. She's "Saturnine Humor" on there and that describes her art well!

I'm so going to have to upgrade tonight

on Flickr because I found several hundred other photos, pieces of artwork, drawings and scanner art, etc. that I want to upload tonight...

And that will put me waaay over the freebie status...

oh well, it's only 25 bucks for the whole year, and you meet such nice people on there soooo...

here we go....

isn't it funny...

how nature doesn't take this much time or trouble setting up Her photos?

"man taking photo"

Lee being cute in Gloucester.

I need a fucking shammy for my scanner top.

You cannot use fucking paper towels...grrr.....

I don't know where i placed my shammy. or chamois if you're all frog.

I Kept Wondering about the I-Zone's Fate...

after finding an old I-Zone pic. The I-Zone was a mini Polaroid camera---plastic junk--that produced little photos about the size of two stamps that were actually stickers with colorful little borders.

The pictures weren't great but it was just a neat novelty.

Here's an example of someone telling you a little more about the camera and sharing their I-zone pics: Gone the Way of the Dinosaurs.

"Touched by an Anglo" is my favorite title of his.

I wondered if they still made film for it and just Googled it.

The first answer I found was optimistic but it's wrong. I clicked on the link and there's no film there.

I had no idea Polaroid got out of making instant film altogether.

Should it surprise us in the digital age?

It should not. But it's a shame. Because you can do a lot of manipulations with Polaroids that you can't do with digital pics.

I'm talking more about the atmospherics of like actual atmosphere...there's great effect in all those filters and manipulations in the digital theater...I'm addicted...but there's something about real earth atmosphere that you can't duplicate..or can only with great serendipity...

But I have a Polaroid fetish.

I still have my I-Zone camera somewhere. But I'm not jonesing to do anything with that.

But my old Polaroid camera would be fun.

Maybe the Chinese or someone will take up making knock offs.

Wouldn't surprise me.

I mean the way they do with video games on EBAY.

But their stuff stops working after six months.

Don't buy any Pokemon games off them. You've been warned lol.

When I used to go the PAFA student show down in Philly in the spring (and these aren't your usual "students"...many students there have had careers for some time...although some are complete was a "good mix") of my favorite discoveries was this young guy who did trompe l'oeil paintings of atmospheric, arty misty photos of a Batman toy....but these "Polaroids" were actually oil paintings on little marble slabs made to resemble Polaroids...I wonder what ever became of him and if he was successful...they were very good...I wanted to swoop them all...

Resolved Question

Where can I get I-Zone film?

Does anyone know if there is still a way to get film for the little Polaroid I-Zone camera? I know Polaroid just stopped making all instant camera film but maybe there's a third party vendor or something that makes stuff to fit this camera? I realize it's a little juvenile, I'm just desiring a "blast from the past". I thought I'd give a little i-zone camera as a gag gift to someone but would like some film (for obvious reasons).

2 years ago

by Mike D Member since:
March 27, 2007

Total points:
1,911 (Level 3)

Best Answer - Chosen by Voters


Either them or look for a local camera shop. If you live in NYC, there is about a shop on every other block.

2 years ago

100% 1 Vote

And Wiki say...

The Polaroid i-Zone was a type of instant-film camera manufactured by the Polaroid Corporation. This camera took pictures 1.5"x1", that came on a pull-out strip of paper. The strip was decorated and could later be cut to the size of the photo when the image was finished developing. Special film that had a sticky back for mounting the prints was also available. The camera was mostly marketed at children with its simple functionality, low-cost, and oblong shape. Unusually, the shutter was not mounted behind the lens, but rather perpendicular to the lens, hovering just above the film. A mirror behind the lens would project the picture through the shutter onto the film below. One major marketing point for the camera was its ease of use: the camera had only three aperture setting, selected by a lever that pointed to a picture representing when each setting would be appropriate, be it indoors, outdoors on a sunny day, or outdoors on a cloudy day. After taking a photo, the lever would automatically revert to the off position to save power. Film for this camera was discontinued in 2006.

Happy Halloween from Kiddo!

A pumpkin plushie she made for one of her beloveds.

I love the expression, the askew little smile.

But the gleaming eyes too.

Very alive. Perfect non-threatening they're called on EBAY since you only get a limited number of characters to describe any darn thing--and also because none of us has any idea on the accepted spelling of jack-o-lantern jack-o'-lantern, jack o'lantern, etc.

Visit Kiddo through this nifty interdimensional door I have provided.


I've already told you people about eating while in this interdimensional transportation device. You people have been acting like hogs in all the interdimensional doors. Yesterday I had to clean up a McDonalds wrapper for chrissake. What are you people eating? And what looked like extra crispy chicken skin from KFC. If you didn't want extra crispy why did you order it. Or why didn't you just pick off the skin at the KFC and throw it in the can? You actually left a chicken skin just lying in the interdimensional door. When somebody ends up with rat bite on their ankles, can we come to your house and show you the rat bite? I didn't think so. STOP EATING WHILE GOING THROUGH THE INTERDIMENSIONAL DOOR!!! It only takes about one third of a second so do you really need to take a dead animal with you? Can't you just chew gum? Oh, nevermind. I can see where this is going. I'd rather pick up a chicken skin than try to remove gum from an interdimensional door control panel. That takes dry ice and a lot of fucking patience. Patience I don't have. That's all. AS YOU WERE...

My Favorite Flickr Comment Left Today...

"I dont know why but for some reason the Gay Bunny reminds me of Mariah Carey!"

(from the photog Naknicam).


I told him now I will always see that darnit!

Cuz he's right!

Why Remake a Classic? Stop It.

Lee and I watched the remake of Nightmare on Elm Street. Why do they bother trying to remake great movies. It all felt so pointless. I did come away with a terrible crush on the actor playing Quentin, but I've already forgotten his real name. He's the girly boy character with the beautiful flounces of hair. Wait, I think it was Kyle. Why are all guys named Kyle invariably hot? Is it a name that only genetically hot parents are attracted to? What if two ugly people having a child tried to fool nature by naming the son they were expecting Kyle? Would nature comply. Or laugh at them and say "No way" and produce an ugly Kyle in violation of its own natural laws. Hmmm. We also watched some of Baby Jane last night but that movie's too funny. I ended up spilling Lee's root beer as a result. So we changed the channel when SNL came on. I hadn't seen it in years and I told Lee I was in the mood to "check in." It was so weird to see all the junior players had graduated to senior players and looked so damn old already. Also, I thought they kept hiring younger and younger writers on there but if they do why were they doing skits in which Judy Garland and Vincent Price and Liberace, etc. featured. No one young today even knows who these people are. I think it's because a large group of the cast are mimics and need to show off these skills even though nobody knows the people they are mimicking anymore. Sure. I do. But not kids in their twenties or younger who are watching this crap. Rihanna was the musical guest. I was horrified to see the old standby, the news, had gone down in flames. Totally horrible now with just the one anchor. Most of that was given up to a bad skit too. The only light in the show was the music sketch with Andy Samberg and Rihanna. I'm sure that's got a half million hits on YouTube already. But then all Andy Samberg's musical jokes become huge on YouTube. Like the Narnia thing with what's his face. I'm getting really bad with names. I'm becoming that old guy that says "you over there."

Felix Hell

Felix Hell was a music prodigy and was touring from a very early age.

My mother and I went to see a concert when he was in Harrisburg twelve or so years ago. I think he was thirteen at the time. It's odd to see him all grown up here.

This was at the old church in the square in Harrisburg. Market Square Presbyterian Church. Think I got the name right.

Hearing Bach on the computer is not nearly the same experience as being planted in the middle of Bach's sonic wall released by a real church organ of great magnitude.

I remember I was going through the worst part of my breakup and nothing was giving me any solace. I won't lie and said Bach gave me solace, but the floor did drop out of everything in the middle of one fugue. And it is an interesting experience to feel the mathematics of this music vibrating your bones. You sort of believe in the Divine Architect in those moments. Maybe it's an illusion. I don't know. But it's a convincing one when you feel it viscerally as well as intellectually. It's a weird synch Bach creates.

This wasn't the piece that dropped the floor out on me (it's a bit too arch in places) but it gives you a feel for Mr. Hell.

It's funny when he says "so it's very peaceful" to introduce this quite different composer/piece.

Maybe he enjoys putting the fear of God in all those geriatric church goers.

If you don't realize that was one of the primary functions of the church organ, you're not listening.

One of the commenters from ten months back alleged that Hell was going to play ALL of Bach's works straight-out in what was then (presumably) the near future. I wonder if that happened.

Here, we have to go down under and to a different organist for a piece that EVERYONE ON EARTH knows. Fer sure.

The best comment on this video was "don't toccata and drive."

I bet Friedrich Hell has played this organ as well, although this isn't he.

Notice 1) early on Bach predicts future video game sounds lol 2) they should have used THIS to speak to the aliens in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

This piece is such a strange interrogation.

The best fugues and toccatas of Bach have this amazing searching thing going on, seeking release can hear the something chained there in the mathematics...which is the human inside the crystalline matrix....

I Like this Urban Legend

Dear Urban Legends:

I've been listening to the radio today, and a couple of speakers made mention of the "fact" that Mr. Rogers was a Marine sharpshooter; some even said he's supposed to have had something like 150 "kills" in the Vietnam War. I don't think that can be true, because I think he was on TV during the war — in any case, he would have likely been too old to serve in Vietnam.

I was wondering if you'd heard the story, whether it — or any part of it — was true.

Dear Reader:

Unless all the biographical information we have about him is wrong, Fred McFeely Rogers never served in the military in any capacity, let alone as a Marine Corps sniper (or Navy Seal, as another version of this apocryphal story claims). Some cynical folks may be loathe to believe that the gentle, soft-spoken host of "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" was exactly what he seemed, but he was.

Rumors to the contrary began circulating in the early 1990s. It's unknown where, precisely, these stories originated, but around 1994 Fred Rogers' alleged military exploits became a hot topic on the Internet, and grew hotter as the decade wore on. Here are some examples:

A note on Mr. Rogers. He would be a tough competitor. He has 42 confirmed sniper kills (in Korea?).
So this fellow at work (retired Army vet) says that Mr. Rogers of childrens' TV fame served three tours of duty in 'Nam as a sniper and has been credited with kills in excess of 1500 meters.
Interesting side note about Fred Rogers. He was the number three Marine sniper in the Vietnam war. And one of the reasons he always wears long sleeve clothing is because his arms are covered in tattoos.
Predictably, Rogers' death in February 2003 sparked a resurgence of the old rumors, but with a fresh twist: now he was supposedly an ex-Navy Seal, instead of a former Marine sniper. This variant circulated far and wide after someone attached it to a newer email hoax that made similar claims about Bob "Captain Kangaroo" Keeshan. The relevant portion of that text, again dated 1993, went as follows:

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth. But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeve sweater to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. A master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat. He hid that away and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.
Fred Rogers won our hearts, true enough; but the rest of the story as told in this email is hogwash. After graduating from Rollins College in Florida with a degree in music in 1951, he immediately embarked on a broadcasting career — a career that continued uninterrupted for nearly 50 years, even while he studied for a Bachelor of Divinity degree, eventually becoming an ordained minister in 1962. Far from hiding a secret past as a trained killer, Fred Rogers was a truly gentle soul who devoted his entire adult life to educating and bettering the lives of children, and as such he deserves to be remembered.

TAKE THE HOAX QUIZ: Can YOU Spot the Fakes?

And You HAVE to Listen to This Today

I think the first piece of classical music I loved and played to death as a kid.

I always liked spooky things anyway and this piece gives kids an easy "in" with the story and the skeleton xylophones. Music teachers love Saint-Saens for making their work easier.

Well, it was the first if I'm not counting all the "edumacational" records my Mom bought me. I forgot those. On funky yellow vinyl. That set did have "Peter and the Wolf" and others.

Yes, have the four year old listen to music made by a repressed Russian gay man who committed suicide by standing in a frozen lake. If he ends up depressed at six, we'll blame it on...vitamins or something.

As a kid I liked the music my Mom was listening to in the early seventies more. Burt Bacharach tunes she'd sing all day. Or musicals like Hair. The Fifth Dimension. Dionne Warwick ("the First Coming" of Whitney Houston really). My mom listened to a lot of hippie music in the seventies for someone who grew up singing standards and adoring Billie Holiday.

Oh and Sinatra. She still adores Sinatra. I'm not really a fan. I love the arrangements. I just want to remove him from the song most times. A few exceptions.

But this one was and is fun.

This is why I was learning the violin a few years later. But that went down in flames when I had my first big crash. I wonder if I would even know what to do with my fingers if someone handed me one today. G D A E. You better give me the easy book again. The one with the etudes. I liked picking out horrible pop songs on the thing. I think I could play Rod Stewart on it. It sounded horrible but funny. Imagine a kid playing "do ya think i'm sexy" on a violin...screeching it out...that was easier than figuring out how to sound like paganini....

I wish there were a cool video with spirits to go with it. But didn't have luck in the first check.


Liszt was one of the greatest of all transcribers for piano at a time when the piano transcription was the primary way of disseminating orchestral or operatic music outside the concert hall or theater. Saint-Sa'ns' tone poem (his third and most popular) was a brand-new piece when Liszt made this exceptionally difficult piano version of it. The tone poem itself was something like a transcription; it was an expansion of a song Saint-Sa'ns had written to a poem by Henri Cazalis. Many singers were unkind to the song, proclaiming it virtually unsingable. The text pictures Death as a dark fiddler, playing his fatal dance at the midnight hour.

In his letter presenting his transcription for Saint-Sa'ns' approval, Liszt modestly stated that his piano version could not recreate the sound of the orchestra. Nevertheless, Liszt comes as close as possible with marvelous suggestions of the sounds of the original, from the midnight bell tolling (originally harp notes) to the sounds of Death's fiddle, to the clattering of the dancers' bones. ~ Joseph Stevenson, Rovi

I think the poet Henri Cazalis mentioned above was the young soldier whose death Saint-Saens memorialized with his Marche Heroique. Unless I imagined that. It was some young friend or other. That had to be the Franco-Prussian War I'm guessing. The one that so stirred the teenage Rimbaud's imagination. Finally, something was fucking happening in the provinces. Or close to Charleville anyway. But the Paris Commune was young Rimbaud's biggest thrill, if I'm remembering my Starkie correctly. I mean before buttsex, opium, alcohol, absinthe and other fun with his bourgeois-by-parasitism drug dealer boyfriend Verlaine.

Happy Halloween!

I just got favorited a bunch more times on Flickr while I slept so I'm a happy camper.

I got out my old books of Polaroids I used to do and wanted to post a bunch of them but I have to scaaaaaan them. I want to do writing things too. These are incompatible brain "patience" sets. Aaaagh. lol.

Happy Halloween!

Trick or Treat night was a great success. I kept doing those goofy Mr. Bunny and Stroke guy pics in between answering the door but the kids couldn't see what I was doing of course! I was having as much fun as they were with their trick or treating.

I had bought little Halloween games to give out as well as four types of candy. And they didn't have to each pick "one piece." But the toys (get the little metal balls in the witch's jack o's skull's eyes and mouth etc.) went quicker than I had expected. Usually we get 20 or 30 kids only, since most of the people who live on my street are older and don't do trick or treat but this year we had at least double that.

I thought about going to the Halloween parade back in my Mom's old neighborhood (her parade is the best, the one I used to always be in) but Lee was working and who wants to go stand around like a troubled loner at a Halloween parade. My mom's too frail to make it out since her injury from tripping over my brother's damn pyschotic cat. So I just visit her at her place. She is on the mend, but it's soooo slow when you're that age. You have to cheer someone up and convince them it will get better.

But bones are so fucking unforgiving at that age. She's had both fucking hips replaced with titanium. She's bionic, like Christina Aguilera, I try to remind her. Now I keep seeing the ambulance chaser commercials for the legal settlements with the DePew (spelling?) hip replacements. Should I even mention it to her. I wouldn't want it to become stressful. But I'm guessing those money remoras send out their little emissaries and make suing easy. Maybe I should. They probably get you to sign a "consent to release" form for medical records and then do all the work long distance. I'm guessing. I guess I should mention it.

But I'll feel like such a little litigant. Even vicariously. Oh well, she deserves to know. Just so she doesn't worry more about it then.

Here, enjoy these animals with immature owners. This gives me so many ideas for Dru. He should know he's on my "list of subjects to photograph." And won't we have fun. He's going to end up either loving or hating the camera. I'm guessing the former. Every cat's a prima donna. Like every gay man under thirty.

Saturday, October 30, 2010


Originally uploaded by William Keckler
"open yer mouf gurl, im a bout a nut..."

i stole this pic from a hot blogger i like to stare at (too much)

yes, you john.

BDSM ghost

BDSM ghost
Originally uploaded by pornorart

Geeks in the Pink

Geeks in the Pink
Originally uploaded by William Keckler
Drunk geeks.

Defcon Pink

"I Like Your Artificial Pussy a Lot" 2

"I Like Your Artificial Pussy a Lot" 1


Blushing Bride

I have a thing for neon color fields. I think it would be cool to walk through these.

Day18 If You Go Down To The Woods Today

Was nosing around Rob's Flicker and loving a lot. This one's gorge.

Statilius Flaccus and some other queers

Statilius Flaccus: didn't make it into Philip's Garland. "One of his poems was translated into Latin by Germanicus. Another by Ausonius, the fourth-century scholar-poet."

Just as he gets a beard,
Lado, the lovely, a bitch to lovers,
loves a boy. Justice is quick.

(translation: Thomas Meyer)

Plato (yes, that Plato...he was a young man once).


You were the morning star among the living:
But now in death your evening lights the dead

Fantasizing about and/or flattering his mentor...probably stroking off...

    Sokrates to Agathon

Kissing Agathon, I found
My soul at my lips. Poor thing!
--It went there, hoping
To slip across.

and a lovely lil tribute...


Some say there are nine Muses: but they're wrong.
Look at Sappho of Lesbos; she makes ten.

(all Plato translations by Peter Jay)

Some of Fleur Adcock's translations of Marcus Argentarius's poems sound a little creaky know how translations need to be done over and over...

This one she has...

Hetero-sex is best for the man of a serious turn of mind,
But here's a hint, if you should fancy the other:
Turn Menophila round in bed, address her peachy behind,
And it's easy to pretend you're screwing her brother.

I want to tinker with the clunky wordiness of it...

Consolation Prize

Straight sex for a straight mind.
But if you like the other kind,
Flip Menophila over; you'll find
Your Grail: her brother's behind.

Serial Killer Training Wheels. Are You Normal? Well, There's a Site Where People Will Vote and Tell You..."

I found this by accident.

I only read a few sentences because I was going to throw up.

This guy got a 25% normal.

So a quarter of the (online) population thinks he's okay.

Stanley Millgram, you had a FUCKING POINT.

Vomitous "normalcy."

Somebody's momma shoulda swallowed (every single night).

I didn't even read the comment chain.

I hope someone pointed out this is classic serial killer training wheels.


Pretending to be Marguerite Duras is exhausting. Drink. Fuck. Space out. Describe the stairs. Describe the lover. Describe the way the lover's footsteps sound on the stairs. Now outside the house. The lover's steps. Try to open a jar of applesauce. Scream. Marguerite Duras scrutinizes arctic blue Gator Ade. She would talk for three pages about a blue liquid and the reconnaisance of the lover.The electrolytes lost in fucking. She has absolutely nothing to say about Babar. She refuses to address the elephant. Though he sits in the middle of the room. Sometimes she would drift for days through a novel like an alligator lazing in a hot pool. "There goes Ms. Duras," the children would say and watch the alligator float past. The telphone conversation and its caesuras. The problem of reception. The lover's problem with reception. Adjust the lover to get better reception. Why don't they bring back those antennae called "rabbit ears." Put them on the lover. Adjust the lover. The problem of reception is solved. The problem of pretending to be Marguerite Duras. I find it all very exhausting. Would she put her ass on a photocopying machine and press COPY? But she did. She wanted to be glass. A glass. She wanted to hold something without really holding it. She had a mouth on her. It was a pretty mouth. The Academie Francaise disconnected her telephone one day in 1942. She refused to have it reconnected. She would keep a red plastic play telephone on her desk instead and pretend to have conversations with the Academie. Then she would always end the conversations by laughing and saying "Oh Fuck You, Ernest, you cocksucker from Nebraska or wherever the fuck!" and hang up. Then she would drink some more. And watch people sniveling through the window. She collected sniveling enthusiasts. Though she was not one herself. She was very brave. She would drink to solve their problems. Drinking to solve other people's problems is a very brave thing. Paris is full of sniveling enthusiasts. Even this afternoon. Go look and see if you don't believe me. Sniveling is the National Pastime of France just as it is in America.

The Ten Lover Genera: Erotic Meteorology


         High Altitude

1. The cirrus lover is composed of ice crystals and appears as thin, white streaks or tufts without shadows. This lover is very high most of the time. Breath: vodka, pine trees or that odd museum smell. Classy. But. Terrifying.

2. The Cirrocumulus lover comes in white ripples and billows arranged in lines. This lover is sometimes cheekily referred to as one's "mackerel." Dreams of fish often. This lover swims in sleep and is fun to watch at these times.

3. Cirrostratus lovers have a thin whitish veil that may cover the entire lover. This lover often produces halo effects around the sun, moon or other people seen as possible lovers by the cirrostratus. Exhausting as bonsai.

           Middle Altitude

4. Altocumulus lovers appear as flattened, globular masses or rolls that are shaded from white to black. These watery lovers are also humorously called "mackerel." Because erotic meteorologists are fucking headgame players. This is actually a lover that handles rather like a slightly stylish, economy car. With all the joys and tragedies that a slightly stylish, economy car entails. Think "Hyundai Lover." You may need to pretend to be Marguerite Duras a lot to keep things interesting.

5. An altostratus lover looks like a translucent or opaque bluish or gray sheet through which the moon and the sun can sometimes be seen. This is the lover like a Cocteau Twins song. A lover like a child fallen asleep in a cemetery. This lover does precipitate. These lovers will occasionally lock themselves in refrigerators, in art, or in art's refrigerator. Not for the squeamish--for experienced hands only.

6. Nimbostratus lovers are large gray or dark lovers that produce continuous rain or snow. Who can live with a nimbostratus? That's a rhetorical question, so don't answer. They photograph well. Good in bed. Try to avoid this lover during daylight hours and it just might work.

            Low Altitude

7. The stratocumulus lover contains lines or rolls of white and dark moods grouped closedly together. A lover like a victory garden. A few years in, you wonder why. But it's easy to feed and tend, so you may tarry a half century before you realize you could have just as easily collected schnauzers or salt and pepper shakers that look like funny things which are not salt and pepper shakers.

8. Stratus lovers are a uniform gray that often develop from fog and rise above the ground. Self-explanatory.

9. Cumulus lovers are fair-weather lovers that have a flat base and high white domes or tufts. They are a brilliant white when illuminated by the sun, although they do occasionally produce showers. These lovers tend to remain children. WARNING: Children die poorly.

           Various Altitudes

10. Cumulonimbus lovers are thunderheads that can occur at all altitudes throwing lightning into any of the other lovers mentioned above. These lovers are very dense. Often appear as towering walls with striking contrasts of light and dark. I.Q. and F.I.C.O. score are usually identical. Or close.

I Made This Pretty Template But I Don't Know What to Put In It....

I'm thinking Victorian cabinet photos.

Of freaks.

Just two or three.

Things I Learned Today

York Peppermint Patty makes a bag of miniatures I buy at Wally World now and then. They come in mini pairs. Two little patties are joined together in their silver foil packages.

Well, I took two upstairs and was thinking about eating them before I went to bed, but I didn't.

Apparently, if you fold one over the other with the advertising turned inside, they look an awful lot like two silvery condoms lying on a nighttable.

And your partner might freak out if he sees this.

So now you know.

Be careful.

Advertising Grammar: "IF YOU LIKE _______, YOU MIGHT LIKE ______"

You've seen the sticker on generic perfumes, colognes.

"hardcore sadomasochistic sex including ritual choking,"

"these motherfucking taste-like-molten lead wasabi peas"

Friday, October 29, 2010

there are other ways to spell gingko

schizophrenic indian summer got some clarity today. it decided, "i am going to destroy you all." it had vacillated for a few weeks. but it had its "elevator moment." i knew when i looked out the back door and saw the miniature gingko (he's only allowed to grow five feet tall, not one inch more, we have a signed contract) had gone yellow. the gingko leaves look better yellow. they make great bookmarks. you need two gingkos to make them breed. you have to have a marriage ceremony. and then they join pollen through insects. they're married. but mine is a bachelor. or bachelorette i think rather. autumn. yes. but. still. it's like when you realize your feet are tired of carrying you around the planet. cavemen were dead by now, your feet say. "are we lingering?" everyone is lingering. babies are lingering. this lovely book came. the limited edition double (flip) book of kendra grant malone backed with matthew savoca. thank you scrambler books for making this and for charging such a great price so people could afford it. only 75 of these beauties were made. i got number 14. which i'm happy with. the sonnet number. it's a good luck number for me. i always pick it in lotto. think of the sonnets when you play lotto. it should win a design award. "cover art and design by crystal quinn." crystal, you deserve an award. submit it to some of those many book shows in nyc they have every year. you will win something. if you don't know kendra grant malone's poetry, you should. finding her poetry was like finding eileen myles the first time. the "truth per ounce" thing is pretty stupefying in her poetry. i have at least a dozen favorite kgm poems in my head already. here's part of her funny dedication: "to all the lovers from this year and last, thank you for the material, you assholes." people kgm reminds me of: akhmatova (especially the poems about men), eileen myles, sappho, my mother on one of her funny jags. but she is her own creature and her poems are a memorable survival manual like the best poems always are really. matthew savoca is no slouch either. what i read of his book was seamless. it's almost like a little novel in poetry really. or is it ars poetica? he reminds me of Berrigan (pere) more than a little. and there are glints of joe brainard too, oddly enough. who i of course love. there are even illustrations passim, after the manner of some brainard books and collabs. this is a memorable double debut. i will try to talk more about these books later, in a more serious bookish mode. but these are two poets who are going to be all through your body and brain later. whoever you are. my hair is too long. but i don't want to touch it. i want a coffin of hair around me. i have some great ideas for photos i want to do right now. i want to use the buddha head from pier one. these are ideas for funny pics. but i need the house to myself. i want to do them alone. some of the things i want to do with buddha head will be embarrassing if someone watches me. but it wont be if they don't. this is the definition of therapy. someone watching you cures you. that's the simplest definition. and later you are supposed to watch yourself. do you watch yourself? everyone knows the most fun moments are when you don't watch yourself. but this is often dangerous, isn't it.

Andrew Conroy

I find the Flickr community to be a really wonderful world of friendly image-makers.

I've been favorited a few more times, and a lot of artists have listed me as a contact. I'm happy to see when I click on these contacts' Flickr, I almost always like their art!

A gentleman named Andrew Conroy wrote me today to tell me he added one of my pieces to his fine blog here: Lost Time Found Again.

I really liked what I saw. I fell in love with a bunch of the photographs on the first page alone.

I see he's done book versions of his photography blog in the past too. There's a Barcelona connection too. One of those cities on my "to do" list for sure.

Here is Mr. Conroy's great photostream on Flickr: Andrew Conroy

I like the aesthetic of this blog, so I'll add it to my blogroll.

It's funny that he chose a Polaroid I manipulated years ago.

I have a Polaroid camera that doesn't function normally. I would film things using my old Fisher Price camera (the pixel vision one that Almereyda and others used) and then filter these images through the beautifully broken Polaroid camera, which seemed to think it existed in the 19th century anyway.

I'm told that Fisher Price camera goes for over a thousand now if you sell it on EBAY. Many artists want it. We bought it when it wasn't yet hip, because we fell in love with its Seurat graininess when we saw it demonstrated in Toys R Us. Who expects to find Seurat in Toys R Us? (You mirror-image the R to a Russian "I." I don't know how.)

This was before the thousands of filters and their millions of possible permutations reached my little fingertips.

Most of the things I filmed back then were en plein air. I didn't stay in my house as much then.

I liked going out into the woods and such back then. I liked natural bodies of water.

But the photo he chose (and the title of his blog fits here, I suppose) is one of my ex.

His face is rendered somewhat masklike. But I think it reminds me more of Roman art. He is a serious scholar of ancient history and is especially brilliant on ancient Rome (he authored a screenplay set in that period and it isn't the usual crap that gets passed off as "history.")

I would do "glamor" shots of him too (he has great bone structure) but sometimes it was fun to see the ghost.

One I did of my mother I also posted and she's totally ghostly in that one. My mother is very good at projecting characters onto film that aren't her at all. I used to love when she would model for me. I'd give her strange outfits or we'd look at paintings by say, Goya, and she'd become a girl thirty years younger than her natural age. I think that she is (treated) schizophrenic helps her with this strange gift.

I would swear sometimes the process was sensitive to ectoplasm, because sometimes you'd get these weird "Ted Serios" like images.

Once a Victorian bedstead (right out of a movie adaptation of Dickens) appeared with absolute certainty when I was filming something like a garden.

It wasn't that I felt as though I was hallucinating or dreaming the image. It felt as thought I was the image's dream or hallucination at these times. The images seemed to be dreaming me, rather than the other way around. (That's a different way to bicycle, my brain thought.)

But maybe that is how life works anyway.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Pictures from my Summer Vacation (Part 3)

Pictures from My Summer Vacation (Part 2)

Pictures from My Summer Vacation (Part 1)

Mr. Peepers

Mr. Peepers is a real cat.

He lives next door to me.

Well, that's where he receives mail. Because he's never home. He's always out cattin and getting tail and kicking rump and takin names.

He is a "red tabby" like Dru but he is a big bruiser cat.

We call him Mr. Peepers because he likes to spy. He looks in our house sometimes through windows or doors.

Dru used to show interest, but now Dru gives him the cold shoulder. I think Mr. Peepers said something unforgiveable one day to Dru through a screen.

Mr. Peepers has left children everywhere, like a blues musician.

If there were such a thing as cat alimony, Mr. Peepers would be in what overdramatic people call "total abject misery."

But there isn't, so he isn't.

I can tell how the winter weather is progressing by listening for Mr. Peeper's at my neighbor's front door.

Here's how you know:

MILDLY COLD: No noise from Mr. Peepers.

COLD WITH JUST A BIT OF AN EDGE: A single meow at the door. If nobody answers within fifteen seconds he's gone again on his rounds.

COLD WITH SOME WIND THAT HAS A REAL EDGE ON IT: Mr. Peepers meows up to three times. He knocks something over on the front porch making a loud noise. There might be breakage. He runs from breakage and hides, watching to see if the door opens.

CRAZY COLD WITH WIND CHIMES GOING NUTS: Mr. Peepers remains on porch meowing but pretends to look relaxed sprawled on the resin not the old aluminum chair (the latter being much, much colder). Occasionally raises voice. One remonstration meow for every three normal meows.

ICE STORM: Mr. Peepers screams like a girl because when he shakes his body it tinkles like a crystal mobile. Meows distress meow to be let in (directed towards door) but also meows extremely critical and vituperative meows at Nature (directed off the porch).

CRAZY MOFO COLD NIGHT: Mr. Peepers wails like a banshee. Neighbors dial 911 as they are sure a woman is being murdered or has been nearly murdered and lies calling for help. Police arrive and Mr. Peepers' owner opens the door to see what's going on with all the flashing lights. Mr. Peepers enters the house and leaves everyone unable to fall back asleep, clutching various weaponry in their bed, waiting for the killer to "strike again."

Trick or Treat?

Lee got the land line working again (after an hour a half of trying things with some tech guy using his cell phone).

Neither one of them ever did figure out what happened.

Get this. The lamp that "blew" last night in my bedroom, which I hadn't replaced yet (although I could see the milky ick at the top) is now working fine again.

Our ghosts are serious jokesters. They got jokes.

I don't think this falls under "ghostly happenings" at all but it's weird. In with very funny and nice messages on my cell phone was a "WARNING: NEWPORT SCHOOL DISTRICT WAS EVACUTED AT BLAH BLAH TIME TODAY AFTER A TERRORISTIC THREAT. It said the police and the fire department or something did a sweep and the kids were sent (sentenced?) back to school."

I'm assuming that's a case of somebody not updating their phone number on file. They used to hold these numbers a longer time before reissuing them (well with landlines they did).

I still get goofy pics from people I don't know. This person led a virtuous life, because I'm not getting pics of guys' or girls' "junk." It's more like pics of a dog carrying a beer can in its mouth. Or an F-350 truck. Redneckiana. I get redneckiana on my cell phone. Maybe the redneck died and this is their phone afterlife. We will all have phone afterlifes, you know. And mail afterlifes. And online afterlifes. Someone should do a movie where the whole thing is just tracking someone's afterlife through all the pointless social networking sites and junk mail and people calling to ask them do some favor etc. Even being dead entails a lot of offers and requests. They should hang a large sign over the cemetery entrance: NO SOLICITING.

It makes sense these people had kids that went to Newport High. That's Perry County. That is rural and somewhat redneck. The radio stations tell "Perry County" jokes all the time around here. Yes, rude I know. And of course they are sister marrying brother jokes mostly. That and cow humor. Or bestiality humor. Sheep legs in boots type humor.

Well, it's Trick or Treat night and Lee is spent from the phone imbroglio, so he's gonna sleep right through hand out time. I always beg him to do this though I buy the candy and set up the "drama" in the foyer with the approprite little monsters, etc.

But tonight it's me or no one, so I guess I had better make myself horribly presentable. I won't wear a scary mask because we tend to get a lot of toddlers (I know: the face is enough lol).

But I refuse to let all this candy end up in Lee's or my gullet. And I bought some little party favor type games with Halloween theme. You know the little metal ball in the round plastic maze with a skeleton or ghost or devil etc. underneath. So they get candy and a toy. It's hardly as much fun as their Wii, yes I know.

If they're smart they'll hold on to this Halloween ephemera and sell it on EBAY years later. They won't get rich but they'll be surprised to find dinner that night is on a cheap little toy from 2010.

HERE'S ANOTHER URBAN LEGEND TO START: An elderly woman spends money she doesn't have to buy (oddly) lottery tickets for the kids. The night she is handing out the tickets, a gang of kids dressed as kitty kats pose as Trick or Treaters and then force their way into her house and kill her and take her lottery tickets. They argue about whether or not to kill her cat, Mr. Peepers. The one girl in the group convinces them not to. They discover three days later they hold a winning ticket for the Lotto, 28 million dollars. They are busted for the murder and are all in jail.No bail. Because they killed the woman to get the lottery ticket (she might have given them) they cannot "benefit from their crime" and lose the rights to the money. The 28 million goes to Mr. Peepers (it was in her will) who is weeping inconsolably in a wire cage at the Humane Society. Mr. Peepers is immediately removed from his cage, restored to his home, and a trustee shows up to begin treating him the way a trust fund kitty and millionaire feline is meant to be treated.

I am thinking about moving

This house is seriously fucked with the haunting.

None of the phones work now except for the cell phones.

Lee has been trying to figure them out for an hour now.

He could hear someone (something?) snoring on the one phone but all the phones were on their hooks. We were both awake.

We can't get a dial tone out of a single phone except our cellulars.

Nothing is off the hook.

I reminded him of the thing with the replayed conversation (which I should point out happened in the living room--of the electrical wonders).

The ghosts stopped blowing that one particular light bulb when I asked them kindly not to.

But instead they blew a light bulb out in my room (as a joke i guess).

I've about had enough of this shit. I never thought about moving before but I think I'm getting close with this shit.

You pick up the phone and you can hear a listening space. It's not dead. It's fucking creepy.

Even Lee, ever the rational one, has been saying things like "This is beginning to get really weird."


This is like the one hundred and tenth weird fucking thing they did.

I've really had enough at this point. I've reached my limit.

I slept with a fucking big-ass sharp knife next to my body.

A lot of good it will do me.

But you keep believing it has to be someone human playing a trick on you.

Except logically I know it's not.

No one is this indetectable, this able to do things from a remote location.

It's this fucking house.

It's fucking haunted.

That's it. Plain and simple.

I don't know whether to call the phone company, a realtor or an exorcist.

I'm mentally ill but I don't hallucinate. I had one hallucination in the past year. And it lasted a few minutes only and I knew it was a hallucination when it was happening.

And I blame even that on this house.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

ordered 2 books tonight

I realized with horror that a friend who borrowed Yoko Ono's Grapefruit pretty much stole it at this point. He fell in love with some guy in Nebraska and who knows where my grapefruit is. Locked in his old PA apt. or out in Nebraska enlightening the peoples of the plains.

And Joe Wenderoth'sNo Real Light. Don't know that one but want to.

Joe does good work. He never disappoints.

Dear Dominatrix


Dear Mistress Letitia,

i respect you very much
as an artist

i wanted to make sure
i say that first

i'm sorry
i didn't tell you
about my credit card
on file getting canceled

i guess you found out
on thursday when ann
ran it through

she sounded really pissed
in the message on my cell phone

Mistress, i wanted you
to know though

i've had a lot
on my plate lately

i just realized
i'm doing it again
starting all my sentences
with "i"

and as i know
you told me
in our last session

"there is no 'i' in 'worm'"

i still remember how you punctuated
that with your riding crop

it's just i wanted
you to know my mother
died last thursday

and my son's

cleft palate operation
has left me momentarily

strapped (no pun intended ha)
and was just wondering
if you and ann could let
me slide til next month

but keep our biweekly
sessions in place for now

i think you're helping me
a lot with our work together
much more than any
of my other therapists really

i don't quite understand
why you hung up on me friday
when i was trying to explain
all this over the phone

but i guess i deserve
to have to type this all out
since i'm a horrible typist

and really hate typing

lastly, i should say
this email isn't some sort of ploy
to receive humiliation free
i mean i'm not trying to get you

to berate and belittle me horribly
in an email back (altho i'd
be lying if i didn't say
that would be nice)

i mean i'm really broke

which is why i'm writing you

but if this email
really pisses you off
feel free to call me
and tell me what you feel like
doing to me for this sort of

broke-ass whining and complaining
in the presence of my Mistress

Mistress Letitia,

thanks for letting me keep
the crab crackers
you used in our last session

did you really steal those
from red lobster or were you joking?

my balls still look like red lobsters
after that treatment


well if you do call

please remember only between the hours
of eleven p.m. and seven a.m.

it's impt. to remember that

my wife is over the ovarian cancer
thing and is back to work

nights at UPS

so sunday through thursday

ONLY okay? sorry Mistress
for raising my voice there a little bit

i'm sure you will "address that"
in our next session

well hope to hear from you

Your favorite Human Ottoman



Dear Slave or Worm,

Mistress Letitia
is currently on vacation

enjoying the pastel colors
of several Caribbean islands.

She will return to the Dungeon
on Tuesday, August 17th

so kindly save all
Sniveling until then.


P.S. Slaves who send
more than one email

may find booking future appointments
with Mistress Letitia

extremely difficult!


That's me laughing
at all your fucking

boring pain.

But you know
I secretly love you.

You know who you are are!

Sometimes you catch

that "something extra"
in my eyes sometimes

during our sessions,

don't you?


(I'm not talking about you, Herb.

Call Ann at the office ASAP.)

The rest of you


Your Mistress

I Love Being a Favorite

As an underprivileged adult, I love being a favorite.

I've had three of my artworks favorited so far on Flickr!

(A gay little) Yay!


Toothpaste is not a sexual lubricant. Toothpaste is a sexual lubricant with a grudge. Guava jelly is not a sexual lubricant. Guava jelly is a sexual lubricant for shits and giggles, for entertainment purposes only. Saliva is a sexual lubricant. Saliva is a sexual lubricant that says I am interested in what you have been doing for the last ten to twenty years and the next twenty years. Or else I am very drunk. Or this is prison sex. Some men have prison sex with their wives. Some wives have prison sex with their husbands. Sometimes prisoners engage in a menage a trois and pretend that it is spice. Like bringing home a pumpkin pie to surprise somebody. Honey, I picked up a thug on the way home. Oh fine, put him on the dining room table. Somebody is probably drowning, though, or somebody is just a slut who isn't comfortable with being a slut and needs to grow up before their childhood has a body count. Language is not a sexual lubricant. Language is a sexual lubricant for the more experienced players. Because we're going to pretend. That there is something lubricating. You lubricate yourself. You self-lubricate. Men do it. Women do it. Different places. But toothpaste? You're either fourteen or patarded. Fluoridated orifices. I think it has bleach. This isn't even on the fetish Rolodex. Get a real pathology.

Someone Checked this Blog Earlier Today to Assist Them In Drug Peddling

They were checking for the street value of a drug I was talking about.

They searched a string that began with the phrase "worth street selling."


I was going to change my tagline yesterday to THE ORIGINAL BAD ROMANCE. ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES.

But thought once twice over and said no.


Like the Blue Book of street drugs. It would have the street worth of drugs, broken down by city and neighborhood. There'd be little codes for "how many murders were committed on this street" and "what you should pack weapon-wise in this neighborhood" and "white people exploitation market." Things like that.

But it all changes so fast a book might be pointless.

Probably a website would be better.

Of course, da gubbermunt might not be too happy with you.

Wow. I Mean No. Wow. "Same Old Suit Since Nineteen Two..."

Check out some pics of this 1903 Halloween issue of the Household Ledger.

Click to enlarge the last two pics to see 1) the racist ad and 2) the ad addressed "To Fat People."

1903 was not a good year for sensitivity.

That was litotes.