Monday, February 28, 2011








No Way


Oh lala, I loooove bad boys :-)))

Originally uploaded by chrisbavaria

je me suis tant

je me suis tant
Originally uploaded by {E}mma
another great one from the One group.

Elvis Car

Elvis Car
Originally uploaded by Czlowiek Kamera

((( Paris ,,,

((( Paris ,,,
Originally uploaded by thierry tillier
i love a good tondo.

((( ,

((( ,
Originally uploaded by thierry tillier


Originally uploaded by kygp
love this. from the One group.

Mimi is speachless!CARL(a) got something precious from Huub!!!!

Love this.

The Three Faces Of...





I THOT                    I THAW          A THETAN, DAD!

That's Thientology!

Satan morphs into pseudo-scientific Thetans.

L. Ron Hubbard was such a jokester.

He had to seriously laugh himself to sleep at night.

Charlie Angel




Chemistry Teacher Kitteh


I don't know how




My Favorite Commercial Right Now

Bar none.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Fucked Up Eminem is Waaay Better than the Straight Eminem

I'm sorry but Relapse is such a better album than Recovery.

I can't get over the Christopher Reeves segment on "Medicine Ball."

Never been funnier or more evil.

The Fine Brothers

The Fine Brothers are evil.

The Fine Brothers are hilarious.

Don't blame me if you watch this clip.


I just got an email notifying me I made the homepage on the Cheezburger site again!


It's the History page.

Thanks, Cheez Gods!

We are now officially engaged.

But we are "holding off" getting married until old ladies can marry their cats.

Because we are Hollywood like dat.


Goldfrapp's Latest

Goldfrapp's latest album brings back all the glory and excess of seventies pop!

Here's a single.

The lyrics even seem to contain some titles and partial titles of seventies songs.

This song almost sounds like something out of Xanadu in places.

And that makes sense with the Olivia Newton John look Allyson is having so much fun with here.

Goldfrapp has never been embarrassed by pop excess.

They can go from the most sublime artpop (Felt Mountain) to total club dance tunes, pure pop.



Johnny Depp

You probably couldn't tell but this          is Johnny Depp. He's THAT EFFIN GOOD!

The Suicide is Alive!

I've been pumping Lee for information on the woman (whom I don't know at all).

She was even in my dream last night.

But the first sign she was alive was that her credit card was used in Maryland.

That could have been a criminal using it, right?

But no. She called later from South Carolina, wouldn't say where she was, but that she wasn't coming home.

There was some "you don't treat me right" vibe in that directed at her family, I think.

So now Lee has more gaps to cover but we're both grateful she wasn't found lying in U-STOR-IT! with lividity turning the bottom half of her body into a Rothko painting.

Spite is as good as any other reason to stay alive, I suppose.

You go, girl.

I Enjoyed This

Kendra Grant Malone discusses five books which have inspired her for a London website.

I like her list a lot.

I thought it was cool that she chose Nan Goldin's book, since the kind of hardcore honesty that's found in those photographs is found in her poems.

List here.

Thanks, Mazilla!

No, actually I don't know this band at all.

I like this and I found the history of the band fascinating.

I think it's beautiful that it all happened the way it did.

That the album didn't do anything commercially and slowly swelled to massive through "word of ear."

So many of their songs on YouTube have nearly half a million hits, which is more consisent with pop celebrities who are shoving themselves down our throats every chance they get.

And yet this band is totally reticent.

Now some are saying "one of the greatest albums ever" about the one album.

And how Magnum says he probably won't write any more albums without really giving any reason why.

That will help a mystique along a lot of miles. ;-)

Rebuke for the Makers

Do you think Poe was bipolar? I'm fairly certain he was, judging by the understanding of both mania and depression exhibited in his writing. I mean in both his poetry and fiction. And the substance abuse makes perfect sense. He was too high-functioning to have been schizophrenic, as some used to speculate (mostly in the past).

Of course, he is recognized as the father of the mystery story/novel. Edgar awards are given out each year.

A keen understanding of human psychology and psychological abnormalities is pretty much a sine qua non for writers of crime fiction--or even writers of true crime books.

But psychology, per se, didn't exist in Poe's time. So Poe sort of half-invented that discipline as well.

You sometimes return to your first loves later in life.

I was reading Poe's poetry (large chunks of which I still have memorized) and was surprised to still find so much of it affecting.

One wouldn't necessarily expect this, because it's so versified (which is alien to us today) and it's often so outre.

As versification goes, Poe was a prosodic genius. I'm assuming his essay on the same is still added to syllabi? Maybe it's dropped off. If so, a shame, because it's sort of the locus classicus to gain a quick and habile understanding of the same.

But since Whitman was permanently changing the shape of American poetry, hammering the fetters of prosody to liberate American poetry metrically, Poe's accomplishments in this regard would soon seem somewhat benighted.

Of course Poe's love poems are mannered. And they speak to the conventions of another age which is completely alien to us. Poe's idealization of women matches up so closely with his search for his dead mother that even today we "worry about the boy." And many of those poems do indeed date from his boyhood.

But there are poems which are genuinely moving and sometimes this is because we are familiar with Poe's tragic circumstances. His invocation of Israfel is piteous and affecting. "A Dream within a Dream," written at the very end of his life is again colored by the tragic circumstances of his life.

Something J.D. McClatchy wrote about Elizabeth Bishop struck me like a lightning bolt. He simply reminded the reader that Bishop had only written (well, chosen to publish) ninety poems in her lifetime.

And look at the deserved esteem in which her writing is held.

Her poem on losing alone would have guaranteed that her name would never be forgotten.

And yet Poe beats out even Bishop for the Quality over Quantity prize.

While he was known to publish anonymously, it's generally conceded that he wrote just over seventy poems.

Here is a really great article at Wikipedia giving you the background on each poem individually: A Catalogue of Poe's Poetry.

I hadn't even known about his (rather pointless) Wall Street fillip poem. He was wise not to publish that under his own name. That was clearly hackwork and Poe recognized it as such. He probably got paid a nominal sum and that's why he did that. Poe biographies reveal he often did things like this, since he was often subsisting.

I want to find that one composer's work adapting three Poe poems. I'm hoping I can find some or all of it on YouTube.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

I Love Jason Mraz

There are only a handful of musicians who make me woozy with admiration.

Most of them are women (like Liz Fraser).

But Jason Mraz has that voice (and songwriting skills) that come along once in half a century.

Believe it or not I did not own his 2002 album before tonight.

I knew all the songs, but Lee kindly got a copy for me and I downloaded it to my Media Player and am enjoying it now.

Mr. Mraz's last name means "Frost" in Czech (his descent).

This is funny because my Mom called my last night to let me know that the wonderful poet Celestine Frost is trying to get in touch with me.

I pray all is well with her!

We are friends and corresponded for years and then as I moved and moved again and her family grew, we sort of drifted apart.

My mom called me in the middle of the night to give me her New York address, which I noticed had changed.

I'm right here, Celestine! xoxo

But she must not be online! She's usually painting or drawing or writing poetry and probably doesn't care a whit for the net.

But anyway, I was Googling Jason and reading about him.

Not only is he uber-talented as a songwriter-singer, but he also is constantly working for peace, unity and the betterment of all.

Check out his blog if you don't believe me. He's the exact oppposite of a planet fucker.

I linked to his blog some time back. His bursts of positive thinking are so contrary to everything one encounters in this culture.

And he recently became engaged (Congratulations Mr. Mraz!) but is holding off on getting married until gay marriage is legal for all.

Typical of his ethical stance on everything.

God, I love this album.

He recorded this when he was 24 or 25. And it's just perfect.

Jason Mraz is one of that handful of people who make it very easy for depressed people to want to stay on this planet.

It's worth hanging around to hear that voice.

The pics I just found online.

I had never looked for any "sexy Mraz pics" but I did just now.

Love how he looks so much like Rupert E. in the one lol.

He amazes me.

Right now I'm listening to "Absolutely Zero" and am blown away.

Why did it take so long for him to get his Grammys.

This first album should have garnered him a slew right out of the gate.

One of My Favorite Groups

I have a LOT of favorite groups on Flickr.

This one is pretty amazing.

The concept for the group is so clean (unlike most group concepts on Flickr) that the artwork has a gestalt that most other groups tend not to be able to realize.

The theme is ONE.

Usually this means one object (often in a monochromatic background but not necessarily).

I just know this aesthetic speaks to leads to CLEAN work with a visual pungency.

Often this tends towards the zen.

But again not always.

Check this out and see if you don't find some amazing photographs: One of my favorite Flickr Groups.

still life

still life





Lay on, Goggie..

Lay on, Goggie,  And damn'd                       be him  that first cries, "Hold, enough!"



i'm your biggest fan



octo blue



i'm a gonna

I'm gonna meet those Jehovah's Witnesses right at the door and stop this nonsense once and for all!

When the salt's gone  I'll start on the flesh...


Karoo Ashevak (1940-1974)

Karoo Ashevak is my favorite Inuit artist.

He is sometimes cavalierly called "The Picasso of the North."

I think it's so sad that he doesn't even have a Wikipedia entry!

Other Ashevaks do.

I was put in mind of him when I was looking at that extracted tooth the one artist scanned that I posted last night.

It was so Ashevak, who like all great sculptors knew when to leave nature's work untouched.

Among the most famous members of the canon, probably only Noguchi shares that gift with Ashevak.

His works seem to be easy prey to private collectors and then they disappear.

Which is a real shame.

Because some of the best pieces I've seen are nowhere to be found on Google.

And with his "affordable" prices (under 100K) there is no dearth of private collectors who will gobble these pieces up and just hoard them.

Which is sad.

Two Surprises

Maryland approved gay marriage on the same day Lady Gaga arrived to perform!

And San Francisco had its first snow since 1976.

Two lovely facts to imagine!

Scanner Art

I was going to create a group for Scanner Art on Flickr because I didn't think there was one.

But I found a handful of great ones last night, so I just joined them instead.

Because I want to do more scannerography.

Scanner art is not technically photography, but it produces images all the same so...

I love the shallow depth of field actually, because it makes you think differently.

I like the way many artists end up moving into tenebrist mode on there.

Both the darkness and the light end up having to be used differently.

But for now I'm into the monochrome and the singular.

And the monochrome and conjunctions.



This is horrible.

I had a really great day yesterday and then I guess I stayed up too late because it suddenly "came upon me" all at once and I was instantly messed up.

So I knew to medicate (I have over the counter drugs that work well with my one prescribed drug) and then I called Lee.

And then he told me something horrible.

A woman he works with had disappeared (yesterday) after leaving a note stating she was going to kill herself and that her body would be found in a local storage facility.

She didn't state which storage facility, and there must be twenty or thirty of those things around here. Some are quite large.

She's middle-age and has had several strokes recently, so I'm guessing she's had a hard time of it.

And then having to work. That might have been too much. She should have been getting help!

Lee said she's done this before (attempts anyway).

The police stopped in at Lee's office and asked if anyone had heard anything.

I hope they went to every single local storage facility and checked who had signed in or accessed a unit in the time frame under question.

She gets her medication at the same WAL-MART pharmacy I do, and one of Lee's other employees saw her coming out with her medication into the parking lot as he was entering it.

If he had only known! And could have talked to her!

He had not yet been told of what was going on.

I did pray for her.

Lee said nothing was known as of the morning and she had not been found.

I asked Lee what the temperature was and he said 32 degrees last night (not the best, but not the worst).

I'm praying she changed her mind and went to a local e.r. I asked if they had been calling hospitals (she could have been found unconscious and brought in as a "jane doe"). He said he assumed.

She has grown children who are of course out of their minds with panic right now.

I'm wondering if she wanted to be rescued. Because she did say where she was going. Sort of. But made it maddening.

I'm trying to figure out psychologically why she would choose a storage unit for suicide.

Is she trying to degrade herself by saying she's superfluous "belongings."

Killers often place bodies in those facilities.

If I were a detective, I would take cadaver dogs routinely to facilities and do a complete walk around past every unit.

I don't think you'd even need a search warrant, since you aren't entering the units or compromising them in any way.

But I have a friend who crosses herself any time we drive past one of those places, because she says she knows bodies are in there.

She's probably right.

I know suicides often choose motel or hotel rooms to commit the act.

Because they don't want their loved ones finding them and it's a reasonably comfortable private place.

But a storage unit?

Is it because she figures it will take longer for people to find her?

Maybe it's all a red herring. Maybe she lied to throw people off where she would really be.

But people don't usually lie in suicide notes.

Except for like murderers who want to exonerate themselves for either selfish or unselfish reasons whent they know conviction is probable.

But this poor soul.

I'm seriously praying this will turn out alright.

If she's in such a state she should not be working.

That probably just added huge stress to her life.

The Lost Lunar Baedeker

I returned to Mina Loy yesterday morning and was rereading some favorite poems.

And I read her brief essay "Modern Poetry."

I liked this: "This composite language is a very living language, it grows as you speak. For the true American appears to be ashamed to say anything in the way it has been said before. Every moment he ingeniously coins new words for old ideas, to keep good humor warm. And on the baser avenues of Manhattan every voice swings to the triple rhythm of its race, its citizenship and its personality."

And: "You may think it impossible to conjure up the relationship of expression between the high browest modern poets and an adolescent Slav who has speculated in a wholesale job-lot of mandarines and is trying to sell them in a retail market on First Avenue. But it lies simply in this: both have had to become adapted to a country where the mind has to put on its verbal clothes at terrific speed if it would speak in time; where no one will listen if you attack him twice with the same missile of argument. And, that the ear that has listened to the greatest number of sounds will have the most to choose from when it comes to self-expression, each has been liberally educated in the flexibility of phrases.

"So in the American poet wherever he may wander, however he may engage himself with an older culture, there has occurred no Europeanization of his fundamental advantage, the actuer shock of the New World consciousness upon life. His is still poetry that has proceeded out of America."

That's pure Mina Loy.

You get such a sense of her character, her anti-snobbism, from the diction itself.

The humorous and solecistic "high browest" shows her lovely spirit and her embrace of the original phrase.

As I reread her, I wonder how much she influenced Barbara Guest (another favorite of mine).

Because inasmuch as Guest probably had the best and fullest understanding of the poet who was the subject of her landmark biography, H.D., Guest is so much closer in her own poetry to the poetics of Loy.

H.D. was a poet who grew in power with each passing decade.

Hers wasn't an early flowering, followed by recapitulation or descent into silence.

Like Yeats, H.D. wrote some of her most powerful poems very late in life.

She began in Imagism, but soon found she had a gift for hunting out the archetypal image.

Her embrace of the occult and mystical tendencies meshed with her ability to intuit the archetypal in the particular, and eventually led her to a place where she could engage history as it was coming to be, and write poems as large as the events (for example, the second World War) which occupied the world stage in her lifetime.

But her poetic diction is nowhere near as forgetive as Loy's. Or Barbara Guest's.

This is probably because both Loy and Guest had a much more active engagement with the abstract art being produced in their respective lifetimes, and cultivated strong friendships with the artists who produced these works.

Both women showed a marked critical acumen. Guest worked as a professional art critic for decades, and authored monographs on several artists. She often produced livres d'artiste with beloved painters. Guest did create some visual art herself. Loy created art that sometimes looked more like fashion, and fashion that sometimes looked more like art--if one is going to worry the unnecessary distinction with quibbles or cavils.

It is not accidental that the concrete praxis of each poet tended towards catachresis.

Catachresis is one of the more painterly rhetorical devices; it is strongly analogous to the less representational modes of painting--both the expressionistic and the abstract.

Catachresis is often the literary equivalent of liberated paint.

Loy and Guest shared this embrace of catachresis with Hart Crane.

Hart Crane took this device to the extreme. He was a virtual "catachresis queen."

So many poems by Loy seem to be speaking across decades to poems by Guest.

A poem like "Marble" by Loy reads like a total pre-figurement of Guest, say the latter circa Fair Realism.

Both poets wrote stunning ekphrastic poems.

Think of Loy describing Brancusi's "Bird in Space" or Guest describing that Balla painting in a memorable poem.

Both poets were marginalized in their lifetime.

It's true Guest did come to a much fuller appreciation towards the end of her life--and so did Loy to a somewhat lesser degree.

Loy's true acclaim was to be largely posthumous.

In this essay, "Modern Poetry," Loy praises two men at length.

Of course she was one of the many poets mentored by Pound, so she gives him his due.

But it's interesting that she seems to show much more passion when discussing Cummings.

It's not hard to intuit that she respects Pound's overarching intellect and critical mind.

But it's also not hard to intuit that she likes Cummings better as a poet.

Because Cummings was as imaginative as Loy was.

Loy doesn't delude herself. She understands how rare "perfect poems" are. She tells a number of contemporary poets how many perfect poems they have written, and this number is often "one" or "two."

This is very funny because it's so rare to find such honesty.

Sure, it's bumptious. In a sense. But it shows how seriously she took the art and how carefully she read her contemporaries.

She has the good sense not to speak the complete truth to Pound, or about Pound, but one can read between the lines.

Loy knows how hard Cummings worked his muse and she sees his many indulgences and failures. But she has a great eye for where his successes lie, and she has a great empathy with the poet because they are both equally demanding when it comes to exploiting the full plasticity of the English language.

And that's something Guest is known for.

Another thing in Loy's little essay: poets have been bitching in the same way forever! Here's Loy lamenting the unfairness in America's simultaneous embrace of jazz and rejection of experimental poetry: "And why has the collective spirit of the modern world, of which both are the reflection, recognized itself unanimously in the new music of unprecedented instruments, and so rarely in the new poetry of unprecedented verse?"

Poets today still bitch like this. If you think Radiohead is cool, why don't you like my poetry? Tell the poetry instructor the truth! "'re not Radiohead. You don't make my balls flutter. You don't give me flutter balls."

It's amusing to see Loy also give acclaim to some contemporaries who are no longer even remembered as poets.

Some people are meant for their own time, and are wonderful in it. Others are for the ages.

She closes the essay with an appreciation of Williams which demonstrates she understood exactly what he was doing (early in his career) poetically, even when his poetics was diametrically opposed to hers.

"The doctor wishes you to know just how uncompromisingly itself that fact is."

Obviously she was speaking there to the "red wheel barrow" sort of poem, which had set off such fiery arguments. "Is it even poetry?" echoed everywhere.

And now it seems so funny.

The fact that everyone instantly memorizes the refrigerator note poem should have tipped people off.

Loy remains defiantly herself and her poems still wear their resplendent armor.

I rarely remember any blurb. Who does? But the one Thom Gunn gave for this edition of The Lost Lunar Baedeker is one of the few blurbs I've ever read where I haven't felt a subsidization going on (if not complete parasitology!)

He wrote, many years after Loy's death: "Mina Loy has finally been admitted into 'the company of poets,' the canon.

As if she cared."