Friday, November 30, 2012


catiplicity by William Keckler
catiplicity, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.



flow by William Keckler
flow, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


taut by William Keckler
taut, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

two uncertain pets

two uncertain pets by William Keckler
two uncertain pets, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

tenuous landscape

tenuous landscape by William Keckler
tenuous landscape, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

your typical world leader

the curious eyes of fish


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

Freakshow Alert

Debuts tonight on LIFETIME.

I remember being fascinated by the taped interrogation with killer and high-ranking Canadian military brass Russell Williams.

The interrogating police officer showed such finesse in breaking down Williams.

And the moment where sociopath Williams realizes the game is up and just begins speaking candidly of his murders. But completely dispassionately.

I remember he wasn't really worried about the press discussing his exploits as murderer and rapist. But he was very concerned about word of his transvestite tendencies getting out. But then he was obsessive about taking photos of himself in the clothing of his victims (and garments he had scored on his many home break-ins/panty raids). So now those images are all over the internet. Like right here...

I'm sure actor Gary Cole had a ball playing this guy. Tres Silence of the Lambs.

This one might actually appeal to hetero male viewership, since there are lots of images of women in bondage, in lacy underthings. Lacy underthings and bondage. Bondage and lacy underthings.

Maybe LIFETIME is test-marketing to see if they can rope in hetero males with a few salacious t.v. movies.

Three Words Which Could Begin the Plot Synopsis of 95% of LIFETIME Television Movies...

"A woman hallucinates..."

Probably One Out of Five LIFETIME Television Movies

Probably one out of five LIFETIME television movies has at least one hallucinated character as an integral part of the plot. I don't know what we're supposed to make of that fact. Usually it's a woman who hallucinates another woman, but sometimes a woman hallucinates a man or--infrequently--a man hallucinates a woman. Sometimes the hallucinated woman acts as a spiritual guide, a cicerone. But many times she is a threat. Sometimes an imaginary alter ego. Sometimes the hallucination takes the form of a ghost. But mostly they take human forms. Nobody ever hallucinates a cat or a garden or a sea cucumber. I suppose this is all the modern equivalent of Freudian patronizing with talk of hysteria. Even when there are not hallucinated characters, there are often hallucinated relationships. For example, LIFETIME has a sort of franchise of movies with titles like The Perfect Nanny, The Perfect Husband, The Perfect Student, etc. And in these movies, "perfect" is a euphemism for "psychopathic and murderous." A nanny kills a rival nanny so that she may have her dream job nannying for a doctor who she imagines will fall in love with her. And when this doesn't happen, she will, of course, kill. Kill kill kill. That's the formula for the Perfect movie franchise. Sometimes it's a secretary. Maybe a mistress. It doesn't matter. She just has to be obsessed with a man and kill everyone who gets in the way of the relationship which she is hallucinating exists between her and the man. I don't know if these movies are meant to be cautionary tales for women, some sort of tocsin sounded to warn women against their natural tendencies to adore or idolize men--I mean the ones who have these tendencies. Unsmart women lol. Sometimes I think they're critiques of power structures in class told as sorts of dream enactments. I don't really know what they are. I act as though men don't watch these movies. I don't know. Maybe they do. LIFETIME's old tagline was "television for women." I used to always amend that to "television for women and gay men." Of course, these are campy things, these movies, and I'm sure they know it. The writers probably have a blast churning these things out. I'm sure it's much more fun than having to write straight-faced bad writing like soap operas. This is not straight-faced writing. Both Shakespeare and LIFETIME television movies are obsessed with hallucinations. I'm discounting the many LIFETIME t.v. movies which are based on "actual events." But even there it often feels like a hallucination, but more a cultural hallucination. Usually, these are crime stories that have been almost mythologized by the media, so the stylized representation of the "facts" feels like deja vu, which is, yes, another form of hallucination. I must be crazy. Because I mostly watch a t.v. network which is largely dedicated to the Art of the Hallucination. LIFETIME movies don't believe in literature, really. I think they think literature is just a hallucination. Probably the LIFETIME tv movies are correct.

I Must Be a Bad Person

I must be a bad person, because I found myself snickering at the tone/verbiage of this Wikipedia pop-up appeal for cash.

I must confess I find Wikipedia extremely useful and would rate it a ten on a scale of one to ten of useful sites. Yeah, Caveat Lector. But still.

I'd still rather make a donation to UNICEF or Heifer International but if you're made of money, here's the pitch. Help a brutha out.

Dear Wikipedia readers: We are the small non-profit that runs the #5 website in the world. We have only 150 staff but serve 450 million users, and have costs like any other top site: servers, power, rent, programs, staff and legal help. Wikipedia is something special. It is like a library or a public park. It is like a temple for the mind. It is a place we can all go to think and learn. To protect our independence, we'll never run ads. We take no government funds. We run on donations averaging about $30. If everyone reading this gave the price of a cup of coffee, our fundraiser would be done within an hour. If Wikipedia is useful to you, take one minute to keep it online another year. Please help us forget fundraising and get back to Wikipedia. Thank you.

I love these sentences: "It is like a library or a public park. It is like a temple for the mind."

I'm a bad person for snickering at that. I think it's the twee grandiosity of the wording, if there can be such a thing: twee grandiosity.

See the Wikipedia article on "mixed metaphors," I guess.

It just sounds like somebody wrote the pitch when they were drunk.

The Best Christmas Present Ever to Give Somebody You Don't Really Like

The perfect Christmas gift for someone you don't really like.

"Pavlov's Dougie"

Everybody hates it.

American Horror Story: Asylum

American Horror Story is such a mindfuck lately.

I'll admit when they just changed horses midstream and revamped the whole show with a new setting and the same actors playing new characters, I thought "WTF?"

I figured it meant the first season they had just written the show into a corner and were starting over with new writers. I haven't read up on it, so I still don't know if this is a planned, conceptual thing--the idea of having this ensemble and then recasting them in new plays. Or if they just hated what the show had become by the end of the first season. I felt the first season had a shitty denouement. They basically killed all the characters and once these characters were in ghost limbo they were suddenly less interesting. Maybe because the tension was lessened. "I'm already dead--whatcha gonna do to me?" I mean, seriously.

The new season is even more Guignol than last season and the histrionics are just out of this world. Jessica Lange is the perfect casting choice. It's like she's getting to play Frances Farmer all over again as that tortured nun. I loved it when Anne Frank showed up as a mental patient at an asylum where a Mengelesque former Nazi torturer is working as a "doctor." The show really knows how to make your skin crawl. And it feels like there's a strong political subtext to everything. Everything (this season) is ultimately about humans having power over other humans and abusing that power. I wouldn't recommend the show if you don't have a strong stomach as it can get really gory and the sexual content is wild. I like Frances Conroy's new Angel of Death character, but I think she's one of the few cast members who had a better character in the first season (her shapeshifting French maid seductress).

I Wonder if Lindsay Lohan

I wonder if Lindsay Lohan feels like Josef K. in Kafka's The Trial. Because you get the horrible feeling that she is some sort of human sacrifice to the media at this point, that one night they're just going to pick her up and drive her out to the middle of nowhere and lay her on that block like Josef K. and just use the knife, twist it twice in her heart. And maybe she'll even use his last words. "Like a dog!"

Even if she commits suicide at this point, it won't be a suicide. People need to just stop. There is no reason to publicly vilify and hate someone who has done nothing wrong other than victimize herself with addiction. Like when Chelsey Handler said she would never allow her on her show. Like she's some sort of disease.

I feel like making conceptual art with Lohan's image and images from German propaganda against Die Juden. Because Lohan attacks are so Wir mussen die juden ausrotten .

Lindsay Lohan is a beautiful young woman. And she is talented. It's like watching a murder at this point. It really feels like that to me when I hear the way they talk about her.

I was really ashamed when I was listening to OUT Q's Derek rip her to shreds on his show for her recent LIFETIME Liz Taylor biopic. I realize we all slice and dice culture all the time and say what we think is good or bad all the time, but you think as a gay man he might be sensitive to hatespeak and when it might be most likely to do the most damage. I like his show and I know the tude is sort of "Nothing is sacred" on OUT Q. If you wanna play along, you're expected to be hard as RuPaul's nails. Okay. But I just think when you see a celebrity who's been beaten down and is dealing with serious and probably life-threatening addictions issues, you could be a little nicer or just avoid the part of her work you didn't really care for. If nothing else, Lohan bashing shows a serious lack of imagination. It's what every idiot does at this point.

Write a Novel

Write a novel spoken by the unused condom that has lived for five years in the wallet of an extremely unlucky man, sexually speaking. Title this novel Drought.

Lifetime is Probably the Most Misogynistic Television Network in the Universe

Women are always killing each other. Stabbing each other in the back, metaphorically or otherwise. One woman just killed another woman with a baseball bat, ending the movie I was just watching. And yet I do watch this, because I am such a girl. Men are either evil, Prince Charming or both. Only one movie out of twenty lacks psychopathy. Bad television is so much better than good television.

Write a Novel

Write a novel which consists of 300 LIFETIME t.v. movie plots happening all at once.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a man is stalked by a house. The man continually moves from state to state, and the house continually reappears on a somewhat nearby street. Then the house moves closer, street by street, address by address, precipitating yet another flight by the terrified man.

The Way

One could spend one's life mulling the way the possible precedes the impossible. Be some sort of muller.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

"I Never Met a Man..."

I dance like this on the boardwalk every day.

Write a Sci-Fi Novel

Write a sci-fi novel about a planet that is obsessed with gardening, which exists next to a planet that is obsessed with warfare. The inevitable attack occurs, but the flowering planet surprisingly wins the internecine, interplanetary war by developing evil flowers which are conscious and destructive to the highest degree. So the planet of warriors is destroyed by indefatigable warrior flowers unleashed by the Gardening Planet. Resist the urge to title this novel Les Fleurs du Mal.


If you have a photograph of yourself "giving the finger" on any of your profiles on any website whatsoever on earth--even if it was your MySpace when that existed a thousand years ago--you have lost the human race, it's completely over. It ended right there. With that photograph of you giving the finger to existence. You edited yourself out of any possible relevance forever in that single "innocent" gesture. Giving the finger in a photo is like the "colostomy bag" of sexy.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a gay redneck launches an uber-successful version of "Gay Grits." Maybe he later releases "Homo Hominy" to complement this.

Jared Leto

I can't decide whether Jared Leto's new "look" is more Auschwitz or Death in that Bergman film.

Write a Novel

Write a novel which consists only of a man's attempted seduction of a blank canvas.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a skeleton of a forbear is an integral part of an old and distinguished family, and is included in virtually everything (a seat at the dinner table, weddings, funerals, etc.)

"Who Needs Shelter?"

Why I think Jason Mraz is one of the greatest songwriters on the planet.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


Missy is God

Write a Horror Novel

Write a horror novel in which someone is rendered unconscious through the administration of drugs, and when this person wakes up, his or her entire body is covered with screws driven into the bones, rusty nails hammered in and skewers stuck into various places on the body. This barbarous act will apparently have been accomplished with some degree of medical expertise, since the person has not died. Presumably, organs are not punctured, or the ones which are do not result in immediate fatality. Have the ambulance crew so freaked out when they pick this person up, that the ambulance wrecks (because the ambulance driver keeps trying to rubberneck) and the person (dubbed "The Human Porcupine") must then crawl out of the wrecked ambulance into the forest of a ravine where the ambulance has crashed and begin the horrible journey up the ravine to a dark highway and, hopefully, help. Resist the urge to call this novel Screwed.

Write a Novel

Write a novel about a nursing home run by vampires. Or, alternatively, write a novel about a nursing home for superannuated vampires.

Elvis and Annabelle (2010)

is such a sexy, creepy take on Snow White.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

"Just Bieber Wears Overalls to Meet Prime Minister"

Of Canada.


I love that I live on a planet where this is news.

Jenna Elfman

I think Jenna Elfman played the best stalker ever in Obsessed (2002). It's sort of an Oscar-worthy performance in a movie that's not really Oscar-worthy. She does "intelligent crazy" very well in this. She plays a schizophrenic erotomaniac to perfection.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

Just missed have le tricolore! I wanted to knock on their door and ask them to hang a blue shirt.

the white chair

the white chair by William Keckler
the white chair, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

Write a Novel

Write a novel about an Amish M2F transsexual whose parents raise "her" as a girl, hiding this fact from the community. Later, she gets an Amish girl friend pregnant and they leave the community to live as a lesbian couple (post sexual reassignment) and raise their child in a much more understanding community, like Peoria.


And that means one thing: snow photos!!

I was out and it was like an amusement park of pleasure.

Steelton looks so much prettier under snow.

Which rust belt town doesnt?

Began following some cool new (to me) artists on Tumblr.

Expect me to be promoting them here, same as Flickr faves.

Decided I'm going to try to make it like 50/50 interest in Flickr/Tumblr and start submitting to a lot more visual mags.

The last few uses of my work were just people finding my stuff and using it (which is fine, I invite this on my Flickr).

But I figure if I promote my stuff I should get even better results.

On a side note, I can't believe there is an Amish Mafia, and that they will soon have their own reality show.

So sexeh!

Monday, November 26, 2012


Join me on Tumblr: More visual art than anything.

Suri's Burn Book on Tumblr

I heard about this great tumblr blog on Derek and Romaine's show (minus Romaine who is in Florida on vacay) on OUT Q.

dont touch me , im art

dont touch me , im art by es.obvio
dont touch me , im art, a photo by es.obvio on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

this fucks with my eyes...not manipulated

Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

a somewhat cross-eyed glower

an angel seen from the wrong side


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.


Castañeda by Viki Olner
Castañeda, a photo by Viki Olner on Flickr.

Oh Wow! My Work Was Featured on Magneticum!

A piece of mine was featured on the fanatastic fashion/design blog Magneticum.

You can see me here, but be sure to go to the top and check out all the postings, which are just fabulous.

Swag to the nth.


Tumblr art blog. Yeah, they used something by me so I'm promoting it. Sue me lol.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a ten year old virginal boy buys a pregnancy test at a dollar store, takes this test and then interprets the result to mean he is pregnant. He keeps this fact to himself for a tortured year while trying to come to terms (secretly) with the fact that he is going to be both a mother and father. His hunger psychosomatically increases and so does his weight, which just convinces him further that he is pregnant. Eventually, he trusts a friend well enough to let her listen for the baby's "heartbeat," which she is convinced she hears (gas rumbles?)

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a billionaire endows a version of the Make a Wish Foundation which grants the wishes of junkies only. And only practicing junkies. Junkies in recovery are turned away. Kids with cancer are turned away. The world hates the billionaire but he keeps doing it, he keeps granting the wishes of the "lowest of the low." People form a sort of militia to hunt down and kill the junkies while they are on their "dream vacations" courtesy of the billionaire's foundation. Much hilarity ensues.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which numbers suddenly cease to make sense in our universe. Imagine the "hilarity" which would "ensue." Alternatively, if you find this plot contrivance to be either too metaphysical, too contrived or both, write a novel in which a dictator bans the use of numbers throughout the country. This ban would apply to all fields of endeavor, even such number-based ones as commerce and time-keeping. All romantic breakups would be equalized (to give one positive example) since whether you were together fifty years or fifty minutes would now be irrelvant, unspeakable.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which three women all hate the same woman and that is their entire existence. Hating this woman. Obviously, this would be an "office novel."

Write a Novel

Write a novel about a spiritual man who is reincarnated as a tongue in the mouth of a monstrous human being.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a despicable male character says, "When I want to know if a woman is clean, I lick in her ears. If it's all waxy and disgusting, I figure she's not clean elsewhere, not safe for the bouncy-bouncy. So I put her back. If, on the other hand, her ears are clean as a baby's ass, and the taste of the inside of her ears makes me think of things like lambs and lanolin, that drives me crazy. I do everything in my power to close the deal."

Watched the Tom Wolfe Interview

on BOOKTV today. He was at Miami Dade, being interviewed by Manny Diaz at a literary festival.

He's old and somewhat fragile looking, but his mind and temperament are the same as they always were.

Read into that the good and the bad lol.

Okay, he did stray off point and start to verbigerate a few times where Diaz had to check him, redirect him.

The audience was mostly people in their fifies or older. No surprise there.

Wolfe's there because he's promoting Back to Blood, his recent book on Miami.

Senator Rand Paul

is not someone I feel any kinship towards, but I'll have to admit I'm glad his book Government Bullies exists.

He catalogues some of the most egregious recent abuses of power by various (U.S.) government agencies. Some of the things which have been done to innocent U.S. citizens are just beyond belief.

I think that's an important and ethical work. A senator who is also a whistle-blower is a great thing, actually.

Stamp Commemorating Felix, Astro-Cat

Of course, there's sad human stupidity behind this story: Can we do it next time without electrodes implanted in my brain, thanks!

Though Felicette is the one who went into space (Felix apparently only trained for it) it is the male and not the female kitteh commemorated on the stamp above.

Go figure.

Animal Planet's Kitten Cam

is here.

It wasn't working for me just now but the other Animal Planet animal cams were. Check out the list of twenty or so cute animals you can watch 24/7.

My Classmates in Iceland

My Classmate

Music by my former classmate.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Write a Novel

Write a novel called The Bathtub Killer. This would be genre fiction in which a serial killer decides whether or not he wants to kill a potential victim by looking at the state of cleanliness of the person's bathtub. If it's dirty, he kills them. If clean, he lets them live. If half-dirty, he might just assault them. The interesting parts of the novel would be where the killer wasn't sure how to "rate" a bathtub. There would be analysis and suspense.

I Work

"I work for a licensed witch in reality management."

To the Lover

Thou art balsamaceous to me. I shall call thee "Balsamaceous Balls" henceforth.


Today someone hated on me. That person was mossophobic. He is a mossophobe.

Wondering How Much

Wondering how much it would cost to bribe Barbra Streisand to sing the line "People who need people...are the luckiest people in the world" as "People who need people...are the neediest people in the world."

Imagine a Cliff

Without any notes.

Tonight is an Evil Night

Tonight when I drove to my mom's house for a visit, I saw three psychotic people doing psychotic things in the night. It was scary to be able to make such a clear diagnosis from a car! The wind is hella blowing the leaves round and round fast and pointless like Charles Bukowski's mind on the asphalt tonight. Cats fly like Superman with their arms in front of them fast through the air. Wildly the cats destroy gravity in front of your eyes, in front of your car, terrorizing you! To have the curse of having killed a cat! A loving anti-gravitational device! I'd rather be thrown into the sea from a cliff. The wind is creepy and it's preternaturally warm, like a slug late for bed. The bars are all filled like churches and scarier people wait at the bars' outside ahadowy corners. It's like they turned on all the fans at the Ray Bradbury factory, and Ray Bradbury air is blowing out into the night. A darker night inside the night tonight. Like cable t.v. inside democracy. I know it's Friday and not the thirteenth, but it's an Enema of the Demons sort of night, Walpurgisnacht. Something needs to get just totally split wide open.


Bitterness, weeping and repining. Thumbs Up.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #972

Parker Posey is neither finite nor discrete matter, but rather exists eternally in a state of potentiality that is like an existential giggle fit.

I Would Like To Teach, For One Semester Only and Never Again in This Lifetime...

a college or kindergarten level humanities course called Withering.

I Had Never Seen a Duluth Trading Ad Before!

These are such cute icons of hetero culture!

I can't believe they actually named them "Ballroom Jeans." (Yes, those kinds of balls.)

For some reason, these commercials make me think of this song...

A Fairy Tale

A fairy tale in which all the characters must will themselves not to exist in order to save The Kingdom.

One of Those Relationships

One of those relationships that ends with "But according to the phone records..."

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #973

In Japan, Parker Posey is most famous for the celebrated series of dramatic and comic commercials she has done for Play-Doh.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #974

Parker Posey admits that early in her career to support herself during hardscrabble times she worked briefly as a phone sex operator speaking Navajo.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #975

Parker Posey calls director Oliver Stone "Wimply Balls." But it is a term of endearment.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #976

Parker Posey was born in outer space.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a gay associate professor of literature tries to edit his class's syllabus so that he will only be teaching the literature of Christmas carols and comic books--instead of Milton, Shakespeare and Whitman. This is after his younger lover leaves him and he mentally collapses. The college fires him for not abiding by "tacit elements" in his contract of employment with the university and he embarks on a voyage of self-discovery that entails dog-fighting, meth, lumberjacking, several flights to France and back, a physically fugly lover, a flight to Thailand and back, a native American lawsuit, the rarest orchid on the planet, more meth, an extended discussion of the grammar of older homosexuals and finally some flan.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a solitary man who lives with his pet cat is referred for psychological treatment because he can no longer see his cat. He insists his cat has become invisible to him. He has no dementia and he is still quite capable of feeding his cat, changing its litterbox, etc. Just not capable of seeing his cat. It gets written up in the psychological literature as an odd example of a conversion disorder. So the man becomes an anonymous celebrity. So in a sense he becomes like his invisible cat. This metaphysical quandary absorbs the rest of his contemplation, the rest of his life.

Marilu Henner

Marilu Henner, you just aced overacting your death scene in that LIFETIME t.v. movie. It was like a large vase of orange chrysanthemums wearing lipstick, your acting. I mean it was an intelligent decision. To contour the acting to the funhouse mirror lines of the writing. This is having a dream.

I'd Tell You What I Would NOT Do If I Were a Supervillain or Supervillainess in a T.V. Movie

I would NOT leave the key in the door of the room in which I have just locked the hero or heroine. Because the hero or heroine will push the key through and have it land on a piece of paper they have slipped under that door--and pull it through and unlock the door magically with that key. Fuck that t.v. magic. Have some supervillainous self-respect.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a man wants to be an enlightened, spiritual being but he finds this pursuit complicated by "dint of the fact" that he has a bloodthirsty pet.

She Said

She said she broke up with him because he was "not kind to dead people."

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which a depressed man's physical existence is reduced to the span of a small motel room, and then have another depressed man live upside-down on the ceiling in this same room. Have the two depressed men who live at antipodes have to worry constantly about not bumping their heads into each other in their walks around this room, to which they have rather mysteriously self-banished themselves. Have them spend their time slyly contacting "Management" behind each other's backs to try to insanely have their motel room enlarged, extended into the fourth dimension, etc. This is a novel about two men seeking accommodation. They wish to remain strangers but intimate with each other in this slightly unusual manner. There must be a mystical sense of connection. Like two birds of the same species. "It's not rocket science," the rocket scientist says, constantly, until someone kills him. Kill him for saying that all the time. Have this novel be titled EGGSHELLS but the word EGGSHELLS upside-down on the cover of the novel.


What right do we have to disappoint sleep?


Sometimes my life feels like the last ten minutes of 2001.

No One Has

No one has ever seen a Kantian mini golf course. I keep forgetting that fact.


Lifetime is largely the Lucrezia Borgia/Betty Broderick channel.

On the Set

"Not even if I shot my pussy up with Novocain first."

Write a Novel

Write a novel about a mysterious correspondance--or mysterious correspondence.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which one of the characters has a Pier One clone-type store whose name is "Nothing But the Jute, Man!" Write this novel and and then publish it. Then burn it. Poke at it with a poker in a fireplace as you drink a lugubrious glass of Zinfandel and think, "What rubbish!"

The Idea!

The cold bright idea of a human being "buttering up Alaska." Even if this person is a governor. Even if this person is a god.

You Pass a Funeral

You pass a funeral set out on a sunny cemetery lawn on a summer afternoon, before the funeral party has arrived, and there are three long rows of flamingo pink plastic chairs set out before a hole framed in green plastic as though Christo had visited.

Death Should Be

Death should be mostly black and pastel colors. Black moods intercut with pastel moods as well. Those pastel curtains at the edge of your vision in the home that's not really a home. Like a sky constantly changing its mind of dark clouds and sun, threat and massage. Death should be "manageable." Though no one should "micromanage" death.

The Correlation

The correlation between death and pastel colors.


Bats are sociable. After a fashion.

Write a Novel

Write a novel in which the dispute between two lexicographers degenerates into a feud between two families lasting decades. Have there be much grievous fun.


Imagining a professor of philosophy being laid off by his college for offering the question, "If a hit man hired by a wife to kill her husband is offered more money by his intended victim, should he accept the money of both parties and turn around and whack the woman? Or maybe whack the woman and the man?" to his class for open discussion in the section of the class devoted to Ethics.

It Begins to Feel Relevant

It begins to feel relevant as the commercial in which the vacuum cleaner picks up and holds three bowling balls at once. I mean the ensign urge. I mean the insistence to see it through like an ocean wave. Or a seagull. I'm speaking only for myself, a hill. My's elf.

I Wish Stephen Hawking

I wish Stephen Hawking would radically alter his theoretical vector in physics and completely overthrow the previous canon of physics in favor of a new theory called "Just Girl Talk."


Friendship is The Sun. Cats are cats.

Things Cats Do That Conceptual Artists Also Do

1. Stare at a space in the air in the corner of the room, approximately 78/79ths of the way to the ceiling...for a deeply, deeply, deeply disturbing length of time.

2. Give up on the news and lie down on the newspaper. Allow the newspaper to absorb the sunlight, heat up, and finally redeem itself in the tiniest degree.

3. Curl up into the yin yang symbol and sleep that way.

4. Loop a few frames of film from a David Lynch film and have it be on display in the Whitney Museum or MOMA.

5. Lick themselves.

6. Use the alleyways.

7. Feel contentious towards any of "their own kind."

8. Tear up the carpeting.

9. Stare at the ceiling way too often.

10. Watch too much television.

One of Those

One of those talking barnyard toys from the seventies with the animal sounds all left intact, but the beginning of every sentence, no matter where the spinning arrow finally lands, changed to "The cut-rate surrealist says..."

In the Matter Of

In the matter of Myocastor coypus, it's nature versus nutria.

Monkey Code

To be respectably masculine, a man's distractions should weigh at least as much as a pullet.

A Man Walks Upstairs

A man walks upstairs and the man was a man in life, while he was alive, a man who was called "Babe" by other men. I mean straight men. This walk upstairs, it's confusing him. When he gets to the top, he sees a group of men standing around stroking their beards and discussing a Renoir painting while drinking chardonnay. They try to coax him into the circle jerk, but he has such Powerful New Jersey Straight Resistance. He wanders off into a casino portion of heaven and sits down. He feels a man again. Then at the track, when he's taking a walk through the non-clubhouse part of the casino looking for easy chicks, he sees this guy with his legs up watching Deadly Sibling Rivalry, an extremely lurid LIFETIME television movie. The man realizes this movie is a tampon. And the man wit his legs up turns into a giant pussy. I don't mean a cat. Or maybe the stretched-out dude looks more like an ear, a too narrow and moist ear. The man's night is ruined in heaven. And then he realizes nobody sleeps in heaven. And that's just the last fucking thought. I mean. Seriously.

A Man Walks Downstairs

A man walks downstairs and into a room where he sees a man with a garden in his nose. His nose is turned upside down and considerably enlarged. This makes for a better "planter effect." The garden in the man's nose is a Persian garden. There are walls in it. Lights stay on the roses at night like casinos. The person who has just walked into the room and observed this person who is going to die is going to have sex with Mr. Persian Nose. He feels he must flatter the Night Garden of his lover-for-the-night's nose but he attempts to do it with a tone just south of a 911 operator's. I mean dignity must be preserved. Look at that fucking nose filled with trees. God, I'm so horny.

Recipe for Early, Agonized Stripclub Suicide

Name your baby girl Serenity.


Ever since I became dysfunctional, I love watching movies about robots having mesmeric psychological control over other robots through narrative arcs and devices. All robot casts arguing, hating, divorcing, repudiating, murdering sometimes. This became ambrosia, manna, Oprah. I began to live only for it. Give me more Robots Dominating Robots! I WANT MY ROBOT CHANNEL! I'm not talking SYFY. Fuck no. I'm talking about LIFETIME TELEVISION NETWORK. If it's not as robotic as country music I will never fucking trust it again. Fucking Billy Currington. God is great. Beer is good. People are crazy. George Orwell was so fucking correct. What was I just fucking saying?

Short Story

He walked all over Louisiana and his story was that he had had a wife named Stark Blue.

No Man

No man would be brave enough to admit to another man that sometimes he admired the varying yellows of piss in his toilet bowl, today the soft pastels of Laurencin, yesterday that yolky yet galvanic Gorky. One of life's subtle pleasures. That would be impossible. To Admit That. It would be like a straight man racing down an aisle, coming quickly up behind another straight man and kissing that other straight man on the back of the neck. In the middle of a crowded office. And then pausing. And deeply breathing him in. With the fresh and inspired youthful breath of parsley. Oh, the dominant gums and cums of the day. Can get away with mixing like murder. People are mostly interested in making psychological chocolate milk anyway. Today, it's like pouring chocolate milk over Frooty-Pebbles. All the lovely Frankenthaler browns. Don't be an idiot. I'm not talking about race. I mean the moods of men relating to men. But of course I have an agenda. I want every straight man to become a moose. I want every man to be moose-sexual.

I Think

I don't think "Friendship with you is like the Red Cross" can be--even remotely--construed, even in one's most optimistic and self-cherishing moods, as anything other than a well-intentioned attempt not to entirely destroy someone's entire sense of self...even if the self-same desire to destroy an ego suddenly asserts itself at a Pompeii sort of level, suddenly nominates itself as a Serious Whim. This person writing the last sentence must be a Totally Observable Asshole (is he still writing it?) but still Possibly Completely Relevant to the Argument. But theoretically the literary interest lies in just this inversion. And thus the dominant cultural paradigm is dismantled by edgy art. Whatever that was.

A Man Walked Out

A man walked straight out the large and ornate front door (I believe it was covered with countless-to-the-glance sprawlsy bronzed and gilded volutes of snail shells, portions of which were arranged in heraldic manner) of his capacious carapace and into a snowsy-furzy, furzy-snowsy little tussock-studded moonlit field--a moonlit field with the slightest pink tinge to the chignons of snow loads held in the upper branches of trees. This is the 19th century and It Happens, usually after forty. The 19th century visionary idea that everybody is connected and that social order is a thing that one must spend a great deal of time thinking about--for security reasons. That 19th century quilting bee of existence--like sewing Jeremy Bentham's head onto the forehead of Henry James. To make a strange sort of SuperMoose. And then SuperMoose takes over and fires you as an agent. These things happen. The man walked right out into that empty field with the Zodiacal Bowl of stars above, stars arching and threshing through this bowl of light turned upside-down to relax, to be washed in darkest blue shadow. He walked out the front door. And he was killed when a flying piece of shrapnel cliche jagged into his neck like a lightning streak of copper in a mine wall. A zing zang death. Mentally caught on film even if no photograph. Call it a bullet if you must. He lay there and bled out. He lay there and bled to death a purple prose. Loving every minute of it.

The Awesome Ben Huh Speaks with Forbes about the Reality Show LOLwork,

his FitBit and the very intriguing news ap he developed, Circa, among other things.

I like the way Circa reduces news stories to bite-size crunches. Like Mini Butterfingers.

You also get to see some of the cool kids behind the scenes who make the Cheezburger network one of the sweetest sites on the web.

The Genius of Korean designer Seungji Mun

gives us this cat/human sofa.
Amanda Kooser did a great job on this article for CNET, where you can learn more of the backstory on this design.

Splunk: "Listen to Your Data"

I totally misinterpreted the selling point line in this ad that appeared on my blog.

I thought it was a cool program which would take your data stream and aleatorically turn it into music.

I think that's a cool concept: programming that would orchestrate your blog into an aleatoric symphony based on strange algorithms.

Sort of a Cagean converter for words.

Splunk sounds decidedly seminal to me.

Sort of a portmanteau for spunk, spelunk and spluge all at once.

I bet if you go to one of those programs which identify the sex of the author and typed that word in, it would come back "male." (Okay, it would probably say "not enough text." But it should come back "male.")

I Watched a Marathon of the Show House Today

This is something I swore I would never do, but for some reason I was on the Cloo network.

So I suffered through about eight or nine episodes.

What's really scary is that as an inveterate hypochondriac I understood almost every single medical concept discussed and many times I was ahead of the show with the probable diagnosis. And I'm a medical idiot, really. It's just they were off into all these extremely rare conditions and diseases and as a hypo I've thought I've had all those things at one time or another and have read up on them.

There are many annoying things about the show, starting with the presence of Hugh Laurie.

But the most annoying thing about the show is The Formula.

The Formula dictates that in every episode there be two cases for the script and characters to toggle back and forth between, and--most importantly--that a quirk or oddity in one case trigger the solution to the medical mystery in the other case.

I can't tell you how much I came to hate that constant occurrence in each episode while watching the marathon. It was like waiting for a noosed man to drop through the trap door of the gallows. I began to get so impatient I'd want to kick the fucking trapdoor myself and let the stupid guy, erm plot cliche, drop through and be done with it.

The best thing about every single episode was hearing the few notes of "Teardrop Explodes" and thinking of Elizabeth Fraser's vocals on it (which are of course absent).

Someone whose opinion I value once said Hugh Laurie is a really good singer. I never YouTubed him to find out. I think I'd rather just let the concept marinate.

A Book of Jokes About Mousing

...called Catskills Humor.

Cats and Thanksgiving

I bet when cats sashayed off The Mayflower, the first thing they did was go and sun themselves on Plymouth Rock and make themselves completely useless. Thus began the descent from "useful rodent-killer" to New World lounge lizard.

My Grandfather Died on Thanksgiving

He went through an airplane propeller, actually. Tryptophan and it killed him.

I Can't Stand

I can't stand an oncologist with no sense of tumor.

Dear Old Grandapa....we cherish and prize his heirloom horn.

Huzzah! I Repurposed an Old Tumblr Blog!

I now have a Tumblr blog just for visual art. I will post my Flickr art there and that of Flickr friends whose accounts allow sharing via Tumblr.

If you want me to follow your Tumblr, just follow me and I will followback. If you're doing visual art or poetry or any type of art, so much the better.

Like what else do people do on Tumblr? Humor, I guess. Well, I've even seen dry political blogs and stupid advertising stuff. But most people are there for the visuals, writing, a combo of these things, etc. Of course, most people there are fourteen. Or twelve.

Anyway, my Tumblr blog is here.

I plan on using this regularly, unlike my other Tumblr blog which is basically going to just lay fallow.

I wanted to create a new Tumblr blog I was going to title "Visual Virgin," but this repurposed blog should do.

I'll add it to my blogroll at left.

Right now I'm following nobody and nobody is following me. I created this and used it like one day a year or so ago and then jumped to my other Tumblr which has like five hundred and thirty something followers but they mostly followed me for humor (lolcats) etc. so most of those nice people probably won't be interested in a purely visual/art blog. Who knows. Maybe I will bump into them in the grocery aisles again anyway!

"Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #977"

Parker Posey once won a "Donkeypunch contest," competing against all male contestants in an off-boardwalk, "after hours" bar in Atlantic City in August, 2008.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #978

Parker Posey declared a fatwa on Rosanna Arquette in 2004; however, this fatwah was lifted in 2007 after intervention/mediation by the Vatican and Bishop Desmond Tutu.

Posey declines to talk about the fatwa in interviews now, saying only, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #979

Parker Posey used a method acting approach in preparing to play the Jackie Kennedy-obsessed character (also named Jackie) in The House of Yes. To prepare for the pivotal scene in which she and her twin brother act out the actual J.F.K. assassination, Posey would hold calf brain's before practically running onto the set in her pink Chanel suit, shrieking "Go!" at the director.


Untitled by ssk0yskw
Untitled, a photo by ssk0yskw on Flickr.


rectilinear by William Keckler
rectilinear, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #980

Parker Posey has stated she has little to no sympathy for individuals suffering from any form of bipolar disorder who pity themselves or wallow, since she herself is quadripolar, obviously manages quite well, and "has never pitied (herself) a day in (her) life after the age of thirteen."

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #981

Parker Posey invented flan.

Untruthful Parker Posey Factoid #982

Parker Posey is a direct descendant of Pocahontas. She always refers to her money as "wampum" and she always refers to Manhattan as "Mannahatta."

Write a Novel

Write a novel about staring at the holes in the coat-rack of existence.

Facts for Today

1. My mother may or may not be dying. She says yes. I say please no.

2. I went to the hospital today because of a mental implosion and everyone was "societally nice."

3. When you leave your hospital room you follow these blue lion paw print stickers on the floor. This is because of the hospital's affiliation with Penn State. But the paw print stickers are useful and lead you out of the hospital like magic bread crumbs. You begin to feel you are "surviving" with each paw print sticker you step on.

4. I felt it was important to stop and take photographs in the near dark before actually going to the hospital because space felt more important than my problems this morning.

5. So I parked in this lot between a furzy field and an obviously closed-down-for-the-season mini golf course. And I took photos. Most turned out too dark to post but I did post a few. I'm not sure I like any of them but it was important at the time.

6. After I was checked out of the hospital, I took photos around the hospital and then I re-entered the hospital from a different quadrant. Nobody spoke to me or said anything bad about me taking pictures because I wasn't taking pictures of people. Except for people who didn't know it like a creep. Hehe.

7. I hate Thanksgiving. I'm staying home alone. I have an invitation to go somewhere but I walked into a room where people were saying horrible things about me and both of these people were people who invited me to Thanksgiving dinner. So canned food or t.v. dinner it shall be.

8. The barrage of Christmas commercials doesn't really depress me. If people have money, they should spend it and make other people happy. The commercials are funny. The idea of Christmas as an actual day I do find depressing.

9. Lately, all my phone conversations with my mom (and she can only sustain one a day now) end with me crying and her saying things like "You'll survive." It's like a bad game show now. I expect to hear the "dance out" music from the seventies show "The Gong Show."

10. Today, some man came over and was freaked out that I was taking photographs of these giant reservoirs of oil or whatever it was. He said "People get nervous when you take photos of something that could incinerate half the city." I got the sense I could have been in trouble (I was on private property.) But I sounded like such an idiot talking about the "pretty colors and shapes and numbers on the tank" that he didn't even take down my license plate number and he quickly wanted to get away. I remember saying "I'm not a terrorist or anything." I would look like a really stupid terrorist. I sort of looked Amish today with my long hair and glasses. Amish terrorist sounds stupid. I think that's why I "got away." Those photos sucked anyway. I thought the guy was tailing me in his van but he went another direction after a while and never got close enough to even read my plate. Attitude is everything in avoiding conflict. Conflict is attitude. Why can't I remember this more often?

11. I was worried a groundhog would bite me in the thick grasses of the drained manmade lake next to the Target store when I was photographing there. I never saw a groundhog or heard one, but that was beside the point.

12. I was in love with the fact that this several acre manmade lake (partitioned in rounded quadrilaterals) had just drained overnight. There were big holes in the earth but I have no way of knowing if that's where the water went. Probably it just seeped down.

13. Geese shit had turned white and was almost pretty but I didn't photograph it.

14. I couldn't understand how articles of clothing had been at the bottom of this manmade TARGET lake.

15. It's hard to imagine people having an orgy in the middle of the night around or in a mandmade lake a few hundred feet down a hill beside a TARGET store, but I suppose it is possible. It's next to a GOLD'S GYM. And that might be 24 hours.

16. Usually I just think "murder" when I see clothing in the wild.

17. I'm happy to say I've never found a dead body. I have zero urge to photograph one.

18. I'm trying to create a new Tumblr just for my visual art and visual art I like and failing miserably. I'm screaming like an idiot. I wish I had a technological elf who sat next to my computer. Not that gay paper clip "helper." I mean an actual elf.

19. I would probably "presume" on the elf's intimacy and friendship in short order.

20. Although I was very good with being laconic in the hospital today and tried to cheer up hospital workers for having to deal with my physical existence.


honour by Viki Olner
honour, a photo by Viki Olner on Flickr.


transparence by Viki Olner
transparence, a photo by Viki Olner on Flickr.

"He deeply felt how careless and negligent we often are of friends and relations while they inhabit with us this terrestrial sojourn; and how we first repent of our insensibility when the fair union, at least for this side of time, is finally cut asunder"

With the Painter Günter Fritsch at a Storage Room for Paintings


Untitled by William Keckler
Untitled, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

people in a landscape

people in a landscape by William Keckler
people in a landscape, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

people in a landscape

people in a landscape by William Keckler
people in a landscape, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

people in a landscape

people in a landscape by William Keckler
people in a landscape, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

people in a landscape

people in a landscape by William Keckler
people in a landscape, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.