Trying to Find A Balance

How far can one's shared interests propel the evolution or progression of a relationship? What kind of interests are we talking about here? You incoherently mumble. I know it's a speech impediment, stop crying, I just think it's funny, I'm sorry I didn't catch that last part please enunciate. Ha, I know you can't that's why I mock you. So are we talking about interests like cross bow hunting toddlers? Poaching eggs in extreme conditions such as upside down while dangling from a forklift? (That relationship only lasted the duration of said egg poaching) "These are runny!!! We are through!!" Her words not mine, I prefer a little liquidity in my poached eggs and assets. Well we are not talking about any of those things, we are talking about interests like art, movies, baseball, music, those sort of normal things.

I have been on the scene for a little bit, and when I say scene I mean strip, and when I say strip, I mean strip club, and when I say strip club I mean I was once hired for a bachelor party in a garage and have worked several local farmhouses. But let's just say I have been around, I have my battle wounds. Little bit of education for you, a John Deere plow is not as smooth or accommodating as a stripper pole, learned that the hard way, the flesh tearing way, if you catch my drift, and if you don't then I can't help you because I just literally told you what happened. Basically asking if you catch my drift in that instance meant did you comprehend the last sentence. Anyway, say I am dating one chick who by all accounts is a very nice little lady. We just don't share the same interests. Here is how our exchanges go.

Me: "Man this Yugoslavian alt rock group the Niets fucking rock, am I wrong?"
Her: "Ummm, did you shave an asterisk on my dog?"
M: "Did you even get the Big Lebowski reference?"
H: "When I said you could come over, I thought it was because you were going to fix the window you shattered playing baseball in the living room."
M: "You don't like baseball either??!! You suck."
H: Actually I love baseball, my uncle was on the roster of the cardinals for his whole career so I grew up around a lot of the players."
M:......*Grabs clippers and runs through shattered window.*

See? We just don't relate. In reality she doesn't even like baseball, so we don't share that many interests at all. How long can you limp along like that? Do shared interests really play that large of a part in a relationship? I mean, being willing to go to a game, art show, concert, is not the same as wanting to go, actually being interested in it. So then there is the complete opposite of this scenario, the one that shares all of the same interests but you are afraid might stab you in your sleep.

Me: "Hey that new exhibit is opening next weekend in the city, did you want to go check it out?"
Her: "Already marked it on the calendar, I have been looking forward to it since his last show in Paris...Your eyes look delicious."
M: "What was that last part?"
H: "Oh I said I am going to do the dishes....our love is like a salami and I am the casing."
M: "Sorry I missed the last part again."
H: "I said our love is like a salami and I am the casing."
M: "Oh yeah you are totally the casing, I am like the inside, a mish mash of meat producty goodness, and you keep it all together, you little intestinal lining you. High five!!!" *high five turns into chest bump which leads to the dirty bird*

I know that things don't have to be so extreme and the correct answer is find a balance, but that's just how I live sister. Balls to the wall, (this is actually very painful and awkward thing to do, especially with a running start) grip it and rip it, thrust it till you bust it, gargle till you snargle...wait..what? Say that these two extremes are your choices. Girl that is like,

"Wow I would love to go to that art show I know that guy's work."

Or girl who is like,

"Art? I don't get it, who'sa whattie?"

Girl who says,

"How was your day?"

or girl who says,

"Did you know when you sleep you don't even budge, even when there is a cold steel machete against your adam's apple, hee hee, it's so cute."

Is fear of sleep mutilation worth the fact that she knows the entire discography to your favorite Guatamalean Children's choir? Is the fact that you don't fear sleep mutilation worth the fact that she is kind of boring and won't play baseball with you in the living room? Questions to ponder my little saplings, questions that may never be answered, we may just be to small to grasp such complex metaphysical quagmires. Giggidy Giggidy....or maybe just keep them both around therefore creating the perfect balance..goo.....

Art stuff

May seems to be a big art month out here in my hood. Lots of good stuff going on.

May 1st at Gallery 1988 in San Francisco
May 7th at Fecal Face

May 7th at 5024SF

May 9th at Whitewalls
http://www.ianmjohnson.com/

May 9th at Shooting Gallery

Not in my area but if you are around these check em out.

OPENING RECEPTION:
SATURDAY, MAY 2ND, 8-11PM

EXHIBITION DATES:
MAY 2ND - MAY 30TH, 2009

In his show Ego, Addiction, and Other Bedtime Stories,

Sam Flores

Whoa that's a big line up


Edit: Something crazy, blah, blah, something one person finds funny, blaaaaah. There that's more like one of my normal entries. Sorry for not including this part earlier.

Texts From Last Night

Oh man this site is awesome. The whole site is just funny text messages people have gotten. Along the same lines as Fuck My Life, but usually just dealing with drunken antics. It's good stuff, trust me, would a man with a free candy sign and a creepy van with extremely tinted windows mislead you or harm you in anyway?
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/

I spend a lot of time on the internet during the day, I really should just keep track of all of the sites that I go to and share all of the links with you . Are you guys interested in Serbian watermelon carvings or pictures of diseased Porcupines that favor their left legs when they hobble?

See that's why we can't share things, it's because of looks like that. I get the same look when I test out the sneeze guard at salad bars. If it's doing it's job then, no harm, no foul. Don't judge me, I do this for your sake when I spot a weakness or an opening that is large enough for me to stick my head under, I inform the proper pimple faced teenager that modifications must be made. They usually have to take the salad bar apart so I can get my head out from underneath the guard and then refill whatever food source I had been rifling through with my face, but in the end I think that everyone learns a valuable lesson. Like last time I learned that I should make sure to get stuck above something better than baby corn, ugggh I have had enough of that to last me a lifetime. I must have consumed the equivalent of 90 corn toddlers that day, it only took them three minutes to free my head, but I work fast when I see something I want.

Here are some quotes from the site that tickled my fancy and made me spontaneously drop it like it was hot.

"(570): I woke up this morning in a strange bed with a kid with an accent playing with my feet.

New Year's Resolution

I came up with a New Year's Resolution the other night. It came about while I was just having a discussion about a hypothetical double murder involving a clown and an unborn child. Sooo hypothetically speaking say that I knocked up a clown. An unattractive clown, a borderline carny with bad feet and a couple extra pounds. One that I can't look at without feeling disgusted, yet still slept with. Say that such a crazy thing would happen. Say that maybe the only thing that she had going for her was the fact that she was a clown and I had clown at the top of my "Things To Do List." This clown is crazy, dirty, not attractive, just not the kind of person that you want to be locked down to for the rest of your life. I don't want to have to tell the young child, " I hate your stupid clown mother and her stupid clown face. Her damn honking nose and rainbow wigs strewn across the bedroom floor, she makes me sick Timmy!!! Sick!!!" Timmy would say some shit like, "Then why would you bang her you fucking weirdo?" I would mutter some stuff under my breath, curse my "Things To Do List" and say, "Get your shit ready Timmy I am sure your mom and her 45 friends will pull up in their car soon, you don't want to miss the freakshow they are going to be putting on at the bowling alley later." I am sure Timmy would hop up and click his clown shoes together, then start collecting his balloon animal materials and ask if I want to see an illusion. I would just roll my eyes, maybe flip him off, who knows how to react to a half clown seedling? Not me, that's for sure. So, faced with this hypothetical situation what is one to do? There is no way I am living that life my friend, no clown baby or visitation rights for me. I want the masked freaks as far away as possible...while I feel that way now that I crossed that off my list. Ohhh here come the looks, don't act like you don't have a list and that clown was not on there right above Cloris Leachman. Oh? I am the only one? Well I guess I won't tell you what else was on the list. Just don't judge me sister. The not judging thing is also a sort of side resolution. I can no longer cast judgement on anyone because I slept with a dirty clown....Hypothetically speaking of course. So yeah you want to sleep with Serbian midgets who wear bear skin caps and harpoon retarded blind whales on the weekend? Be my guest friend, do what you want, hey it's a free world, I will not judge. I gave that right up with my poor judgement. You could literally slap a senior citizen smear a herpes infected diaper on a nun's face, spraypaint a swatizka on a baby labrador and all I could say to you is do your thing buddy, if that's what you feel like doing, I will not judge. It's kind of like how I can't criticize anyone's driving ability because of a recent driving mishap involving two parked cars. That's another story though, let me just add if you can get your car to move forward or park without hitting anything, you are a damn fine driver in my eyes. Every time I park without hitting something it's a good day now. I shout mission accomplished and spike my keys on the ground when I get outside the car. Back to the situation at hand. I figured there were two ways to escape this, suicide or murder, hypothetically speaking of course. I came to the conclusion I like my life fine without the clown and the clown seedling in it, so if they were gone that would be the best scenario. I got into this whole thing about the ensuing Dateline case. The Clown Killer, this Thursday on Dateline. Hopefully my story is told by Keith Morrison. The dude is fucking awesome, creepy, and has the best phrasing ever. "It was a twisted tale...the kind of tale that makes your skin crawl, a tale of disgust, clown banging, an expectant clown mother.....and murder....or was it? It all started in an idyllic scene of young love...or so it seemed." God damn I love that creeper...or do I? Yeah I seriously do..or do..ok sorry. Are you wondering what my new year's resolution was? Did you remember that's how this all began, it's ok I forgot too...or..did..must stop Keith impersonations. So, me and a friend got to talking, yes I do have these types of conversations with other people...sometimes, when I can get someone to settle down and enjoy the surprise tea party I went to great lengths to set up in this alley that I "invited" them down. We got to talking about how the friends, neighbors, and coworkers of the accused get a little camera time to give some insight into the character of the suspect. Usually it is something like (neighbor standing on their driveway) "He was quiet, but friendly, I would have never suspected that he could do such a thing. That's how it usually goes. What I came to realize is, my character interviews would not go as smoothly. People would say, "Oh jesus christ that dude was a freak. I knew something was wrong with that crazy bastard." "He used to just come into work and just glare at us, always fiddling with a clump of rainbow hair and muttering under his breath, I think I heard him say honk, honk, and then whisper I'll show u an illusion clown!!" "Yeah that guy could totally have done that." It was running through this scenario that I realized I needed to make some changes in my life. Most people have resolutions like lose weight, quit smoking, stop stealing your neighbor's tires for your swing in the backyard, you know normal stuff. I realized I need a drastic change and a complete reworking of my life. My new Years resolution is......that if and when I am a suspect in a hypothetical clown double murder, people will not say they expected that I could be responsible for it. Simple enough..or is it? I actually have no clue about how to go about this change. Should I actively embrace clown culture, cover my cubicle walls in clown paraphenallia? Make them think I love them so much there is no way I could rob the world of one? Act normal and kind to everyone I see hiding any hypothetical muderous intent? Stop doing that thing where you lunge at people and act like you are going to punch them at the copy machine? Look, all I know is that along with setting up a good backstory to diffuse any legal battles, diminish intent, create good character witnesses, this could improve my overall well being. There will probably be a lot less coffee spilled on the carpet if I stop lunging at coworkers too. This is a win-win, it may even be the start of something bigger. A religion? Teaching others ways to live their life so that people would never expect you to be capable of killing a clown. Only good can come from this, let's set this year off right. Everything will be awesome this year....or so it seems.

I should start writing again

It's true, doesn't mean it will actually happen but it is the troof. Shush shush, I can hear your moans of protest, I can see your eyes rolling, oh my god are you having a seizure!!? Oh no you were really reacting to my threat of writing....asshole. So for some reason I came to this realization right before I am leaving work. Actually I might get my best realizations at around this time every day. Yesterday I realized that my pants were unzipped right before I left for home. The day before that I realized if I move very quietly and I can observe co-workers in their natural environments for approximately 17 minutes and 24 seconds before they notice me. Next time I will not start humming my secret spy theme until the mission is complete. It was either that or my habit of loudly smelling things that got me caught. I am a sniffer what can I say?

Sooo...how ya been? I will nod my head and say stuff like "hmmm," "what??," "no way!!," "OMG" (I will actually say the letters,) maybe throw in a "that bitch" as well until you finish whatever inane anecdote you think I care about. Are you done yet? Now ask me, ask me!! Well..thank you for asking. What a complex question that is. So many ins and outs, so many harrowing tales of late nights spent hiding in laundromats, so many prescriptions to keep the voices to a nice low murmur.

I guess if I had to describe my state of being in one statement it would be, I am glorious. Ok, not really but "glorious" is my power word according to my psychic. Whenever I get one of my panic attacks or feel the cloudies (that's what we call sad feelings) I just have to repeat my power word over and over until the world is sunny side up. Apparently things will turn around for me soon enough. Clarice , sorry madam Clarice, said something about ruling a mythic race of frog people, and we will inherit the earth and rage war against the humanoids. I think I was going to be a staff sergeant, and it had something to do with power obtained from an unknown toddler, supposedly I will know it when I see it and I have to extract the power with this power extractor I had to buy. It kind of looks like a take out bag from Burger King to me, but hey I have never seen a power extractor and Madame Clarice knows what she is talking about. I forget what else happens, all I know is it involves a crown made from a hallowed out pumpkin, I have to send $100 a month to Madame Clarice and my reign will last 1000 years. So I guess that's something to look forward to. I won't ask you to pick sides immediately, but I will also not hesitate to put a humanoid on his back. Rat-a-tat-tat. You have been warned...

Blind dates

So, blind dates huh? What the hell is happening here? I haven't been on a date in a long while. Followers of my writing will know it is because I was serving time in Arkansas for public indecency and two additional charges of assault with a pelvic thrust. I had no idea there was a legal code for that offense but you learn something every time you are arrested. So if you are ever in Arkansas and hear a police officer say, "We have a code 258C. Request immediate back up and some rubber gloves." You should immediately drop everything you are doing and follow that officer, because if you are like me, your hips don't lie....or something. Not being in the game for that long stretch of time has made me question if things are still the same as they were before. Do girls still automatically leave when you launch into sonnets about your love for amputees or your insatiable desire to roll anything and everyone in a mixture of cornflakes and maple syrup? (everything and I mean everything is better this way, trust me) Do girls still like it when you kick their chair and run away? Smack the back of their head and throw crayons at them? I have so many great ideas on how the execution of this date will go, I just have to wait to get the permits for the wild game birds cleared and we should be good to go. Here are a couple of scenarios: This one includes the magical and sexy art of balloon animals. Me- (Balloons in hand) "Now tell me what your favorite animal is and I shall make it in balloon form. Thus cementing our future together as one." Scared date- "umm..." Me- "Sooo what is your favorite animal?" Scared Date- "Umm..." Me- "Please say sword." Scenario 2 This one involves a three act play, several costume changes and 2 live vultures. Act one- Secure all the exits while frolicking around menacingly to the soundtrack of footloose. (costume change, exit stage right, reappear stage left in puff of smoke, but now dressed as a preacher) Act two- Pelvic thrusts and choreographed dance routine to Rod Stewart's "Maggie May." "If you think I'm sexy" makes to much sense, and we want to show that we are avantegarde so "Maggie May" it is. Plus "Maggie May" goes well with both pelvic thrusts and rhythmic gymnastics ribbons. And there will be fluttering ribbons, oh yes, there will be beautifully fluttering pretty sparkley ribbons.....and pelvic thrusts...lots of em....so many you could be charged for assault with a pelvic thrust...but it's worth it. (costume change, exit stage right, reappear suspended above the stage in a mermaid outfit, get yelled at by the restaurant for tying cables to their ceiling fans and for endangering other patrons by swinging above their heads in a mermaid costume, climb down, try and explain your art, realize you are missing a vulture and panic, shout vulture's name while looking under people's tables, emerge from table to discover the date has fled, exit stage right and cry) Act three- Lay on ground mumbling the words to, "Endless Love." Reach out and try and grab the hand of the bus boys as they step around and over you clearing tables. "My endlessssssss love..." (curtain drops, since there is no curtain jump to feet yell "Tah Daaaaah" and then run out the building before they make you pay for anything.) These are just rough outlines, I haven't decided which one to go for, I am sure when it's time for the show it will end up very differently.

I'll Follow the Sun

One day you'll look to see I've gone. For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. Some day you'll know I was the one. But tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. And now the time has come And so my love I must go. And though I lose a friend, In the end you will know, oooh. One day you'll find that I have gone. For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun. Yes, tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun.

Ryuichi Ogino

Ogi in the house setting up the installation for his latest art show

Fuck, I really, really, really, want to buy a new piece from this dude. Ryuichi Ogino or as I call him Ogi is a dope ass Asian-Asian artist. As in he was born in Japan. I call him Ogi not because of our storied past of love and turmoil (that's why I call him cheating bastard) but because when I first heard of him that is the name he was going by. It was a childhood nickname that he just stuck with. A little while back he decided to get all grown up and start using his real name. I did the same thing a couple of years back, because after awhile you just can't have people address you as Sissy Bedwetter the Lord of Stink. It's not professional and I tried to tell my Boss to stop but they all just surrounded me and started chanting "Sissy Bedwetter!!" Which just isn't a very good chant because it's too long and it doesn't flow very well, but yeah try telling them that and they just roll their eyes.

Here is a profile of Ogi taken from his website http://www.ogigraphics.com/

"Ryuichi Ogino (OGI)
Born and raised in Tokyo, Ogi relocated to the Bay Area and received a BFA in Illustration from the California College of Arts & Crafts (CCAC) in 2004 only to realize that his passion is not in illustrating.

His works are diverse and incorporate a variety of mediums (from handmade paper-clay toy figures, acrylic paints, wood, lined paper, and canvas, to digital renderings). To pin down his style would be to minimize its scope as it merges genres.

Now back in Japan, he exhibits internationally, moving between Tokyo and the West Coast. He has more recently shown his works at Project, Rean, Giant Robot, Receiver Gallery, Compound, White Walls, and Park Life."

Here is the piece that I want

This piece looks super classy to me. It looks like it would fit into a clean well designed modern house. The streamlined futuristic kind of spot, you know the one level, all wood floor, lots of glass type houses I am talking about? Just super stylish and sleek. This shit looks grown up to me. I think Ogi nailed it on this piece. A lot of the time an Ogi piece has one aspect that I don't like as much, maybe wished it was cleaner there, don't like that part, that sort of thing, on this piece, I like every aspect. I like the black panel, the clean lines of bright colors extending out. The signature Ogi girl, the cleaner skull compared to some of his other work, and even the small details are pulled off perfectly. It is currently still available for purchase as part of the "Blender" group show in L.A. at the Cerasoli-Lebasse gallery. The preview work can be seen here http://www.cerasoli-lebasse.com/current/ryuichi_ogino.html Check out there pictures because they are larger and you can see the small details that are just masterfully done. The small drips of paint, the clouds, the work that he did behind the skull. I am in love with this piece. Everything goes together so well and it just exudes class and modernity to me. Good job Ogi.

Ogi also does these sculpts so here are some examples of those.
These are two I have



Here are some that are free standing which I do not have

Pretty awesome though




and here is some more of his work



I am just a big fan of his aesthetic. It could be the Japanese in me but I like his girls, his robots, his colors. The way that he composes his pieces with the separate elements creating a whole. I like the spareness of the canvas, the images popping out and becoming the focus. I just think it has a strong sense of design and it just looks clean and appeals to me.

The rest of my Ogi pieces





Blog with pics of him setting up for "Blender" http://dailydujour.com/2008/10/09/ryuichi-ogino-installation-for-blender-1011/
Tons of his work here http://www.ogigraphics.com/frontpage.html
His blog http://ogi.cbc-net.com/
Myspace http://www.myspace.com/ogigraphics
Old Prints of his can be found here http://www.gallerynucleus.com/
Shirts and wallets here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/40
Print here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/651
Tableware here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/459
and here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/458

You Send Me

Another song comparison. This time "You Send Me" which most people think of as Sam Cooke's song. It's pretty hard to argue against that. But as many of you know I am able to argue against anything. Just last week in court I was fighting the fight against societal restrictions that most people think are "common sense." I laugh heartily in the face of common sense and demand the right to dance at any time, in any state of undress, and in anyone's livingroom.

I think I have some of the court transcript.

Defendant- "These my dear sir are the very principles that the constitution was biiirthed from.
Lawyer for the Prosecution- "Did you just say birthed from?"
D- "I did good sir, for as the people of this fine courtroom know, the constitution plopped out of lady liberty's womb and was caught in the great hands of a little chamber maid known as justice."
LFTP- "I think you mean mid-wife and please get back in the witness box."
D- "I apologize but I feel separated from my people, the people that make up this great country, like you madam, how are you this fine morrow."
LFTP- "Witness box, you, get back in it, don't kiss her hand and "this fine morrow makes no sense."
D- "We will agree to disagree on that matter but I think you will find it a hard fought battle to prove this is not a fine morrow sir."
LFTP- "My argument is not with the adjective "fine" but the use of "morrow." Look it doesn't matter, just answer the question. Where were you on the evening of June 10th 2006?
D- "Let me scan my mental rolodex good sir this may take a moment. I haven't rebooted in awhile, if you know what I mean."
LFTP- "I have no idea what you mean please just answer the question."
D- "The 10th of June in the year of our lord two thousand and six."
LFTP- "Yes, that would be another way of saying it, stop grinning and looking so self satisfied and just answer the question."
D- "If I could I would like to perform a sonnet."
LFTP- "Does this sonnet answer the question of where you were on June 10th 2006?"
D- "No but it's quite good if I do say so myself. It was inspired by the water lilies of Niagara and the seasonal drift of their petals down the Snake River."
LFTP- "Geographically that's not possible. Let me answer the question for you, according to several witnesses, I am talking a whole school bus full of children, parents waiting to pick up their kids, the plaintiff, basically everyone says the same thing. They saw you enter the Crawford residence. Wearing nothing but cut off jean shorts and a hairnet..."
D- "I would like to call a witness."
LFTP- "Let me finish and you can't call witnesses right now anyway. Do you deny the fact that you entered the residence, proceeded to put an Ace of Base cd into their cd player and then continually spun the plaintiff around in her wheelchair, while shouting I love the night life?"
D- "I think the use of the word spun is objectionable, I prefer the word danced."
LFTP- "Ok did you "dance" with the plaintiff?"
D- "It's kind of hard to dance when your partner won't get on her feet. Am I wrong? Get your rhythm shoes on m'lady."
LFTP- "Please don't point at the plaintiff. She is a disabled 87 year old grandmother, who was relaxing in her home, before you barged in."
D- "We will agree to disagree, because what I saw was a special lady friend who wanted to get down with the get down. If you know what I mean, and I think you do Constable"
LFTP- "I think I can rest my case your honor."
D- "You do that good sir."
LFTP- "I was talking to the judge."
D- "Yeah so was I."
LFTP- "I don't think you were."
D- "You my angel of civil service are good, I really wasn't, you are making me blush. So you free later?"
LFTP- "No."
D- "Well I want to leave you with some words of inspiration because my love for you is undying and wrapped in fuchsia flowers of adoration."
LFTP- "Ummm.."
D- *Mouthes the words "Call me" as he is taken away by the baliff.*

Ok so maybe that didn't work out as I had hoped. Sorry for that, on to the music. First up the one that most people think of when you say "You send me." The OG up in here. This is a great example of some pure vocalizations by one of the best voices in history. It sounds clean, poppy, it's sweet. I mean sweet in that sappy kind of nostalgic going to the hop throw back vibe it gives. I think a lot of that has to do with the backing vocals. The random choruses that backed solo artists on songs like this always makes me think of a Dean Martin or Perry Como type era and genre. Sam's is more upbeat than a love ballad from them but the backing vocals have that feel. I am not sure how much I like that sound, I usually think it's too much, it leads any song towards fields of corniess, Especially when you have a voice that is as good as Sam's the backing vocals only serve as distractions. It works with this song and it wokrs for the Deans and Perrys it's just an added layer that I think would not be missed if it was not there. Case in point the second version of this song. Otis handles it by himself. The stand alone vocals have more emotion to them and it changes the feel of the song. Listen to the Sam one first.

Sam Cooke- You Send Me
http://www.zshare.net/download/203020036533aa85/

In Sam's version I feel like the protagonist of the song has already gotten the subject of the song's affections. The You send me's are directed at someone in a relationship. It is just saying this is how you make me feel and I am happy that I am with you. The overall song is happy, vocals, arrangement, backing chorus. It is an uplifting affirmation of the love and feelings that the subject gives Sam. It's the fairytale, read the lyrics at face value, version. Now listen to Otis.

Otis Redding- You Send Me
http://www.zshare.net/audio/20301957dea2edca/

Otis' version is heartbreaking to me. His version to me is the protagonist saying these are the feelings that you give me, but you are not attainable. Something like that. He loves her, wants to marry her, but the way that he sings the lyrics with a hint of sadness makes me think that he has not yet had his affections returned. This is what you do to me, I wish I did the same thing to you. This is what you do to me, I wish I could be in your life, instead of watching you from afar. The arrangement is stripped down, slowed a bit, the lack of the chorus vocals is noticeable because in the Sam version it provides a sugary backbone to the song. Here there is only Otis, emoting with such heartfelt delivery it is palpable through the speakers. Otis' voice is gruffer than Sam's the pretty pop stylization of Sam is countered by the gutteral bluesey tone of Otis. I think Otis pulls more out of the song but there is no way you can say Sam's version is bad. I notice that I am leaning more towards the sadder heartbroken version of songs. Even interpreting the songs in a negative way when maybe that is delving too deep.

But I think realistically you can support the argument that Otis' version is about yearning more than having attained. The way he approached the lyrics just doesn't sound happy to me. It stands in sharp contrast to Sam and it creates two versions that are equally excellent and manage to go down two divergent paths. Do I really have to choose? Since I am in a sad mood tonight, (anyone get that reference?) I am going to go with Otis. The reasons being the way that he transforms a song that I never thought could be reimagined. I never would have thought this song could be sad but Otis slapped the sadness on it with a quickness. Read the lyrics, how can that song be sad? Otis just said, "I'll make anything sad mufuckas, try me." I wonder how that studio session went.

"Heey Otis buddy got this happy little diddy for you to sing."
"Let me see it."
"Happy right? Such happy happy lyrics awwww love, it's such a wonderful thing."
"Ok, Let's do this."
"I can't see through my tears Otis, you bastard, you magnificent bastard, how did you do that?"

I am pretty sure that's how it went. Just for fliping the script and doing it effectivley he gets the nod. So I guess that's two sad versions that win a row, someone needs some Prozac.

Oh and when I was looking at the lyrics to "You send me" I saw at least two other versions. One was by Taylor Hicks and another was by Aretha Franklin. Kind of interested in hearing those, but can they even come close to fucking with these versions? Aretha could be thrown in the mix but Taylor Hicks? Ha, I scoff in your general direction. Someone listen to them and tell me how they are.

The Great Pretender

I have been obsessed with records lately. Not records like, most jellybeans consumed while simultaneously knitting and riding a water buffalo. Although I did hold that record for two weeks. A special fuck you to Larry Bicklestein. I know he was doping, grace like that is just not natural. Anyway, I am talking about vinyl, the musical kind of record, the kind that is filled with wonderment and fabulousity. Although, I guess Larry's record contains both of those aspects as well. But, that's beside the point. So, I have a pretty wide range of musical tastes. My record collection ranges from Austrian electro clogging to four full records of just the sounds of a badger being tazered and an albino banging two pots together. I will make you a copy of the badger one, it's fucking fantastic.

Today we are going to look at two versions of the same song and decide who did it better. This is a totally subjective thing. Obviously tastes differ, moods differ, number of restraining orders differs. The music that sounds good to you depends on lots of things. What kind of hat you are wearing, whether or not you are in a skipping mood. Are you wearing any pants? That sort of thing. For me personally when I don't have pants on I always gravitate towards Polka. You might be more of a pantless samba kind of person. What I am trying to say is there is no right or wrong answer. These are just opinions.

Today's challenge is between Sam Cooke and the Platters. These are two of my most favorite things in the world of music. I have kind of been on a Soul/R&B/Oldies thing lately.

The Platters are responsible for some of my favorite songs and they possess some of my favorite voices in music. Their song, "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" makes my list for top five best songs ever. That is the only song that I can definitively put on that list. I think of other artists to put on there but it becomes hard for me to pick a song. That might have to be another entry. When listening to this song listen to the power of his voice, the control, the melody. He kills it, it's drenched in emotion, it soars when it needs to, to me it is just a perfect example of how to sing. I think the orchestration is done well, the backing is not overbearing, I like the fact that when he sings he sounds like a man. I feel that too much modern R&B sounds whiny. The dudes sound like whiny bitches, the runs sound more feminine, the music is more corny. Someone could argue that this sounds like old people music, and they could be right, that would be that opinion thing again. But I think this is just more pure, more timeless, it was a great song then and it will always be a great song. Here is the song and a link where you can download it if you want.

http://www.zshare.net/audio/199212021f0262d8/



Sam Cooke to me is vocal perfection. If I could marry a voice I would marry his, I have actually proposed to it several times. I think it's out of my league though, that bitch won't even return my calls. I don't even know what else to say about his voice. Sam is just...he is just the shit. My favorite. Oh yeah so a little warning, it is pretty fucking hard for me to pick a non-Sam version of a song as a winner if Sam has sung it. Listen to his version of "Love Me" when he sings the words "Love Me" I just swoon, am I wrong?

http://www.zshare.net/download/19922152034dfd95/ If you don't know about Sam you should. Check his wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam_Cooke, buy his music, the guy was great. Basically invented soul, wrote a lot of his own music, had his own label. He was amazing, sorry, I am gushing. But look at this guy, he was one smooth bastard. I will be talking a lot more about him so don't you worry.




Alright, so on to the comparison part.

http://www.zshare.net/audio/199227965eed9ea4/
This was the first version of this song I heard. I really liked it. It seems like the Platters approached it as the singer is pretending to be happy even when he is singing. The arrangement is lively the horns or trumpets portray the boastfulness of the singer. The bravado that he has to wrap himself in to sell the fact that he is not heartbroken. He tries to convince himself that by acting like he is fine he will be. You can catch glimpses of how he is really feeling in the way he sings but the song seems more upbeat to me. At least in comparison to Sam's. Sam's version is way toned down.

http://www.zshare.net/download/2017049045530135/

The arrangement is more minimal and subdued. Sam himself sings as if he knows he is not fooling anyone and you can feel the heartbreak in his lyrics and voice. I think it is far more effective in evoking the heartbreak of the song but it really depends on which way you want to take it. Should the Great Pretender be pretending while he sings, should the song be continuing to pretend? Or should it be an acknowledgement of the farce that the singer is perpetuating? Yeah you can go either way and I honestly have a hard time choosing which path I prefer. You would have a hard time agruing either song is a bad song or rendition.

In the end though I think that Sam's version is prettier, more emotional, and I like the arrangement more. With it's stripped down arrangement and softer vocals it makes the Platters arrangement seem overblown, like it has been turned up too loud. Sam's voice is allowed to be the star, his sadness more prominent over the more minimal arrangement. You focus more on his singing, the lyrics, and the emotions come through more without the blaring horns and backing vocals. But again, the Platters version is a totally legitimate approach to this song as well. That's what I like about these comparisons, the way that the artists can change the entire feel of the song, create a different view, feeling, emotion. The same Lyrics can be turned around and say something completley different with a different arrangement, vocal refrain, and style. I told you Sam would win. Anyone else want to weigh in?

My Grandma is 90 years old. She says that it's hard to dance to "I saw her face" by the Beatles, who are being played by three 50 year old guys in standing in a back yard. One is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, he has short gray hair that is spiked. Another one is dressed in a black and silver bowling shirt his hair looks like Blossom's dad's. They play their instruments well. They do not sound like Paul Mcartney though, which they had jokingly said they were going to. My Aunt screams play some motown. They say "I don't think we should try that. Their specialty is the Beatles with a sprinkling of Chuck Berry and Richie Valens. 50's electric guitar centric. Their skill was not harmonizing or singing.

My Grandma and I awkwardly sway, the grass is uneven so I hold her steady. We dance like we are at an all white 80's prom the era where rhythm and grace sort of floundered. Finger snapping arm swaying synth pop, kind of moves. The whole family is up, a bunch of awkward adults trying to find a rhythm, moving to the riffs of the pretend beatles. They all have smiles, the sounds of the music lofts above the fences scattering into the neighborhood air. We join the family circle that forms when weird families dance, and I resist the urge to start b-boying and or getting my eagle on. Grandma seems to be slowing down, so I tell her we should sit and wait for a slow song. I guide her back to the table where she sits down and says "Oyshakoda." Which is the Japanese equivalent of "Upsadaisey."

Rounds of adults occupy the chairs, leaving and returning from the dance floor. The band plows through some Jan and Dean, some Chuck Berry. The sound of several conversations peppers the songs. They start on a slow song and I grab Grandma and lead her back out to the grass. I ask her if her and Grandpa used to go out dancing. She told me they had. I asked her what they danced to. My Grandma says, don't you have those cds Grandpa gave you. I did have them, after he passed, when we were cleaning out a storage space they had I took a large collections of his cds. The playlist on these things is crazy romantic. I never saw my Grandpa as romantic. The Grandpa I knew was always kind of gruff, like a grumpy bear. I liked the picture of them swaying to Louis Armstrong. I could see them dancing cheek to cheek in a smoke filled danceroom. I ask my Grandma who she liked to dance to. She says Perry Como. I ask her what about Frank? She says he is alright, but then throws Bing Crosby in the mix. I have to disagree and say Frank is better than Bing, but i know she thinks Perry is hot so I understand why he places higher. I ask her about Dean Martin who at points I like better than Frank and she just labels him ok as well. We go back to circling in silence. Small steps in the cool night time air, a large tree casting shadows on the ground. I look at the rest of my family and grin, we move closer to my Uncle who's birthday it is and join their circle. The pretend Beatles play us out.

I just want to Dance Daddy

People say I should be a writer. I was just making fun of dancers because it is a pretty hard thing to become successful at and the stability is less than ideal. They dance because, well they just have to dance, it's in them, it is who they are. When they are little they look at their parents and they say,

"Daddy, I just wanna dance."
Then their dad looks at them, shakes his head and says something like,
"Have you thought about going into municipal bonds, how about the tech field, they have great stock options and benefits."

You know why the dad says something like that? One reason is, he is logical, he thinks about the end result of his child trying to make it as a dancer, and he knows that the kid has a very small chance of succeeding at this dream So he says,

"Let's think about this, aren't there some more stable options we can think of Jimmy?"
"No daddy, I just want to dance!!!"
"Hmm well I don't know if that is the wisest decision son, perhaps you should get a college degree first."

We know what Jimmy's answer to this is. Writing is the same thing. Writers have to write. Despite the logical conclusion that they will end up penniless, unread, and depressed. Actually, most start out depressed anyway. Depressed, and in most cases a touch crazy, somehow that tends to help the creative process. This is why I could not be a writer. Not because I am not crazy and depressed, because trust me I have that part down. The reason is I don't have the need to write. This in addition to the fact that what I write is not good. Maybe that would be the main problem. But I don't have the need to be prolific with my writing, I don't have the fire or in other words dat fiyah. I haven't written anything creative in a very long time. I have never written anything good. My friends say it's good, but that's like your mom telling you, you are cool. It's sweet, but don't believe that shit, you aren't cool kid. What are they going to tell me? Step away from the keyboard? No they would just not say anything and that's what the majority of them do. Well most don't read it, but that in itself is saying something. That something is, that my friends are illiterate. Ok maybe they aren't, maybe they just have good taste.

I got 4th place in an essay contest in 3rd grade, honorable mention, that was the highlight of my literary career. I know there is an old entry on here about this same subject, about how I tell don't show, my imagery is flowery and incomprehensible, my skirt is too short and my beat count is off by half a step. I don't infer anything I just straight up lay it on the table, you don't think, well maybe that character is feeling this way because of this and I can tell because of the way he held his coffee cup. No, my character will say,

"Boy I feel like shit because of these inner demons that cause so much turmoil inside of me, and my wife is having an affair, I can't even hold my coffee steady, look at it, it's shaking, trembling because of my inner demons and my struggle with the child abuse I suffered as a rodeo clown in Des Moine, did you hear me when I talked about the inner demon part? Ok good."

You know what writers also do? They craft shit. Like word by word. You know what I do? I just slap the keyboard to make it look I am typing and I call it an abstract expressionist novella. Ok, what I actually do is just let it flow. I don't carefully craft sentences, choosing correct words to carry one point to the other. I just write, for fun, for expression, to take my mind off of other things. I would never expect anyone to want to pay for the stuff that comes from these fingers.

Kind of related, kind of brought up in an earlier entry. Kind of clearly shown in this entry and that would be the defeatist aspect of my personality. I do defeat myself a lot. Probably because I am afraid of failure. If you don't try you can't fail right? When I was little I was in a tennis match. My opponent started to win, so I started fucking around, basically throwing the match. My coach was not happy and he said the following..

"You only did that because you were afraid of losing, so you made it look like you gave up and didn't care and that you beat yourself. Because you were too afraid to try and win and have the possibility of really losing."

He was right and I don't think much has changed since then. Wow, that's pretty fucking sad, since that was probably more than ten years ago. I am my own Dad, you know the one who told Jimmy to go to college. That's what I do to myself. Stability son, that's what it's all about, none of this risk taking writing business. Ok, so the tone kind of shifted on this piece and I feel like if I am going to change I should risk failure more often. this was my old ending, "Because seriously it is like trying to become a dancer. Except even out of shape people think they can write, and their friends are egging them on. So I feel like this is my arena. Random ramblings for free, no deadlines..." I kind of ran myself into a corner on this. I guess I should start researching writing more, not really sure what kind I would do, but yeah, I guess I should at least try and risk failure. Is there like a reader's digest for insane rambly mediocre writers?

I don't like a lot of things. But there are certain things on a day to day basis that irk me. Like everyday I think to myself why would you do that? What is wrong with you?

A couple example happen on my morning commute. I take the bus and the train everyday. There are just certain things that are common sense and part of the morning or after work commute, these are like guidelines, stuff people should adhere to when commuting. First off, when the bus pulls up, wait for the people that are on the bus to get off first. Bastards start running on the bus into a sea of oncoming traffic. Let them clear out then make your mad dash to your seat. Is that really something people need to be told? Doesn't that just kind of make sense? Apparently not as, some people just have that need to rush on in there, like a retarded salmon, not only going against the current but also against the direction of all the other salmon. You should also not stand right in front of the door when you wait for people to exit. See it kind of works better if you aren't blocking the path of people trying to leave the bus.

Concerning the train part of my commute. My first problem starts with me going down the stairs. There are usually escalators and the unwritten rule is, if you want to just stand there and enjoy the ride stand to the right side. That way people that are in a hurry, or about to miss their train can walk down the left side. It's not a one lane thing going on. It's exactly like the freeway (don't get me started on driving) slow people move to the side. Don't post up in the middle or stand by side with your co-worker and have a nice chat. Also when the train is at the platform and you are in the walking lane, you need to move with a fury. If you were not in my way I would be leaping down like 5 stairs at once and if I miss this train because your are shuffling slowly in front of me, I will consider pushing you down and using your body as an urban surfboard. I will ride you down those stairs and have no remorse if it means I make my rain on time.

Once inside the train I have problems as well. I don't like people who don't move to the inside seat, like oh I am saving this seat for my invisible sense of entitlement. Ok, I understand doing this if you are about to get off and don't want to get boxed in, I actually look for these seats when I get on in the morning because I take a short nap, most people get off before me and I don't want to have to get up to let you out. So you can sort of get a pass from me on this. But what goes along with this and gets no pass from me is the people who put their bags on the seats. Like my luggage needs a seat but you, a human being must stand. That shit bugs me, like this isn't your luxury train car, this is public transportation, put that shit in your lap and clear some space. Also don't spread out like you are relaxing in your hammock reading a paper and take up two seats. Just be mindful of other people. This all seems like common sense but people are assholes, I mean I am an asshole too, but I don't act like I own the train. I may lay my head on your shoulder while I nap, or suddenly pop awake and shout "Don't touch my strudel!!" But at least once I come to my senses I will apologize for the outburst and ask you politely if you would like part of my strudel or to pet it. There are several other things I don't like about my commute, loud headphones, no headphones, cell phones, loud conversations.

I even take issue with how loud the dude says the station name. Some fuckers just yell that shit, like ok, man I know where we are chill. It's a microphone, I think they were created so people wouldn't have to yell to amplify their voices. When I use my loudspeaker to announce the contents of my backpack for the day I don't yell, I find it's much creepier to whisper and sort of crouch down close to the ground. Elongate random letters like, "Todayssssss backpack contents areeeeeeee" *shuffles through bag* "Chewed gum in a wrapper!!!" "Now who wants it, if you guess what kind it is you can have it, no? no takers?" Then I usually just toss it to someone give them a wink and say, "thank them for coming out tonight." Then they say something like I am just trying to go to work and it's not nighttime it's 7 in the morning. I usually reply by mumbling something inaudible, end it with "and that's that!!" Before pulling out the t-shirt launcher and pelting people with crumpled up soiled undershirts.

On the flip side of being to loud, some of the guys whisper the station name and I wake up in the wrong city. Oh well at least my kids won't find me here I think to myself giggling with glee and rubbing my hands together. No more daddy can you unchain me I have to go to the bathroom, or can I up my food rations and have two kidney beans instead of one tonight because I have a soccer tournament. They are called rations for a reason child, because if I didn't ration your food, I wouldn't be able to afford my collection of exotic urinals and 24 karat gold body paint.

Eulogy

My dad was a good man. In the sense that he cared for his family took care of them and made sure they were always provided for. I remember when he would go on business trips and would return with a G.I. Joe figure or another toy for me and my brother. He coached me in Little League, placing me in the outfield, because I was a day dreamer. Taught us how to ride bikes, order Dim sum. Just multiple things that built a secure early childhood and for that I am thankful. Unfortunately the ability to care of us did not extend to taking care of himself. In his final years he aged a lifetime, his legs weaker, his face redder, at one point bedridden from the effects of alcohol. Sipping slowly from the cusp ed hands of death. They slowly drowned him, a lifetime marinating in the bottom of a gin glass.

He was a functional alcoholic and maybe that's what the problem was. When you can get up, go to work, and do a good job, then maybe your problems at night are an afterthought or a welcome reward. He did work hard, held one of the top positions in the state as an Asian American male. He broke down doors, worked hard, climbed the ladder and he succeeded. He truly was a remarkable man. At a time when minorities were not in a position of power he questioned that, changed that, and led the way for people of color to succeed like him.

I wish that he would have been able to live to see the day when me and my brother got married. Lived to see his grandchildren. Played baseball with them, spoiled them, laughed with them. Instead his life was cut short by a devastating disease. One that others watched helplessly as it killed him. Unheeded warnings as he drowned, soundproofed in his own denial.

One time he was unable to move from the couch, his kidney on the verge of failure, emaciated and helpless, my mom drove up to get him. She brought him to the hospital and he stayed there recuperating. The doctor told him that everything that was wrong with his health was because of alcohol. Maybe it was denial, maybe it was an inability to face a sober life, but whatever the case may be this did not serve as the wake up call we thought it would. He needed help, professional help, to not be afraid to face this head on, to admit that there was a real problem. Was the battle for living that much effort? Not worth it? Instead of changing and living he continued to plod in the same bare thread tracks his father had marked out before him. Death came knocking and all Dad did was wait for him to wipe his shoes on the welcome mat before opening the door wide, allowing him to stroll on through. What we all thought was a clear cut bottom, the idealistic and symbolic epiphany inducing event, was merely just a slight pause on the path towards darkness.

It was sad, it was unnecessary and it was too soon. A completely avoidable end that was sprinted to, driven by compulsion and addiction. There was so much left for life to offer, the possibilities of the next day beckoned but their call was not answered. The line was disconnected, the hanger was off the hook, it lay on the ground ringing, no one there to pick it up. It shouldn't have been this way. It should have been different. If only he would have faced the problem, admitted that addiction had him in it's grip and that he was willing to fight it, face it, and live. But that's not what happened and we stand here today mourning the loss of a good hearted man. A man who I loved and who took care of his family, worked hard and left us too soon.

Don't make me read this, if you need help we can help you. It is not too late but it is getting damn near close to it. That stay in the hospital was because of alcohol. Your deterioration in health is because of the alcohol. You have an addiction, you have the gene. You can not cut back, you have to quit. Don't let these words fall on deaf ears, do not stand behind a wall of denial because you must know that something is not right. Not being able to move and kidney failure are not small things. You have serious problems and you need serious help. I will be here if you need me just start by asking for help. You have to want to change and if you are not able to do that then there is nothing anyone can do and I will be reading this eulogy very soon. I do not want eulogize you, I want you to see me get married, I want you to see your grandkids, I want you to live. Please look in the mirror and face reality.

(sorry for anyone that reads this, it really should be private, but I think I will just throw it out there. I am seeing him this friday, I think I will give him this before I leave)

Just a couple things from the last two days. One of the advantages of living in the city is the abundance of crazy people. I was coming out of the train station, minding my business, when I came upon a man in a wheelchair. This alone does not make him crazy, but I think the masking tape x on his forehead would be a good sign he wasn't all there. I think he had an American flag on his wheelchair as well. The wheelchair thing didn't add to his crazy factor, maybe just commented on the fact that he was a veteran. What happened next though, seemed to both confirm that he was in fact crazy and, made me conclude that he was a veteran.

He eyed me, rage filling up his pupils. He raised his arms as if holding and imaginary rifle and fired at me. I kinda just stared at him, like, "Wow are you really shooting at me?" My stare did nothing to deter him, as he fired off a couple more shots and I thought, "Yeah I guess you are shooting at me." It took a lot of restraint on my part to not indulge in the fantasy with him. I almost started rolling and firing back at him commando style. Kicking over garbage cans for cover and radioing my base for back up. I wanted to up the ante and start heaving grenades at him, while crawling on my hand and knees to avoid the spray of his bullets. But what I really wanted to do was stand up straight, fists on my hips and laugh off the bullets like superman. Slowly walk towards him saying, "You're human bullets have no effect on me." Inching closer and closer, before either disarming his imaginary gun and tossing it to the side, or grabbing a hold of his chair and racing around in circles with him while screaming, "Weeeee!!" I thought better of this though, because for starters, he had a freaking gun, and secondly he probably smelled. I think it was a shotgun or maybe just an assault rifle. It wasn't automatic as far as I could tell but it must have had some big bullets because it had some serious kick to it. Not enough to move his chair back when he fired but it made his arms go back. I decided it would be best to not challenge such a high caliber gun and instead just walked away, had a shared look with a random Mexican, a look like, "Whoa he almost got me," or maybe it was more of a "That guy isn't sane is he?" Then I just stood there watching him shoot other people as I waited for my bus. I wondered if he shot at me because I was Asian, maybe he thought I was Viet-Cong. I felt better after I saw him shoot some Mexicans and knew that his love for killing people crossed all racial lines. It's all about equality, and I was proud of him for sharing his bullets with everyone.

Side tangent- I work on a upper floor of my building so I take the elevator (This is my attempt at being Andy Rooney, I actually think I saw Andy Rooney say the exact same thing) but it kind of bugs me when the button is pushed, the light is on and you know the elevator is coming but someone comes up and pushes the button anyway. Why? The shit is coming, hence the light, your push will not make it go faster, skip floors, rush down to meet you. It doesn't think hey, someone pushed that shit three times I better hurry my ass up and head downstairs. It will come when it's ready. So, maybe Andy didn't say those exact words, and don't ask me why I was watching Andy Rooney in the first place, but that's just a little think that bugs me. You know what else bugs me the fact that Andy Rooney has a job. What the hell is that all about? I could say the stupid shit he does, for example read what I just wrote above this. I saw another segment with him, jesus how much 60 minutes do I watch, am I that fucking old? Ok, so in the segment his whole thing was the president name should be strong, like Jefferson, Washington, Lincoln. They name schools after presidents, imagine if Huckabee won. Huckabee elementary? I just sat there listening to this shit and couldn't believe, that one, he wasn't dead because he looked like a bloated corpse with out of control eyebrows mumbling some stupid shit, and two he got paid for these witty observances. His segment is like 2 seconds, I just wonder how much he makes. I could sit in front of a camera, and say stuff like, you know the problem with digital cameras? People never print their pictures, in my time people had albums, now they have laptops. I would get the same bored looks from people, maybe two retards who chuckle and say god damn it he tells it like it is, that is sooooo true.

One last thing, when I go to the bathroom at my work, which is always number one, because I don't like shitting in public, people always do this thing that makes no sense to me. So I am standing at the urinal and someone sidles up next to me, they unzip and before they start, they flush the toilet. What is that all about? So the person before you didn't flush, does the toilet have to be clean for you to dirty up? Can your urine not touch their urine? Aren't you going to flush after you are done anyway? Why not just wait? Maybe these aren't questions for you, but should be directed at the pre-flushers, but I don't usually like talking at the urinal and I hate the people I work with and don't talk to them anyway, so yeah, you get to hear about it. Are you a pre-flusher? Can you explain it?

To bring this to a close, I will share a short but sweet encounter with a crazy person I just had at lunch. He came into the taco bell. Yes, it is my fault I was in a taco bell in a bad part of town and crazy people love taco bells in bad parts of town, but that's not the point. So I was waiting for my food. He comes up shows me a gold chain while simultaneously asking for a dollar. Not sure if the dollar was for the gold chain or a separate transaction, all I knew per his words was, " A nigga tryin to eat." I turned down the chain and the offer of me giving him a dollar but he still stood next to me. My food arrived, and I had gotten some nachos. I grabbed my tray and was about to leave when I felt a tapping on my arm. Of course it was my dear friend the jewelry salesman and he had a request. He wanted some of my chips. I used to be a pretty generous dude, I would give people whatever change I had on me. Two things have changed and have made me less willing to give. I need coins for laundry and I get hit up every fucking day for change. You become jaded, over saturated, just tired of it. So now I usually just raise a hand and say sorry before walking by. Having said all that I had plenty of chips and it was such a direct request, not a generalization like food, or something to eat, he wanted to eat some of my chips. I decided I could handle this request and grabbed maybe like two chips and put them in his hand. I sure am glad I did because afterwards he said, "You are a good dude, you are going to go to heaven for that." That made me feel good, as I now have a guaranteed ticket to heaven and all it took was two taco bell chips. Pretty good deal if you ask me. If a guy who thinks about running around with the wheelchair of a disabled insane veteran and makes fun of Andy Rooney can go to heaven then there is hope for all.

Busy art weekend for me. Went to the opening of Allstar Hustlaz II at White Walls on Saturday. Below is the main reason that I went to the show, Sylvia Ji. Sylvia's work is awesome, I heard she works 40 hours a week too? If anyone could be a fulltime artist I would think it would be her. I think she might work at a design place and love her job though. These are all just hazy recollections from an article I read months ago as well so don't take it as gospel. Anyway I am a big fan of her work.


I used to get freaked out by her skull stuff, ok I still do. But one of them I liked better than the non-skull creepy version. Her skill is undeniable though, beautifully rendered stuff. It just draws me in.



These were not badly priced either, kinda affordable in that retarded art world kinda way where dropping tons of cash is normal.



I can handle this creepy.


I forgot who did this. I go to group shows, there are tons of people showing and I don't take notes or take the price list. So inevitably there are lots of artists that will now be known as "forgot" or "unknown," maybe a "what'shisname." This is one such artists, sorry I do like your work though.


These three were done by Dalek. I am not a fan of cardboard. I like the images though.

He always has the same characters in his work, for a fan I guess that's good. If you aren't a fan there isn't that much of a chance you will like some of his other work, since it is all pretty much the same.




These two were done by Damon Soule. I am a fan of his stuff. I prefer the more geometric hard shapes like what is inside the squid's head as opposed to the shapes in the second painting.






These were done by forgot, I couldn't tell what they were, cut outs? Prints? Something weird, because the detail was insane and you couldn't see how the images were made. I mean there were no brush strokes or anything.






These three were by Gregory Euclide

I really like his stuff, it always has the same look, but I am a fan. There are levels to it, it's clean, graphically appealing and a nice flowy streamlined design.

You really do have to see these in person, I think it's colored pencil and water colors, I could be wrong though.

Whatever it is it's fantastic.



These were done by the infamous "forgot" he had a lot of work in this show huh?


I like the poppyniess of this. Yeah that's not a word but that's what it is. The commercial, advertising, pop cultureness that pervades these pieces along with the branded and bright colors is what I like. Wouldn't buy it but it appeals to my eyes.



Another forgotten artist











Ben Frost














Shane Jessup