Tuesday

they only wanted to have sex in the rain

This is a quote from Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums, which I just read for the first time, and which put me in just the right mood for my upcoming camping trip. All I want to do is hike through the mountains and whisper haikus to the trees. 

"Try to do it without stepping on the aardvark. Don't be a sucker all your life, dummy up, ya dope. Do you see what I mean? My lion is fed, I sleep at his side."

That's not really a haiku, 
but here are a few:

"Talking about the literary life–
the yellow aspens."

"Rocks on the side of a cliff,
why don't they tumble down?"

"The sparrow hops along the veranda,
with wet feet."

And here is possibly the very nicest thing ever said:

"It's a shining now-ness and we've done it, carried America like a shining blanket into that brighter nowhere Already."

Alas, if Jack Kerouac had not died years and years ago, and if I had not been born in the nineties, we would make love in public places, not think anything of it, and scratch poems into cliff faces, and think nothing of that. 

we sing mostly in the mornings


The big old men were sitting on their thrones
rattling their wine-soaked bones. 

Monday

everyday is an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines

These are portraits taken from Vainty Fair's online article, "The Faces of Vanity Fair." What I like about these is the women's faces: all stark in black and white, all different expressions of what I feel like is essentially the same thing. Gloria Swanson's eyes are smoldering. So beautiful. 





from top: Kate Moss by Bruehl-Borges, Martha Graham by Imogen Cunningham, Katharine Hepburn by Cecil Beaton, and Gloria Swanson by Edward Steichen

Saturday

i will never pretend to be a part of this

These are scanned from an Annual Art Catalogue from 1981. The first two are from a series by photographers Joe Gaffney and Alberto Dell'Orto. The next four are a series by photographer Henry Wolf. I like the first two for their sophistication, and I especially like the expanse of red wall in contrast to the black and white jumpsuit. In the last four, I like the men more than the models. I love their poses.




Tuesday

t. williams talks to birds

...a poem by Neil de la Flor



Tennessee Williams once visited Manhattan where he celebrated the Broadway success of A Streetcar Named Desire with a leather purse. She called him, 'Len.' That night, Len and the purse sent cocktails to hookers on 42nd street. Girls sipped so-called dirty martinis with white rubber gloves. For the clients' pleasure they sipped quickly.

Quietly, the other day, I found an ad in the Miami Herald that read, Tennessee look alike seeks farm hand for companionship. I left a message wondering if he looked like the State or the playwright, never mind the possibility that Tennessee could be a woman, or a transvestite looking for human liver. Nevertheless, the impossible news headline was true—Dog caught walking owner off bridge. Plummets to death, owner not dog.

Father John once said he got cold spells when he entered the church, or something like that. I told him to wear mittens.

Mittens, he said. Are for boys!

Father, I said. You are a boy.

A glass menagerie, glass menagerie, menagerie of steel, stainless steel, I've stolen my lines from the great Herodotus, or Hercules, I can't remember which was Assyrian. Istanbul is a city with great glass walls, erected with the sweat of tigers, lions, and bears. The mighty walls, like skin of cats, are see through. I see through, you see through. I can't see through, you can't see through. I am done with this cat business, the 9 lives of Nineveh, or 9 Visigoths, or Vishnu nude bathing on porcelain counter tops with margaritas in both hands.

A list will be my final attempt: a horn, clobbered, musk, alabaster, gloat, Los Alamos, credenza, last night, a dry hump, a parakeet.

When the Edict of Nantes was declared null and void girls bought hot pink lipstick. Abolition is freedom if you can't read. Reading is ______! But only if you close your eyes when you do it.

Madness, you say. Madness, I say. Say, do you understand the function of that squiggly line in calculus? The one that looks like it wants to be infinity. That's the function of madness.

Friday

what makes the animal run, run away

Yes, this is what I do on Friday nights. Hair masks and blogging. These are from artists Gary Hill, whom I find very interesting. His art has an interesting take on perspective. 





Tuesday

and i love your double chin

These illustrations are by Herbert Bagilone, a Brazilian artist. Here's what he says about his work:

"The basis of my work is speaking about the coldness and competitiveness in people. I like to be ironic about things such as individuality and death, and the paths to reach or escape from this. I find it funny when I walk on the streets and see people with their eyes open but dead inside. This makes me think and wonder if I am still alive."



This is his street art. Which I like even more than the illustrations. 



Sunday

somehow this isn't what i thought it would be

Stumbled on this book while wandering through the library the other day. It's a photography book, 50 Sad Chairs, by Bill Keaggy. The book measures about 3 inches by 3 inches, so on the art shelf, next to all those ginormous galleries, it was a dwarf. Too charming to pass up. And the photographs are lovely as well. They are all abandoned chairs, found in St. Louis Missouri. My favorites...


Sorry for the shitty scanning job. And here are my own found chair/bench photos. Not as good as Bill's, but I get credit for effort, right?

Saturday

the daughter of these hills

Um, why had I not seen this movie? I watched the Oscars, I saw Daniel Day Lewis and his earring receive the award for Best Actor... so why had I not seen this movie until last night? I don't know. But I do know that this is the best movie I have seen in a while. It was a real psychological thriller. At least I thought it was intense. And those prolonged minutes of silence at the beginning, followed by the continuous play of some craziness music? Genius. 

Thursday

the white girls wander the strip mall singing all day

Lately I've been drawn to black and white photography. It's so honest. Almost brutally honest. These are by Arkansas photographer Mike Disfarmer. I think it's pretty self-explanatory. 

Tuesday

no one belongs here more than you

I read this over the summer, and thought it might make an interesting review. I know it's not recent or anything, and that many of you may have read it, but nevertheless...I thought it could be of interest. There were a few stories within the collection that I enjoyed, like the one about the swim lessons and the one about Blanca the sister. But as a collection, it was boring. All the characters were essentially the same person, just in different bodies. And I got the impression that every character was actually Miranda July. I felt like she was inserting so much of herself into the stories that they were autobiographical. She seemed to be using her stories to showcase her own quirks, and, if I may, flaunt them. Disturbing, funny, and insightful at times, but overall, repetitive and slightly snobbish. 

I have to give her credit for the book jacket. The colors pop, and the simple, contrasted text is bold and striking. And how amazing is it that there are four colors to choose from? 

I've never seen July's film, Me and You and Everyone We Know, or seen any of her performances. The reviews I've read match up with my general opinion of her work–July tends to have this quirkier-than-thou aura. I was wondering if any of you have ever read/seen any of July's artistry, and if you felt the same way. 

Sunday

taking the monotony out of monogyny

Today I went to a flea market. Here's what I bought. If I had $692, I would have brought home a hand-painted accordion, a lighted art deco ash tray, a marionette, a pair of bird sketches, and an apothecary chest. But as it was, I had ten dollars, and thus brought home a suitcase, a model T is a globe,  picture of an old fire engine, and some jewelry. Not bad. My grandma gave me some gold, old-womanish necklaces and earrings that will be great for fall. Grandma jewelry is pictured in bottom left. Everything else is flea market. 



Also at my grandma's found some very dirty horoscope cards. Not what you want to find our your grandparents' dresser. 

Friday

i had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion

Okay, so, why is it that no matter how determined I am to focus, and actually absorb somehting in class, I never can? ADD? Maybe I'm distracted from all the sporadic, eclectic, and slightly scatterbrained collage art work that has lately been mesmerizing me. And luckily, more collage art is easy to find: Wiki. 


  
from top: Joseph Cornell, Jane Frank, and Agnes Montgomery 

See what I mean? On another note, went out for some coffee and live music tonight, but didn't get to hear any of it because of this old man who was spilling his heart to me and Kara. 

Wednesday

you obviously know what i'm talking about


I figure that since this is something like my blog's maiden voyage, I won't get into anything too heavy. Let me just say that I am new to this blog thing. Well, I've had a blog, but never one I've been serious about maintaining. But I promise I'll get the hang of it. In the meantime, feast your eyes on this. Did I mention that I am hating this weather? Can't wait for fall. Last night I bought a pair of brown leather heels to go with my navy knee highs and black tights (but not at the same time).