Happenings and Happenstance

I'm needing models (of sorts) to take portraits of. I have a bunch of black and white film and need to take photographs of faces for my own enjoyment. Let me know if your interested.

On Saturday, March 7th, at 7:30 PM, Artocratic Presents
Greg Dember,
Evan Gross,
and Willem van Spronsen/ the Super8

at the Neptune Coffee house 8415 Greenwood Ave. N. Seattle

I am good friends with Willem/The Super 8 and they can be found here: www.myspace.com/thesuper8band

Well worth the check out at least.

Speaking of bands, Saint Brickhouse is changing to Mahoot and has some wicked songs up at:
www.myspace.com/mahootmusic

Other than that, I wrote my shitty poetry I then proceeded to throw out. I lost my work when I lost my harddrive so I'm struggling trying to re-create and innnovate new stuff.

Been working hard on this so called "memoir" which is primairly about two very different points in my life I merged into one. Its "creative non fiction" for sure.

Here is something small I was wrote one night with my head in my clouds but my feet hung tight to the ground

Passive moments in wintertime as it paved into spring. I left you when the morning arose and I found myself a new person hiding beneath this skin. Finding love in overlapping circles of social grace and personified glory. A car driving north to friendships on tin foil and lace. A clean house and a romantic gesture leaves traces of forgotten romance that died in early 2004 with a man, a guitar and a hope for the future.

There is a silence in the early morning when the rest of the world is sleeping and I’m taking pills and drinking drinks to keep the hurt from turning to hate. There is nothing else to say. I swear, I know it’s true. I keep remember the day you first left, the cocaine on the floor, the trip to the dump. “I *heart* huckabees” on the television. The kisses and the promises that we would never keep. There is a tired romance that comes with greyhound terminals and the lovers I have left for dead at them. Leaving always, for farms that hold no home. Its as if holding you in my arms were as if holding strangers to lose change they ask.

There was a connection so deep between us it scared the life out of anybody who came close. Or, at least, that is what you told me. It explained a lot. I tried, for months I tried, to figure out how to say hello without sounding so cruel. Then I tried to say goodbye without sounding cruel. It's hard.

That is all.

She's The Dutchess and He's The Duke

Have you heard this band? You should. Go listen. Now. http://www.myspace.com/thedutchessandtheduke

They have this folk-rock edge of the 1960's with a modern twist. Very Neat.

They are on this label named "Hardly Art" which has a number of other neat bands featuring: "The Pica Beats" and "Arther & Yu"

Check it out: hardlyart.com




Here is a poem I've been working on. Something along the lines of "October Poem"

I can get used
to not having you here.
I do not think I knew you well.

I knew your nuances well.
I knew your passion for social logic.
I knew the answers to very few of your questions.

I knew we only depended upon
that morning I woke up
forgot my shirt,
pinned my heart to my wrist instead.
It bled all day.

I knew those lies you told me were true.

I knew you kept anger at your side
as if it were a loaded gun
that you were just waiting to draw

Revenge, you once told me,
is a theory so advanced
it might be admired by saints.

I always took note of your cheap advice

I always believed that we could save
one another
Through obligatory romantic gestures
and silent prayer
I divulge into delusions of grandeur

I know it's just a part of me
waiting for a patient sign
that I can love you
as much as you
hate yourself.

You're looking up at the moon
a lot these days
too drunk to blink
but looking anyways.

Obsequious Learnings

Been writing, manically, intensely daydreaming at work trying avoid the monotony. I decided to re-read Ariel Gore's book because it makes me want to write, experience things and describe them beautifully to others.

Also been listening to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" way too much. 2008 reissue is beautiful. Add to the old favorite is Cohen's "Songs Of" because that also makes me want to write. Dealers dealing, stranger songs, going down to the river with Suzanne etc.




Some photos I have taken recently: (on my holga):