Monday, December 15, 2014

Sargent Pepper's

Someone left an old copy of Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by the radio in the shop. I had no real previous exposure to the Beatles, save for the usual old bubble gum stuff of '63-'65.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand, Please, Please Me, and that sort of crap.
I put the tape in the deck and what came out changed the way I heard music. A Day in the Life, She's Leaving Home and When I'm 64 were just a few of the songs that seemed curiously different.

I shot this picture with a 35mm SLR, 100 ASA B/W film. It was 2002.

Friday, November 21, 2014

signature move is to hide
'til it is all gone
explaining is the wheel of life
and the steam that makes it all go
it isn't much of a show
but I still go
I had to start a double life
just to get by and take sides
time wasted is time well spent
Reading philosophy and teh classics
feeling like a million bucks
but broke of money
and rich of stories
knowing all along where I was going
I could always see in the dark
which is half the time
depends on what season of the year it is
the Sun follows a strict path
and really doesn't deviate
unlike all of us
who are unpredictable and shallow and
all at once
mirrors and camera lenses reflect us
what did they say about me
in the end
we ask

Sunday, November 2, 2014

#Ferguson, day 70

"Today, the 70th day of this nightmare, some may wonder why we have yet to stop – to stop chanting, stop marching, stop occupying .
But we have not yet found peace because we do not yet know justice. Therefore we, together with our allies, will continue to occupy the streets and the American consciousness until the book is closed."

— An American Horror Story: An Open Letter from Ferguson Protesters and Allies (Oct. 17)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


Every once in a while, I check the stats of this blog, just to see if anyone is actually coming to read it anymore. The numbers have fallen from what they used to be, as I am a lot less prolific nowadays. I mean, we had a child this year, I work 70 hours a week, you understand. Things are moving...

Time is of the essence. There is much to do and such a very little time allotted in which to do it all. If there is even one person that returns to this blog to view my words, pictures, or the myriad of stolen intellectual property that I also have displayed here, I am very fortunate and grateful for your visits. I try to be honest but I can't be too honest, until certain people have moved on, if you know what I mean. Can't have authoritarian figures judging from on high.

All art is theft. I don't know who said that but it was probably someone who stole or borrowed images from someone else. All artists want to be original but unconsciously incorporate the styles of their contemporaries or predecessors into their work. I am sure I do this. I have spent many an hour looking at the art that has come before me.

The art I make is highly political in nature and in nomenclature. As a writer, I really think of the name for a piece before any work is done on the wood before me. The world provides endless subject matter for all of us to use at our own will. The challenge is to be able to keep moving on, when there really is no reward other than the joy of doing it. Which is the reason we do it. And, after all is said and done, it is always worth the effort. 

Thank you for reading. 

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Letter by Kurt Vonnegut to the people of 2088, written in 1988

Ladies & Gentlemen of A.D. 2088:

It has been suggested that you might welcome words of wisdom from the past, and that several of us in the twentieth century should send you some. Do you know this advice from Polonius in Shakespeare's Hamlet: 'This above all: to thine own self be true'? Or what about these instructions from St. John the Divine: 'Fear God, and give glory to Him; for the hour of His judgment has come'? The best advice from my own era for you or for just about anybody anytime, I guess, is a prayer first used by alcoholics who hoped to never take a drink again: 'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.'

Our century hasn't been as free with words of wisdom as some others, I think, because we were the first to get reliable information about the human situation: how many of us there were, how much food we could raise or gather, how fast we were reproducing, what made us sick, what made us die, how much damage we were doing to the air and water and topsoil on which most life forms depended, how violent and heartless nature can be, and on and on. Who could wax wise with so much bad news pouring in?

For me, the most paralyzing news was that Nature was no conservationist. It needed no help from us in taking the planet apart and putting it back together some different way, not necessarily improving it from the viewpoint of living things. It set fire to forests with lightning bolts. It paved vast tracts of arable land with lava, which could no more support life than big-city parking lots. It had in the past sent glaciers down from the North Pole to grind up major portions of Asia, Europe, and North America. Nor was there any reason to think that it wouldn't do that again someday. At this very moment it is turning African farms to deserts, and can be expected to heave up tidal waves or shower down white-hot boulders from outer space at any time. It has not only exterminated exquisitely evolved species in a twinkling, but drained oceans and drowned continents as well. If people think Nature is their friend, then they sure don't need an enemy.

Yes, and as you people a hundred years from now must know full well, and as your grandchildren will know even better: Nature is ruthless when it comes to matching the quantity of life in any given place at any given time to the quantity of nourishment available. So what have you and Nature done about overpopulation? Back here in 1988, we were seeing ourselves as a new sort of glacier, warm-blooded and clever, unstoppable, about to gobble up everything and then make love—and then double in size again.

On second thought, I am not sure I could bear to hear what you and Nature may have done about too many people for too small a food supply.

And here is a crazy idea I would like to try on you: Is it possible that we aimed rockets with hydrogen bomb warheads at each other, all set to go, in order to take our minds off the deeper problem—how cruelly Nature can be expected to treat us, Nature being Nature, in the by-and-by?

Now that we can discuss the mess we are in with some precision, I hope you have stopped choosing abysmally ignorant optimists for positions of leadership. They were useful only so long as nobody had a clue as to what was really going on—during the past seven million years or so. In my time they have been catastrophic as heads of sophisticated institutions with real work to do.

The sort of leaders we need now are not those who promise ultimate victory over Nature through perseverance in living as we do right now, but those with the courage and intelligence to present to the world what appears to be Nature's stern but reasonable surrender terms:
  1. Reduce and stabilize your population.
  2. Stop poisoning the air, the water, and the topsoil.
  3. Stop preparing for war and start dealing with your real problems.
  4. Teach your kids, and yourselves, too, while you're at it, how to inhabit a small planet without helping to kill it.
  5. Stop thinking science can fix anything if you give it a trillion dollars.
  6. Stop thinking your grandchildren will be OK no matter how wasteful or destructive you may be, since they can go to a nice new planet on a spaceship. That is really mean, and stupid.
  7. And so on. Or else.
Am I too pessimistic about life a hundred years from now? Maybe I have spent too much time with scientists and not enough time with speechwriters for politicians. For all I know, even bag ladies and bag gentlemen will have their own personal helicopters or rocket belts in A.D. 2088. Nobody will have to leave home to go to work or school, or even stop watching television. Everybody will sit around all day punching the keys of computer terminals connected to everything there is, and sip orange drink through straws like the astronauts.


Kurt Vonnegut