Weird Arizona Highways commemorative video, I guess very early 80s. Ever-fantastical, magical!
Interesting for the Goldwater photography stories. Although Dolan Ellis really, really makes me want to kill myself. I had a weird flashback of 80s/90s Nickelodeon and that Fred Penner show. Terrible!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Stay a while
I found myself trapped alone in here for a while today. It's a lovely 1901 bungalow with apparent Amityville tendencies. Right now it contains an exhibit about the restoration of a nearby Victorian and is full of strange and random items found in and under the house, like books and letters and bottles under the porch and 100 year old broken kitchen implements from under the ground floor.
The very average key lock turns smoothly from the outside, but once you are in, you are in. I spent about five long minutes jiggling, turning, and struggling before moving to the back door which was even more immobile than the front. So I just stood in the hall for a while, wondering what to do, my fingers sore from the repetition of trying to turn a key in a lock that had somehow been re-keyed in the last 20 minutes. After trying the front door again, getting nothing, and stamping and screaming REALLY?!?!?, the lock clicked over.
Monday, September 12, 2011
George Harrison HBO film
The trailer is a little too "...In a WORLD" - Does GH really require a Hollywood intro? Well, you know what I say. It'll be on 10/5 and 10/6.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Pulp got back together.
For a minute, a few months ago.
Not sure if I've mentioned how I love Jarvis, but I do. In fact, I like him more the older and rougher he gets. The voice somehow gets sexier*, the appearance is no longer that of a very tall, very young girl, so I guess he is still peaking. Seems like he can't hit certain high notes anymore. That's ok, JVC. ilu.
His weekly radio show: Jarvis' Sunday Service
* i just need to point out that i hate the word "sexy" - one of my least favorite adjectives and oh hell no is it ever a noun. but i'm beat! i got nothing! there's no other word for it. aiight get out of here, this never happened.
Not sure if I've mentioned how I love Jarvis, but I do. In fact, I like him more the older and rougher he gets. The voice somehow gets sexier*, the appearance is no longer that of a very tall, very young girl, so I guess he is still peaking. Seems like he can't hit certain high notes anymore. That's ok, JVC. ilu.
His weekly radio show: Jarvis' Sunday Service
* i just need to point out that i hate the word "sexy" - one of my least favorite adjectives and oh hell no is it ever a noun. but i'm beat! i got nothing! there's no other word for it. aiight get out of here, this never happened.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Camping this weekend was fun, and ridiculous. I need to make a note to not wander aimlessly in the woods by myself (this time the phone could not have helped me) but I survived yet again.
I lost my fucking mind staring at the stars in a clearing at midnight. I can't remember having seen them so clearly ever in my life, and it was the most amazing thing. I couldn't even take it all in. There were too many places to look. Lost my fucking MIND.
Being "in nature" is always very thrilling for me and I turn into a very excited child, perhaps one at Disneyland. Screaming and carrying on when I see animals. etc.
One day I'll use one of the cameras collecting dust in drawers and on shelves instead of my phone.
I lost my fucking mind staring at the stars in a clearing at midnight. I can't remember having seen them so clearly ever in my life, and it was the most amazing thing. I couldn't even take it all in. There were too many places to look. Lost my fucking MIND.
Being "in nature" is always very thrilling for me and I turn into a very excited child, perhaps one at Disneyland. Screaming and carrying on when I see animals. etc.
One day I'll use one of the cameras collecting dust in drawers and on shelves instead of my phone.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Tell it
Shattering historical misunderstandings one comic at a time. Hark, a Vagrant. Damn it Kate Beaton! I want to draw comics, too. But I fear I'd just end up accidentally ripping HAV. Maybe I'll just draw alternately mean and flattering caricatures of my favorite characters. Then embroider them onto linen. NEW LIFE CALLING, toss that in with the 15 others.
Poor NPBP.
Poor NPBP.
Monday, August 29, 2011
So in addition to books about self-actualization, chakras and meditational techniques, I found a new old photo album on my grandmother's shelves. I can't believe there are photos I've never seen because rifling through closets was my #1 childhood past time.
Great-great grandparents. I know less about them than any of my family. They were Scottish-Irish and farmed in northern Montana.
My poor sweet mother.
I never thought I resembled my gram but now I think I do.
blonder dayz
Great-great grandparents. I know less about them than any of my family. They were Scottish-Irish and farmed in northern Montana.
My poor sweet mother.
I never thought I resembled my gram but now I think I do.
blonder dayz
Edgar
& now I am fixated with Edgar Oliver.
I found him off-putting at first but now find his fluid gesticulations and strange slurring Transylvanian/transatlantic accent to be fascinating, and his word choices succinct and masterful. I'm very interested in the way artful people express themselves and I love plain speech where only plainness will do. To first hear him, you wouldn't call it plain, but it is; plain like a child's speech when monosyllabic words contain many layered meanings. His voice is sort of vibrational and honeyed in a way that would make a good portrayal of some Count Dracula type, a venus flytrap thing.
The story of growing up with his sister and mother in Savannah reminds me of some of Truman Capote's short stories about his childhood in New Orleans. I love Southern Gothic and dark tales of the past and secrets growing like moss in rotting old houses. Those things. Any short Capote story, or A Rose for Emily, even Sunset Boulevard all have that creepy moldering among vibrant life thing. Even To Kill a Mockingbird contains the elements.
I love a character. He is himself with abandon.
I found him off-putting at first but now find his fluid gesticulations and strange slurring Transylvanian/transatlantic accent to be fascinating, and his word choices succinct and masterful. I'm very interested in the way artful people express themselves and I love plain speech where only plainness will do. To first hear him, you wouldn't call it plain, but it is; plain like a child's speech when monosyllabic words contain many layered meanings. His voice is sort of vibrational and honeyed in a way that would make a good portrayal of some Count Dracula type, a venus flytrap thing.
The story of growing up with his sister and mother in Savannah reminds me of some of Truman Capote's short stories about his childhood in New Orleans. I love Southern Gothic and dark tales of the past and secrets growing like moss in rotting old houses. Those things. Any short Capote story, or A Rose for Emily, even Sunset Boulevard all have that creepy moldering among vibrant life thing. Even To Kill a Mockingbird contains the elements.
I love a character. He is himself with abandon.
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