Oh Oh Oh

The gnarled tangly bits got me all tied up in them and I got stuck and I half liked it and half disliked it and now here I am back in bed as though nothing happened. Happy Halloween. I am celebrating in the best way I know how: lying down.

Shhhhh. The plague is coming, it smells like maple syrup.

Chucklehead

Bed is so delightful I can hardly bare it. So much can happen there, I won't go into details. Today I have my divining rod out and I am seeking to extract informations from the levels below me. I plan to dazzle and drip in the frenzy of fettered meaning. I don't know. Today is for errands and multi-preparations. Not much in the mind of MM today. He is a chucklehead.

Rest and Better Understanding

I am going to put myself in the soft and caring mesh of this sling for a few hours today, to fully meditate on life and "the things that matter." I am wearing a track suit, not dissimilar from the one this lady is wearing, for maximum comfort. I do not want to be distracted by matters of the body when I am contemplating intangible concepts. I may write a tract later, documenting my understanding of reality in the most rational terms. I will wait here until it is time to move.

I salute you from my mesh sling.

Favorite Drawings

Botticelli's map of hell, Leonard Da Vinci's deluge, and Vincent Van Gogh (I am going to see the drawing show at the Met this week, can't wait). These are the drawings I am thinking of. Client preparation is channeling all my energies to looking and reading and talking about art, which, in spite of the tubular draining of my time and energy, is feeding me back in another way. I am starting another blog as a remedial clearinghouse for art info - all of the stuff I forgot and needed to remind myself, the things I never knew and was too embarrassed to admit - I thought it would be fun to have a place to put all articles, quotes, images, information in order to not lose track of it. It will be like the art 101 blog. I will let you know when I have more on it, I hope you will visit.

Hi to you and good morning. My head is made of teflon and my eyes are made of shiny bridge tokens today. I am the man of the metal mountain today. It is a girding.

Awake

The sky is pink and I am biding my time in the boiler room chewing on my neighbor's puppy paws. I kidnapped him and he is soiling my lap. There is a paw piece in the corner of my mouth. I imagine myself with this furry bit sticking out like a cigarette. It looks funny. I laugh out loud.

I hope to speak more fluently tomorrow. Maybe, maybe not.

Getting High and Wanting to Die

Hi. Today I am going to ingest the magical pills of wanton perpetrations on the liver and left leg. I will be unstoppable in my pill consumption until I walk lifted a few inches above the soggy ground. My smile will smear downward onto my neck. My eyes will bulge and redden, and tear up gently in the way of the martyred saints. Drool will puddle and drip. Slugs will inch up my sick yellow flesh hoods. I am not a man but a creature of the addicted sinful ways of the pill-popping hoodlums. I will attend rehab sessions beginning next week so today and this weekend are for maximum poison saturation. I have reached ultimate levels of unsound distaste for myself and others. My friends the pills are my only answer. Good day to you. May the tasty loaves rise in the ovens of our souls.

Blart is Back

Getting in touch with the inner art geek is so good. I miss Blart shows.

Eternal Return

Thankful to be home and back in reality. The clients have tubes with suction cups on one end and funnels on the other which they use to drain the life from me. Now I am back, relieved to be in the normal carnival of ridicule and fecklessness that is my snuggly blanket. Must prepare for wizard visit on Thursday, not the rotund one, no, another lither, more delightful wizard. A wizard of hope for tomorrow.

As for irony, I have been thinking about it, based on Corny's and FB's posts. It is difficult to put into words what it means in images and probably everyone interprets it or misinterprets it differently. The dictionary says, among other definitions, that irony is the use of words to express something other than and especially opposite than the literal meaning. So translating that into images, into the recent history of painting is a problem kind of, no? I guess you can begin to narrow it down to work that self-consciously utilizes an image or a style to say - this is not what it seems, it has two readings, one is literal, the other is "knowing" of its context, perhaps the opposite meaning. I don't know. I am trying to understand it better myself.

That's my 2 cents.

I must use the hose of reality to clean the filmy scum of possibly wasted efforts and useless self-lacerations off me. Come here, hose.

Morning Shambles

Ham Paw and I went to Chelsea yesterday. Here are some of our findings:

1. David Korty at Greene Naftali - hazy lyrical paintings that reference late 19th century painting (Munch in places, Monet a little bit)...I also smelled some pre-cubist Georges Braque...as well as other pleasing art historical references. They are photo-derived, seem pushed through a Photoshop filter, but not in an obvious way. There is an unexpected sense of pixellation or digitizing that happens through these cooky, lilting gestures - the image starts to gently decompose in places, into these painterly, almost decorative marks. Really clever and beautiful.

2. Christian Schumann - no understandy.

3. Nick Lowe at John Connelly - excellent, dense pencil on paper drawings, like a psychedelic Jockum Nordstrum. Fun to look at.

4. Nick Mauss at Daniel Reich - NO!!!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!! There was nothing there. Flimsy, upsetting.

That's all for now. I hope it made sense to you.

Today is for client preparation. How to fill the time, is my constant concern. How to force speaking from their mouths when speaking doesn't come.

This morning my eyes are googly. They wobble all around.

Let's Ask Ken

Ken will play what you want to hear. Ken will tell you the future of your life and that of your spouse or your children, Ken will help with soothing wisdom from the beyond-what-is-known region. Ken! Tell me. Are many naps in store for me? Are baths? Are chicken fingers, glasses of wine? I am excited to have found you. Just press your cheek against the screen and he will whisper-sing the secrets you need to know.

Undermine

Rain still tumbles and shoots squadron-like, downward pelting, ruining your legs and head, mainly. I am needing to refill my powder packet in order to avoid the shakes that plague my squishy hands. Let's hope Doktor Wyrd will hook me up with the meds I require.

My palms are sweating like room temperature butter-pats today, I am using this heinous goo as a low-fat spread on my toast points. There are so many alternatives to butter, in case you didn't realize it. Today is for pro-action, depth preprarations, something else, I forget.

Many strong wishes to you today. May your inner ear contain soothing reminders of your self-worth.

One last thing - astronaut ice cream. Does anyone know where I can buy it?

Misfiring

There is a shower of misfires in the head region this a.m. I am requiring a large bottle of coke as well as a tankard of coffee before the sleeper can awaken. The rains are dreary, no? Do you not wish it was toxic urine falling so we could all have a reason to stay in bed? I am contaminating myself with dreams of wagon rides and getting chased by packs of rabid red-eyed dogs. In the end, I am able to escape but still, it is turbulent, as per usual. And yet there are many things to be thankful for. I am aware. I am also aware that I continue to be complicit with most dangers and scum in the world due to my very existence. It is partly my fault and I am sorry. Thanks be to the disembodied ether voices. Hearts to you!!!!

Stumpy

Oh stumpy you are so beautiful, like a sentence fragment or threadbare undies. You are cut into and unfinished with gnarling stringy bottoms. The day before this passed thankfully albeit overly slowly. Today is for coin collection and eating of vegetable diet, for the diet has been starch and meats for too many hours in a row. (Ouch, right?) Not even seeds have been consumed, not even dirts. The inside is as rough and tumble as the outside, there are porpoises jumping and crashing keeping the tumults awake. Malformed thoughts are the starch of yesterday. Giggling is the vegetable fit of today.

Good day, peepers.

Pink Bubbles of Yes

I am blowing bubbles by myself, procrastinating the weed-whacks and revisions that need to be exerted on the uncertain documents of tomorrow. A thought is lost in each bubble I blow, depleting my mind of the known things. There are still approximations and false memories that can be good stand-ins for thoughts, if no one is paying too close attention.

I have begun my intensive research into the classic look of the mountain man. Here is what I have found.




I see I am needing to purchase tan items with fringe and furry furry hat. Also a large gun and perhaps some knives to hang in my sash (which I also need to get).

Good evening to you.

Banal Dilemma

Here they are, in a realer sense than usual. Here are the possibilities for action this day. I know. It's already getting late in the morning. But if I don't write them down and choose now, I could sit and wonder inertly for at least another hour which would be gravely not good.

1. Go straight to the studio and try to paint. Teaching preparation has been draining my time away for weeks. Have not painted enough lately. Pay studio rent (this month's and last's....oopsy daisy).

2. Go straight to the studio and re-shoot certain paintings that turned out yellowy in the last round of digital snapping. Burn CD of high res jpegs for the people who may or may not be interested but I hope they might be interested. This could be a good option seeing as I have nothing on the horizon, in terms of showing my work. The hoards are not flocking to me. It is time to reach out once again and hope for excitement in the form of cash money and debilitating offers.

3. Go to yoga, then go to studio and choose option 1 or 2.

4. Read student homeworks. Write helpful, really really helpful comments. Prepare for next week's classes.

5. Go to Chelsea and see many shows that I have not yet seen.


OK!!!! I have decided. Number 1 seems like the most fun and the most capacity for head-in-the-dirt. Perhaps Number 3 can be worked in later. I will wash the dirts out of my hairs later before I reveal myself in the wilds of the forest this evening. My outfit of choice is a gas man's one-piece. No stains, except in the pits. Steaks will be placed on foots for urban tromping. Fake teeth will be inserted to replace the decaying green ones. Fake smiles will come to my face. Torrential rains of meaningless chopper will burst forth from my gummy gape. I may bite, I may not.

Uh Huh

Right?

Evil Eyes

Evil eyes of misplacement, disembodied in the fortuitous cyber-regions, leaving the visages from which they came, all messed up and misfiring, a blight of horror on the disintegrating whole. Beware of the eyes. They are not the eyes of newness, they are the eyes of redness, of the devil.

Chock Full of Woods

I am in the woods this weekend, have already picked some berries and begun storing nuts in my chubby cheeks for the winter. The light is clear like something really clear that I have never seen before. I am girding myself for the challenges of next week...they are coming and they are already causing liquefaction in the organ arena. I measured myself this morning and found I have grown 3 inches, this is after I was sure my spine had curved in an unfortunate U shape. The added height must in part be due to hair static and hair teasing, but still, it gives me confidence. This week I hope to be better, less skittish. This week I hope to make sense when I speak. Listen. I still may have to wear diapers.