Hey Hi +

Hi. Here is what has happened. My sausage has fallen out the window, the blackened areas gangrened fully and rotted off me so I am more healthy in a way and more in tune with words. There is a show up of work of MM's at Kevin Bruk Gallery in Miami. I am awaiting images to post here. There will be a group trek to Miami this weekend to see the show and wander about the beachy regions and get wrecked. I have high hopes to spend most of the time under an XXL beach cover-up with Mrs. Cub. What will happen underneath this cover is up to your imagination or if you want to pay us $5 perhaps we will show you. Let it be known that there are unwanted hairs that have not been removed as of right now. I will keep you informed of any changes in hair presence and/or appearance.

Forthcoming will be posts on two artists I recently discovered at the Tate Modern in London.

It is trying to come back. Frogs has politely asked to have his venue reinvigorated. I cannot say no to Frogs.

The Micronation of Dubz

Dear Dubz, I loved your show. The shadow masses exorcised verbal whims and gave me remnants of ghosts, huts and robots. The sculptures were like actors in a stationary theater, but didn't negate the paintings or relegate them only to background. It was like they expounded on each other instead with the sweatband rhyming with skittle-colored paint swooshes. Who else could accomplish such humor and still not undermine the heroic desires of paint. I am excited. There were echos of Mad Max and Escape from New York - movies from the past that envisioned apocalyptic scenarios in the future. Future past was enacted with swift and sure decisions. Black and rainbows give me feelings of hope and menace. I believe you are the druid of the discount sections.

Haptic Valve Situation

My sense of touch went down the sewers with the rains. I have been sequestering myself with truancy and systemic breakdowns. There is no reason or excuse, it is a withdrawal from the inside, receding further and further in until the touch implodes into numbness. It doesn't make sense but this is how I want to say it. Do you ever get really far inside yourself so much that it feels like you are hiding and then it gets harder and harder to come out? This is the point of unnatural coma. I am sure it is beginning to end.

Windy Grasses

I am missing the grasses and trees and other green things from the wilds. I feel not human in the city, like an alien I guess you could say. I am going to send myself via regular mail four edible jelly novelties molded in the shape of pigs as a joke on the diffuse and shifting nature of meaning in contemporary life. I am aware that I may not understand this joke however the candies will taste nice.

Have a good weekend.

Mucky Bloody Face Day

I fashioned a mask for myself in the night and this is it. Please enjoy my new look and if you desire to kiss me put your tongue through the eyeholes. UF leaves tomorrow for a whole month. Sniff. Me sad. So. Who wants to go out and get wrecked with me tomorrow night? I mean really really awfully badly wrecked, like worse than this mask.

Here's to you UF

Happy Birthday, son.

Garbled Voices

Garbled voices are speaking to me. I am trying to draw the black oily ether from which caverns and flora grow but it is hard, my gut is distracting me, it droops to the floor and causes my face to get lowered to the drawing, wherein the drool puddles form on the nice fine black lines. But anyway. It adds atmosphere.

So. I am happy to read Reverend Jen on Artnet. I'll take her over Charlie Finch any day. I like her pink leotard, if only I had the gumption to wear one "on the ground" but happily for you I have no such gumption.

I am in need of narcotix. Anyone who has them please send them. I will do almost anything.

I am drawing and pretending I am in the caverns, shadowy and blackened like the catfishes.

Anything is Something for Me

Well my computer is broke and I am stored up in a shack with whores from here until who knows when. The good part is that the whores know how to please me.

I am interested in becoming a part of reality again. I am one with the accursed share for now but I anticipate becoming more friendly in the cyber acres very soon. Here's to a large swollen tum filled with the inner beast.

I am ready to find myself in belief in no heaven.

Post 600

Yes that's right, this makes the 600th post of contentless ramblings from the man of the mountains.

The bees of jealousy are currently swarming through my fetid carcass. I am without my blogger soulmates, missing them desperately. However, the santori times continue in the gatorade green wilds of NE Pennsylvania. County Fair time is coming soon. This year I hope to be able to witness the baby judging contest first hand, not to mention document the prize-winning artworks that will be on display, and the stale melty theme cakes.

In other news, we have found a store called "Quails R Us." This comes in second as my favorite store name after "Arts for Him".

Last week I met an ornery old French man who used to be a fisherman and chef in the Carribbean. He was a motherlode of information on cooking, gardening, hunting, gathering, etc. He has instilled in me a desire to become a true pioneer - I want to learn how to identify mushrooms, make my own yeast for breads, grow every vegetable on earth, fish, can. No hunting though. None of the gun business. (Unless it's a tranquilizer gun that I can use upon myself.) We actually fished out of our pond one evening last week. I have never held a rod before in my life but I got lucky because in the first 5 minutes I caught a fish and somehow got him onto the grass. He was flopping all around, trying to breathe - UF picked him up and showed him to me and I made him throw it back in the water. The labored breathing from this little guy was too much for me. I immediately regretted this decision because neither one of us were able to catch anything after that - we were only able to get two more fish to bite the grody night crawler on the hook (we keep them in the fridge, near the mustard, yum), get the hook into their mouths, dangle them spastically on the rod, but then they escaped. I am now fearful that two angry ghost fish with hooked mouths that will haunt the pond and bite off my limbs.

My gut continues to bulge due to overconsumption of foodstuffs. Painting is somewhat ok. Somewhat. Slow. Whatever. Me trying. We went to Border's bookstore in Scranton the other day. That was our first cultural experience all summer. I am reading MFK Fisher's The Art of Eating. Highly recommend for anyone who likes to cook and eat. PD, it's so for you. ohohoh and one more thing, Lars Von Trier's The Kingdom - UNBELIEVABLE. My brother Bobo gave it to me last Xmas. It is a TV series he did in 1994. Takes place in a haunted hospital in Denmark. Ghosts and seers and an evil Swedish doctor. It is beautiful, creepy and very funny. To me at least.

Ok. Sorry for the long post but it's been a while so.......hi. Bye. I love you.

Comus "The Prisoner"

The magickal dance rituals were enacted on the fecund wet lawn of mental illness. Here are the lyrics to the anthem:

THE PRISONER

I was mad and was accepted for treatment at a hospital for the mentally sick
I was wild and introvert wandering alone in the night
I would scream and rage should someone disturb my peace
So they took me away and they put me here alone in my silent privacy
Then they gave me shock treatment
And when I awoke I was numb and remembering nothing
Probe me mold me reassemble my brain my brain
Schizoid paranoid just terms just names just names
Why can't you leave me don't drive me insane
Your minds analyze me, your eyes penetrate me
Illusions, confusions, I'm frightened, I'm helpless
Please leave me I long to be free
I long to be free
I lie alone unable to remember
No face no name no eyes my brain just an ember
Kindle me protect my barren matter
Whose seeds may propagate yet still may shatter
They have emptied my head of its dreaming
Like paper out of a waste bin
And I yearn to be yearn to be yearn to be yearn to be free

Cold is the climate dark is the atomic night
Searching and hoping guarding my mind from your sight
Your evil eyes watch me your evil hands touch me they're cold
I can stand prison but even my conscious you hold
Let me be
Set me free
Yea

Oh...

Probe me mould me reassemble my brain my brain
Schizoid paranoid just terms just names just names
Why can't you leave me don't drive me insane insane insane insane insane....

Mormons

Yesterday as I was lying down for a spell in the coarse grass towards the back of our house which is actually the front (but let me say many many steps down a path away from our dirt road), the Mormons came upon me. I was in possession of bottoms and no top as I lay sunning, bleaching my chest hair and bronzing my manly cheez nips.

First I spied the telltale shiny van trundling up the road. Not many cars come up our road and most of them are dirty pick-ups with grisly types at the wheel. I hurried inside to put on my overalls, the ones with the beer cup holders at the hips. I walked out the front door and who do I see trespassing down our path but two Sunday-best-wearing Mormons. In the heat, the young man wore trousers and a long sleeved shirt and tie and young woman wore a high-necked blouse and skirt down to the ground.

He said "Are you worried about the wars going on in the world?" Holding his Bible out in front of him. "Do you think it's possible that there will be a time when the wars end?" I said no. No I don't think so. But please have a very nice day. I smiled very sincerely. I wanted him to see that heathens can wish you a good day too. I also wanted to tell him that I was an atheist and I hate Christianity but then I might have actually had to talk to them for a while. No good on that. The cheez nips may have been visible through the overalls which was already creating a sinful, shameful vulnerability on the homestead. MM nervous. Go away Mormons. Next time I will have a super-soaker if you walk onto my land again. I am going to join the NWRA (national water-rifle association).

Studio Soundtrack a.k.a. Lifesaver

Re-immersion in relic-production is painfully not easy after the show happens and ends in a way that is less than thrilling. You probably know that already. Questioning of self occurs. Remembering of comments on Painter NYC occurs, not unlike the grad school voices that take years to exorcise. But whatever the show was a good thing and you are happy you had it, it's just that you try to make paintings again and it seems ridiculous, pointless, horridly self-indulgent. Then you remember people like PD who keep going no matter what and you get a nice email from a friend who causes you to feel you have been seen for a split second - you remember that the whole point of this endeavor is not to make money or to get public recognition or to be "successful" in all the ways we have been taught to - it is really ultimately about the deep need to make work for yourself and also a sense of community. So. You make it because you have to and because there are some wonderful people out there who understand you. That is what matters. I am back on track in the studio after months of retardation. Partially it's because of my darling pals who inspire me every day. I love you. And partially it's because I would probably be a criminal if I didn't. The other part is because of the following songs that I am back in the shack. I highly recommend them. Dork quotient is high. Here is MM's Top 40.

1. Comus: The Prisoner
2. Faust: Track 25
3. Bauhaus: Bela Lugosi's Dead
4. Throbbing Gristle: Hot on the Heels of Love
5. Impala Syndrome: Too Much Time
6. Led Zeppelin: In My Time of Dying
7. The Politicians: Everything Good is Bad
8. Fela Kuti: IGBE
9. Joe Jackson: Steppin Out
10. Soundgarden: Burden in My Hand
11. Outhud: The L Train is a Swell Train
12. Scissor Sisters: Comfortably Numb
13. Destroyer: Hey Snow White
14. Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder: Bonde
15. The Futureheads: Hounds of Love
16. Depeche Mode: Never Let Me Down Again
17. Blonde Redhead: In Particular
18. Toots and the Maytals: Sweet and Dandy
19. Neneh Cherry: Buffalo Stance
20. Dungen: Panda
21. Mya: Ghetto Superstar
22. David Bowie: Starman
23. A Passing Fancy: You're Going Out of Your Mind
24. Amon Tobin: Nova
25. George Michael vs. Missy Elliot (Radio Soulwax): Get Your Faith On
26. Sean Paul: Get Busy
27. Destiny's Child: Bootylicious
28. Beat Happening: I Let Him Get To Me
29. Spoon: Track 20 from A Series of Sneaks
30. Gnarls Barkley: Crazy
31. Holger Czukay: Cool in the Pool
32. Nick Lowe: Cruel To Be Kind
33. Alison Krauss and Union Station: Every Time You Say Goodbye
34. NWA: Fuck the Police
35. Sweet: Fox on the Run
36. Toots and the Maytals: Sweet and Dandy
37. Joni Mitchell: Don't Interrupt the Sorrow
38. Wolf Parade: Grounds for a Divorce
39. Fun Boy 3 and Bananarama: It Ain't What You Do
40: Genesis: Follow You Follow Me

Zucchini Blossoms

The blossoms are coming like mad and six plants are spreading everywhere. We will have zucchini until the end of time. PD, I am wondering, there are many blossoms on the plants right now. If I pick them will more come? For some reason I am not wanting to disturb them, they are so cute. The zucchinis are tiny right now, it's not quite time to pick... In other news, the lettuce is slutty and wanted to be spread all over. The weeds are insane and there are little snakes and frogs that sit with me in the garden. It's super cute. It would be easy to stop doing everything and just garden.

Last night I started some paintings that have the feeling of real paintings, not just fake practice paintings but real ones. I think I was channeling Dubz as I got way into the schmearing. The chum-hurling. We see if it stays. Art is weird. I am channeling the Romance of a bygone era. Why. I don't know.

An ABZ of Love

This is the title of a Danish dictionary of sexuality from 1962. Random terminology is “defined” and “explained.” If you are in a relationship this book is sure to be of assistance. For example, here are some helpful excerpts:

Approach: There are many forms of sexual approach. (See also Petting). Here we are thinking especially of the husband who casually strokes his wife’s cheek, breast, backside or even more intimate parts and she hisses “Leave me alone!” and other, even more discouraging things….women require a slightly more methodical, regular and tangible kind of erotic stimulation in order to let themselves be carried away – a woman is a little more sluggish.

Bag, Scrotal: The scrotum. (See Genital Organs, Male).

Bed: The most important item of furniture in a home. Not many people realize this….A bed is to a very high degree a lovely thing too. The same thing applies to beds as to sexual relationships, namely that the human mind has created some pretty ingenious things. And there is no reason why we should believe that the authorized forms are the best – whether as far as beds or sexual relationships are concerned. Many beds are very badly constructed. Many people should experiment a little more with their beds as well as their sex lives.

Breast, Mammary Glands: Women, as we all know, have breasts, and these contain mammary glands. The breasts terminate in points called nipples. A ‘normal’ breast is rather difficult to define – but let us put it this way: when a woman stands up, the fully-developed breast is not shaped like half a lemon.

Defeat: Fiascos and defeats occur in all people’s lives. But there is a special kind of defeat that is connected with sex life, namely the defeat that many women feel when they are sexually satisfied, i.e. when they have an orgasm. Many women refuse to give their husbands the triumph.

Exhibitionism: Many grown-ups receive a bad fright if they meet an exhibitionist. The sight of one may look a little frightening, but to the best of our knowledge there has never been any instance of an exhibitionist who also attacked the person or persons to whom he bared himself. So apart from the visual shock he is a fairly harmless fellow. (See also Understanding and Peeping Tom).

Fetish: Something or other said to be imbued with mystical powers.


Well I hope you have learned something, I know I have.

Flooding Waters

Wow, I just read that NE Pennsylvania, right in our area, is under water. Many roads closed and some houses near the Delaware River have floated away. People evacuated. Tomorrow we are supposed to leave for the house in the woods. Everything is swollen and the Delaware is supposed to crest today at 33 feet - flood level is 17 feet. Hmmm. Interesting. We see. We hope our house is ok.

Spreading the Good News

The good news is being spread all over town through the ass horn that was made especially for telling about Jesus on the roadways and sidewalks of life. Jesus is a pixie. Jesus stands for carefree notions. Jesus endorses inappropriate statements blurted out at important social events. Jesus told me it's ok to put maxi pads on the shirts of large men. He told me I can say I am pregnant with dead babies to unsuspecting listeners. Jesus, what else can you tell us through the ass horn?

No Sleep

Dear Sleep,

I miss you. I used to be so good at you but now it seems we have grown apart. Please come back sometime. If not now then very soon. I will give you whatever you ask for. Cash dollars even, a blood sacrifice maybe. Until then, I will lie awake thinking of lettuce.

Love,

MM

Fry it up

The frier on the sea will provide us with a woozy sanctuary away from all the ills of the world. We are the gum on the shoe of capitalism. Success can be found only at the bottom of the beer cup.

Twists

There are so many different kinds of twists. Here I am speaking not of twists and turns, but simply twisting on its own, repetitive twists that add up to an experience, whether candy, trees, a building or jubilance. There are presumptions that get in the way of the twisting - incorrect computations that defer its matched, measured bending and wrap-around action. I cannot help it, neither can you. Next time fortitude will create stripes that make infinite twisting possible, it is an experiment.
Even the stools may twist under the right kind of pressures.

New Outift

Vests which I plan to wear on alternating days (I will wear nothing underneath - try to calm down):


These party-style pants (FB I got you a pair in lavendar):



Tap shoes:



This necklace:



This hat:



These earrings:



Well, that's the end of my new outfit which I plan to wear frequently, especially to Chelsea on warm days. I am self-helping myself to learn tap dancing as part of the requirement of this look. I am already at level 3.