It’s a drawing from my comic diary, but I also think it says what it needs to as a standalone image. As an American, I’m filled with revulsion and ashamed at these things done in the name of supposed “security”…security? Fuck you Mr. CIA Man, as Tuli Kupferberg said. You’re also the monsters perpetrating the things I don’t want in this world. What makes us secure from you?
The CIA Torture Report can be read here:
This is a painting for the cover of a forthcoming poetry book by Barbara Mor. I’m not sure what other commentary to add other than it was created of my impressions of the stream of conscious work.
It’s late. I’m only beginning to slow down. I feel like I made up for days of inertia and despair today, working on comics, paintings, music, even getting in a workout. If only I could feel this focussed and energetic all the time. If only I could invent a day with more than 24 hours in it. I know I’m always saying that. Last night I was plagued by dreams of Freemasons, subways, and fair-weather friends past suddenly glomming on to me now that my weather has been looking a lot more fair, circumstantially.
“Can you at least stop acting so stupid? You’re embarrassing us both in front of the dream-Masons!”
In the end a dream-Mason taps me on the shoulder and discreetly and drops several small books into my backpack, to peruse in a more private setting.
Here’s a video I took from last night’s performance.
Still-timely piece on the murder of Amadou Diallo by NYPD, performed by Seth Tobocman, Eric Blitz & Andy Laties. Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space 2nd year anniversary.
I had to take care of Abuelita today, wasn’t able to be at the Millions March, but have been enjoying the images and posts from it on various social feeds. I guess not neglecting your elders is a service to humanity too. She’s 97.
That’s right, it’s the anniversary of the Museum Of Reclaimed Urban Space & Eric will be performing there with Seth Tobocman and Andy Laties.
Connecting todays struggles to hidden history, Slide
shows by Comic artists Fly and Seth Tobocman. Music by Andy Laties and
Eric Blitz. Barbara Lee will speak about her recent trip to Ferguson,
Radical attorney Stanley Cohen, about to serve an 18 month prison
sentence, will read from his new cookbook: How to Fry A Blintze.
Hmm, well given that other big-name Civil Rights lawyer Norman Seigel is defending Santa Con from the fact that we all think they’re douches? I’d much rather learn blintz recipes.
The event starts at 8 PM.
I’m also in the process of uploading Living In La La Land to Tapastic.
I’m wide awake now though I was wiped out all day. I have no idea where this surge of energy came from, but it sure wasn’t there when the new psychiatrist sprang a surprise psych evaluation on me, saying they really should be done every six months. I don’t know what the results were, though he seemed amused when I answered the standard question about thinking about harming others with “Yes, well, I’m not a rich person or a cop, so that would be illegal.” At least he feigned amusement.
We had snow today. I’ll take that over rain in a heartbeat.
The heat has been restored, making our bedroom somewhat warmer than it was. It took an inspector to make that happen though. And so the “tale of two cities” continues, and I’m just wondering when we hit the chapter where wire cut our “affordable housing fencing pens”, kick down the poor doors like Bastille Gates and sent our de facto gentrifying aristocracy to the guillotine. “NY Ambassador” (what a joke) Taylor Swift, stepping up to meet her fate can say “Tis a far better thing I do than anything I have ever done in my music career.”
Yeah, I’d make that little roped off area extremist art central if I lived there. I’ve gotten to the point where I court haters, at least among white supremacists thirteen years my senior with the writing skills of the mean girl from your 7th grade class. But silly rabbit, veiled threats admonishing me to be silent just encourage me to spout more opinions and put more stuff out there. Because at the end of the day, the only Haters I actually have any respect for are these:
Excerpt of an Astral Knife soundscape track set to some footage I got during the first night of protests over the murder of Eric Garner. I was in midtown, just got done caring for Abuelita. I walked over to Times Square and just joined in the first march I came across, moving up against traffic with arms in the air chanting “HANDS UP DON’T SHOOT” (Michael Brown), “I CAN’T BREATHE!” (Eric Garner), and “NO JUSTICE NO PEACE, NO RACIST POLICE”. And though I knew it wouldn’t be likely to crash the Rockefeller tree lighting ceremony, once I learned that was the plan, it was good to disrupt the yuppies and monied tourists lollygagging around the area. Their comments ranged from confused to inconvenienced to a bit scared…and good. I know at a lot of the activist events we do we’re talking to the same crowd of people that already agree…these were the people who needed to be a little shook up.
I made my way downtown on foot to meet Eric, who with a friend of ours were in Union Square. Passing the library I got that footage that opens the video of a sea of cops swarming on the steps, then joined two women silently standing and staring at the cops with the arms up gesture.
We have a lawless country when the law itself is lawless. While this sort of injustice, particularly against black youth, is nothing new, it seems there’s been a rash of police killing without consequence, all over the country. Aiyana Jones, Kimani Gray, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Rumain Brisbon…
I don’t know what else I can add.
This isn’t the first “Platform Edge” comic I’ve done, but it’s the first page of a longer story. The initial one, created for an art/lowbrow culture magazine with the instructions to do “something with a cute tough punk girl in it” is somewhere in the publishing clouds, and I’ll be sure to write when it’s out. This one is on a cloud at Tapastic, where readers can subscribe to the comix they want to read (for free).
An urban-surreal comedy centering around the deranged, demented and disatrous lives of two wayward housemates.
Today was spent lackadaisically watching a Chesperito tribute on Univision while I worked on a comic for the next Not My Small Diary anthology. The comic needs to be sent in 3 days. A book cover painting needs to be done by next week. This is the sort of thing I’ve always wanted. Now I just need more hours in the day, or more days in the week, to pull it all off along with everything else I need to get done. The least of which is stopping by the new Michael’s when my next check comes in because I’ve seen online that they sell venus flytrap terrariums and on my latest trip to the pet store for rat food I impulsively bought a baby venus flytrap. For those times when being a mad rat girl just isn’t creepy enough to the norms on it’s own. I named it Lil’ Dentata (Lil’ D for short.)