For now untitled:
It’s a snapshot while my scanner access is limited.I’ve not been around so much I know, but we’ve encountered some of the most surprising of people in these transitional activities.
I feel such contentment here in my dilapidated roots, my unrenovated squalor. Some of the millennial transplants become convinced that it’s people like Abuelita and I who are the monsters making it impossible for them (or at least those of them who don’t have trust funds and/or connections) to get foot planted securely in NYC.
Hey, it’s been a real bitch for me too.
Thing is though, the real difficulties come from realtors banking on high turnovers, young people eventually deciding to “settle down” by leaving the city, the erosion of rent stabilization and even moreso, rent control and well no, the way we intergenerational native tenement dwellers live is modest. Possibly not even to newcomer’s liking, if this shocked article on “bitchens” is to be believed: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/04/14/apartment-with-shower-in-kitchen_n_7057488.html
We want neighbors old or new who will love it like we do and always bring in more character. Realtors though want to take that all away.
I’ll write more later… for now I want to share the fabulous 4 x 6 gallery, curated by Jeremy Adolphson. It’s a vast online gallery of postcard art done mostly by cartoonists, comic artists and illustrators, and I have the honor of being the first new artwork in there for 2016!
Check out this and other works at http://www.4×6-art.com/Gallery-130
Ha. This is the kind of thing that’s harder for me to share on a phone with a wordpress app. (I’m sure some of you know how to do it.) Astral Knife is on this compilation curated by Olav Vecal and put out by Schallschatten Records. But now that I’m briefly accessing my computer, there you have it.
When I was finally able to run my hands up and down over Eric’s scar, and we could be as close as we wanted to, I looked down and saw this was the shape they formed.
New Year’s eve was uneventful, babysitting Abuelita. Managed to get groceries for the night and get ourselves ensconced inside just as police were putting up the last barricades.They said to keep anyone in Times Square out of other areas, but that far west??? Is that necessary?
This is my first attempt to ever write a blog post like this, tapping warm blooded Vienna sausages against a small flat tablet.
Speaking of warm blooded appendages, I was remembering being kids and a porno mag given to us by an unscrupulous adult relative… he was just that kinda guy. By which I mean “sociopathic pedophile with a strange way of completely normalizing the most outlandish shit” which is also known as grooming.
Many of the naked women in the magazine had teeth in their vaginas. At the time it just seemed weird and sort of funny. I was a kid. When I got older I read about “vagina dentata”, the fear (held by men) of women having teeth in their cunts. I think I could have had some fun in the past if that were real, looking back on certain times in my life. I also wonder what kinds of men are actually worrying about this? I mean, ideally, you’re sticking your dick in a woman’s vagina, she likes you and wants you there, RIGHT???? Or is there a REASON the dude thinks someone would be justified in wanting to bite off his dick?
Alternately, “Venus In Flytraps”. And playing around a bit with a crowquill. A $2 frame from the Housing Works around the corner from Abuelita, where signs on all the counters proclaim their double mission to combat homelessness and AIDS/HIV.
Apart from that what’s good? Po-Lie-Tricks? I’ve got a flurry of sympathetic ears when I express disdain for Trump, with all the awful things he says about Latinos, and some of his followers even attacking them…and that disabled reporter who’s hands he made fun of! No doubt, Trump and his crew are the worst possible outcome. A few weeks ago, Eric got in an argument with a loud Trump supporter that somehow ended with the guy telling him he “bid him well on his way to the ovens”. This guy was in his 60’s, not some college kid who thought he was being “edgy” or “un-P.C.” or some shit.
But I suspect some sympathy will dissolve in light of the fact that I wonder if Bernie Sanders isn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or at least, a colossal letdown waiting to happen? I mean, a lot of his supporters seems to have the same 2008 he-is-the-messiah vibe that a lot of Obama supporters had. But mainly I’m just freaking out right now over his 70’s crunchy granola stoner rape fantasies, cuz that’s what I do. Don’t be the neo-liberal Man cramping my PTSD style Phuqhead!
There’s Jill Stein. She’s got a snowball’s chance in Hell, but that’s who I’m likely to go with.
…and when the smoke from exploding bad decisions and self destructive mayhem cleared we all stood gathered in the same place, emerged from bruised and bloodied chrysalises.A race of damaged moths lurking either surly or sullen or just socially inept, but no less beautiful for it. Seeing new facets that had grown in old faces, glorious, some of us could now breathe fire, some could now see further and sharper than ever before. Some who’d been all surface and polish had since delved deep deep into the microcosm and returned with many new limbs.
Others circled round wanting things to never change, wanting people to be dancers in zoetropes repeating an endless loop of the same routine they had been beheld in at one point in time. No matter how many other routines the quixotic creature in question might have in them. And then there becomes a creature and a projection of a creature, and I want to shower and have some chocolate milk, I think, and climb into bed with Eric, damned insomnia.
Today was drop off, jarring cracked sidewalks, leaping through Harvoni hoops and tumbles to the ground. I care less and less about the neverending quest for the all elusive stability. So long as we hold our own and our own is each other so once again we can be dangerous together, to paraphrase a meme I saw once. I’m not so frightened of the shifting crumbling world and what it might mean anymore. I’m only frightened of invisible interior medical things that can harm Eric, things I can’t catch and kill, or clean up or fix somehow. Of course those are the things that can be overwhelming to the mind, to the point where I am play piercing my arms to Trepaneringsritualen hoping for a beta endorphin rush. To still my brain from the freak out. Over the bureaucracy, over the slow recuperation from the surgery, over the rain making everything treacherous. So I made an x out of the needles but one loop of skin had grown very loose. I began pushing and prodding that 20 gauger in such a way as to form miniscule undulating arches of flesh on a cream-cafe-colored landscape. Endorphoria at last.
This is becoming my favorite end-of-tradition, especially with New Year’s tying into—oh, anyway… going to have at least one new work completed by the opening reception, which is December 17th. For me, drop off is earlier than that. Observing works of others keeps me motivated after the terrifying period of hospital and exhaustion to dive right in. (Today it was Francis Bacon, at the Gogosian uptown.)
It’s been less than a week since Eric got the call that Holly was in her final hours…he’d met her in NYC through Chrysis and again in LA, where they both worked at some novelty button company on Melrose for extra cash. I’d never gotten the chance to meet her personally, due to being younger and the tragic maternal decision to relocate us out of the city when I was too young to be given a proper say in my life… ique lastima!… but I want to be supportive all the same, when these angels of the old New York go, to me some are legend, others I’ve never heard of, but to him, here at the time he was, they are who were around in that world… Joe Dellesandro compiled messages for her from friends to be printed out in a giant card on the internet and I called Eric to come to the computer and type. Criticize social media and it’s supposed narcissism all you will, but it makes things like this possible where hopping on a plane isn’t really gonna happen money or time-wise. Within hours of Eric learning she had crossed over media articles began to appear about it, first on LGBTQ or art sites, then in mainstream media, usually with something about Andy Warhol or “Walk On The Wild Side” in the headline. Holly Woodlawn Rest In Power.