Work

New Website will be up by Monday, totally revamped content-wise and simplified and dignified. The Portfolio section is being retitled "Work" and there will be three simple and easily up-datable areas there: "Book", "New Work" & "Personal Work."

"Book" will be my book. And change as my book changes. My book is my "Portrait" portfolio that goes out to commercial clients. "New Work" will be whatever the fuck I want it to be, like the shot below that I did of Meagan on Sunday. That's actually as new as it gets. "Personal Work" will be my "gallery" stuffs. Or pictures of my butt.

The concept being to have "Book" appeal to the commercial clients, "Personal Work" to appeal to the art clients and "New Work" to be the bridge between the two, or hell, just appeal to me...

"News" goes away, because no one gives a fuck and that's on here anyway when I chose to share it. Under "Info" will be two tabs: "Bio" and "Data." The "Bio" will be updated and simplified and "Data" will be gallery shows, publications, awards - all that crap.

And the photos, needless to say will be new-ish, with a few perennial favorites thrown in for meat and good measure...

Next week the link goes out to a growing list of photo editors and then...

...I sit and wait.



"First the mic then a half cigarette
Singing "Cathy's Clown"
That's the man that she's married to now
That's the girl that he takes around town
She appears composed, so she is, I suppose
Who can really tell?
She shows no emotion at all
Stares into space like a dead china doll
I'm never gonna know you now, but i'm gonna love you anyhow
Now she's done and they're calling someone
Such a familiar name
I'm so glad that my memories remote
'Cos I'm doing just fine hour to hour, note to note
Here it is the revenge to the tune
"You're no good,
You're no good you're no good you're no good"
Can't you tell that it's well understood
I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow
I'm here today and expected to stay on and on and on
I'm tired
I'm tired
Looking out on the substitute scene
Still going strong
XO, Mom
It's OK, it's alright, nothing's wrong
Tell mr. man with impossible plans to just leave me alone
In the place where I make no mistakes
In the place where I have what it takes
I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow"

From Wikipedia:

"Cathy's Clown" is a popular song, first recorded in 1960 by The Everly Brothers. Their version, which sold eight million copies, peaked at number 1 in the U.S. charts in late May and early June of 1960, and became the Everly Brothers' biggest hit singles. It was covered by country music artist Reba McEntire on her album Sweet Sixteen. This cover was also a hit, and went to number 1 on the Hot Country Songs chart in 1989. Dee Dee Ramone recorded another cover for his solo album Greatest and Latest in 2001, with his wife Barbara Zampini on bass and vocals. It can be heard in the movie "The Commitments" (1991). "Cathy's Clown" is mentioned in the song "Waltz #2 (XO)" by Elliott Smith, from the album XO. It is also mentioned in the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion song "Wait A Minute" on their Xtra-Acme USA album.

Double Post

Elliott Smith from his posthumous album, "From A Basement On The Hill."

Fuck. Another poet dead. No. More. Words...

Katy, from the same shoot.



Listen.

"I'm floating in a black balloon
O.D. on Easter afternooon
My mama told me, "Baby stay clean
There's no in between."
But all you ladies and you gentlemen
Between's all you've ever seen or been
Fit poorly and arrange the sight
Doll it up in virgin white

You disappoint me
You people raking in on the world
The Devil's script sells
You the heart of a blackbird

Shine on me baby
'Cos it's raining in my heart

Sun's rising on a choppy glare
Rain dropping acid bought up in the air
A distorted reality is now a necessity
To be free

It's so disappointing
First I'll put it all down to luck
God knows why my
Country don't give a fuck
Fuck

Shine on me baby
'Cos it's raining in my heart
Shine on me baby
'Cos it's raining in my heart"

Smoking too Much...

...and listening to too much depressing music.

Thank you, Elbow and Elliott Smith!

And the wine, she is flowing, but only at night.

It rained all day here in Brooklyn and I barely left the house, although I did manage (or at least will) to eat three meals which, lately, is a record.

I joined FACEBOOK today at the urging of one of my good friends (a real one) and now all of the sudden I have all these new (virtual) friends! Truth be told, they are all real ones too.

Crazy. Stupid. Crazy.

Stupid.

So, Saturday noght, my girl and I had tickets to the Elbow show here at Webster Hall. I've been to MANY shows there and even though "doors open at 7pm," the headlining band never, and I mean never, goes on before 10pm. And there was an opening act.

So we roll up at 10:05pm and there is a line around the corner. The first thing I think is, shit, it's gonna be a pigfuck to get in here. Then I see the marquee, which fucks me in the face with "Tonight - Some DJ Dude!" and the blood flops out of my body all over the sidewalk.

My brain screams: the fuckers booked a late show and forced Elbow to go on at 8:30pm!!!

I don't say a word and breathe easy, and find the nearest bouncer dude with a headset. I ask and he says, "They're playing the encore right now."

I was devastated. This only happened to me once before with Iggy in Boston in 1989 (which I don't want to talk about). It's not the $50.00 worth of tickets and the $40.00 cab rides back and forth, it's the fact that THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN IN NYC!

And that I really, really wanted to see them.

Fuck.

Seems like if that was going to be the case, someone should have called me and said, seriously dude, you NEED to be there at 8:30pm.

So we retuned home after the "ride of shame" and had a great night with our house-guests who expected not to see us until 6am the next morning when they had to take off.

Oh well, whatever, nevermind. Just Elbow...I'll see them again...I'll put my "unused" tickets up on eBay.

But if it would have been Nick Cave, I would have shot myself. Right in front of the Webster Hall management staff. And that fucking DJ Dude...

Katy. Scanned tonight.

I Think I Might Have Mentioned This One Before...

I LOVE women with cameras.

Let me qualify that: I LOVE women with cameras who know what they are doing. Same goes with men. Dogs, cats, whatever...

But I have a little "thing" for women with cameras...



Especially this one.

Do you know The Hold Steady?

I think I might have mentioned that one before, too...

I listened to Nick Cave's entire catalog today - something like eight hours straight. And I never got tired of him.

I played pool tonight with Christopher for three hours. Never got tired of that either.

Ahhh, Sundays...

However, tomorrow is get the book out day. Seriously. There's no such thing as vacation here in NYC listening to Nick Cave and playing pool.

Buckle down, bitch.

And just for the record, I think that "Grinderman" was the lead-up to "Dig, Lazurus, Dig!" Sorta like working out the demos that would become that album, but still, goddamn, I love me some Nick Cave.

Life Is Good And Will Be Better...

Chris (see link to the right) came over tonight with a stylist and MUA to shoot a 16 year old New Zealand model for her newly signed agency in my apartment. I love playing host. And I am more than happy to have my good friends take advantage of the place photographically.

Afterwards, Chris and I sat around drinking wine with the stylist and MUA and talked about our relative definitions of fidelity and kissing girls in general.

Here's one that I cannot wait to kiss soon:



Again, the falling-apart Konica half-frame.

And one more thing:

"From the glass lined tanks of
OLD LATROBE
We tender this premium beer
For your enjoyment, as a
Tribute to your good taste.

It comes
From the mountain springs
To you"

"33"

Cheers...

The New Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds Album

is fucking brilliant.




Jus' sayin'

Tuesday Night In The Universe

Looked forward to having dinner with my friend Sanders all day today (see link to the right).

Not only is he a talented portraitist, he's a good guy and a great friend.

Thanks for the advice, Mr. McNew. I always pay attention. And we agree about most things...

We had a long, extracted conversation that sounded at one point like Jack Nicholson talking to Art Garfunkel during the slide show sequence in "Carnal Knowledge." One of the best films ever made, or at least one of the best films that Mick Nichols ever made, "Catch 22" notwithstanding.

But I digress...

Tired today. Ann Taylor delivered finally. Finances dwindling, despite the red velvet Magnolia Bakery cupcake waiting for me in my fridge.

Husker Du on the jambox. Grant Hart singing about a female acquaintance's herion overdose is oddly uplifiting to me right now.

Dig "Pink Turns To Blue" whilst you listen to Bob Mould making a lot of noise during "Reoccurring Dreams".

"Zen Arcade" will always be on my top 20 list hovering somewhere right around - #16-ish.

"Going out each day to score
She was no whore
But for me
Celebrating every day
The way
She thought it should be

And I don't know what to do
Now that pink has turned to blue

She was always by my side
And never tried
To leave
Standing up for me
And like a tree
For what she believed

No more rope
And too much dope
She's lying on the bed
Angels pacing
Gently placing
Roses 'round her head

And I don't know what to do
Now that pink has turned to blue"



Scanning the last negatives I have left to scan, although it's really a never-ending process. This is Jade with the legendary falling-apart Konica half-frame...

Dig her too.

Formidable Opponents

Erin and Brooke.

A Mamiya medium format backed Polaroid.

Rare these days. As rare as a Replacements reunion. Or more rare, even...



From way earlier today than now.

Robert Zimmerman should be proud.

'nuff said.

Shit.

And If You Save Yourself, You Will Make Him Happy...

A selfish digression, I would wager, shared by many...

From Wikipedia:

"Kurt Donald Cobain (February 20, 1967 – c. April 5, 1994), was an American musician who served as lead singer, guitarist, and songwriter for the Seattle-based rock band Nirvana."

14 years this month.

Bad choice, brother. I'd much rather be talking about how horrible your new solo album is than not hearing anything at all. And don't even get me started about the Nirvana 20-year reunion tour...2009.

Shotgun. I am not in a good mood...

My favorite Nirvana song is a little B-side called "Sappy."

Listen.

My second favorite Nirvana song is "Aneurysm" but we'll save that for later...

In the meantime, "Beat Me Out Of Me..."



Carolyn, not in a jar, or a laundry room, for that matter...

How You "See" Somebody...

Meagan put up twenty photos that I've shot of her on an on-line modeling site today. I was sort of honored, as it seemed to be a little tribute to the work that she and I have done over the past ten months. I smiled. I feel "special."

; )

But when I saw them all together, I was surprised at how I've "seen" her.

Most of this is only in a way that it could occur to me, but in these photos I see, a fantastic model, a beautiful woman, a chameleon, someone who absolutely trusts me, a friend, someone who cares about me, and most importantly to my work, my muse.

Muse is a strong word to bandy about and quite frankly, I've never had "one." But Meagan is my muse now, unquestionably. And I'ma gonna run with it.

We've talked a lot about our photographic relationship and she and I are both acutely aware of how it transpired. After agreeing to work together last June, she had a little trepidation about posing "nude" as she had never done it before. The great thing is that she communicated that to me so I knew I had to be extra confident and comforting for the shoot to be successful, by my standards. Because of that communication, I felt really good about the potential of what we could get.

So we met in front of my former office on 28th Street between 5th Avenue and Madison and I took her to a little place around the corner and we had a glass of wine. And talked. About her photography career, directing people, and her comfort level with what she was potentially about to commit to.

See, I don't usually shoot with models without meeting them first, and then scheduling the shoot at a later date, but due to the fact that Meagan and a I had communicated so much about the shoot, I had a really good feeling about her. So, after a glass of wine, I said "So, are you ready?" and I will never forget this: she inhaled, smiled and said "Fuck yes!"

The first six photos (and the ninth one) are from that shoot. EVERYTHING we got was good, except for the obvious crap (her blinking, my thumb in the way, etc...) that a photographer always gets.

And they just keep getting better, now that she is my muse.

I realized something recently about what makes a real muse/artist relationship work.
But I'll keep that to myself.

Punk Rock Lesson, Part II

The Gun Club.

Interesting that my second entry in this series is also a Los Angeles band. Hmmm....

And that my third entry will be The Minutemen.

I'm an East Coast guy, so I don't really need to write about Patti Smith, Minor Threat and Corrosion of Confomity, right?

Fine.

Despite my continental alignment, I am a HUGE fan of the West Coast conteingent, punk rock-wise.

Lesson #2.

Jeffrey Lee Pierce. And his The Gun Club.

Seminal, guttural, and bombastic, animalistic, evangelistic groans and grunts - his blues - all to Kid Congo Powers' guitar whines and winces.

Jeffrey Lee Pierce died in 1996 of a brain hemorrhage. He was 37 years old. He held his own with X, The Germs, and just about every godamned body else.

He is missed. At this point, I've lived longer than him...

His legacy is readily available here, although I think you should start with "Miami."

Because it doesn't make any sense. The name of the album, NOT the music.

Mark Lanegan worked with Jeffrey and covered The Gun Club's "Carry Home" on his brilliant album "I'll Take Care of You."

Listen.

"Come down to
The willow garden with me
Come go with me
Come go and see

Although I've howled across fields
Until my eyes turned grey
Are yours still the same?
Are you still the same?

Carry home
I have returned
Through so many highways
And so many tears

Your letter never survived the heat of
My hand
My burning hand
My sweating hand

Your love never survived the heat of
My heart
My violent heart
In the dark

Carry home
I have returned
Through so many highways
And so many tears

Come down to the willow garden with me
Come go with me
Come go and see.

Although I've howled across fields
Until my eyes turned grey
Are yours still the same?
Are you still the same?"

Mark left out the lines from Jeffrey's original, which I think are important.

REALLY IMPORTANT, like what the whole fucking song is about:

"Carry Home to where I am from
Carry to the place that I have come
Carry to the dust and flies behind me
Carry to the cracks and caves on the face of me

Oh, but I didn't change, I just had to work
Yeah, but I didn't change, I just had to work
And now I'm home, and now I'm home
Do you still want me?
Now, that I'm home

Come down to the willow garden with me
Come go with me
Come go and see."

Jesus.
Do you still want me now that I'm home?
That's why I love me some Jeffrey Lee Pierce...

RIP

Compare and contrast.

Ahhh covers...

One of my favorite things in the world, and only when an artist makes them their own.

See: Jimi Hendrix's "All Along The Watchtower." Even Robert Zimmerman gave that one up....or Cat Power's cover of "Satisfaction."

I've played that one for countless musically educated peoples and they have no clue who did the original...



Katy with the Konica half-frame.

My girl might try to steal this camera from me, so I have to be steadfast about keeping it, even though it is literally falling apart...

Tired, etc...

My arms ache. Tossed and turned all night last night even though I was in the presence of a my girl, who tolerated such sleepy behavior better than I did. It must be hard to sleep, when I wake up every 20 minutes and yell, "Fuck!"

At least that's what I'm thinking...

I shot an up-and-coming Japanese male model/actor yesterday and have been working on the final proofs all night. Photoshop mouse-work and nomenclature typing does not achy-arms help. But he leaves for Tokyo Friday morning and needs the shots for his book, and it's a gig, and I'm happy to oblige. I don't have enough males in my book. Or money in my bank.

The Deftones' "Around The Fur" is on in the background which helps dull the pain in my arms, if only enough to keep going (for the record, their "B-Sides" collection tops everything). The Shiraz is also helping, although it is the cheap stuff from Down Under, but it'll do. That and the promise of "Death Proof" and some Thai food that showed up about 30 minutes ago.

I am way behind in scanning my personal work, but the girls will just have to understand. The girls will just have to understand.

Dropped the portrait book off at Rolling Stone today with little or no fanfare (i.e. Jann Wenner was not in the lobby with Hunter S. Thompson and Patti Smith waiting for me), but it felt good to get the work out there. Next stop Blender, Spin, and all those other music oriented publications that still exist in print form. I wanna shoot Nick Cave, but I'd settle for Shawn Corey Carter. Shit, The Hold Steady live about 10 blocks from here and a guy from Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah! literally lives right next door.

I gotta get my shit together, man...

That last sentence reminds (such that it was) me of something I've been thinking about for a while - my writing/speaking style. I fall into the category of "intellectual" and "snob" (at least as far as certain wine, films and music is concerned - oh, and photography too) but, even though I think and argue that way, I don't talk or write that way. Over the years - and many of them, I've developed this cadence that I'm comfortable with. Sorta like Kerouac's description of the keys of the typewriter sounding like jazz, or those machines choreographed to Philip Glass in "Koyaanisqatsi."

I want to appeal to everyone, so my talk/write is sprinkled with current street speak, facts and a healthy dose of profanity, mostly used as punctuation and more than not, thrown in for the shock element. But always, and I mean ALWAYS appropriately.

Although, I can be totally professional and a little fucking angel...

I participate in several photography forums where I am often amazed at what people, some of them my close personal friends, type. It's a window into the way their minds actually work, or at least the way they want to be perceived. As far as that shit goes, I'm just me. Get me, love me, deal with me. Or not. I'm like Deftones covering Sade, which is playing right now, which means - they did.

Now, you want to have a completely hardcore philosophical discussion about how "The Big Lebowski" addresses every single curve thrown to us in life and can actually be used as a roadmap to salvation, then let me know.

I'm up for it.

Although I'll probably start the conversation off by saying something like, "Do you understand how much this film kicks fucking ass? Do you?"

Do you? I've watched it three times in the last 7 days.



The last "Self-Portrait" I did. #9.

More of them soon, maybe...

You Need to Chill Your Fucking Bones

This is me talking (typing) to myself...

Long, long day with Ann Taylor work.

Do you know that there is no Ann Taylor? They just came up with the name of a perfect client. So my Ann Taylor name would be Crazy Naked Uninhibited Girl.

Not sure about the branding of that...

Although it is 2008 and no one gives a fuck.

A fuck.

Elbow again, preceded by Darenzia.




"My Brother Fear is only natural
You need to chill your fucking bones
Lay her down, drink this in
While you can.

Whisper, rest easy,
There's a belly full of life.
Watch her, she's dreaming
Of a belly full of life
Right there on the pillow.

This is why we are here.
Rest easy.
This is why we are here.
Rest easy.

You know that everything is finite,
You know you too are not alone.
Soothe her brow, drink her smile,
Watch her dream.

You'll feel Christ like when it's breathing in and out
You'll feel Christ like when it's breathing in and out
Right there on the pillow

This is why we are here,
Rest Easy "

In Despair or Incoherent. Nothing in Between...

I need to take Elbow off of heavy rotation.

Seriously.

But I'm bad like that, to wear some shit out. If it speaks to me, it speaks to me, and that is a good thing.

I miss my girl. Saturday will make up for all the stupid time lost as the Earth goes around and around the Sun.

The Sun...

My friend Sarah is coming to visit the weekend Elbow is launching their US tour in NYC and I've invited her and her man. I'm hoping that they want to go, as I love nothing more than turning peope on to "good music" (my definition, entirely).

Either way, I'm going - due to the two tickets I possess. My girl with me, schedules permitting.

Jessalyn and Elbow heroin lyrics.

Deal with them both...



"Your eyes are just like black spiders
Your hair and dress in ribbons, babycakes
In despair or incoherent. Nothing in between
China white, my bride tonight
Smiling on the tiles

Bring that minute back
We never get so close as when the sunward flight begins

I share it all with you
Powder blue, ohhh

Stumble through the crowds together
They're trying to ignore us, that's OK
I'm proud to be the one you hold when the shakes begin
Sallow skinned, starry eyed, blessed in our sin

Bring that minute back
We never get so close to death, makes you so alive

I share it all with you
Powder blue, ohhh

Bring that minute back
We never get so close as when the sunward flight begins

I share it all with you
Powder blue, ohhh"

Self Medicated

I shot with Carolyn from Virginia tonight on her New York sojourn. Earlier today, she shot with my buddy Gary Breckheimer and she called me (probably at Gary's behest) and handed the phone to him. Gary said "When are you gonna get naked for me, bitch?" Or something like that...

He's serious. Check out his work - if he had a legitimate website (Gary!!!) I'd link to it on the left (edit: right). So you'll have to Google him, but it's worth it. He's a talented boy.

I'm serious too. I've talked to Gary for a while now about "giving back." I said some lame shit to him before like "Let me do some crunches and some push-ups" but that was before the 12lb. depression diet I went through recently (highly recommended! You just don't feel like eating!) so I'm back to Iggy Pop fighting weight.

I'm extremely comfortable with my body, but there is a little something "timeless" and "self-defining" about a photo of you taken by a master photographer that depicts the state that you are currently in. And as a photogrpaher, I am hyper-aware of this.

Although this does not stop me from photographing naked and semi-naked people all the time. But because I do, I get it. Sort of. I mean, I trust me as a photographer to be classy (this from the guy that does "quiet" AND "loud' pussy shots) and obviously the models I've worked with do too, but it is an interesting double-standard. Or paradigm. Or again, something.

So the warm weather means I'll probably be "sitting" for Gary soon. Actually in his case, it means lying in the entrance to the Holland Tunnel with my junk all out.

He already did that one, so that's not my goal. Maybe I could bring Meagan into the mix and Gary could bring his genius to it?

Elbow. My currect new favorite band of all time...

"Can't stop thinking
I won't stop drinking
I need that comfort
I don't need discipline
Twilights tailing

I had self belief
They don't compromise
This has battered me
That's my history
Hold this shaking frame

Pull this back together

What's your story?
I want to listen
I can't fake pity
I may not sympathise
Twilights tailing

Try my lies for size
You might swallow them
While I fantasize
Try my lies for size
Hold this shaking frame

Pull this back together"

The Stops

Tonight is only slightly better than last night. It's just been one of those couple of days.

I had some wine and food with a former client tonight, one of my favorite people in the world and she was so kind and wonderful. And genuine. And cool. And gracious. And cute.

It gives one hope. In humanity, I mean.

I feel a little out of control. I feel a little unhinged. I feel a little unanything.

I miss my girl. I hate the distance. I hate the distance. I think I might have mentioned that one before.

I hate the financial instability, real or imagined. I hate only having one solid client. I, oh fuck it, I'm fortunate.

Remember that, asshole.

Soundtrack: Elbow.

"I can't undo the day
It won't go under the rug
I pull out all the stops
And you, you pull the plug

These are soberer days and I know it can't be
But I'll miss you the way you miss the sea

Just don't look down
Keep staring like you've never seen the stops
If you need me to remind you who you are
Little blossom there's the shiniest soul
Just behind those eyes

No longer my affair
Well I can't go there just yet
So I've come to love and trust those friends
That are holding your net

Falling off used to mean
Maybe grazing a knee
And I'll miss you the way you miss the sea

Just don't look down
Keep staring like you've never seen the stars
If you need me to remind you who you are
Little blossom there's the shiniest soul
Just behind those eyes

While I won't second guess
What you're thinking of me."

Photo Star: Meagan.

Depression and Distraction

Two things I have right now.

Embrace.

I saw "Stop Loss" last night and it is an amazing little film. And it completely ruined my evening, to the point where it took a phone call to my sister in Austin to rescue me. OK, not just the film, just a bad Sunday. Sometimes everyday is like Sunday, right, Morrissey?

Yep.

Listening to Elbow right now and it's not helping. Watched Kansas beat Memphis in the last NCAA OT seconds but, no, that's not helping either.

Eating "Crispy Squid" from Long Tan right now and it's not helping.

Nothing is helping.

Putting off shit I know I should do.
Putting off shit I know I should do.
Putting off shit I know I should do.

TTG.

Time to go.

Vittoria from two Decembers ago...

If You Could Save Yourself, You'd Save Us All

Ween, as Pink Floyd, from their next to last album, "Quebec."

Listen again.

"On a free ride home from the embassy
I saw the Governor, and his lover holding hands
When I got to my place, I emptied my suitcase
And opened the windows wide

If you could save yourself, you'd save us all
Is that what you called me for?
Is that why you're knocking on my door?
The time I've spent, working myself to death
Thought that's what you wanted
I thought you needed my help
To make it good again, to make us strong
To make you happy, to push you along
And gain some respect, to be thrown a crumb
I was on my knees, when you knocked me down

The wheels fell off, the bottom dropped out
The checks all bounced, I came in your mouth
Your mother came calling but there was no one around
The trash caught fire when the leaves turned brown
The vultures were circling when the circus left town
I left you a note but I wrote it in disappearing ink

If you could save yourself, you'd save us all
Is that what you called me for?
Is that why you're knocking on my door?
The time I've spent, working myself to death
Thought that's what you wanted
I thought you needed my help
To make it good again, to make us strong
To make you happy, to push you along
And gain some respect, to be thrown a crumb
I was on my knees, when you knocked me down."

Jessalyn, as a cool vintage 8mm camera wielding chick, in my kitchen.

This Is a Song by Lou Reed..

"There she goes again
Shes out on the streets again
Shes down on her knees, my friend
But you know shell never ask you please again

Now take a look, theres no tears in her eyes
She wont take it from just any guy, what can you do
You see her walkin on down the street
Look at all your friends shes gonna meet
You better hit her

There she goes again
Shes knocked out on her feet again
Shes down on her knees, my friend
But you know shell never ask you please again

Now take a look, theres no tears in her eyes
Like a bird, you know she would fly, what can you do
You see her walkin on down the street
Look at all your friends that shes gonna meet
You better hit her

Now take a look, theres no tears in her eyes
Like a bird, you know she will fly, fly, fly away
See her walking on down the street
Look at all your friends that shes gonna meet

Shes gonna bawl and shout
Shes gonna work it
Shes gonna work it out, bye bye
Bye bye baby
All right"

This is a photo of Celia...

Punk Rock Lesson

The Germs.

Seminal Los Angeles punk band fronted by Darby Crash. Eventually, guitarist, Pat Smear played with Nirvana on the "Unplugged" session and later joined Dave Grohl's Foo Fighters briefly. Darby died of a heroin overdose in 1980. Pat is still alive.

Their album, "(GI)" is a "must-have," Ann Taylor style.

It is available here:

The Foo Fighters recorded a song on thier second (and last great) album where Dave name checks "Manimal," a song off of The Germs' "Forming.'

Listen.

"I have a choice between the bat or the belt
Each time I hear about the hand you've been dealt
Spare me confession it's confession you sell
Maybe I'll fall behind but I don't mind because I'll catch up

I want a song that's indelible
Like "Manimal"
I hope you never see me wind up

Will I be happy on the back of the shelf
Will you be happy when we're sharing a cell
Spare me your questions since you know me so well
Someday you'll realize that I get shy and I choke up

I want a song that's indelible
Like "Manimal"
I hope you never see me wind up
What is wrong with this animal
I'm terrible
I hope you never see me wind up

Farewell my sweet paramania
Farewell my sweet paramania

My only promise is that I'll never tell
Keep you at a distance from the things that I felt
I'll bite the bullet take the beating until
I take it all back anyway what was I supposed to say?

I want a song that's indelible
Like "Manimal"
I hope you never see me wind up
What is wrong with this animal
I'm terrible
I hope you never see me wind up"



Shakti. Who is punk rock incarnate. And never saw me wind up...

Squalor

"Could I ever explain this feeling of love?
It just lingers on
The fear in my heart that keeps telling me
Which way to turn

We'll wander again
Our clothes they are wet
We shy from the rain
Longing to touch all the places we know we can hide
The width of a room that can hold so much pleasure inside

Here am I alone again
A quiet town where life gives in
Here am I just wondering
Nightporters go
Nightporters slip away

I'll watch for a sign
And if I should ever again cross your mind
I'll sit my room and wait until nightlife begins
And catching my breath, we'll both brave the weather again

Here am I alone again
The quiet town where life gives in
Here am I just wondering
Nightporters go
Nightporters slip away"

Japan & David Sylvian.

Listen.

Meagan and Pan.

Look.

Find the musical and visual connection. It's a puzzle, of sorts...

Wonder.

A Cat Threw Up on My Holga

Sorry Stacy...

It'll get all cleaned up and shit, I promise...

Jesus.

This is not gonna win me any "sexytime" on Fleshbot or A Fuck A Day.

Oh well, whatever.

Interested, Nerve?