I Could Blow Through the Ceiling

"I don't want to be crippled cracked
Shoulders, wrists, knees and back
Ground to dust and ash
Crawling on all fours

When you've got to feel it in your bones
When you've got to feel it in your bones

Now I can't climb the stairs
Pieces missing everywhere
Prozak painkillers

When you've got to feel it in your bones
When you've got to feel it in your bones
And I used to fly like Peter Pan
All the children flew when I touched their hands

When you've got to feel it in your bones
When you've got to feel it in your bones"



Radiohead, again. And a photo by my friend Erin. Stolen via the Interwebs.

My stupid sofa...and to her credit, despite my obsessive-compulsive Virgo nature, perfectly symmetrical.

Bravo, Erin!!!

Where Do We Go From Here?

"You can force it but it will not come
You can taste it but it will not form
You can crush it but it's always here
You can crush it but it's always near
Chasing you home saying
Everything is broken
Everyone is broken

You can force it but it will stay stung
You can crush it as dry as a bone
You can walk it home straight from school
You can kiss it, you can break all the rules
But still...
Everything is broken
Everyone is broken

Everyone is, everyone is broken
Everyone is, everything is broken

Why can't you forget?"

Carolyn. And Radiohead.

"Talking to my girlfriend waiting for something to happen..."

Full To The Point of Overflowing

"While you make pretty speeches
I'm being cut to shreds
You feed me to the lions
A delicate balance

And this just feels like spinning plates
I'm living in cloud cuckoo land
And this just feels like spinning plates
Our bodies floating down the muddy river"

Radiohead live and glistening. Transcendent. Beautiful. Deadly. Perfect...

Listen.

A Song About Me

Courtesy Thom Yorke, God bless his little marsupial self.

Cristi, again.

"What will grow crooked you can't make straight
It's the price that you've gotta pay
Do yourself a favour and pack you bags
Buy a ticket and get on the train

'Cause this is fucked up, fucked up

People get crushed like biscuit crumbs
And laid down in the bed you've made
You have tried your best to please everyone
But it just isn't happening
No, it just isn't happening

And that is fucked up, fucked up
Well this is fucked up, fucked up

This your blind spot, blind spot
It should be obvious, but it's not
But it isn't, but it isn't

You cannot kickstart a dead horse
You just cross yourself and walk away
I don't care what the future holds
'Cause i'm right here and I'm today
With your fingers you can touch me

I am your black swan, black swan
But I made it to the top
And this is fucked up, fucked up
Be a black swan, black swan
And for spare parts
We're broken up

You are fucked up
Fucked up
This is fucked up
Fucked up
We are black swans
Black swans
And for spare parts
We're broken up"

There's Always Another Point of View

Old Enough

"You look pretty in your fancy dress
But I detect unhappiness
You never speak so I have to guess
You’re not free.

There, maybe when you’re old enough
You’ll realize that you’re not so tough
And some days the seas get rough
And you’ll see

You’re too young to have it figured out
You think you know what you’re talking about
You think it all will work itself out
But we’ll see

When I was young I thought I knew
You probably think you know too
Do you? Well do you?
I was naïve just like you
I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do
Well, what you gonna do?

And how have you gotten by so far
Without having a visible scar?
No one knows who you really are
They can’t see

What you gonna do?
What you gonna do now?

The only way you’ll ever learn a thing
Is to admit that you know absolutely nothing
Oh, nothing
Think about this carefully
You might not get another chance to speak freely
Oh, freely

Maybe when you’re old enough
You’re not free."

From the new The Raconteurs album, "Consolers Of The Lonely."

I'm lonely.

The photo is Lessie Cameron Graham, who passed away September 4th, 2005, at the age of 93.

She knew everything. And she was free.

Another Black Day

Regardless of what John Doe says...

...it's not about the bumper cars on the Santa Monica Pier, it's about fucking...

Blue Spark
(Cervenka/Doe)

"Blue spark
He waits
In a beach apartment
Blue spark
Thousands of lights
Thousands of people
She's forgotten him
For the bodies around her
Blue shock
Exchange
Blue shock
Exchange
Blue spark
What goes between
The eyes downtown
Blue spark
Loudspeakers and search
Lights the boulevard
She comes home later
Just to give him
Blue shock
Exchange
Blue shock
Exchange
Blue spark"

Brooke.

Breaking Point

"No, I know I won't forget you
But I'll forget myself, if the city will forgive me"

Elbow. Meagan. Me.

Sinking The Wine

Dance Troupe shoot tomorrow. B&H today.

B&H are "out" of Neopan 1600, with no delivery date in their system. When homeboy mentioned this, I got a Polaroid-sized lump in my throat, but I think Fuji is good for it.

So, I got some at my local Park Slope photo store - Photofaction! - across the street from my house. And paid $8.00 a roll instead of the B&H $4.00. Supply and demand fucking me in the head with a stick.

Brian and I went to the Swann Gallery this afternoon to see the preview for the auction tomorrow of photographs and photographic literature (photo books).

Of course, the photographs were overestimated due to the fact that the collector's have finally blown out the market, but man, the books were out of control. I mean, they're just books. They're not prints, silver, platinum, or otherwise.

I looked at a copy of Susan Meiselas' "Carnival Strippers" 1st edition and signed to "David" that was estimated at $400-$600. And Helmut Newton's "White Women" estimated at $150-$250, which I recently saw a copy of here in Park Slope for $80, and I thought THAT was too much. Hajime Sawatari's take on Alice In Wonderland, "Alice" estimated at $800-$1200, unsigned?

Come the fuck on. I vow that I will own a copy of that fucker one day that will cost me less than $300. Signed. Word.

Todd Hido, estimated at more than Susan Meiselas and Helmut Newton? Don't get me wrong, Todd's a contemporary of mine and I really admire his work, but, but, but...

Time to get on the bandwagon, ladies and gents. Shit is going for WAY too much money.

Actual auction results tomorrow, as the trend is that shit goes for WAY more than the estimates.

Sigh.

But Brian and I personally leafed through about $10k worth of shit. And they didn't even ask us to wear the white cotton gloves of death, even though I spotted a package of them over Brian's left shoulder as he was mucking up a copy of good ol' Al Stieglitz's "Camera Work, No. 31" with his greasy paws...

(Estimated at $1,500-$2,500)

More Reby from the Quigley Studio shoot.



I'm going to submit this set to Stern next week.

The new Elbow album is good, but their work takes a little while to get under my skin. But when they do, they stay. This is "Picky Bugger" from their last album, "Leaders of the Free World," a masterpiece, and permanently under my skin.

I have yet to see them live. Arghhh...

Listen.

"Drinking
In order to feel
Thinking
Reinventing the wheel
Kicking up mischief
And feeding the fire
Kicking up mischief
And walking the wire

Little fish you count for nothing
Do your thing until you die
Keep your powder dry
In order and line

Thinking and sinking the wine
Kicking up mischief and feeding the fire
Kicking up mischief and walking the wire

Little fish just keep on flapping
Do your thing until you die
Keep your powder dry"

Punk Rock Lesson, Part III

I know I promised The Minutemen next, but fuck it, I'm on a tangent...

The Grifters are not necessarily "punk rock" in fact, they are not punk rock at all.

They are not punk rock at all, except...that they are. Trust me.

Look, I've written a lot about them here (search) and even had the bass player, Tripp Lamkins, read my blog when I demanded a Grifters reunion, and his response was basically "No," which bummed me out.

Here's the deal. The Grifters were special, perhaps a moment in time, but special.

And I'd love to see them again live. The three times I did were some of the best three nights of my life.

And I'm feeling all nostalgic-like.

As my girl pointed out to me tonight, I'm worse than a girl about shoes. When I get paid, I wanna go see MUSIC! That's why I bought tickets to see The Butthole Surfers while I was talking to her. She didn't even know who they were, but she will. Oh, she will...

I wish those tickets were for The Grifters, instead. No offense, Gibby. But I'll take what I'm offered...

Check out The Grifters' "Slow Day for the Cleaner" and then tell me I'm wrong about them not being punk rock.

Shit.

"Talk about a couple of freaks
Did ya see them?
Diamond studded bourgeois
Take no creamer
Next you'll send something I need
To the cleaner's
And I would give you anything
To be holy
And I would give you anything
To be smooth
I would give you anything
To be holy, now

Blue cursed newspaper ink
Spoils the blessing
Framed by the call of her last breath let go
Confessing
Mine is the Queen of the deceased
And she's dressing
So, I would give you anything
To be holy
And I would give you anything
To be smooth
And I would give you anything
To be holy, now"

Reby, in William Quigley's studio.

Random Shit, Vol. XXIV

- Shooting a Dance Troupe on Thursday for Columbia University's "Sex" Magazine. Three women, two men. And I know exactly what I want to do with them. Stay tuned...

- Played pool tonight with Chris and Marko after a couple of PBRs. Full-sized table and fun, fun, fun. We're all getting better and having fun, fun, fun. Marko cornered me about getting published again and gallery work, god bless him. I had it coming and was semi-prepared with an answer BUT that conversation cemented a lot of shit for me. Thanks, Marko, fun, fun, fun. Bowling soon, I promise...

- Check coming tomorrow which alleviates a lot of financial anxiety for me. And financial anxiety is bad, especially here in NYC.

- Got through Mother's Day. Mom is doing fine, although my Grandmother (her mother) is not. Looks like 94 may be it for her. My Dad's mother lived to be 93. It's depressing, but man, 94 years, that's a good, good life and nothing to be sad about. I will try to remember that in the coming months.

- Audio record tomorrow and Thursday for a client, which means another invoice, which is good.

- Website feedback is all in for the most part. Tomorrow afternoon is all about sitting with it and deciding what I want to do. Wish me fucking luck.

- Heading upstate on Friday to see my girl's Senior Photography Show. I'm her biggest fan, I hope she knows that.

- Everything has changed.

- Still smoking too much.

- I want to come back as a musician, and a really talented one, preferably a guitarist and/or a pianist. I do know that I don't want to be a drummer...

- Can't wait for Season Two of "Metalocalypse" on DVD.

- Convinced that there is something horribly wrong with me physically, even though I know there's not.

- Bought two tickets for My Bloody Valentine's show in September. I hope I live that long, 'cause I'd really like to see them.

- Gotta vacuum. And dust. Soon.

- I've got several shoots lined up and no ideas. Need to work on that. Looked online for a roll of "silver" paper, but apparently no one makes it - why not? Savage makes every damn color on the color chart but no metallic. Is it because it causes light reflections? That's what I want!!! And don't even talk to me about cloth...Jeezie! I just want a roll of background paper that is silver, not FOIL, but silver...help.

- I want to travel soon. And have an audience with the Pope, since there's a bunch of stuff I'd like to ask him, although that's not a deal-breaker.



The Konica Half-Frame strikes again. An experiment: Brooke on the left side and Erin on the right.

I'm Stubborn, Selfish and Too Old

And feeling it.

Long day of introspection. Long day of pretty much nothing at all. If you walked past me on the street (and some of you just might have) you would have seen an unfocused, but determined gait, a stomp, if you will, thinking about the missing, or missing the thinking. Either way, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't snap me out of myself at the moment.

How does one represent oneself in a world so self-determined and undermined, with so many rules and pre-ordained ways to be?

I feel like the Big Lebowski, when he told The Dude, "Stong men also cry."

Except I'm not crying. I'm listening to Elbow's new album. Which is sort of the same thing, except that I'm letting Guy Garvey do the work for me, which is my druthers.

Jessalyn, again. The photo is a bit of a cheat. Three half-frame frames. Or one and a half 35mm frames. Or...

Whatever. My rules.



Listen. If you will.

"How dare the Premier ignore my invitations?
He'll have to go
So, too, the bunch he luncheons with
It's second on my list of things to do

At the top I'm stopping by
Your place of work and acting like
I haven't dreamed of you and I
And marriage in an orange grove
You are the only thing in any room you're ever in
I'm stubborn, selfish and too old.

I sat you down and told you how
the truest love that's ever found
Is for oneself
You pulled apart my theory
With a weary and disinterested sigh

So yes I guess I'm asking you
To back a horse that's good for glue
And nothing else
But find a man that's truer than,
Find a man that needs you more than I

Sit with me a while
And let me listen to you talk about
your dreams and your obsessions
I'll be quiet and confessional
The violets explode inside me
when I meet your eyes
Then I'm spinning and I'm diving
Like a cloud of starlings

Darling, is this love?"

Overexposure

Long, long day.

It started with a scare-start awake at 8:00am for no reason what-so-ever and is ending now.

Saturday night in the universe.

My new website update is driving me crazy. It's driving me nuts.

As is everything else. Work, work, work, finances, vacation, and what the fuck I'm going to shoot tomorrow with Naama.

I spent a very pleasurable evening with a very good friend who most patiently listened to a whole bunch of my crap.

My crap is driving me crazy. It's driving me nuts.

Takeaway: Do what ever you can to make and keep good friends. They love you through all else and will listen to your crap ad infinitum. Or at least Brian has and does.

And try to listen to less Elliott Smith at times like this.

Trust me. Do not listen to this if you have a bunch of crap going on.

Really. You have been warned...

Jessalyn. What a great name that is...



"Bottle up and explode over and over
Keep the troublemaker below
Put it away and check out for the day
In for a round of overexposure
The thing mother nature provides
To get up and go
Bottle up and explode
Seeing stars surrounding you
Red white and blue

You look at him like you've never known him
But I know for a fact that you have
The last time you cried
Who'd you think was inside?
Thinking that you were about to come over
But I'm tired now of waiting for you
You never show
Bottle up and go
If you're gonna hide, it's up to you
I'm coming through

Bottle up and go
I can make it outside
I'll get through
Becoming you..."

I thought I was gonna win the $120M lottery yesterday.
I didn't. Four out of six numbers short.
C'mon, Mega Milllions, I'm owed some karma right about now...

I also got a little scared today about being primarily a film shooter.

I'm Not There

The new website beta has been sent out to valued colleagues, friends, and loved ones. Feedback is coming in slowly but surely and the obvious changes have already been made.

Jesus Christ, if I have to make another 40 pixel x 40 pixel thumbnail, I'ma gonna killa someone.

Sonic Youth's cover of Bob Dylan's unreleased "I'm Not There" is really good, as is everything else they've ever done.

Like that Carpenters song. You know, the one in "Juno" even though "Mark Loring" (Jason Bateman) is right. It's my favorite too.

Got tickets to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds here in October - October???! I know, now I gotta live that long. And if that's not bad enough, My Bloody Valentine is playing here the last week of September - tickets on sale tomorrow...

Fuck. Where am I gonna get all this money from?



Sibyl, from my "Bunnies" series, on the new website, toasting you. Sort of...

Don't ask her for another drink, she's off the clock. And pissed off.

I wish I was on a beach in Mexico tonight with my girl...

As The Flames Rose To Her Roman Nose

...and her Walkman started to melt.

I Smoke 'Cos I'm Hoping for an Early Death...

...and I need to cling to something.

Lie Down Here

(And Be My Girl)

Women Never Cease To Amaze Me

Amongst other things...

...33 hours without sleep.

Little Blossom, There's The Shiniest Soul Just Behind Those Eyes

Really.

Billiards...

Math.
Physics.
Skill.
Luck.
Muscle memory.
Divine intervention.

And then there's the "alcohol curve..."

Sometimes playing billiards is incredibly satisfying, with the right friends, in lieu of what you all know you should individually be doing.

Tonight, the piped-in music went radically from Rod Stewart to The Butthole Surfers, just because we stayed too long and went over the sun-going-down-hump.

I've been talking about "Building A Cult" for years now.

Still working on it. And my billiards and bowling skills...

It's what you do when you do what you do. Photography too, when you don't want to.

When I was five years old, my Kindergarten teacher called my Mother with concern about me. Apparently when the question of "What do you want to be when you grow up?" came around I said "A Hippie or a Garbageman." It was 1969, so think about the Hippie thing. And I loved THE Garbageman - he came by every day and I talked to him...he was my buddy.

Later on, probably at age 15 or 16, I told my Mother that I wanted to be a Cult Leader.

She was appalled.

But, I still do.

Sorry, Mom...

Sorry, Frank Black...

“Movies Should Have a Beginning, a Middle, and an End, but Not Necessarily in That Order.”

I picked this postcard up at The Film Forum a few weeks back.

Godard's "Contempt" is one of my favorite films. As is his "Weekend" (amongst others) and anything by Bertolocchi and Antonioni.

I'm an Art Fag Wino. So, sue me.

The reason I picked up this postcard is that I love the past being reinterpreted well - NOW. And, I think Yoko Icomura hit the proverbial nail on the head. I would hire her in a HEARTBEAT to do the artwork for MY FILM...

There's always room for that. In art, music, film, and photography.

I do it all the time. So do my contemporaries. So do the up-and-coming.

And so it goes...

Galaxy 500 is getting me through this. Thanks Dean, Naomi and Damon.