Entries Tagged as 'Writing, Blogging'

Sideways

Pedestrian subway tunnel turned sideways

Rolling out old photos. It’s too cold. It hasn’t gone over 25° F for a few days and the stiff breeze hasn’t let up for most of that time and everyone can agree that wind chill is a bitch. Why is just wind chill and not chill index like its summery step-sister, the heat index? A simple case of euphony.

A few more of my friends checked in and I really do have reasons to be thankful. Two had a parent die Christmas week and another went into the hospital for a second back surgery after a whole year of being in and out the hospital. Prayers are with them and knock on head.

I signed up for oDesk early last year and was discouraged at the low rates being offered for a lot of the work. I’m giving it another try as I realized it’s the sort of thing where you have to start low and once your reputation is established, you can charge more. Also it’s the global market place. I’ll be posting these buttons in better spots after I’ve taken a few more tests. Hire me!



This Blog Versus That Blog

SiP lounge as seen from the DJ booth

People ask me: “Why do you have a blog with photos and one-liners when you can do that stuff for free on facebook or even blogspot and tumblr?”

You don’t really own anything you put on a site hosted by strangers. My photos are on photobucket for now but if I thought they were really worth anything, they wouldn’t be on there. I’m in it for the long haul.

Change of Scenery

stoop on E. 3rd Street, NYC

As I mentioned earlier, I’m looking into an image change. Bear with me as I try on a few different Wordpress themes. In the meantime, I’m also learning how to build themes from scratch.

Me On the Slope, Park

I have a bunch of blogging to do besides everything else. In the meantime, this is my newish goatee. Thanks to Lynn for the photo.

MCHuge in Brooklyn (Park Slope) with sunset

Account of Absence

broken fyyffer mirror

I had one of those rough weeks where your car is sideswiped or just some stupid biker or kid comes along and breaks the left side rear view mirror on your car and then a cop comes along and give you a ticket for it. I had to soak in the irony for a while. (There are all kinds of things you can say about hindsight.)

I drove a friend around all night doing errands before she moved to London without a left rear view mirror. Put a brown bag over your rear view mirror, tape it down, and drive around. We're not being Evel Knieval's but driving without that extra eye is scary. Getting it fixed, writing up a letter to the Ticket People took substantial chunks of my days.

Then I met with someone who pretended to care for me but didn't recall anything I'd ever said to him beforehand. You might say that would make the ideal shrink but I got upset at the lack of hindsight confirmation.

Then I rode my bike around. Tomorrow will be a new day.

my bike artsy nuf said

Benchmarks

Benches, 111 St., Riverside

A life coach is a psychiatrist/therapist with a best (possibly a mild) seller and without a degree. Instead of having a whistle and making you do push-ups and laps and drills like a sports coach, they give you list-making exercises and paraphrase Bing Crosby songs in elaborate metaphors, ending with some variation of the punchline in “Happy Talk.”

I’m morbidly watching Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. In order to be the best at what he does, he destroys himself while being an amiable monster. Picturing him in a confrontation with a life coach results in a few moments of good sitcom.

Today is my birthday. While I’ve done some stupid things, the only thing I ever punched really hard is my bed.

How Many Frames And Why Aren’t Any Circular?

australian pub 4th Ave

Fill each with a story, link them all through coincidence and circumstance, and you’ve got a novel. Eureka. I’m just laughing at the way different people write and how many of them don’t.

One Dead Zine Scene

The Ding Dong Lounge hosted a ‘zine fair on Saturday. They didn’t do a very good job of promoting it as it seemed like only ‘zine publishers were in attendance slapping each other on the back and outnerding each other. If you want bar regulars to come in and hang around, you may not want a naked old guy with distended testicles and large man boobs walking around your zine fair. I know it’s a pagan sort of act, but it’s really grody.

I didn’t take notes but a couple of the zines I looked at were interesting and some had great color graphic work. I also looked at a couple that might’ve been done by fifth graders. You shouldn’t charge $8 for your zine if it looks like it was done by fifth graders. Given the proliferation of blogging, publishing a zine is sort of like making yourself breakfast every day and tossing it in the garbage. I threw out all of my friends’ zines from the 80s and 90s. They’re not worth anything.

Unless you’re Dave Eggers and can produce something as slick (or nearly) as McSweeney’s or n+1 or… you know what I’m talking about– don’t bother. Definitely do it in color. Maintain a nice website/blog and pass out cards with the URL. Take it multimedia people. Once you’re hipper than Dave and get an audience, you might consider charging Kindle subscribers.

The band Wolfhaven performed and Chet messed up by introducing them as Wolverines. They played really nice blues rock sort of like Masters of Reality. I like that they have “333″ in their myspace URL. That means they’re half-evil.

I’m Not There (but I’m Free)


Be careful of shrinks. If you say the wrong thing (or the right thing depending on your point of view), they will call the cops and put you in the psych ward. There really are shrinks out there who view their job the same way an asshole cop does: whatever it takes to keep the streets free of dirt. Mr. Bad Vibes must not be allowed on television figuratively, or on the 6 o’clock news. Judge, jury, sometimes executioner.

I just watched I’m Not There, Todd Haynes’ brilliant film about Bob Dylan’s life in the 60s and early 70s. Yes, it’s brilliant. I’m listening to Dylan’s 1966 “Royal Albert Hall” concert. I’m behind the curve and need to stay up on these things when they hit the theaters. Anyone with a creative life, who has ever been onstage for an extended gig and has ever had to answer for it, or maybe if you’ve been a critic parsing someone else’s jello nailed to the wall — should have an appreciation for this film. If you’ve ever studied film, this is one for the books. The internets have enough written about it already. Do a google®.

In the commentary, Haynes throws out some zingers during the credits regarding freedom. I believe these were credited to Ginsberg and Rimbaud. “You are free only as long as you are free to say no.” And “No one is free. Even the birds are imprisoned by the sky.”

This brings me full circle to crap I usually talk about in this blog: politics. Bush’s insane “conservative” budget was ramped not just by the war on terror, but by a domestic spying program and police state (severe crowd control techniques) designed to intimidate naysayers into silence, as well as an expensive public relations effort designed to overwhelm naysayers and keep them out of mainstream media. I’m dead certain John McCain would continue expanding these mostly needless expenses that basically burn money and manufacture nothing — a largely overlooked black hole in the American economy. A transparent administration wouldn’t need such frivolity. Barack Obama appreciates that freedom without security is meaningless whereas security without freedom is an oxymoron. Obama embraces dialog and that is a breath of fresh air I can believe in.

George Bush has been the world’s (fascist) asshole cop long enough and needs to get in the shrink chair.

Amplification


Can’t wrap my 3D fence around it

I’ve been rehearsing the Crimson Grail with over 200 guitarists and these massive guitar orchestra composers never seem to learn anything from each other. The score is in letter sequences that don’t follow one another. Solution: Provide a score that explains the parts in between your cues. Granted, Chatham does provide a lot of that but it’s not presented in an easily understood manner when a conductor is constantly waving at you. (I’m never going to be accepted into another guitar orchestra again.) Each part of the orchestra has different letters. There are conductors trying to cue people when to play and they’re doing hand gestures. Solution: more cue cards so everybody can be on the same page at certain points. Tonight we were in a church and no one had a mic and could not be heard unless their head was pointed at you. There were some cue cards for parts where everybody is supposed to be playing the same note. More cue cards! It still sounds very cool so show up if you’re interested.

My bass head fell five feet on the cold hard marble. Hm. Gotta go in early and test it again

I watched “Natural Born Killers” last night for the first time since I saw it in the theaters and it was way better than I remember. It’s Oliver Stone’s best satire. Stone’s skill is to amplify history through his films regardless of the absolute historical accuracy. With NBK, he made a film about the “popularity of violence” in the same way. With amplification, people might hear you in Poet’s Corner. Tell a story as truthfully as you can and if the facts are in dispute, your story may be the truest of the lot. Maybe it will stick. If the truth sticks, it looks prettier than when the shit sticks. Get off my lawn you kids — buy some guitars and make rad movies.

Ok, what else. I hope you’ve been reading TPM lately which has been following the McSame response to the Russia/Georgia conflict etc. McSame wants to be Nero and Caligula. He really wants the U.S. to follow in the footsteps of every failed empire in history. He’s running a shit campaign that appeals to the worst in America. The YOT (youth of today) must put the crusty old douchebag in an old folks’ home if they want hope.

Back in Gold

Hudson River sunset, spring
Golden Brown, texture like sun

This blog was down all day as I have one of the “cheap hosts.” That’s all I’ll say about it except that I’m glad it’s back as I was wanting to blog all day– except now that I had to be uppity with the tech support and I’m not going to blog about that, I’ve lost the essay steam.

I saw Teenage Jesus and the Jerks last week and Lydia Lunch blew my mind. I hung out with her and Cesar in New Orleans for a day or two in the early 90s. At that time, Lydia was a retired no wave punk and a poet. Holy hell. She hated New York then and I really don’t think there are words to describe what she feels about New York now.

I went to the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island. It was fun but the buttloads of tourists, the millions of muscle cars and classic cars, the billions of digital camera shot putt clicks, have placed it on a new plane. Development is coming. I want them to tear down the block on Beach Blvd with all the furniture stores and put the shopping mall there. Keep most of the cool Coney.

My nephew is in Ghana and my brother sent some emails that have been coming back. Almost half of one letter was about his iPod and how he could recharge it.

I can feel a more substantial blog with many links and feigned outrage coming soon…

California Wildflowers, Point Reyes

Selected Selections from your amateur photographer…

california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower
california wildflower

I hope everyone’s having a nice Memorial Day weekend. My birthday is around now and it’s always a good time.

The blogosphere knows but maybe you don’t — Emily Gould, late of Gawker, has a long yarn up at the New York Times about the dangers of putting too much of your private life in a blog. This is exactly why I don’t… On the other hand, she did it. She’s a respected professional writer now which is not easy no matter how you slice it.