Writing the Arts

because it's there

seriously, you got to get on this suiseki thing. the rocks out here in adams county are just unbelievable: this should be a world-famous site; it's easy to find rocks comparable to the best you've ever seen exhibited. check this unbelievable larger rock: 18 inches at the base and 30 lbs? many more angles, and the colors and details are not adequately represented. this was used on a rock path as a paver by the people who previously were in me place. snow-capped peaks with glaciers etc.

 

 

many other faces make landscapes or himalayas, etc.

court as place of shelter

 

quite the little cast of talkings heads there: chuck d, samuel l. jackson, um bill cosby, senator barack obama, etc. but in general historical video on the trotters has been absurdly thin. i've searched many times over the years for footage of the fabulous magicians, but i remember watching more or less whole games on wide world of sports. trying to really just get good footage of the great dribblers, marques haynes, curly neal, boo johnson, etc. is absurdly difficult. anyone who's working for the globetrotters or whatever needs to get good historical vid of all the greats up in a good way. thank god some stuff finally came up after marques haynes's death: still it is insane not to have much more and much better for a great artist like that. (the comparison to improvisational jazz is extremely apt. haynes is fucking louis armstrong, but you cannot even find his songs.) or hello my former relative-by-marriage greg winik: put twenty interns on it with a good editor this summer, ok? that is your own history too.

haynes could do what he did in serious competition against nba (or nbl) players. now, louis played great, but not while large athletes were trying to grab his trumpet. it is true improvisation under pressure, even if it became a great act (imitated by many ever since, as well it should have been). 

i played a lot of playground basketball against and with black guys, and understand that i was the scrawniest little white kid you ever saw. but the court was to some extent a shelter from the race war, even if it might have looked the opposite. and i will say almost always if you got out there on a new playground (i wasn't the only white kid trying to play, except for sometimes), you almost always had to take a hard foul first; they'd kind of level you just to test you. and one way to pass the test a bit was not to call it, but just pick yourself up and try to say something like 'call that a fucking foul?'

anyway, one reason it was good was precisely that race was explicit, but played many different ways. so it could be very intimidating: like boom! you're on your back, then it's 'go home to your skanky mama, fucking white boy.' it got so where 'honky' was my nickname. but that's the way they were talking to each other (different slurs, of course) too. so you'd keep trying and it'd be more like: you can't fucking drive on me, you fucking honky. i have to say they gave you a lot of credit for sticking but then if you did something ok, you might get 'dayum, look at white boy!' anyway, i say those experiences and how i learned to come back etc are still in my persona or even on the blog all the time. people are surprised when you whip that out at a philosophy conference.

i always wanted to play black, and some of my favorite players have been those players, like 'white chocolate' jason williams, or rex chapman, or pete maravich. anyway, i'm obviously particularly obsessed with the dribblers, and i am actually serious in comparing haynes to people like armstrong, though honestly i'd rather do without haynes than louis. but why do i have to? there has got to be a shitload of great video out there. people need to care enough to get it out there, edit it right, etc.

 

look that's fucking great: everything i always wanted to be. but how can there be so much and so much better footage out there of jason williams than marques haynes or whomever? will you people get it together?

 

 

hotel jane

the best new pop album i've heard in some years is beau's that thing reality (great title). it takes account of the lorde/lana down-tempo sorta talky thing, but also many different elements of rock and country and punk. the singing is wonderful, and there are no weak cuts. has to hit, i would think: this stuff would sound great on the radio.

 

what a great build that thing has: very fine writing. beautiful production to boot.

 

loewy the incomparable

rarely have i been as delighted by any book as i am as i read never leave well enough alone (1951) by the great industrial designer raymond loewy. he is perhaps the greatest designer who ever lived, and certainly the boldest and most distinctive who ever had his designs widely realized. the range is just unbelievable, from typefaces to store displays to railroad engines to the lucky strike package to vacuum cleaners and radios to coke machines to refrigerators to farm equipment to chairs to buildings to the avanti and other car designs.

the text is a profound meditation on design, yielding many fundamental principles that would still be of use to anyone in the field, including people working on interfaces and other aspects of info processing. but it is also one of the very funniest and most beautifully-written things i have ever read, as though wodehouse and edison were the same person.

i'm just going to type in the acknowledgments; every page is this delightful.

My indebtedness to the Atlantic Ocean must be acknowledged first. In perverse conspiration with the S.S. Nieuw Amsterdam, it lengthened my crossing to Europe and compelled me to remain in bed in my stateroom for the greater part of the journey. To this forced immobilization can be attributed the first sixty-two pages of this thing. For continuing encouragement, I am deeply grateful to G.D. Searle and Company, makers of Dramamin, a new seasickness remedy.

Thanks are in order to the Pullman Company, whose new type of automatic folding toilets makes me appreciate the joys of staying home. To home, where a defective incinerator poisons my daily life, thanks for making me appreciate the joys of travel. For continual criticism of what I was thinking, doing, planning to do or write, thanks to my beloved wife, Viola, without whom this book might otherwise have been much longer. Selection of the text was greatly facilitated by my secretary, Miss Peters, whose well-times loss of a particularly boring chapter in a New York taxicab led to its complete elimination, and my blissful relief. To the mosquitoes who made writing unbearable on the beach at Porquerolles, and chased me to Zermatt, I must credit a lovely month of June in the shadow of the Matterhorn.

To the makers of my ball point pens, may I extend the thanks of the dry cleaning industry, which has been kept busy removing spots from most of my bedsheets, pajamas, tablecloth, evening shirts, white poodles, upholstery, and Lanvin neckties during the genesis of this book. To the airlines, thanks are in order for the countless hours of leisurely waiting at airports and bus terminals, where many chapters of this book have been written on empty popcorn boxes, travel folders to Mexico, and other deadly airline literature. Acknowledgements are in order to Ella, my cook, who reduced the printing cost of this book by conveniently dropping a saucerful of hollandaise on a batch of illustrations, thereby materially cutting down printing expenses.

Finally, my heartest thanks to my dear friend Peggy (Mrs. Howard) Cullman, who, after reading the first two parts of the ms., assured me that she had read much worse, thereby supplying the final dose of enthusiasm that I so badly needed to finish the job.

 

 

 

Ray J is the Saltiest Dish on the Airwaves

Ray J has soiled and sullied his reputation by creating this track. He seems to try to make a publicity stunt by riding off the press Kim Kardashian and his sex tape created. However, he fails to see, or maybe purposely intended to make himself look like a salty dumb ass. (Consult urban dictionary for "salty" as I intend it)

 

 

Poor Kimye for having so many fans, even the famous ones.

 

The Weaver

Every summer during high school, I would travel down to Guatemala for a month.  The trip was supposed to be an educational trip through the use of basketball as a intermediary between Guatemalan students and American high schoolers.  It was one of the best times of my life.  However, while the trip was a great time, what struck me the most was the work ethic of the people down there.  Every year we had a trip to a local weaver who lived in the rural highlands with his family of weavers.

While this is not my picture (I sadly cannot find any picture of the annual trip to the weavers), the had about 4 machines like this set up throughout their property.  The area for weaving was the size of their other 2 rooms which housed the kitchen and sleeping areas.  The family would work at all hours of the day just to get by, creating amazingly intricate designs.

 

The wife and children would spend time breaking up the the wool they used, a long and arduous process that got all of us tired wthin 10 minutes:

Once it was fine, they would spin it on an old fashion spinner that looked like it was about to fall apart:

After that was complete, it was time for the dying process.  They would process the wool in natural coloring aids that they would let sit for at least 24 hours, depending on the type of dye.  Finally the weaving process began.  There was 4 weaving looms set up for the family of 6 (the two youngest were below 5).  The mother and father would weave from 6 AM to 10 PM, sometimes spending up to a weak working on very large blanket.  But what really struck me was their teenage son and daughter.  They would also start to work around 6, but they would then go to school around 9.  Be home by 3 and back to work on the loom until 10, but they didn't complain.  That's what they had to do to survive.  Quite the schedule.  Makes me think I definitely do not put enough work into everything I am do.

Coming

The last couple times I have turned on the TV and scrolled through the many different channels that Comcast Xfinity has to offer, my eyes always fall onto Comedy Central.  Every time it has been on, there has been Coming To America playing.

This movie is one of my all time favorites.  Not just for the story line, but for every intracate piece of the movie that is playing.  Where else is there going to be a story of an African Prince coming to America to search for his bride.

 

 

The Eddie Murphy movie could not be a better time to spend either 3 hours watching (freaking commercials) or just 10 minutes when you have time.  It might be one of the only movies where I can turn it on anywhere in the movie and immedietly start to laugh.  It also might be the only movie that when I see that it is on, 99 times out of 100 I will put it on (that one time will be either the Super Bowl or March Madness championship).  While I do not want to spoil the movie for any newbies to the times when Eddie Murpy used to make funny movies, I do recommend seeing it.  Who doesn't like see James Earl Jones wearing a full lion something (dont really know how to describe it.)

Plating Gourmet Lyrics

Action Bronson's bust, carved out of two pork chops and an angel hair beard.

Recently I found this old post by a contributer for the Village Voice.  The post takes the lyrics of rapper Action Bronson (one of XXL Mag's Freshman Class 2013) and cooks up a five course meal.  It sounds unusual, but Bronson is no stranger to the kitchen. In fact, the rapper had an online cooking show entitled, "Action in the Kitchen," and before taking a serious bite into the hip hop world, Bronson was a revered chef in NYC.  

 

The rapping gourmand takes a trip to the farmer's market and stirs up some stuffed zucchini blossoms 

You Can't Fake Punk

Last night was a hilarious parade of actresses trying to convince the press that they know what punk fashion is. The annual Met Gala introduces the Costume Institute’s exhibit, this year called “Punk: Chaos to Couture.” For this red carpet, there are no awards to be won and no tradition confining the celebrities to pretty gowns. The event is always a chance to wear something riskier or more high-fashion than usual and with a theme like “punk,” this year was an exceptional invitation for stars to really embody that attitude and give a big ol’ “fuck you” to their stylists and their image and the whole Hollywood system that limits them every other day of the year. Unfortunately, only some took that invitation and we were left with a strange mixture ranging from average beauty pagent formalwear to serious haute couture.

Miley Cyrus pairs mesh Marc Jacobs with spiky bleached hair. She just gets it.

Anne Hathaway has been getting a lot of bad publicity recently for "trying too hard," but if these crazy cutouts and fringed wrists are the result of someone doing their homework, some younger starlets could try a little harder.

Jennifer Lawrence, for instance. This plain sparkly black dress is identical to the one I bought on sale in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, the day before my junior prom in 2008. Does she think the tea length and barely noticeable half-veil make it edgy? They don't.

And what a shame to see Emilia Clark, who plays the most punk-rock character on television right now (Daenerys on the Game of Thrones), show up in the most boring Ralph Lauren dress ever. A sweetheart neckline at the Met Gala? I guess she can be excused this once because she's new to this scene.

At least Allison Williams took a risk with the interesting details of her dress, but she muted the drama of it by wearing her hair down in soft waves and smiling at every camera the whole night. 

The detailing on this Dolce & Gabbana Madonna dress is infuckingcredible on Katy Perry, even if the silhouette is nothing special. And she paired it with a serious crown, as any queen would. 

Aubrey Plaza looks like she is actually shedding a layer of her snakeskin in this dress. The arm cutouts and red bite marks are bold, but the short length and the subtle makeup keep it feminine and pretty.

I think Nicole Richie's only contribution to the world of entertainment is her short stint on "The Simple Life" with Paris Hilton, but she still looked better last night than most of the actresses who are actually relevant. She wore a solid white column dress from Topshop and her eerie white hair and deep purple lips made the look unforgettable.

A busty blonde who got it wrong by showing up completely underdressed ... (Kate Upton)

...And a busty blonde who got it right by balancing the choatic layering of her skirt with a sleek top and updo. (Blake Lively)

Beyonce was the guest of honor last night and she just looked like a mess in this Givenchy gown. The flaming paisley would make more sense on the side of a car than on the red carpet and her accessories made no sense. The placement of the belt cuts her off right below the empire waist which already served that purpose and there is no reason to wear extra-long boots and gloves to emphasize that gaudy pattern. Sorry, Bey, better luck next time.

Different paint strokes for different folks.

Meet Tim Patch.  If you goggle search “weird art” he is one of the first things that comes up. After looking at pictures of people painting with dead ants, human blood, or their eyeballs Tim looked relatively normal. However, Tim has a unique way to paint. He uses his penis instead of a paintbrush. He has named this technique, “pricasso”. To cover large areas of the canvas however he uses his but... interesting. It makes you wonder how or why he got started doing this. 

If you can get past what uses to get the paint onto the canvas, his artwork is pretty good.