Friday, September 16, 2005

When I was twelve, my first stepfather gave me a small Bedouin knife he had gotten in the Middle East. Made of some kind of pot metal it was heavily ornamented in twisted wire and jeweled with rough glass drops, with a wicked curved blade. At night I would tuck that knife in my boot, put on my mother’s giant woolen sweater that I had appropriated, and jump out my bedroom window to roam in the deep blue shadows of the neighborhood. On a neighbor’s darkened porch I’d quietly sit, chin cupped in palm, gazing so longingly at the moon and the stars that it probably looked like I wanted to eat them. Feeling so lonely, I’d keep trying to find some flicker out in space that I could connect to, something magical and transcendent that would raise me above the sad way I felt, alone in a houseful of people, alone in a school full of people, all alone in a city fair to bursting.

Daytime was full of the typical middle school horrors, and I was both cripplingly shy of the other students, just waiting to the shoe to drop and to get picked on again, as well as feeling quietly and weirdly arrogant- these were stupid middle school kids, and weren’t the quality of people I was looking for. Between classes I’d walk down the halls wrapped in sweaters and a jacket, hair in my face, staying as hidden as possible.
At home, when not fighting, my siblings and I had an uneasy truce, nights spent watching TV, hearts feeling a little crushed knowing our parents were having their own liquid fueled issues upstairs, each of us curling protectively into ourselves. My own refuge was art. Surrounded by it since birth by artist parents, it ran through my veins. It lifted my spirit and illustrated that the world was vaster and contained more wild emotion and dreams than our suburban life seemed to.

But creeping alone down pale grey street lit sidewalks, past pine trees that faded into black and barking dogs, I would ache for the future, and dream of what could be once I grew up. At that time, I was determined to be a movie star, a wild and exotic actress. I would have a beautiful boyfriend and I would travel the world, filming amazing sci fi movies and vacationing in golden deserts and in lush tropical jungles, or sipping drinks in the café outside my Parisian home. I’d find people who were clever, and creative, and cool. I would have a wonderful life.
After a few hours of that nonsense I’d go back home, crawl back in the window into my bedroom. I’d quietly tuck myself in, pull the covers snugly up to my chin, tuck my knife under my pillow and drift off to sleep, thinking of exotic caravans under a sun that blazed like gold.
Parasite Corner
This is a good one...this insect latches onto a fish tongue, eats it, and then acts as a surrogate tongue. How unpleasant.
via Boing Boing

" Hi! What's for lunch?!"

Thursday, September 15, 2005

My favorite Rock Weirdos:
The Cramps
Screamin Jay Hawkins
Nina Hagen
The Red Elvises
Pete Burns from Dead Or Alive
and I must say Jack White from the White Stripes is cultivating a good look. Anyone who rocks a Gomez Addams/John Waters-like pencil moustache has got to have it goin' on.

Monday, September 12, 2005

And here we have a site devoted exclusively to pictures of dogs in bee suits...

Sunday, September 11, 2005

From the Thumbmonkey vault...
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Museum Of Bad Art.

When talking to artist Alex Gross the other day I was reminded about artist Walton Ford. I adore his work.
"Blending depictions of natural history with political commentary, Ford’s meticulous paintings satirize the history of colonialism and the continuing impact of slavery and other forms of political oppression on today’s social and environmental landscape. Each painting is as much a tutorial in flora and fauna as it is as a scathing indictment of the wrongs committed by nineteenth-century industrialists or, locating the work in the present, contemporary Americanconsumer society."
Elephant update
The Seattle Times ran an ed op by the former director of the Woodland Park Zoo in regards to Bamboo. It made me burst into tears, it was so elegant and eloquent. It would be nice for people to just do the right thing, the kind thing.
More soon...this isn't over.