A working definition

"You know what the correct definition of 'art' is? I'll give you a correct definition of 'art' and I think you'll agree with it. 'Art' is short for Arthur. You can't argue with that."

[Jim Watson]

For more on design professor and all around troublemaker [Jim Watson], go here and here.


Read it and weep:

life from the glove's end

It's a sopping wet morning/afternoon outside. The view from behind my half-open blinds is breathtakingly simple. Two adirondack chairs on the front porch that just yesterday gleamed a brilliant bleach-white in the sun, lounge lazy and dripping wet in a dirty-cream tone accentuated by the fiery red brick surrounding them. The wilted, patchy-green-but-mostly-salmonella-yellow grass that is my front yard does not lie complacently. It heaves and squirms like a giant earth-sponge that has greedily soaked up every last dripdrop of sweetly toxic rainwater. The behemoth earth-rag rests in a bloated sprawl, waiting desperately for The Almighty Hand to reach down and wring it dry so that it might go about soaking up the excess aqua that has bled over into the streets and sidewalks. Hey, what's that?! The oven buzzer screams like a colic-ridden baby and the smoky sweet smell of bbq chick'n pizza hits my nostrils like a fifty in the hand of a cheap hooker - my hard-earned reward for almost thirty minutes' pleasurable work.

That reminds me of this little ditty...

"Tell me, how is excess measured
Mixing business with pleasure
When pleasure is your business
You don’t have to ask forgiveness"

I've been called a sinner

Wrong doer
Evil doer
Worker of iniquity
Transgressor



Bad example
Scoundrel, villian, knave
Miscreant
Viper, wretch, the devil incarnate



Monster, demon
Fallen angel
Murderer and thief
Lost sheep



Black sheep, black guard
Loafer and sneak
A good for nothing
Ass fucking son of a bitch



I'VE BEEN CALLED A SINNER

["daughters spelled wrong" lyrics by alexis s.f. marshall]

What she don't know

It won't hurt her
But it might give her cause to wonder
"Where did all this blood come from?"
What she don't know
Is I'm at the end of my rope
I tried to climb back up
But it's a slippery fuckin' slope

Play with fire
And the burns are free
But this life'll be
The death of me

[all photos by yours trudy]

Feeling so neat and complete in the executive suite

I've found that one of the greatest curses God can bestow on a man is the gift of debate, and even more so the desire to utilize that gift whenever the occasion, however slight, arises.



I'm trying something neu [Whiskey-Orange Juice-1/4 Fresh Squeezed Lime Juice]

No flags, no patriots

Man, it sure is dark in here. The only light, cast in soft shades of green and white, falls gently across the comforter under which my legs twitch nervously. The chaotic dribble and drop of rain is soothing but in no way puts my mind at ease enough for sleep.

That's why God made jokes <<<< CLICK LINK FOR THE FUNNY

Disaster Au Naturel

Monetize...monotonize...when applied to art/life/sex, the former usually leads to the latter. It has also occasionally been known to lead to the ladder.

Edit: I stumbled upon this horrific scene one gray, January morning last week on my way to visit der Feuergabelung.

The man beneath me needs to die and who the hell remembers Jars of Clay?