a word for love that is best and only truly understood by you

The nominal you, I love. I can fairly guarantee that it is the solar waves of a summer heat that gets me glowing enough to spout off of the top out from the top o' my hairy dome with affectionate rays, these sapphire bullets of pure love, to paraphrase the Mahavishni... and They Might Be Giants... and a band that's actually called sapphire bullets of pure love: as stated previously, at a base level you are all-right in my book. Beyond that, right now and here; you're a delight and I'm grateful.


I've been dreaming; in actuality, trying to have had a dream of a; jellyfish: this is the closest thing to what I think of a jellyfish when I think of you.


You know; when I get down, I try to remember that Celine likes to make people laugh: I'd bet her butler loves her.


I cruise an inadmissable amount of vintage hairstyle photo archives, but, when one contains an album entitled The Italian Boy Look, I listen.


Patricia Piccinini first came to my notice based on some sculptures she did of these hybrid hairless homonid types (I see images of them turn up in those impulse banner ads from time to time: "Is this a nuclear mutant hybrid result of genetic testing? Click here to find out the answer and apply for an online college at the same time.). Her short film The Gathering, kind of brought me to a halt for a second.


I like Martin Parrs's stuff; his Bored Couples series reminds me of this Jon Brion lyricv: Setting traps out in advance/So we could spend the weekend staring in a trance.


The Boton Public Library's photostream is amazing.

Louisiana, as well...


and lastly a dash of Ottoman Calligraphy; I'm hung-over and need breakfast.

Moving...

I'm doing most of my posting at frightenedfields now. Hope to see you there

Back, in subdued effect.

Alright monkeys. I'm back. I'm gonna aim for weekly updates until I get the nerd at home.

aaaah

almost finished moving to new flat. will get the internerd there, so expect more soon.

few and far

I wish I had internet connection in my flat. I would update this with frequency, and I would respond to all those emails from freinds that are drifting further away... sigh. Oh well. I've been keeping a list of things that I want to post on, as opposed to surfing until I found something quirky to comment on. Here we go. First up in my little notebook is Sister Corita.
This is going to be a slapdash affair, but I've got stuff to do today.



I went to Vienna last weekend. I must say that some of the sweetest people I know are Austrian Anarchists. I caught lots of great ART, but this lady blew me away ; Elke Krystufek.




I've got tons more, but I feel the need to leave this cafe and walk around.. Iwas going to write about Jeff Goldblum, DOn Rickles (totally still alive), and my undying love for purple rain...

Lord loves a LuWorm

I was all warmed up to do a rockin' Memphis Minnie post, but I got sidetracked... it happens. I was flipping through pictures that I took whilst walking around during my first few weeks here. It was strange to knit those far-away unknowables with what has become relatively familiar. I didn't realize it then, but I was absolutely on fire on September 19th of last year. These meager few are perfect examples of my generic approach to photographic composition. I could shoot for the rest of my life, and never feel comfortable with what I'm doing with my corners..




















Soooo, that gives a rough idea of an average day for me. I'll be getting internerd in my flat soon, then the real deal will be back in effect. Go ahead and call it a come-back. PS Lord loves a LuWorm most particularly for referencing Ukelele Spaghetti when I mentioned Bob Brozman. Dig up a copy of Blue Hula Stomp!

Kinesthesis

Sometimes I remember where I am, and it puts me in my place. I get exposed to the foreign and familiar with such regularity, that I hardly notice the whirl anymore. I was wandering home last night, and decided to hop a cab. Dawn was rapidly approaching, and I had a bad feeling about a dark alley, plus the cab was right in front of me as I rounded the corner, thinking that I'd never find one. It's strange being and feeling alone on the other side of the world in the middle of the night with a bellyful of Becherovka... then you hop in a cab and Chet Baker is on the radio singing My Funny Valentine. It brought me to a screeching halt. I get plenty of familiar music here, but this was something I truly liked. I talked to the cabbie in my horribly broken Czech about how great I think that song is. We agreed that people don't cotton to Jazz or good music in general anymore. I looked out the window...



It seemed to make perfect sense...



Enough self-important musings. Here's more stupid RTP shi(r)t for the kiddies...



If I started a band, I would call it The Damned Monkeytraps. I stumbled onto some fantastic Bob Brozman clips on Youtube. Many of them have better (read as more) musical performance, but this one is particularly delightful, as brother lays it all out.



What else have I been obsessing over lately? Try Goldie Hawn. SOmeone accused me of liking her only because she's hot. I told them to watch Seems Like Old Times. I could list a dozen movies that I absolutely love her in, without even getting to Private Benjamin. It all starts with Laugh-In, because I'm a huge fucking nerd-o, but, I mean, Jesus, that bikini is iconic to me still.



I've also been trying to absorb all of the Zach Galifianakis that I can. He cracks my shit up. Poke around his site and watch the Fiona Apple Video... seriously.



I've been spun a little on Billy the Kid, as well. Mostly 'cause of the movie, and mostly 'cause of the soundtrack.



Oh yeah! Happy New Year, my little piggies!




Happy Birthday, Yoko Ono!!!



Thank you for Australians, Baby Jesus.



Speaking of Antipodea, watch The Proposition. I'd have checked it out, simply because Nick Cave wrote and scored it, but I watched it twice daily for a week because it's... don't know the word, just watch... I still get all gut-wrenched when the elder brother says, "Why don't you ever just... stop me?"



Ciao for now...

For Olan

I know that I've got some faithful left out there in the ether, but the only one I am certain that still takes a stab at this near-dead site is the big O. Well buddy, this one's for you... I'm rusty, so bear with me. We'll start with the old one-two of cheesecake/comic covers...



I should have never started thinking about cheesecake. I could be at this all day...



Alrighty, howzabout some Kuti?

Dang Dude

It's been almost a month since I posted here. I've been rocking 60 hour weeks, and don't have much time for anything else. It's not that I haven't thought about both of my loyal readers, rather, it's that I've wandered into a shut down mode.
All day, I roll over witty headings for my inevitable next post. I realized that my humor is nothing but dumb puns, for the most. It almost got hopeless. I'd note odd occurrences or peculiar situations to relate. I had begun the long slide towards becoming one of those guys that mutters to himself, feeling self-important and philosophical. On that note, I'll speak up.
I stay away from my flat, even when I'm not working. I'm usually out all day on the weekends and walking. I enjoy joining tour groups. I never actually make the jump to talking with the other members. The main reason for this is that I usually go along with the Russians, Koreans, and Japanese. I eventually split when thay start to notice that I stop and gawk with them.
That leads to this; Men with guns are patrolling the streets of Staromestska and the metro lines. Apparently, some evidence of a potential terrorist plot against the Jewish Quarter, and, by extension, the city itself has come to light. My fanciful mind calls up Brazil, the movie. This info is most likely coming from people who would benefit from having European countries that are on the fence in regards to the recent actions in Oil Country a little worked up about the threat of the brown people from that part of the world and their intentions to kill everything. Czechs are laid back about this kind of stuff. Their attitude is "don't tell me what to do, and I won't tell you what to do." They're allowed this in the world stage, mostly because they aren't much of a power, economically or militarily. It would, however, be another name on the list that GW could show, saying all the while, the Czechs are cool with us fucking with Iran...
I digress. Everyone's a little on edge, and guys with machine guns are patrolling the streets. I heard a fighter jet fly by more than once this morning, and I wondered if I should go and watch the news. A week ago, I was getting on the Metro at Mustek, and an official looking fella was standing by the entrance to the compulsory ticket area at the head of the lengthy escalator. I felt a rush of panic. I don't know why. I had a valid ticket. It's just that the people were lined up, as opposed to rushing through the gates and down to the trains. I thought, "I don't have my passport. " My mind started racing. "Are they looking for bombs?" I really worked myself into a tizzy, and considered walking right out of the station, when a woman with a variety, I'm talking a wide spectrum, of problems, (Mental, Physical, Emotional, et.al), fell down the escalator, and the waiting crowds went nuts, all whooping and hollering. Then it hit me. They're taking retards to the zoo (I'm only paraphrasing The Dead Milkmen, I'd never be so insensitive and crass). It was a field trip from the asylum. I got in line, and went with the flow.
Where a normal tour group glances at me uncomfortably when they realize they've got an other in the group, these guys, the ones with the wherewithal to realize that I'd worked myself into the middle of their group, stared at me like fucking psychoes. I smiled back, and felt great doing it.



Well, I was going to post some mixmusic for the folks back home, but ezarchive is cramping my style. Maybe next time. I'm all jacked up on some high graged granola, fruit, caffe latte, a little fresh squeezed, and a bazillion endless cigarettes, so let's see what I had prepared a month ago... nothing...
Not only has my cd drive completely quit working, but, apparently, my bookmarks folder has been wiped from my computer. I'm pissed now. More later...

Far & Few

I work 12 hour days. I get up at 6:30 in the morning, and my last lesson finishes at 6:30. I'm teaching (2 and 3-year-olds) at a pre-school for five hours, then off to synagogue to teach the Rabbi's 6-year-old, and I finish with adults at various locations throughout town. It's a wear, but fulfilling. It helps that I listen to this most mornings, if I can. It's postal workers cancelling stamps in Ghana. Put it on repeat and try not to feel better by a smidge.



I just heard that the Crocodile Hunter died. I don't know. I can't count the times that I saw him fucking with a cobra or trying to hug a badger and thought that I can't wait for the inevitable show where he finally gets it. Don't get me wrong. It sucks the dude died, but it's hard (for a meager misanthrope as I) not to have thoughts like that when he would announce that he was going to do something seemingly suicidally perilous. "My breath reeks of KFC and I'm gonna give this alligator a little smooch." Do it. Do it. Do it. Today's going to be the day. I'm disenheartened that he was just swimming along, and wham... Bye Buddy. I hope you're fucking with dangerous animals on some higher plane.



The whistling postal workers got me thinking sonically. Peep this shit. I know. I am a cruel bastard.



Speaking of finding shit with sound, found sound.



I steal music... from here.



and here.



OK, enough of that. Chech out some quirky mag covers...



I'm too pooped to pope. Until next time, remember that it's about a blank who wants to blank.

Onkel Zbyndas Winterrock

OK, It seems that I've figured out how to post MP3s. I plan on putting up Czech rarities for the kids back home. Here is a little something called Big Mac by OZW, or Onkel Zbyndas Winterrock from their album Nevergreeny. It's hard to dig up English info on most of these underground groups, and my Czech is meager, at best. I've focused my search on Black Point Label. They haven't led me astray, yet. I found their store while I was wandering the streets one day. It's a total tiny record shop, and I felt immediately at home. Their vinyl was just three pitiful boxes with Styx and Wings and whatnot. I'm off the wax for now anyhow. I was disappointed by the fact that it was just garage sale junk... Then I stumbled onto a mint condition Nick Cave & Die Haut. I had to step away from the wax, but I felt a renewed interest to peruse further. The cat behind the counter seemed a little "eh. I work in a record store, but eh..." I approached him with my mangled Czech. "Hello. I am looking for Czech underground (I actually said Alternatif. Forgive me, but that's what they say.)" He kept pulling out Ska. "No Ska... Please. (Ska being a four-letter word, for me.)" It wasn't working, and his Cosby sweater was forcing me to lose steam. "What do you like? What is new and good?" He recommended the new Red Hot Chili Peppers... I actually frowned. He motioned for me to wait a minute. He went into the back and came out with an absolute record nerd bruiser. A Tubby guy with thick-ass Birth COntrol glasses and a bright red Residents T-Shirt. That frown turned right the fuck upside-down. He didn't speak a lick of English, but he knew exactly what I was talking about. "BlahBlahBlah King Crimson. BlahBlah Zappa. Blahblah Devo." He would grin and nod and come back with a stack of exactly what I wanted. His name is Vasek (Vash-eck). He rocks. He's not a snob:He's a nerd...



What do Bob Dylan, Malcom X, John F. Kennedy, and Fidel Castro have in common?



While I'm getting my nerd on, does anyone remember Mouse?



One blow music/ethno-music/cheesecake/picture gallery geekout, then onto some other nonsense. Turkish Record Covers.



Howzabout the requisite photo site? I know it's not Russian, but the dude's name is Sacha... Waldman, if you're nasty.



Some housecleaning. Do you need a stupid/strange/quirky/offensive/offbeat photo to identify your unique and individaul self to others on MySpace? Steal one from here.



Or an animated gif?



I'm beat. Keep 'em peeled. I'll be back. Meanwhile, I know it's not PC to call orcas Killer Whales, but it's better than Africanized Dolphins.