May 31, 2010

a successful night back home at Dante's


friday night after happy hour, sushi, beers at Kelly's i made my way to Dante's to see Sara and the Twangshifters show and Elle's burlesque show. it is sometimes strange to go back to Dante's after the heyday of the early 2000's when i was there a lot. i used to hang out with the SG crowd when they first got their start. it is a bit interesting to know how our paths are parallel and that i am the art version of their alt porn.

this was Sara's debut with the Twangshifters and can i just say . you are the coolest gal friend i have. Sara's is one of those awesome models of mine who become great friends and though we have not seen each other in a while, the reunion tonight was well worth the wait. and since she wore that awesome dress/robe, i thought you folks might like a few of the iconic images i have of her in it.

such a sexy kitten . and a trooper since the first time i met her, i made her meet me at magic garden and then she drove my drunk ass home!

May 30, 2010

this message is only for you


my audible hallucination, the beautiful woman who "knows what it is" i am doing. i am waiting for you to stop following me in your parallel path and reveal yourself to me. it may not be our time yet but i could use a shot of your encouragement.

i can sense the next plateau i am going to focus on in my art. i have a triumvirate of the three P's, photography, poetry and painting at my disposal to make this trek with. two of them are for real and one is color and they all are for me.

i want you to orchestrate our connection on a day in late summer or early fall. it will be our first of many for the rest of the year. i will be ready for you as i believe you will be for me. in between now and then i have a plan to pull the strings on. until we smile at each other love.

perspective is the delicious erotica


i am very different in my design for my photography. in that, i am adding a layer of perspective to it that is non traditional from what you see in the acclaimed world of photographers. it is punk to follow your own drum beat and i made a point early on to place my vision upon this art.

everywhere in history the great artists did it from a compulsion to create. of course they sought fame and fortune, but in the end they created the works of art because they had too. that deep deep desire carries with it some form of perspective that i filter through my blue eyes for history to judge its merits, already knowing it is . . .

delicious erotica that moves you!

May 29, 2010

a little farther from perfection


i was sitting in Kelly's last night waiting to go see Sara and the Twangshifters along with some delicious burlesque. i was scratching words on paper trying not to think about how i was really feeling. the words were scientific strewn through normal life scenarios and it made me smile. because just the words are a contextual way of talking about my life.

i love juxtaposition!

it is how my poetry gets such a vivid comparison to my acrylics. this photography is so very beautiful and the ladies who participate are all wonderful. i love the experience of getting to know you in a 4 hour session, of capturing your expression of self. it is after all the deliciousness that is my art.

May 27, 2010

you can't write if you can't relate


you cannot write if you can relate . this adage has gotten me into a little bit of trouble from time to time as you write about heroin use, or street living and then folks assume that it is first person accounts. i compound this impression from folks also because i use the perspective of "i" and they always assume it is truly first person. sometimes it most definitely is, but a great artist or writer can use license to project themselves somewhere they have never been. i can do this because all over this great earth people act the same, cities feel similar and we all share a common set of basic guiding principles.

some of the things i write about i want to experience; some i would rather infer or understand through someone else's experience. can you tell the difference?

May 26, 2010

strawberry blondes are the best


this existential moment is brought to you by a few of my favorite things. like the dimples on the small of a woman's back, the way vanilla perfume smells on a stripper, the cold sweat on a pabst can, the feel of wet film, and the delicious taste of strawberry blond lips.

when you shake off a cloud of mental angst, there is always left a shiny surface that spins your wheel. the reward for hard work and mental struggle, is a limitless energy that only saturation can quench. its the hue of the soul that drips from the eyes and crawls up the skin of your inner thigh. somewhere in the sun is the saturation we both crave.

its the exploration of your sex that tastes just like a strawberry blond on warm summer day.

May 23, 2010

self absorbed agrandizing hooligan


the day, left over from a night not quite
left behind in the thoughts
peoples words can leave a mark
i woke happy to know what i did and did not do
i find that by the time i was in the studio
i was self absorbed
that not even the knowledge of seeing you
could shake this focus on creation
cause really i just needed to be alone
and though i tried and tried to paint
my way to some form of realization
and comfort in this which i am passing through
i know what i do
i wish i could just recognize what part
of the continuum i am stuck on
in a quiet moment i realize i am going through
something very very profound
i know what i do
it is not something you can hide for very long
the nefarious character life
i thought you would like it, i wanted you too

May 22, 2010

its so quiet over there, its a riot over here!


sometimes you grip the wheel to tight and your knuckles go white. other times you let go all together and the wheel drives itself. being a bit more honest of late with my motivations for doing or not doing, and realizing that their is more wiggle room if you are. this usually opens up the opportunities i have been pushing for. it certainly opens up my possibilities to have a conversation that is full of observant truth, ridiculous outcomes, and knowledge you can put away for later.

the tactical change is going to lead to glory, when you are aggressive and focused there is always success to follow. am going to meet the queen by the end of the year. i want the century mark to real in the big fish once TP is up. it is going to be an interesting rest of the year that i am plotting. aim high and accept where your effort lands you!

the thing i love about a futbol match is the cacophony of voices that give you the ambiance of an active art exhibit!

May 20, 2010

going to meet the queen


i have been an aficionado of the sport of futbol since i was three years old. it is a love affair that has been an ever present part of the culture i keep. when you score a hundred goals, you get to go meet the queen. i would like to challenge myself to a wonderful reward after i shoot my first 100 dolls. the reward i deem to be the publication of Twisted Pinups if the market is right. i am at somewhere between 75-80, so i have roughly 25 to go.

so, ladies! let's shoot!

cause i love to make you smile and i know we will create grand art

May 19, 2010

expressing my dissatisfaction


express your disbelief, your sorrow, your frustration
you said this somewhere in a dream
it always seems like i am in a dream of late
this state where i am disconnected
from any reality that is shared with anyone
it takes a while to bleed
the poison from your soul
or so i imagine because even here with you
i feel no connection to you other than this silence
as i cannot express my feel for you
in anything other than smiles, a subtle touch
a set of words and my attention for you
it takes a while to bleed the poison out
dissatisfaction is hard to swallow
until there is freedom and choice
and then, well then love we need to realize
the rest is up to us, to words, touch and our smiles
express what you must and i will accept you

May 17, 2010

the opposite of a rainbow


for so long i did the best i could
but i was not in love
not till you were gone
then i remembered
i loved another, and she
well she was always elegant
in those clothes
and today is for you
the love i could not pursue
it is so natural for me and you
but now that i am free
where are you?

May 16, 2010

silence and exuberance are a viceral experience


you do not see but the two speeds i run at
when everyone is around or it is just you and i
i crave both for the luxury of creation
no one sees the rest of me
no one, even when i crave that comfort
it is strangers where i might find
a little respite from within
i do not want to accept this next step
i need you to do it
to make this happen for me, for us
but i must confess you better desire it
and cultivate the allure i crave of you
this is a done deal
no matter what
we do and say, but it could be epic
a story no one at the bar would believe
or better, its the ones that live in infamy

May 15, 2010

for them . for me . for history . its noir


this past thursday, drunk on pbr and the shite of my week and a bitter Timbers loss. i met someone who used to place bass while i read Manic Rose City. back when i was drunk on pbr and creating art in the loft. i used to be wasted before i even got on stage, slurring and barely able to read my own words. they used to call me the barry white of the Mad Hatter Lounge. it is now called East End, and was once the Noir bar.

i walked back over the burnside bridge into downtown, stumbling, stopping for a piss. think nothing had changed as i used to do this all the way through chinatown and the north park blocks. i always loved the light in the park that late at night. i used to stop for a jay if i wasn't to far gone. tonight i was heading for mg and hopefully emily, but that was a no go. i figured i better get a cab, but there was a part of me who wished i was heading to the loft and you would meet me there. or in the park for some inked romance.

it is sometimes strange to see those glimpses into a former life. it is almost like a surreal deja vu!

May 13, 2010

redheads, blondes, brunettes & bombshell hooligans

just a laugh for the days
when in my bombastic mood
of sunshine and perfect maze
the bombshell hooligans
are all blondes and brunettes
when you crave a redhead
or vice versus depending on the
temperature of the day
it is just that i want
a compatriot to follow me down
these hooligan shenanigans
i find myself in
it is just that i want
something i am not allowed
you love, are so very beautiful
in this noon day sun
your vintage style a gorgeous dress
we should slip off and frolic in the grass
under this noon day sun
where the bombshell hooligans
are all blondes and brunettes
and all i crave is a redhead
with ruby lips to kiss

May 12, 2010

solid state quantification of electron orbitals


this obsession i have is rather interesting to watch sometimes. when the continual change is in effect, we find that self reflection can be critical and productive. almost like the pause at the apex of some climb. i can hear this song playing, something not quite like center of the universe, but i like the heat.

watching the reflection of light off a window in the city. i can see clearly this very day in my past with that light on a different window from a different angle. and this i realize is critical remembrance. then i remember i have always been here before and again will be. you see, this is a question of quantum mechanics, quantized energy levels and simple math strung together.

i have to believe in a future where there is opportunity to pursue this adventure. i like to conceive of some of the more pleasurable details, but right now, i just wish to know a few things about what i should do for the few things i desire. which are the sacrificial lamb, and which will manifest themselves in my reality.

hey doll, another kiss is right on

i was laying in bed last night
thinking of your words
as the fluttered approach
of the nighttime frogs descended
i could hear their serenade
and wondered how i sounded to you
with this love song i keep writing for you
i know i will see you next week
but i could not help but wish that
the sound of your voice was something
i could hear now
that the touch of your skin
and that luscious canvas
could be something i could feel now
listening to your voice in my head
i only wish next week was here
and you were snuggled up to me
now as our bodies entwined
in the saturation that is
the inevitable outcome
of a love song for an inked doll

May 11, 2010

this feeling i cannot shake


i have been having this conversation with myself for damn near several months now and it is not getting me anywhere. i have included a few strangers and a few folks who know me well to help give me insight. it is a little disturbing though when you yourself keep dismissing the answer that others conclude, and what do you do when the answer only makes things worse?

since the baby momma left, i have been trying to reconnect with friends and been trying to connect with myself. all the while coming fully to realize that i lost the best part of my prime life when i was fully in my element. i felt it was the most stable time of my life despite living in my own personal hell. but as i have connected with people i have come to fully understand that i can not get there emotionally. no matter how hard i tried there has been no connection of heart or soul, even with the ladies i have liked and been connected with physically. turns out, i have held the emo connection in reserve and built a little wall or compartment for it that no one can ever get too.
or at least that is what the prevailing sentiment is. i keep thinking it is that i have diverted all that energy to the creation of art, but who am i fooling. it has apparently been going on since before babymomma was even in the picture, some 5-6yrs ago.

the truth is, i have no clue what to do next and feel that all my future holds in reality is my daughter, my art, and the hundreds of people who will pass through my life without ever really making a connection to my emotional well. this artistic life is truly a sad lonely one if all you ever wanted to share it with was a few people who could understand you.

May 10, 2010

not a single flower to pick

i went to make your day
but found that on my walk
i could not find a single flower
to pick and give you
and so when i wrapped on your door
that hark knock of my knuckles
i was empty handed in my quest
to let flowers win your heart
i know i must win you with words
that back up my actions
for it is words that you have feared
and built this wall around
i should win you with a hammer
i can use to chip the rock wall you built
around that pretty little heart of yours
i sit here smirking though
to know i am an artist through and through
i am selfish with my feelings
because emotion is the energy of my art
and the fuel of my mania
even if love, we are able to meet somewhere
in the middle of our lives where my flowery words
and your delicious beauty
seeps into each others soul
what would stop us from our past
that reads more like a tragedy than a happy ending

romance novels, love letters and the next step

a day after i got to play mom as a dad
i was just wondering how you and the girls are
wondering how you can be so much
into romance novels and yet not write me back
a hand crafted letter of love
and i wonder what you think is so different
than those romance novels
it is so very classic from my perspective
the beautiful girl who wants something she reads so often
the dashing man who tries to give it to her
it almost sounds so storybook
considering our lives and our girls
but i learned so long ago
that storybooks are the realm of the imagination
yeah, i am trying to write one for you and i
because i am that kind of man
and i thought you were that kind a lady
i want redemption in my life
more than i want the pain of memory
almost as much as i want your love
to drip upon my soul and shower
the girls and our lives with joy
that everyone is jealous of
as they see us hand in hand
all smiles and sappy wonder
as we gaze into each others eyes
maybe next time i see you
i will just walk up and kiss you
you would know it then
that all i want is to love you

May 7, 2010

a sensational time

i turned around at the familiar touch
your hand on my back
and that beautiful smile
as i turned to stare in your eyes
oh dear i did not expect to see you tonight
and i am flooded with desire
in those delicious eyes
and that luscious smile
of joy and lips and goodness
you are a beautiful golden orb
of scrumptious desire
i could stand here all night and stare
in your eyes, soaking in your soul
with all its wondrous joy
tell me love, did you come here for me
with you touching me
i am nervous of what to say next
but you end this debate
as you lean in and kiss me

May 6, 2010

she said don't talk to him, he is a sinner


it has oh so been a struggle of late. i sort of feel like i need to be doing something else or like there is this alternative world where i am winning all the battles i am loosing. i just feel rather out of step with myself.

all this manic energy and the only outlet is drinking in dive bars and creating art!

but it is the type of energy that needs dissipation and saturation . . .

May 3, 2010

your place or mine


the interesting thing about mania, is that i have seen it all before but every time it seems new at first till you recognize what is happening. this juxtaposition is the internal strife that fuels my need to create and the energy from which i draw. i know the muse which is driving me to create my third poetry book, a love song for an inked doll. i know that i do not get the the dream that this muse has awaken, like all the others this only serves a purpose. for, the thing that i forgot which just experienced again is that i was already given a choice of the muse and the dream therein or immortality. i choose immortality each and every time the devil comes for my soul.

i remember the whisper in my ear, your place or mine? the answer is explicitly lost in the complexity of a moment which always has to do with the time and space you occupy at the moment, not a historical perspective or a future dream, but right now. i can see we are the perfect compliment to my vices.

i sold my soul to the devil for immortality and each time she visits me she takes a part of who i am with her. someday all that will be left are acrylics, words and photographs that tell my story!