Archive for September, 2014

September 28, 2014

some excerpts from the prose of the trans-siberian, written by blaise cendrars. i’ve cut it up my own way, a butchering of sorts. (c) Manchester City Galleries; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

— Comets fall —
And a man and a woman, no matter how young, enjoy making love.

The sky is like the torn tent of a rundown circus in a little fishing village
In Flanders
The sun like a smoking lamp
And way up on the trapeze a woman does a crescent moon
The clarinet the trumpet a shrill flute a beat-up drum
And here is my cradle
My cradle

maya goded (maya goded)

Come to the lost islands of the Pacific!
Names like Phoenix, the Marquesas
Borneo and Java
And Celebes shaped like a cat

We can’t go to Japan
Come to Mexico!
Tulip trees flourish on the high plateaus
Clinging vines hang down like hair from the sun
It’s as if the brushes and palette of a painter
Had used colors stunning as gongs–
Rousseau was there
It dazzled him forever
It’s a great bird country
The bird of paradise the lyre bird
The toucan the mockingbird
And the hummingbird nests in the heart of the black lily
We’ll love each other in the majestic ruins of an Aztec temple
You’ll be my idol
Splashed with color childish slightly ugly and really weird
Oh come!

If you want we’ll take a plane and fly over the land of the thousand lakes
The nights there are outrageously long
The sound of the engine will scare our prehistoric ancestors
I’ll land
And build a hangar out of mammoth fossils
The primitive fire will rekindle our poor love
And we’ll settle down like ordinary folks near the pole
Oh come!

Little dove my love
Little cookie-nookie

franz bischoff (franz bischoff)

And my memories
The train thunders into the roundhouse
The train rolls along
A gramophone blurts out a tinny Bohemian march
And the world, like the hands of the clock in the Jewish section of
Prague, turns wildly backwards.

ltvs-matthewbrandt-4 (matthew brandt)

With my eyes closed I can smell what country I’m in
And I can hear what kind of train is going by
danielheadkamp (daniel headkamp)


September 23, 2014

karelappel (karel lappel)
will you still need me, will you still feed me when i’m 64?
gabrielle münter (garbielle munter)
but what i care about now is you needing me and feeding me now
viviannesassen (vivianne sassen)
what will you feed me when we hear the crackle pop (something from the cereal box should be in there) of the fire and the bats overhead -no those aren’t bats, that is just a blue jay, lost in the night, scared, flying away from his problems, his nuts, his squirrels, his lovers, his lakeside view, his city shit, in search of an old lady’s bird feeder because he’s just too tired, too fed up to go looking for those walnuty gnats–
put a marshmallow in your mouth and stop trying to be a poet, you say. so you feed me a marshmallow, numb with sweetness and soft and gooey, you got the job done and i left mute.

September 18, 2014

“One who is capable of anything if you keep him at arm’s length, and who fails completely if you let him come closer to you.”

The mirage oasis not only boasted of friendly talking palm trees, and water jets projecting scented bubbles in each of the pools, but also of a corndog vendor who allegedly sold snow cones flavored strawberry, lemon, and blue, during the summer seasons. Upon arrival at the oasis, however, we were greeted by a tepid grey swimming pool full of algae and a shirtless man trying to scoop out the floating dead lizards from the water’s surface. He wasn’t even a handsome shirtless man, either; he had a hairy belly and hairy feet. There were also no corndogs in sight.
david hockney (david hockney)
We began to forage.

September 14, 2014

carissagallo03 (carissa gallo)

i remember eating mochi in the backseat, on the way back from dumpling city (arcadia). i used to only get the mango kind (chunky mango inside, chilled stretchy goo on the outside, coconut shreds to coat it all), but as i grew, i began to order one of each, adventurous. green tea, strawberry, black sesame. the most delicious turned out to be the black sesame. it was mysterious, too. i could not recognize one element in the black sesame mochi, but i remember it weas sweet, cool, buttery, and chewy. turned my teeth black. (wasn’t that beautiful in ancient japan?) i closed off everything around me except for that texture, surrounding me. an earthy, powdery womb. dark and soft sesame paste until the car drove into our garage and i wasn’t alone anymore.

Ivan Kramskoy (ivan kramskoy)

at the arms and armor court at the met i realize i could really, really, get into weaponry…from japanese swords and battle masks to medieval horse armor and spanish muskets. cowboy guns, too. my jaw drops when i enter the arms and armor court. to be in battle, to feel invincible in silver and steel and iron.

Maurizio-Di-Iorio_11 (maurizio di iorio)

in mexico i ate a lot of peanuts. i’d buy a little baggie like a drug baggie but inside there’s fried peanuts with chilli flakes and garlic cloves and lots and lots of salt. i needed that snack to remind me of my prior life as a whale where gallons and gallons of salt water was my lemonade.

September 8, 2014

loving this music. it reminds me of being on a medieval castle on a cloud, in the future.

“Look into the eyes of a chicken and you will see real stupidity. It is a kind of bottomless stupidity, a fiendish stupidity. They are the most horrifying, cannibalistic and nightmarish creatures in the world.”
― Werner Herzog
also said by him: “At the market I ate a piece of a grilled monkey—it looked like a naked child.”

matisse matisse lady to start the school week seems appropriate.Rogier van der Weyden but it ought to be juxtaposed with a rogier van der weyden.
in other news, sushi with mango in it is as delicious as i remember. juliaborissova
(julia borissova)
henry-roy-04 (henry roy). studies on what it means to feel pink?