Saturday, October 31, 2009

Happy Samhain/Halloween




Greetings on this most sacred of the Old Religion's Holidaze. I really used to be into all that sweet Wicca stuff. 'Least before they went mainstream, and got picky about who they'd let in. Straight-gays are doing the same these daze. Pity.

Anyway back in the day we had a ball! Anarchist Witches, deranged artists, Queer trouble makers, what a gang! They were happy times for me. Swell pals, weird times. Anyway be well, and enjoy the night.

As we used to say, "Blessed Be!"



Friday, October 30, 2009

Monday, October 26, 2009

"Impressed"


Most Angels, and their distant cousins Faeries are actually rather quiet, pleasant folks. They spend most of their time reading usually in large trains stations. That, and taking long walks in bad neighborhoods, and war zones.

Not so they can save us. They know we're more than capable of doing that for ourselves.

They wander through our Hells so they can see 'us' as we really are. No pretense. Just raw human savagery, and cunning. They're fascinated by our ability to survive almost anything.

Our Angel friends are most impressed.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

"I Knew it!"


























Above are some Angels on their break at the Funny Hat Sweatshop on Heaven's Lower Eastside. They gets free ice cream in summer, and half a day off on Lucifer's Birthday.

Seems the Big Guy still has a thing for His former favorite.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

"Uncle Walt"














A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

Walt Whitman

Monday, October 19, 2009

"Seasons Greetings"












(Purgatory, 35th level. Where Sinners who don't take advantage of early Holiday Sales go. Be Warned!)

Yeah it's Christmas in Sept/October. Many shops in midtown are fully dressed in their Holidaze crap, and trying to salvage a disastrous selling season. I'm taking advantage of this financial Armageddon!

My treasury is a fraction of what it was so I'm picking up stuff for the house at serious bargain prices. Granted these low-bidder items were made by political prisoners in China. 'But hey this is an emergency. I can't let my political correctness get in the way of a hot sale.

"Be warned ye Sinners!!"

(My dear pal Nurse Pickles, Commdr. Royal Canadian Navy ret., assists Hello Kitty in a little Xmas dance for you.)

video

(Another famous table dance.)

Sunday, October 18, 2009

"Phone Home"













I have an idea for two little stories. In one I buy an old rotary phone at a flea market. I take it home plug it in, and dial my childhood phone number.

My Mom answers.

Time has twisted on itself somehow via the mixture of old, and new phone technologies, and patched me through to 1960. So there I am with my Mommy on the line. Our phone lines stretching forty nine years to connect us.

I haven't taken this plot further. I think I'm afraid to.

In another story I'm on the train to Hollis Queens. I get off at the Hollis stop, and notice that winter has turned to spring. The platform has shed forty seven years.

Men wear brimmed hats, and all the ladies are in dresses. The streets are fresh, the buildings seem newer, and the cars have fins. According to the newsstands Kennedy is President, and Elvis is still King.

The MTA has delivered me to 1962.

My dear, and long departed Aunt Sybil lives here. We always called her "Mum". No one remembers why. Just as we don't know how my sister became "Cookie".

Anyway back then this part of Queens was still suburban. I'd forgotten how lovely it was before the city swallowed it up. I walk to Auntie's house. I ring her bell, she opens the door.

"Hi Mum" I quietly say.

She knows who I am at once, and invites me in. I pour my heart out to her just as I did as a lad. She cooks as she listens.

I'm "almost an old man" I tell her. I'm "tired, sad", and confused. The 21st century is a cruel, and bitter place. I can't find the strength to keep faith with all she, and my Mother had taught me. She listens, and comforts, and instructs as only she could.

I mention our going to the moon then stopping. Never it seems to return. She smiles as I describe our little robots driving around on mars, crashing into rocks, and flipping over into ditches. I tell her about our Negro President. She nods thoughtfully.

I spend an afternoon in 1962 with Auntie. Back there when our biggest problems were merely nuclear wars, and racial intergration. Such an innocent time it was.

After a wonderful meal, and helpful words I leave my version of Heaven. Mum keeps our trans temporal meeting her secret.

47 years to the day later my cousin, Mum's only surviving son, hands me a sealed note.

Yes, It's from my dear Auntie. She set it aside to be delivered to me over twenty years after her death.

What does it say?

I don't know.

I haven't opened it yet.

"Dolls"
































































So I went'n bought some more dolls. Me, and my pal Nurse Pickles was wandering around down by Brooklyn College window shopping. We went into Targets where I priced odd'n ends that I needed for my new house.

Btw "B.C." is where Allen Ginsberg was boss of the English Department. Cool that. Anyway I was broke last week so held off draining my debit card. However last night I went back, and picked up the stuff.

Socks, underwear, a new quilt, lamps, assorted junk, and I priced some curtains. I got a new camera too. It's much better than the last one, but uploads dark.

Da'fuck?!!

I have to figure that noise out. It looks swell on the screen, but fucked up, and blurred on the blog,...arrrrrrrrrrrgggg!!!!

They look better when you click on'em.

Beside that gaff I'm domesticated now. House broken at last.

So I bought some dolls.

These are Juku's. Some sort of Nipponese anime things. Hey believe it or not I'm not an eleven year old girl so I have no idea what all that's about. Other than they're cute.

My hobbies keep me sane in the same way that vast amounts of speed, and cocaine used to cure my critical ennui. Dolls are cheaper, and won't kill me. I'm planning to get the whole set plus all their junk.

However what I really want is a cat.

I asked the business office of the gangsters that owns this building, and they turned me down,...again. "If we let you have a pet then your neighbors will get lions, and tigers, and bears." ...oh my!

The nice lady really said "tigers", and "bears, but added snakes instead of lions. Fans of the Emerald City will have heard of folks out here having just such pets.

There was a guy in the Bronx with grown tigers, and giant python in his digs,...swell.

He cried when the cops finally removed them, "...I love them", he pleaded. Good grief, such is life in the big city.

'Think I'll just collect dolls, and build scale models, and leave it at that. If I really want dangerous company I'll go to a ball game.



Seriously cute, but I only want one. Tell'ya what. As not to break up the set I'll take both, but I'll keep one in the freezer. When one wears out I'll defrost the other.

I don't see a problem here.

"The Duce"
































































The "Duce" or as cultural civilians calls it Times Square. For a good chunk of the 20th century it was a magnet for armies of con artists, whores, hustlers, winos, junkies, comrades of the third sex, drunken sailors, and marines.

Not to mention the occasional waves of the dispossessed arriving at the port authority bus terminal. Btw that joint was prime hunting grounds for them chicken hawks as well.

Oh the "Duce" where I bought my first Gay Porn as a teenager. Saw my first acts of police brutality. My first dead guy, and my first act of public sex. Well it wasn't that public. It was on the balcony of the Amsterdam movie house.

All this, and more.

Heck I can remember when just walking down 42nd between 7th, and 8th was an adventure few would believe. The pavement was black with gawd knew what.

I loved it.

However for the last ten years or so it's Disney on the Hudson. My wanderings on the Duce tonight was about as exciting as a trip to a mall. Yeah, yeah it's clean, safe, and there's still hot dawgs.

Fun for the whole family, but it ain't New Yawk anymore.

"Eh,..."












I'm having sort of a weird day.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

"On the Other Hand"












Besides all the hand ringing, meds taking, and street brawling I've been up to lately there's good newz. Well a bit anyway. My scripts have been approved for them kids show segments.

I mention a few rants down that a pal had just got a morning radio program. He's going to be doing that NPR/Pacifica fast moving segment stuff. He wants some kiddie action in the mix so here I am.

I'm perfect for the gig. I never grew up, I have time on my hands, and I'm in trouble with the law,..almost.

I'll let ya know how it turns out.

Btw if I can figure out how I'll post my audio segments here.

Stay tuned.

"Street Brawl"












(Me, on right, with the Perp.)

Okay so I got into this hassle with some uniformed nut, and the 'real' cops was called. Imagine. Calling the cops on sweet'n gentle me. Anyway I was gonna slug this guy 'cause he was trying take me down.

I'm leaving out the dreary details other than we was two shabby old guys in a pointless head lock.

The cops came, and told us to "behave", and be nice old guys. We should be "ashamed" at doing shit like this at our age. Mind you the heat, a salt'n pepper team, was 12 years old at most. You know you're up there when not only the cops, but 'everybody' looks like a young kid to you.

Anyway this is the first public offense I've committed in maybe 40+ years. It made me wonder what the hell is going on. Maybe like I sez in the below post folks including me is losing it.












(Corporate Cops arrest John Lennon look-a-like.)

There's too many uniforms around for my taste these daze. One loses count of the private armies, and cops in the thrilling age we're wading through.

Too bad I don't drink, and have taken the "pledge" as far as hard drugs goes. So all I have left is prayer, and you. Well okay a few other things too, but you gets the picture.

What really happened?

Aw heck, it was just a tumble between me, and a security guard. We have corporate police, and corporate armies since 9/11. This particular aged bully boy took himself too seriously. ...he got on my nerves.

Stay tuned.

(Rant illustrated by "Sydneytoon Studios".)

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

"Betrayal"















Yeah okay I've been playing it cute, and silly of late. This I guess because I feel so tired, and fed up. This country is going down the shitter, and we all know it. Ranting won't change that.

The 'fix' is in.

Millions are losing everything they worked all their lives for. There's no rescue, no "Bail Out" for them, and they know it. You know it. I've noticed a sea change in attitudes all around me. Some are raging others resigned. I do both as you see.

I at this point I wish Palin were president. It would least be 'interesting' evil. As opposed to just the usual shabby betrayal.

Yeah time to take the damned meds.

I am 'trying' to be cheerful ya know.

"A Small World"



Sunday, October 11, 2009

"Feed da Fishies!"



Hi gang.

Here's a new toy for you.

Just click anywhere in the yellow area, and feed the happy little fishies! They'll follow your cursor around too.

Yep daze, and daze of cyber fun for the 21st century shut-in.

Think "Pong" with fins.

Btw, click on this photo above. I think we've all had a dream like this at least once.

"Disappointment We can Believe In"



I know the job is thankless, and tough, and Fox News is rallying people to shoot him. However fer christ'sakes Mr. Prez give us 'a little' something!

Anything!

Friday, October 9, 2009

"Childs Play"













A pal in the biz just asked me if I'd like to write for a children's show. Of course I said yes having no idea what I'm getting into.

Well okay 'some' idea. Back about 5000 years ago I produced, and hosted a children's radio program.

That's how I got the nick name "Uncle" from my comrades. Anyway now in my cranky late middle years I haven't a clue as to what today's little bleeps are up.

So I'll write what 'I' like.

Last time around I talked about the stuff 'real' kids had to deal with. Life, death, guns, drugs, sex, school yard politics, and laffs.

I had no illusions about childhood innocence. No such animal. Hey I'm an ex-kid I know the drill. Remember the dirtiest stories even invented were made up by 12 year olds.

Anyway as is the current custom on the air they want little three or four minute bits. Fine. That suits me. Just enough time for a juicy blog-like rant.

Stay tuned.

"Every Dream has a Price"



Thursday, October 8, 2009

"2012, The Living End"



"2012",...or how a movie made me wet my pants. I'm a stone cold from way back horror, and disaster film fan. However from what I've seen of this flick,..good frigg'n grief!! It scared the bleep out'a me.


(Btw, click on the poster to see California breaking off into the Pacific.)

This is the first time in my life that I've been 'horrified' by a horror film. "2012" was a serious handful even for an old horror vet like me. Mind you I only saw 'part' of a work print,..don't ask.

That was enuff!!!!

Don't go to this film expecting the usual bullshit. "2012" is a serious piece of work that pulls no punches. If you wants to be informed, terrified, disturbed, and entertained all at the same time then this your date flick.

Btw yeah they show you 'everything' as in EVERYTHING!

Mind you there's always the chance that they'll totally fuck it up. The final work 'could' be a piece of shit. Hey we're talking Hollywood here. However if we're lucky this'll be a landmark in the genre as opposed to just another clunker taking advantage of all the 2012 hooha.



Stay Tuned.

"Why Can't Life be like a Movie?"








Maybe I should clarify.

Why can't I be in a 'happy' movie. Most of what ya gets these daze is either stupid or evil. Zombie, vampire mailmen that suck your brains out,...through your eye sockets. That or surreal love stories about rich drones that fuck alot, and drive 1938 Bugatti's.

Nah, I wanna live in one of them hopeful Capra fantasies. The kind where some good hearted yokels go through some contrived hooie, but in the end all's well.

I want to be the crusading teacher, pastor, or reporter. There's always one'a these swell guys in the script. Always fight'n for the innocent!

Usually some old guy is losing his farm or a bunch of cute depression era kids are about to be dumped into an evil orphanage.

The farmer might go to the glue factory, and the kids could get sodomized, flogged, and generally bleeped to hell'n back.

Somewhere in all this I gets to make this passionate speech, or sermon or editorial. This usually saves everybody, and I get the girl or boy in the end.

Yeah okay Capra never did gay stuff,..that we know of, but you get the picture.

In the final scene gramps is on his farm knee deep in pig shit, and the kids are back on the block stealing stuff, and breaking windows.

'All happy as junkies that stumbles onto 50 kilos of China White. (...uncut.)

The music swells, and the credits roll.

What could be better. That, and no one has to see the messy contradictions of the film's characters getting on with everyday life after the lights come up.

This is why we love movies so much, and why I wants to live in one.

The dream world that these flickering phantoms live in. Their universe, their eternity is one that has never, 'never' had a backed up toilet or stubbed toe.

Wow! Great scene, bless'em!

Sunday, October 4, 2009

"Okay, Okay!"












"You've convinced me. So stop nagging."

Well 'mostly' convinced me. My pals from all my various worlds, radioland, the blogsphere, and my family are all pissed at me for wanting to disappear back on to the streets.

...and this with winter coming on.

'Back onto streets, and or railways. In fact after a while out there most of my time 'was' spent on trains of one kind or another.












At first I did the subways which I lived on for a time. Btw That's my HO scale IRT No.4 train up there.

Hey there's no manual for being homeless. I learned real fast to get the hell out'a them tunnels. Amtrak, and the LIRR made more sense.

That's where the middle class homeless hid out. Them that still had jobs or savings that is. There's a book or little movie in that part of my adventure,...more later.

Anyway I went into this seriously grim despair recently, and considered returning to my life on the outside.

My return to property holding normality hasn't had the power on me that some hoped it would.

Still doesn't, but I'm doing the best I can. I went from bourgeois boredom to homeless destitution, and back.

Btw a friend suggested I get a book out as soon as possible. This because they'll soon be a glut on the market of stories like mine. What with the financial meltdown kicking 'real' people onto the streets.

This as opposed to the usual poor, and unwhite.

There's dough to be made getting in early on the "I was a homeless interior designer" market. I wait too long and tear stained saga's like mine will be a penny a dozen.











Anyone out there wanna be my agent?

"To Hell, and Back", ...or how to get difficult old relatives to give you all their money before they drops dead"

It'll be a six cd set with t-shirts, and hats available through the website.

It 'was' Hell btw.

I saw, and did things you couldn't imagine. I thought I was a cynical, tough guy. I didn't know shit. No one who hasn't been out there has a clue.

The world of my dispossession was far more concrete than anything I've ever experienced. It's as if my whole life up to then was movie out of focus.

Turns out I'm in a badly written student film. Here I thought I was in one of them high brow Bergman deals.

Figures.

Maybe if I'd actually gone to war as a kid. To Viet-Nam instead of getting a "medical" discharge I'd feel different. They kicked me out for being Queer. Oddly enough I 'wanted' to stay in. I'll tell ya that story sometime.












Anyway as a deranged ex-soldier I'd already have a prolonged life, and death trauma under my belt to sort the bullshit out of my life.

As it happened, and at a rather late date, 'another' unexpected trauma took me to the edge of the pit. ...and now I wanna go back.

Like old grunts returning to their battlefield.

They need to see it again. To make sure it really happened. That they saw what they saw, did what they did.

That's where I am now.

Mind you I 'do' love my new home. I love working on it, and I love giving dinner parties. I'm evolving into the perfect bourgeois hausfrau. However there's all this other stuff still echoing in my guts.

I loves ya all,...well maybe not 'all', but most of ya.

More later.

(This annoying tale was illustrated by assorted cute stuff from my toy box.)

"....now you're sure it'll wash off..."












"Trust me."

"A Doll's Life"










































You know I can't help it. I just love my dolls.

Btw I haven't taken any new snaps of the little sweeties 'cause my camera's busted.

I'm as broke as everybody else so I'm waiting for a proper sale before I gets another.

No new snaps of weird stuff for a few weeks,...sorry.

"Lady's Cotillion"





























These cute figurines are very like the ones my Grandma carried with her. This during her hair raising adventures through the late 19th, and 20th centuries. My maternal granny was born in 1895.

Her little figurines still exist somewhere in the female line of the family. This because guys would ebay anything nice before ya buried. Men have no sense of history.

Family or otherwise.

The paper dresses hug out to dry was my Mom's thing. During the last Great Depression that's all girls could have,...paper dolls. In fact they were my first toys. Some of her childhood paper dolls were passed to on to me. I was so clearly a fairy it only made sense.

My wings were a dead give away.

Speaking of history, and trying to make sense. My dear sister Sylvia,...the one who rescued me, and helped me get my new house. Anyway she had that DNA thing done. 'Had a DNA sample taken from herself, and me.

This to finally discover who the hell we were.

My family is like Obama's. Indeed when I was little I didn't know there was anything like race. This since all my cousins went from ivory to ebony, and most shades in between. I innocently thought that when a mommy had a baby it could be anything, any color.

We were 'people', that's all, and that was that.

Of course I found out very different when I went to school. The "N-Bomb" dropped on me every five minutes. I had to ask Ma what it meant.

Imagine my surprise.


"A SECOND OPINION?"

The family DNA search results finally came back this month.

"Well bleep me on the court house steps at high noon!" ...as Senator Strom Thurmond used to say. He was a particularly unpleasant racialist Southern politician of the 20th century,..with a secret black daughter.

Never mind I understand. My great, great, grandfather was not only white, but an officer in the Confederate army. Is this an interesting country or what.

Anyhow it turns out that although Brown, and with hard to place features we aren't exactly black. Well okay Black by the "One Drop" laws of the slave era United States of America.

They passed them evil things to broaden the category of people that could be included in the slave economy. You could be a slave, and owned by your first cousin. Again, is this one very strange, and interesting country.

As for 'my' family. What are we?

Well according to this most of my ancestors on Dad's side are Native American. Plains folks it seems. Apache, and Sioux with other groups, Scots-Irish as well. No surprise there we knew this from family history.

On my Ma's side, here's the surprise.

We assumed the report would say some variation of Caribbean Black, and Chinese. My maternal Grandma, and her family was mostly China folks.

My racist chinese cousins used to call us "yell'ah niggers" when we grew to be teenagers. ...we weren't yellow, but you get the picture.

The racial innocence of our childhoods was over. Decades later we 'still' don't speak.

Pity.

However the surprise. Ma's ancestors are Northern Ethiopians, and Middle Easterners. Basically the Fertile Crescent. Sub-Sahara Africa, and China doesn't seem to be seriously in the mix.

Imagine that.

This will cause a few cousins that fancy themselves Zulu Warriors some bad moments. I imagine they might want a second opinion.

Me I'm fine with it.

I like this post-racial stuff. Yeah it's baloney when ya comes down to it. What with racial assaults, and killings still common, and everybody wanting to shoot Obama, but still.

Anyway I'll post the finer points of all this DNA hooha when I gets time later in the week.

Btw I 'do' recommend this stuff.

It ain't 'that' expensive, and it's bound to generate all sorts of family mayhem. Black bigots will find out they have white ancestors. Aryan nazi, racist nutjobs will discover all sorts of interesting relatives in their wood pile.

Americans, such as we are, would finally get a dose of reality if we 'all' did a search.













Above is a recent self-portrait. You can clearly see my family's interesting ethnic mix.

There's rumor of alien abductions in the family tree.

That might explain the eye stalks that appears in this or that generation. Otherwise we're just folks.












Me hang'n with my cousins. Yeah you might say we have a unique family backround.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

"Everyone Gets a Big Slice!"

























Please, have more!

These are 'such' hard times. Despite that you've all been such good girls'n boys. So I just wanted to do something nice for you!.

...now who wants to lick the bowl?





Future historians, if any, will watch the above in amazement. All the interconnecting webs of post industrial society were rapidly, and violently bursting apart.

A dark age of genocides, mass starvations, wars, rising seas, and spreading deserts were upon us. Yet we spent our time looking into assorted sex scandals, ethnic fear mongering, and cream puffs.

The cream puffs were of course understandable, but the other mayhem,...good grief. I remember seeing them Klan guys on a trip down South when I was little.

Humm, maybe we should offer a prize,(..eh, for the next of kin), to the first nazi that wears a kluxer outfit on South 8th Street at 2:00am on saturday night in East St. Louis.

Now that's a video I'd watch!

Friday, October 2, 2009

"Shit Storm"











I'm really trying to be up, jolly, and witty for you all, but I'm in a mood like everyone else. Foul bleep is going down all over the country.

Just about everybody I know is hurting. Com'on we're at war, there's a depression, Obama is betraying the great trust we gave him.

All the films suck, and are sequels of earlier even stupider movies. Even worse there's 'still' nothing worth watching on tv. Btw, stay the hell away from powdered potatoes, and all that other micro-waved food. ...trust me on this one.

So you see my problem.

I'd run some porn videos to distract you from all this shit, but Blogfart is seriously into deleting, and censoring.


However I'll take a chance and lay on some Chris Rock.