he really is 138

we are 138 is a great misfits song, if you didn't know or forgot or didn't care, isn't he the cutest little fiend. look at that little devil lock.

http://www.onethirtyeight.com/main.html

alphabet chair

i found the problem with these old paintings was that they were all just too large for any one's home, this thing is four foot square, painted on Masonite with oil paint, really washed out with turpentine, and graphite.

message in a bottle

one super low tide, Autumn day Chris O and i decided to hike around Hobuck point and see what was there, we'd seen waves out there all morning, we took the dogs and started walking, we found a hobo camp full of mussel shells, a TV, and this bottle, i have always wanted to find a message in a bottle, and here it is, i found it, right there on the rocks, mixed in with all the Asian drink bottles and twigs.

a day in the life of a surfer

i received this book for x-mas from Toby and Suzanne, it sat in the branches of our tree till x-mas day and when we opened it, wow, we were impressed, the book is tiny and illustrated and beautiful. Dashiell and i are drawn on page ten, playing ping pong, f-you beer pongers for ruining a straight edge domain, again, damn you drunks.
i especially like page seven's, drawing of some one putting on a wet suit in the door of a HiAce, how come everyone in the whole world gets to go surfing in a badass Toyota van, and we can't, we have to pretend its the eighties in our van, or a gas guzzling ford, and creep out all the kids.
oh, wait, i was reviewing this book, so good, so small, so efficient, i love art, this book should be framed.

thanks Toby, thank you Suzanne.

dead ender

i couldn't remember if i had read this book when i was a kid, and now it seems a little dated, being from '85, practically the seventies and all.
i guess i'm a little dated too then, so if i read this in the eighties i couldn't remember it. it's one of those books that have been around forever and i've picked up thousands of times.
and now i know why
it's a really great book
and a book that tricked me right up until the end, shit, just as Ender tricks everyone else in battles, the author does the same to us, so sweet, i almost cried.
starting out like a typical seventies book about a freaky super boy who is picked on, and who rises to power and personal empowerment, you really root for him, every scene, and he's vulnerable and wicked and smart, I want to be Ender. fight bullies and kill buggers, who maliciously attack our colonies, and buck military martial law.
if your an oldster go back and read it when your sixteen, if your sixteen, wait awhile.
Now i have to read all the other books Mr. card has written, man i ain't got that kind of time what with the modelling career and signing autographs and swimming laps with aquaman.

wasp car

this painting lives in St. Louis. there's a funny film of this painting being washed, out side the old Joe Felner compound. in the sun with a garden hose and sponge, i don't know how your supposed to wash an oil painting. 48"x48" that's a big painting. I have three missing paintings lost in Oregon somewhere, which i am trying to find, just like this only better. one of them is titled,
No allegiance but the applause
i love that painting, maybe some one boarded over their windows with them and sits in the darkness, on a couch eating potato chips and hating. or writing poetry about dust.
lets go for a road trip and find 'em.

the stinker

if you could take all the lyrics to all the original misfits songs and take out the music and add more unrealistic horror you could create novels like this.
and now i think i love Neal Asher novels, they are bloody and violent and full of monsters who are just invincible, true pulp as written in the fifties, they should never make hard cover versions of his work straight to yellowed trash i say, throw away wonders.
the shake and bake new novelist do this thing where they take way too many characters, way too many story lines, way too strong bad guys and throw them all together on an island, a planet , a. . . somewhere and they all start killing each other with gore and blood and greasy explosions. Frankenstein meets the aliens vs the AI controlled planet, oh wow, a talking spaceship.
oh wow a giant leech.
oh shit, supermen again. living gods who will always save the day, didn't see that coming, and so addictive, the book wouldn't leave my hand, my thoughts, my lap, and that is why i hate scifi and love it with a passion, and am so incredibly embarrassed to say this.

read all these novels. now.the brass man, gridlinked and cowl.

now, i know the idea of these Brits, here it is, very straight forward.
rewrite the golden era of science fiction, right down to the human killing robots. Asimov be damned, there are no rules of conduct. men smoking pipes in spaceships. sexy alien ladies, xenophobic hordes, and rubber gods. pure pulp space opera, crappy gold. Jehoshaphat, i can't even look in the mirror anymore, what have i done with my life.

this, I'm going to rewrite the foundation series, starting , now. . . alright maybe after lunch.