Archive for August, 2010:
Hello friends –
I’ve posted a collection of photos I took on my Brad Roberts Facebook page. Friend me, and you can check them out, if this appeals to you.
I’m doing a collection of 5 shots each day. Today’s collection is devoted to curbside, street level points of view. Plenty of beautiful trash (yes, that’s right, trash; in nyc, trash is often spectacular.) There is also a gorgeous fire hydrant, and a peculiar structure left over from a work site.
Hope you can friend me and enjoy. We are still wrestling with my jpg attachments on this blog. When that is over, I’ll post them here. In the meantime, check out: http://www.facebook.com.
Hope to hear from you!
Hey, listen to me spout off on BBC Radio 4 at http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00tfd17/Today_23_08_2010/. My interview is only 2 hrs 26 minutes in.
I’m resurrecting a novel I shelved 10 years ago and am publishing it serially in coming weeks. It will be right here on this blog. It’s quite an undertaking, to wrangle something from the old manuscript, but I think it’s going to be fun. You can decide.
I’m also making an effort to post my photography daily on facebook, just because I can. All the shots so far have been in my neighborhood here in Soho, NYC. Today they are all shots taken at night. Some are pretty cool.
Back to my work on the book.
I have given up on baking bread. It’s way too hot to bake in the summer. Even just cooking a hot meal is bad. But the cool breezes and rain yesterday were encouraging. Any reprieve is welcome. Yesterday the humidity was like a jungle’s.
A MAN CALLED PIGFACE
On July 10, 1974, an unassuming man was gearing up for his job that night. He was small in stature, but quick on his feet; his eyes were bright and alive to the world. His face appeared somewhat flattened out. His forehead protruded: and this, combined with a nose which seemed to spread across his face, created a kind of strangely brooding effect, stamped, as it were, forever onto his expression.
He hummed a mindless little melody as he checked over his weapons. He kept a tiny apartment in an unremarkable small town in Manitoba, where he had only the barest essentials. It was like a satellite around which he revolved, doing jobs around the province for drug dealers, farmers, and lawyers and doctors alike; whether in town, country, or in the city Winnipeg itself. Put simply, he made people disappear, for a fee. And it seemed there was always someone who wanted someone else to disappear. Or at least enough for a man to make a living.
It should be noted that the man did not have an evil heart: he did not harbor Ill feelings towards his victims, he killed the men on a purely professional basis. He felt no remorse, and indeed had no reason to; the men he killed were themselves killers. He did a good job and was well respected; there is, as they say, honor even among thieves. In his personal life, which was not significant, he rode the ups and downs as well as he could. He was unattached to any female and his only family concern was his mother, who he kept comfortable with an allowance at an expensive Senior Citizen’s home.
His job tonight was routine: a small biker gang, petty rivalry. He would play his part, make a large sum quickly, and go back into his carefully-monitored world. But it wasn’t a routine job after all.
The man received 15 years without parole. The judge wanted to set an example. These biker wars were scaring voters, and besides, the man gave him the creeps, with his forehead and nose.
The moment his sentence was passed, he knew he would be out in the world again long before 15 years had passed. He would find a way; it was, for him, a given. For he was a man so constituted that he could look at the situation no other way.
Some of you may know that I have taken up yoga with a vengeance. I did this very reluctantly, as I am not inclined towards the spiritual realms (just listen to my records and you’ll get the picture). But I was in terrible shape, and yoga turned around my whole situation.
Now that I’m more deeply immersed in the yoga culture, my suspicions mentioned above are being confirmed. So many of these people are looking to be fixed by someone else, rather than be an active participant in improving their health and their lives. This is a key notion in so many of our endeavors: do we want someone to wave the magic wand and take away our troubles? Or are we willing to work for it?
Further, almost all forms of yoga seem to be subject to the vagaries of 21st century advertising hype, notably the eroticization of images in yoga. Take a look at some yoga photographs sometime. So much of it is practically soft porn. We see girls with their skimpy bikini’s doing yoga on the sand, while the surf rolls in, with the sea and sky beyond under a setting sun. Often we see poses that involve two people, and often this is highly reminiscent of the girl-on-girl action in soft porn, their bodies beaded and glistening, limbs entwined.
But perhaps most annoyingly of all are the yogis who simply ape the words of their “guru”. Truth is not merely universal, but also local and historical (hold that paradox, because it’s just the way things are), and NO ONE has the last word on ANYTHING, including, of course, me.
In any case, I encourage anyone who wants to work their bodies in ways that are almost magical at times, to go ahead and try yoga. But bear these pitfalls in mind. I’m sure I’ll get a lot of negative feedback on this. But hey, when did I ever shrink from controversy? xo Bard
I’ve got nothing to say today, so I just posted some shots i took over the weekend. if you want to check them, they are on my facebook pages, both the one for brad roberts and the one for crash test dummies. hope you enjoy them. and thanks for checking
as a one-time bartender – and bar-attender! – i know for damn sure that people get a little freaky when it is a full moon. it should come as no surprise, even to those of us who are not superstitious. after all, the moon pulls the oceans’ tides with massive power, are not unrelated to menses, and as any bartender will tell you, makes people act damn crazy.
however, today is the new moon, a time for setting intentions, a sober look into the coming lunar month. i still want a drink, but there you go. so, if you have any promises you want to keep to yourself, consider this your friendly opportunity extended by black moon, welcoming the unknown possibilities that only come in darkness.
i will be interviewed, do some live playing and listen tour our new record on the “sunday breafast show” broadcast on WFUV, best radio in new york city. i’ll be on between 8 and 11am. rob morsberger accompanies me on piano, a format i’ve never used – just my voice and a really fanatastic keyboardist, string arranger, and generally brilliant man. check it out!
Is anyone out there old enough to remember when a slide at the park was made of shiny, sun-baked metal, and had an almost vertical descent? That was good stuff. Slides these days are made from ugly plastic, and are spiral shaped so as to make the descent more gradual, safer, and, let’s face it, much less fun.
My father used to drive me around in the basket on the front of his bicycle. We did not wear helmets; the wind blew through our hair. Today such a thing would be heretical.
Call me reckless, but I’m sad to see the bad old days come to an end. And I guess this is where i leave off, and you all crucify me! The story of my life. Happy hammering!
thanks alan, john and mishell.