A (satur)Day in the Life of Que McCormick

First of all, this was a gift from her bartender at Williamsburg Cafe:


Oh, sweet magic. Too bad this girl has given up the elixir.

Anyhow, on my visit to ny, I was able to follow her around "en route" Saturday afternoon to see what her minimum wagey's are like. Needless to say, I wish I could promote trendy local artists in a hip town like Wburg for cash!

The journey begins with...

this huge fat cat at a bookstore called "READ". Jackie told me she goes and pets her while she sifts through the shelves and shelves of books about Buddhism and Zen. (And Nick is paying her for this?!)



She looks like Dagny's mother - long lost family!!! Let's just say I am glad she works in a bookstore and isn't hoe-ing it around town making millions of little Dagny's. I think it's safe to say Mrs. Dagny is an incredibly celibate nerd.



We were testing the length of Jackie's hair by stairwell steps instead of inches. The answer is 2 1/4.



"Okay guys, seriously, I need to go hand these out to people."



Jackie attempts to escape our company but we tracked her ass like Sacajawea:


After extensive stalking, we finally got her to stop and give us a bit of history behind this wburg graffiti mural.



A girl went around NYC and set up these simple, sturdy benches against sign posts to mark places where she thought people should take a moment to sit down and observe the beauty in that particular photo clip of the city.


I think it is quite obviously why this benchmark was placed here...


We need to stop and take a closer look in life.




My recent outlook on life is that we should all be alive like we could have a novel written about us, or write our own autobiography and stay INTERESTED, ENTHRALLED in it. This takes an attention to detail and an appreciation for the particulars.

Why SHOULDN'T we live like we're being narrated and everyone wants a peek into the plotline? Yes, I just watched Stranger Than Fiction last night with Will Ferrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Dustin Hoffman. If you've seen it, you'd probably agree: "why would anyone ever want to write a story about Harold Crick?" Well, my friends, it is the person who seeks details and thrives on the minutia in life that finds the entertainment and irony in stories like DEATH & TAXES. You think anyone would ever want to be Bartleby the Scrivener? No! But his story is intriguing because Melville found a way to extract the curiosities behind a superficially bland, boring character. Finding a philosophy from a IRS tax auditor's life is not an easy task, but it is possible. If that is possible, any one of us young folk shouldn't have lost hope yet that we are capable of living an interesting and fulfilling life.

Reason I liked the movie? Because it taught me something. It wasn't in a quick cliche quotation like "Live every day to its fullest!" "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today!" Kay Eiffel, the author of Harold Crick's novel says some very insightful things to Dr. Jules Hilbert in one of the last scenes. So this blog doesn't turn into a movie spoiler, I will allow you to check it out for yourself. . .

If my afterlife is watching a movie of myself when I was alive, I want to watch a good flick; I wouldn't want to be bored all over again. So I might as well entertain myself while I am alive and doubletime the entertainment for my after world.



Okay, waaaay off initial blog topic of Jackie's Flea Market Promotional gig in Williamsburg. But I do give props to Que for finding a job that enjoyable. Kudos and continue exploring your weekends in Wburg!!!

and one last post before sleep ensues...

...and i know this is not what you thought it would be
no whips no chains just dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing dancing...



And that we are... we're all just hangin from the wire...



Horton hears a HOOT

Mock, yeah. Ing, yeah.

What better thing to do on a sunny saturday in brooklyn than to mock things in the burg?

mock viking...



mock purple bicycles



mock shadow



mock brown shoes



mock dog squat



mock "The King"



mock mannequin



mock BIRD!





Have you heard?

Everyone loves time travel!

Prior to AGrey's exhibit, we attended a drum circle for the Full Lunar Eclipse! (that we half-way missed due to Wburg and subway and sweet potatoe fries, but really because of our own tardiness).

"Well, its a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes - A fantabulous night..."



And just before that, some 23rd St Duane Reed (sp?) shenanagans (sp?) ...



Where's the camera?



Oh, there it is! There I am!



Squat - -



Pose ! !

CoSM

What better way to begin this string of blogs than with a fun mirror of funny faces from Alex Grey's Chapel of Sacred Mirrors? It was the only portion of the museum we were allowed to photograph and so we did- extensively. Here are some of the best:







Thank you to all participants (Jackie Sammy Rizzo Chelsea me) for obscuring your faces beyond recognition. Yea ugly!

Where do you get the nerve?

Indigo,

How can you be so bold- claiming a place on the electromagnetic color spectrum? Everyone knows your the "grey" of Blue and Violet: an amalgamated hue. Even in ROYGBiV, you are lowercase.

I am creating a new rainbow for the all-too-confused, self-assured colors such as you.


Fulvous Saffron Lime Aquamarine Indigo Burgundy


There. Now you have a rainbow more suitable for you.



A Rainbow has six colors; I don't care what anyone says (especially not you, Indigo!)


(and here are some color swatches, in case you are unfamiliar with this rainbow)


a fulvous duck


saffron batik


a lime lawn chair


a nicely shaped aquamarine backdrop


indigo (children)


sweet velvet burgundy (shade of Dubonnet)

dagnabit!

Ears as caves with coral-pigmented stalagmites
Erect as cars pass beyond the double-glazed window
Triangles lose hypotenuse

Also fell flat when she
first saw her reflection
(a hiss at herself)

Viridescent orbs speculate luminosity
Stare without contest
as if a proclamation of philosophic eminence

In pouncing position
sweet almonds, lined in black-soot,
dilate to the beat of her breath

her hine-leg pounce hop, a dance,
an arch of something sacred –
bend at the thoracic vertebrae
between the shoulder blades

With prey detected, a leap
no Catch –
right one winks, twitch (eyelid myokymia?)

Eight disintegrating stitches perpendicular her stomach’s length
top loop oozes puss
Shaven, reveals a stippled design:
Light Heather belly blotched with ink spots

gossamer whiskers pick up dust from unseen areas
her perception has a different bandwidth
hallucinates a mouse to pounce
attentive, in awe at the mandolin
curls tight to Bill’s chest while studying


tiny pale T marks the zenith of her face
as a wound in a rootstock
where one inserts the cut bud
exactly symmetrical – tactically perceptible
central yet camouflaged

jaw unlatches for a
yawn snap
releases fodderbreath
baby teeth planted in bed of her garden maw
ask for air

paws of soft gratitude
bow to god, genuflect in stretch
and after
graze the face of a rust-orange plush couch
without claws – respect

Just after waking, she sprawls on her back
Arms curled as a kangaroo
Tail coiled between back legs
Bathing in sun beam from pigmented window



(disappearance)




After garage wormhole, present again
tangled in a jade patterned scarf,
which mimics lines scribed across back legs
Slate grey mixed with Saturn dust
An Eclipse coat
Fleece sans flees

Tongue like pumice:
A Pyroclastic cleanser
If she were a he, Ida named him Ignatius

all the chapsticks tucked in jackets in closets
lost in pockets

in jeans, deceased

What am I?

It singes my nose hairs with the scent of contempt
I’m a plugged up tea pot with no place to vent
Hear the clear soprano whistle blow
when the Black Dragon’s brewed too long

Just take one sip, I bet
I'll tinge your tongue.

Perspective vs. Perception

Perspective: a view or position; a point of view

Perception: a way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression; to seize and understand

Two words that are so close can be misleading. It is important to observe, depict and understand differences between seemingly interchangeable abstractions. I will begin my depiction by describing my particular perspective (or view) on these quasi-homonyms. One begins with perspective; one has a point of view on something and that is the base. From this angle, one can color the “something” with his/her perceptions. Perception is distinctly different because it adds many facets to the initial perspective; it adds to the stratum to make the initial “something” more complex.

For example, two “Constants” in an experiment can be looking at an exactly symmetrical statue from opposite sides in a perfectly square white room with a light directly above the statue, so that the statue is completely equivalent from either side. These two Constants have the same perspective. However, the lives of the Constants have been taken in many different directions, affecting their minds through the lens of particular life experiences. Their outer perspective of the statue is similar, but their perception of the image is most likely quite different. On a basic scientific level, maybe Constant 1 is colorblind or far-sighted. These attributes change pigmentation and depth perception. Maybe the statue’s shape stimulates a memory in Constant 1’s mind, while Constant 2’s mind passes over that particular contour.

A more commonly known psychoanalytic test would be the Rorschach inkblot test. In this “experiment”, it would be incorrect to state that two persons looking at the same inkblot from the same angle, distance and in the same light have different perspectives. It would be correct to comment on the distinctions between their perceptions of the blotch. Simply put: perspective is about the external factors while perception deals with the internal.


I’m not sure why I have been thinking about this so much lately, but the power of language and the intricacies within deeply intrigue me. As a good friend of mine said: “words are very much external”. I want to capture the essence of my internal mind, my perspective and my perceptions with words, not just images.
The dictionary cites the following as Art:

acrylic painting
action painting
mural painting
oil painting
painting
watercolor
woodcarving
woodcutting
stonecutting
brass rubbing
airbrushing
scumbling
sculpture
sketching
silk-screen printing
screen printing
cartooning
enameling
encaustic
engraving
grisaille
calligraphy
photography
photomontage
marbling
marquetry
montage
trompe l’oeil
pastel
stained glass
mosaic
mezzotint
batik
aquatint
linocut
lithography
lost wax
ceramics
gouache
collage
decoupage
sgraffito
fresco
impasto
intaglio
intarsia
cire perdue
cloisonné
conté
etching
tempera
distemper
drawing
dry point
pointillism
tachism
illumination!

Words capture images. Words create art through poetry. We’ve all heard the poet’s pen is his paintbrush – it could also be his woodcarver, wax dripper, glue, sponge etc... Whatever tool can mark up a page, wall, cave or surface is an artistic device. Do you think in words or images? What’s your cerebral tool?

Ode to Pooches

Sage - jen and evan's new pup




and this last pooch is MONKEY- a guest of Fiori flower shop a few weeks ago.
I will do an entire post for Oscar - Liz's famous chihuahua!

i'm in lub ! ! !

This is Dagny, our new 4th Street Warrior. She's a kicken kitten- watch out world!

i like books for dinner

I like heliconia for dinner–
so do forest hummingbirds

This lobster-claw imitates Strelitzia
with non-woody petioles often longer than its leaf

Heli’s homeys are bananas– Canna also shares aperitifs
before the Rufous-breasted Hermit
can come to have its feast

Heliconia, I’d invite you
to next weeks dinner party
But I think you’d rather kick it
alone in the tropics
of West Indies
(You oblong clumpy tree)

it's ofish!

i'll be runnin every day until my birthday with my dear dear friend mr. david. "Run til it's done" is apparently the slogan for the race so I be running lots. Shoot. Ain't I lucky I gots a creek to run next to and altitude to keep me in check?

http://www.stlouismarathon.com/

And I'll be running for Rachel Carson, who passed of asphyxiation of the heart on my birthday in '64. Great woman - check her out.

A scroll for every stroll

I talk to myself while I walk

Scrawl mental syntax on the sidewalk
in my head

Things I could've done
Sentences I should've said

This has all been said before
but I'll say it all again
Mouthing it to myself
by the beat of my footstep

What's a whisper - is it different
than writing words with pen?
Does it hold any less significance
if it's only been half said?

Each stride, an invisible lacuna divides
the line breaks of my restive mind.

Driver Mike

Talking to driver Mike on the 201
is painful like a conversation
with the Dentist mid-cavity crack
Buzzing lights (flicker a bit)
churning snowtires
Handicap wheelchair rack shakes

He's rambling:
"Archie's in rehab...

Carly Simon...
Mom's not here...

Itsy Bitsy Spider..."

I keep the exchange going with some:
"Really?" and "No kidding"s

He's humming a children's jingle
Lets out a hearty laugh from the gut

"Only two more hours!" he shouts.

My jaw takes on a pain
an ache emergent from
past bad dental experiences with Dr. Lehman-
There is a time for silence.

Celeb-reality

Yeah - he asked me where the bathroom was today while I was working out.
Second celebrity who's asked me where the bathroom is. Other, Donny Osmond.

A morphemic essay for mags

Wheel if henna whirled a fin deaf fur hence. Wheel of two Poi an tower thing her two hors d’oeuvre he body helps his Praha blames. Water wheeze post toot who? Bag clash ugh hence tum Erica? Four heavy resource oven formation wheeze up port wither verb all a firm eh shun (whore pass if except ants), are ignore ants news beak hums tie tent. Canopy see stall too gather? No, knot come pleat Lee; knot hat Sim pulley. Ignore ants reap produce says it’s elf: a nun's top able play gambits pest hill hence. Sow hut Ken weed who? Once hole who shun wood beat who edge a Kate ugh hence depresses dupe bliss cities. High no eyes hound lie cussin’ nick, butt tits rue - thumb heed hee-haw perp. etch you eights a path he re guarding hunt rue sole who shuns. Weird um she heap! Weave hollowed of hers four sole Hong, knoll Hong her Ken weed eat err man are honed Ed duck shuns! Water are opt shuns? Know won nose beak coz weave knoll eater: halls heap fall hoeing.

Hancock Airport.

Was just speaking to A to the L I and we realized everyone that matters in this world will be in a NYC airport today. I will be in LaGuardia, Linds and Jackie have Newark covered and Ali and her frisbee friend will be at JFK. Steph is supposed to be connecting through nyc, but she goes missing for days so we're not sure where and when she'll be there. But she WILL make it to Ireland, I hope :)

Ali found a pigeon.

Tony Chachere's was just on the Hancock tele.

Jackie forgot which hostel they were staying at in Dublin.

Lindsey made it to the Path train in time for their flight. They are currently in a box. "Don't touch my jar of sand!"

Steph is missing.

That's the airport update of the day. Wish we were all in the SAME NYC airport. Especially for Ali's sake since she has a 7 hour layover or something crazy like that. Best advice: pick a pub (adirondack pub) and make an old man friend who feels sorry for you because you are ABSOLUTELY petrified of flying and hint that the only thing you can drink is Bailey's on ice because everything else make you throw up. or beat 6 guys in Poker and use their money to buy a few drinks ( that's my route ) or be in the Coast Guard and receive free refreshments for kicking ass. I would like to do an ethnography on Airport bars. That will be my career - yeeeeeeeees!

Loop Line

In speaking about motifs in Joyce's Ulysses today, PhD.R.Bye released from me a sudden moment of explicit revelation. It is to be sure we've all thought about it before but it is something we must come back to every once in a while: our place in the world. Proportions. My life is a but a blip in eternity. If we think of eternity as circular, or even a twisted ellipses (as the eternity symbol appears) there are curves along the entire movement of the figure. Though our lives appear to be a straight line in the space of our time on this earth, there are curves and turns and undulations.

We think, "START: birth; END: death."

-BIRTH- -------------(everything in between)---------------- - DEATH-

Railroad tracks are somewhat like this, because they are circularly connected, but when examined by the tiny person that I am while I am walking down it, it appears to be a long line disappearing over the horizon. It's important to place ourselves in this world, both large and small. Ulysses shows us this by revealing epic overarching themes as well as the explicit intricacies of flatulency, urination, defecation and menstration. It's scope is infinite. It is a mind-fuck and it is stimulating mine. That and coffee. And the lack of sleep. And Regina's beguiling voice:

IT'S HIP TO LOOP! - bill


This is how it works it feels a little worse than when we drove our hearse right through that screaming crowd while laughing up a storm until we were just bone until it got so warm that none of us could sleep and all the styrofoam began to melt away We tried to find some words to aid in the decay but none of them were home inside their catacomb: a million ancient bees began to sting our knees while we were on our knees praying that disease would leave the ones we love and never come again

On the radio we heard November Rain: that solo's really long but it's a pretty song
We listened to it twice 'cause the DJ was asleep

This is how it works
you're young until you're not
you love until you don't
you try until you can't
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again

and on the radio you'll hear November Rain: that solo's awful long but it's a good refrain
You listen to it twice 'cause the DJ is asleep
On the radio
On the radio
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio
Ba-budum-badum--buhm.

-RESPEKT

Naropa at dusk

Lookie those mounTAINs :)

I personally like the puddles in this picture.

(and yes Steph, this is the lice field ;) )

Art School Confidential

If you haven't seen it - check it out. It's a bit Naropa but with drawing and painting. My suggestion is to watch it until you say to yourself "Ahhhh John Malchevich always plays the same queer role."

And here's the REAL Naropa on a sunset evening...


The trees are on fire with a plume of pigment dispersal. Ate all the leaves. Fire clouds! Idon'tknow, sorry my head hurts from writing/reading. I'll get away from you now...

My Obelisk Valise

There is a world of sound that is random and there. In darkness, you can begin tapping and touch this world. Lost at the forge, beating. Without reference of space and... what is surrounding? "I didn't want to sniffle with all our eyes closed. Everyone would hear it." Well, we're all interconnected through cords, links, strands - the omphalos is the cable of all flesh. Umbilical dipthongs. Solipsism is impossible; everything exists.

Naropa Quote of the Day

If you do not know where you are going, any road will take you there.

-Lewis Carroll

the eternal doom of a vagabond...?

Bought Natural Boneless Chicken Strips today. Since when is chicken naturally boneless? And Stripped, nonetheless?

Things that makes me go hmmm.

my abs hurt

no pain no gain, they say.


(outside my living room WindOW)


c'mon. look at these clouds!!!!!!!

okay, i am using blog to procrastinate again. i'll stop... now.


okay, now. i promise.

bye.

adbusters

I drank my coffee out of a Styrofoam cup
I put something in my body that came out of extruded polystyrene

I drove to work
In the aluminum and steel over the asphalt and tar and oil
The air was heavy with carbon monoxide and hydrochloric acid pollution

MATHIEU BERNARD-REYMOND

- - -

I found this in a magazine sitting on my kitchen table brought home by my wonderful roommate Malia called ADBUSTERS.
Check out their website: http://www.adbusters.org/home/

It's good stuff - educational. YOU WILL LEARN and BE ALIVE.

These flowers. No words for them.

The mountains. View from the bus stop next door to my job. CLOUDS!

I like signs. I miss you all, come share these signs with me someday - you'd love Boulder.



Earnestly yours, friends,

Meghann