From April, 23 to April 27, the elite echelon of the military are running Noble Resolve 07, a four-day marathon of “simulated” terror attacks across the US and Europe. This includes a simulated detonation of a “loose” ten-kiloton nuclear weapon Virginia harbor, smuggled in by a “foreign nation.”
One fine morning in the middle of the Precession of the Equinoxes this 'satiable Elephant's Child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked, 'What does the Crocodile have for dinner?' Then everybody said, 'Hush!' in a loud and dretful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time.
By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush, and he said, 'My father has spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my 'satiable curtiosity; and still I want to know what the Crocodile has for dinner!'
Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, 'Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out.'
ever hear that vacuous voice-over voice -- like in desperate housewives or something, with that faux-breathy sound that wafts from the room with the TV? All tired and worn and formulaic and ever-so commercially-hyperbolic-- and tired?
Negative space.
Here. Have some oxygen. The new drug. We're all on it!
fervid space. Yes! Whats the deal with print friendly Marcel Dzama - is it the childlike playfullness? Because these allways feel like they have a moral to the story.
Victorian.
Short Poem or Else Not Say I
True pleasure breathes not city air, Nor in Art's temples dwells, In palaces and towers where The voice of Grandeur dwells.
No! Seek it where high Nature holds Her court 'mid stately groves, Where she her majesty unfolds, And in fresh beauty moves;
Where thousand birds of sweetest song, The wildly rushing storm And hundred streams which glide along, Her mighty concert form!
Go where the woods in beauty sleep Bathed in pale Luna's light, Or where among their branches sweep The hollow sounds of night.
Go where the warbling nightingale In gushes rich doth sing, Till all the lonely, quiet vale With melody doth ring.
Go, sit upon a mountain steep, And view the prospect round; The hills and vales, the valley's sweep, The far horizon bound.
Then view the wide sky overhead, The still, deep vault of blue, The sun which golden light doth shed, The clouds of pearly hue.
And as you gaze on this vast scene Your thoughts will journey far, Though hundred years should roll between On Time's swift-passing car.
To ages when the earth was yound, When patriarchs, grey and old, The praises of their god oft sung, And oft his mercies told.
You see them with their beards of snow, Their robes of ample form, Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow, Felt seldom passion's storm.
Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals Into your inmost mind; A quiet aura your spirit feels, A softened stillness kind.
We serve an old moan in a dry season A lighthouse keeper in the desert sun Dreamers of sleepers and white treason We dream of rain and the history of the gun Theres a lighthouse in the middle of prussia A white house in a red square Im living in films for the sake of russia A kino runner for the ddr And the fifty-two daughters of the revolution Turn the gold to chrome Gift...nothing to lose Stuck inside of memphis with the mobile home, sing:
Mother russia Mother russia Mother russia rain down down down Mother russia Mother russia Mother russia rain down
i like these a lot more as political commentary than as gendered personal stories. I hope its polysemic or polyvalent that way.
WHen i was worried about what fine art is, or should be, i thought about that. Personal to political. for the artist its personal. For the public it's generally political, unless they know the artist, then its personal and political. Its impossible to do anything without it being political though. Personality is politcality.
So I have a problem with people who thought of art for arts sake or whatever. Are they serious? I hope not, because then they would be idiots, and I don't suffer idiots gladly.
For example, i was talking to someone who thought they knew Chinese art, and they said I didnt know anything - but they didnt even respond to what I had to say. Asshole. asshole asshole.
thats what I imagine amy cutler would say to my read on her work. Maybe not though. Maybe she's smart.
Tell her try your best jest to make it quick Whom attend to the sick 'Cause there must be something she can do This heart is broken in two Tell her it's a case of emergency There's a patient by the name of Gregory
Night nurse Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst My night nurse, oh gosh Oh the pain it's getting worse
I don't wanna see no doc I need attendence from my nurse around the clock 'Cause there's no prescription for me She's the one, the only remedy
Night nurse Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst My night nurse Oh the pain it's getting worse I hurt my love
I don't wanna see no doc I need attendence from my nurse around the clock 'Cause there's no prescription for me She's the one, the only remedy
Night nurse Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst My night nurse Oh the pain it's getting worse I hurt my love
And I'm sure No doctor can cure Night nurse Night nurse
23 comments:
Amy Cutler @
Leslie Tonkonow
535 W 22 Street
NYC
From April, 23 to April 27, the elite echelon of the military are running Noble Resolve 07, a four-day marathon of “simulated” terror attacks across the US and Europe. This includes a simulated detonation of a “loose” ten-kiloton nuclear weapon Virginia harbor, smuggled in by a “foreign nation.”
Nuff said.
I'll be in Baba Yaga's Hut scrubbing the floors.
One fine morning in the middle of the Precession of the Equinoxes this 'satiable Elephant's Child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked, 'What does the Crocodile have for dinner?' Then everybody said, 'Hush!' in a loud and dretful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time.
By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush, and he said, 'My father has spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my 'satiable curtiosity; and still I want to know what the Crocodile has for dinner!'
Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, 'Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out.'
just so
have always liked.
but ok. I'll say it. the royal art faction (RAF)
must be an expansionist element indeed.
Guard your borders and your negative space.
Stand your ground and hoard it like ivory!
Honestly, I do think Cutler has proven she
can do better than this.
Ground is overrated.
what the hell is wrong with google and blogger?
or should I say goober? bloggle?
it sucks.
Am having a difficult time posting or logging in.
ever hear that vacuous voice-over voice --
like in desperate housewives or something,
with that faux-breathy sound that wafts from
the room with the TV? All tired and worn and formulaic and ever-so commercially-hyperbolic--
and tired?
Negative space.
Here. Have some oxygen.
The new drug.
We're all on it!
O2 said..
Sorry didn't mean hyperbolic...
I was going for histrionic, but it didn't have
the same effect yo.
fervid space. Yes! Whats the deal with print friendly Marcel Dzama - is it the childlike playfullness? Because these allways feel like they have a moral to the story.
Victorian.
Short Poem or Else Not Say I
True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
In palaces and towers where
The voice of Grandeur dwells.
No! Seek it where high Nature holds
Her court 'mid stately groves,
Where she her majesty unfolds,
And in fresh beauty moves;
Where thousand birds of sweetest song,
The wildly rushing storm
And hundred streams which glide along,
Her mighty concert form!
Go where the woods in beauty sleep
Bathed in pale Luna's light,
Or where among their branches sweep
The hollow sounds of night.
Go where the warbling nightingale
In gushes rich doth sing,
Till all the lonely, quiet vale
With melody doth ring.
Go, sit upon a mountain steep,
And view the prospect round;
The hills and vales, the valley's sweep,
The far horizon bound.
Then view the wide sky overhead,
The still, deep vault of blue,
The sun which golden light doth shed,
The clouds of pearly hue.
And as you gaze on this vast scene
Your thoughts will journey far,
Though hundred years should roll between
On Time's swift-passing car.
To ages when the earth was yound,
When patriarchs, grey and old,
The praises of their god oft sung,
And oft his mercies told.
You see them with their beards of snow,
Their robes of ample form,
Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow,
Felt seldom passion's storm.
Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals
Into your inmost mind;
A quiet aura your spirit feels,
A softened stillness kind.
Dzama I give an A+ for usability.
Hi. I'm a Mac...
raaawwwwwrrrr!
for the last two:
We serve an old moan in a dry season
A lighthouse keeper in the desert sun
Dreamers of sleepers and white treason
We dream of rain and the history of the gun
Theres a lighthouse in the middle of prussia
A white house in a red square
Im living in films for the sake of russia
A kino runner for the ddr
And the fifty-two daughters of the revolution
Turn the gold to chrome
Gift...nothing to lose
Stuck inside of memphis with the mobile home, sing:
Mother russia
Mother russia
Mother russia rain down down down
Mother russia
Mother russia
Mother russia rain down
Goal lines gonna tell me where the line is
Is surrealism ok now? Ive got a huge fully grown albino rat-man in my rectum.
i like these a lot more as political commentary than as gendered personal stories. I hope its polysemic or polyvalent that way.
WHen i was worried about what fine art is, or should be, i thought about that. Personal to political. for the artist its personal. For the public it's generally political, unless they know the artist, then its personal and political. Its impossible to do anything without it being political though. Personality is politcality.
So I have a problem with people who thought of art for arts sake or whatever. Are they serious? I hope not, because then they would be idiots, and I don't suffer idiots gladly.
For example, i was talking to someone who thought they knew Chinese art, and they said I didnt know anything - but they didnt even respond to what I had to say. Asshole. asshole asshole.
thats what I imagine amy cutler would say to my read on her work. Maybe not though. Maybe she's smart.
This is life. and it's even my life: I've seen those very things, been in those very places. for fuck sake.
Thats like dash snos stuff or you know, any of the legion of contributors to Vice magazine. Dig it.
feed the world
tiny vices
but you knew that.
dash snow is a tourist
resurrection in 30 seconds
.................. .. ... /´ /)
.................... ..,../¯ ..//
.................... ..../....//
.................... ..,/¯ ..//
.................... ./... ./ /
............./´¯/' ...'/´¯`•¸
........../'/.../... ./... ..../¨¯\
........('(...´(... ....... ,~/'...')
.........\.......... ..... ..\/..../
..........''...\.... ..... . _.•´
............\....... ..... ..(
..............\..... ..... ...
ward policy
the pain is getting worse
Tell her try your best jest to make it quick
Whom attend to the sick
'Cause there must be something she can do
This heart is broken in two
Tell her it's a case of emergency
There's a patient by the name of Gregory
Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst
My night nurse, oh gosh
Oh the pain it's getting worse
I don't wanna see no doc
I need attendence from my nurse around the clock
'Cause there's no prescription for me
She's the one, the only remedy
Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst
My night nurse
Oh the pain it's getting worse
I hurt my love
I don't wanna see no doc
I need attendence from my nurse around the clock
'Cause there's no prescription for me
She's the one, the only remedy
Night nurse
Only you alone can quench this Jah thirst
My night nurse
Oh the pain it's getting worse
I hurt my love
And I'm sure
No doctor can cure
Night nurse
Night nurse
freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose
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