I’ve always loved Polaroid cameras. But apparently Polaroid didn’t love them as much as I did, because they stopped making film in 2008. That was bad news for everyone involved, or at least for me, and when I realized that the film was no longer on every drugstore shelf in the free world, I accepted the …
Oh look, he’s back. It’s been a few months, for those of you who didn’t realize I was gone. You’re probably thinking I ran out of things to say, but that’s not it. I have a few posts here that I’ve written but haven’t published. So my absence wasn’t due to a lack of ideas. No, what’s …
Have you seen “The Holstee Manifesto”? Holstee is a company – oh, sorry, I mean a group of “cyclists, illustrators, surfers, builders, yogis, pizza-lovers, climbers, and creators” – who sell $36 posters (plus $10.54 shipping) and $4 dollar a pop inspirational/aspirational note cards (six to a pack, $10.54 shipping). So if you need, say, a …
Carol is working on a new book, and in an effort to make it as labor-intensive as possible, she is actually typing out the text on each finished page (hundreds of them) by hand on an old Underwood typewriter. This makes a clack clack clacking sound throughout the house, that was probably a very familiar …
Carol made a detailed post about a Miranda July reading we saw last night, but I thought I would add my two cents, because that’s just what I do.
Well, I don’t know what to say about Wonder Showzen. I recently saw the first five episodes and it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long, long time.
I have in my hot little hands the final proof of the paperback version of Riding Out the Dumb Silence, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t right and tight and ready to go.
Yes, it’s true — I have finally received the mythical Peace Card set, a letterpress project that started well over three years ago. I sent off my contribution in October of 2002, and as you may have read here, waiting turned to disbelief, frustration, anger — all of those groovy emotions that make life worth living.
I paid a lot of money to an orthopedic specialist who did a lot of X-rays and measurements and stretching and prodding. I asked him, “Is it normal for this kind of injury to be painful for this long?” He said, “No. It’s not normal. But sometimes it can cause pain for up to a year.” Woo! Thanks doc! I guess I should consider myself lucky, since it’s only been half a year and it is improving.
Well, I never have been able to say no to a 1970’s rawkstar looking for a ride, so we all climbed into the Trooper and headed toward Hollywood proper. After a few wrong turns and near-fatal collisions we arrived at a two story house on Carlton Way, in the hills just above Sunset Boulevard. “Come in and have a drink,” Mr. Johansen said, “meet our friends.” So I angled the car up against the curb to keep it from sliding down the hill and we followed them in.
welp, the letterpress poem project is finally finished. it kind of dragged out over a long time, but things tend to do that when you are a lazy procrastinator. if you’re a patron of the weird arts, you can buy one here.
the Z channel was one of the first pay cable stations in the country, airing interesting films around the clock. obscure, weird films, director’s cuts, foreign films that no one in america could see. Z was only available in a small area of west Los Angeles, but the area was/is full of entertainment industry types, and they all watched, which made the channel, and the guy who started it – Jerry Harvey – very influential.
we certainly collect a lot of weird shit, there’s no denying that. beer cans, civil war bullets, old radios, HotWheels cars, plates with shit printed on them…it’s really a never ending list. but I will admit that I was surprised to learn that there were label collectors.
working on the poem-composed-on-the-spot and printed-in-the-garage project, and so far it’s coming along nicely. first two colors are complete, just need to lay down the black poem text now, which will be the hardest part.
back out in the ink-hole otherwise known as the garage, where my old letterpress lives, quietly mocking me every day because I don’t print much.