Kill my boss? Do I dare live out the American dream?

if you’ve ever been fired you’ll never forget the feeling you get in your gut when you walk into the bosses office and see that final paycheck face down on the desk. hearing the obligatory, “I’m sorry,” or “i hate to do this,” is no different than hearing “fuck you,” or “go off and die now, we don’t care about you anymore.”

Imitation is the sincerest form of unoriginality

I was flipping through Art in America magazine and came across an article about a show that Carol recently commented on, Timothy Greenfield-Sanders’ “XXX: 30 Porn Star Portraits.” in the article Greenfield-Sanders claims that he was inspired by Goya’s La Maja Vestida and La Maja Desnuda to make pictures of porn “stars” fully clothed, and then in the same pose, completely naked.

She’s still here, damn it!

if you have fond memories of Sandra Bernhard on the old 12:30 David Letterman show, you won’t see the same kind of wild, off-the-cuff comedy in her new show (now previewing at the Silent Movie Theatre in hollywood), but more of a monologue (still very, very funny) with music interspersed. she’s been doing these kind of shows for years, and she’s got it down to an extremely entertaining science. this latest is definitely her best.

Patience is a virtue, but resignation is for suckers

I sent a guy named bryan hutcheson 250 copies of my “still no sign of Osama bin Laden” poem for an Iraqi war-inspired “peace card set” two years and three months ago, and the set never materialized.

Last night a dj saved my life! Yeah, maaaaan!

I know a couple of people who “dj,” one of them quite successfully in Hollywood, but I’ve gotta say, man, what the hell is that? playing records. that’s what it is. to elevate a dj to anything more is borderline insanity. it’s like saying the person who hangs the paintings up in a gallery is an artist, or someone who decides which 6 movies HBO will show all year is a filmmaker.

This is a public service announcement – with guitar!

I was going to write something here entitled, “art is shit,” but that’s just so shocking and punk rock that I can’t do it. besides, everyone knows that most art is shit.


I’ve been wondering what the purpose of is for some time now. why I’m running it, why I am, in effect, curating or editing, when that’s not my thing at all. I never set out to put myself in the position to give a thumbs up or a thumbs down to an artist or writer, but that’s where I wound up. And as you can imagine, the vast majority of the time, that job really sucks.

Brace yourself for a shitstorm

wow, I really hate what benfox is writing here [this refers to some entries in the old public blog, may it rest in hell]. I mean, I really, really hate it. it’s exactly the kind of pretentious bullshit that I reject out of hand when it comes in as a submission. so why is it stinking up this section of the site? I don’t know. I should get rid of it, but it’s so bad I leave it there as a cruel joke on the rest of you. perhaps it is time to pull the plug on this experiment. this wasn’t meant to be a place where people could post garbage that didn’t make it through the front door.

It’s my party, I’ll o.d. if I want to

I’m buried, drowning, whatever you want to call it, in work around here. granted, it’s web work, but it’s still work. at least when I did manual labor or printing or house painting or construction or music or sold candles door to door, there was a time at the end of the day where work stopped and real life began (okay, maybe not with music, but I threw that in there anyway to brag…i made a living playing in a band, and not many people can say that, so I like to point it out once in a while to show how awesome I am. ha ha ha…). but now, with this internet thingy, the day never ends, time never stops and the clock is always ticking. as usual, the thing that was supposed to free us has enslaved us. or me at least.

Pass the aspirin

I just love how ebay has a search criteria in their art category for “Dominant Color.” that’s just so handy when I’m buying art to match the purple leather couch and overstuffed club chairs in my pricey downtown loft!