After 12 Groceries and Package Take Away at the Window

fig a. performance draft for, Empty Praise and Dry Drunks part1

Up in the corner there's a plastic video camera with a wire that feeds into the drywall behind it. But it stops behind the yellow cigarello display. Underneath the Canadian whiskey there's a video feed playing on a black TV. The tubes make every clear image on it fizzle with the power of electric snow. The feed is from a box set called, Mirror Mirror. It features an unlicensed Wegman still from '72 on it's front. The second disk is behind-the-scenes footage. It's labeled in fat Sharpie, MAKING OF DISC #1.
Mirror Mirror was shot in HiDef and then doctored down in the studio. There are 12 vignettes on disc one but the DVD player can't loop them. Instead it goes through them one at a time, switching between each of the retail settings with an audible click once it's finished. First there's the ubiquitous furniture store, then the uninspired car showroom, and so on. When all of them have played then the machine's logo bounces around on the screen, boop, boop.

MIRROR MIRROR Disc1:
1.) We admit that we are purposeless (13:00)
2.) A purpose greater than ourselves (13:00)
3.) We'll turn our will over (13:00)
4.) We can make a fearless moral inventory (13:00)
5.) Admit our wrongs (13:00)
6.) We're ready for our purpose to remove our defects (13:00)
7.) Ask that our purpose remove our shortcomings (13:00)
8.) Make a list of those we've harmed, and amend these ills (13:00)
9.) Make direct amends wherever possible (13:00)
10.) Continue taking inventory (13:00)
11.) Improve our conscious contact with this purpose (13:00)
12.) Have an awakening as the result of these steps (13:00)

So stop me if you've heard this one. There's a guy that walks into a liquor store, right... It's a cold and rainy night at the end of October. Things are said, things that can't be unsaid. These things will later be reenacted in tight circles and talked about with counselors for years to come. Vigils will be held in neon lit parking lots everywhere and somebody's baby will learn to cry in the streets by candle light. So let's hold the surprise for later. I'll buy the first round and you can tell me all about your sponsor.

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The apologist and the appraiser have decided to stay put

dashed wet and grim Oh now, Reagan of steel glitter in pants with which to shake them on down. Oh now, I shit you not for these are the things. Yes in any order you should choose these are the things to please please me, Oh Yeah. - Unmarked letter signed, A to A They'll say to me that it's safe to say so much for ubiquity, for disenfranchisement, and the terrorism of privilege. They'll say to me, With all of the effects from these profoundly toxic effects, is the project of our shared humanity effectively being dismantled. Are these the idle thoughts and sad tidings of despots and the tyrant kings inside of their comfortable towers of raised muck. As I've said before, They're not so far gone as to be gone for the good of all. This is plain to be seen in a world of bent backs and gross hyperbole. I'll sit in any unused doorway. I'll be beside myself while every door is locked. I'll dream of the halls and listen as the curtains, the drinking, an...

Piles of leaves: Letters Campaign

Suddenly old but feeling perfect, my wet underwear is on the the floor. It's gathered round my ankle. Myko laughs, just as wet and full of piss as ever. The violence of our togethering already feels like more than something. I reach out, taking the back of her neck with my hand. She's stepping in as I lean over to write; Dear, Temperance, October, and Brine, You are more than a place to me. More than walls and simple chimes, but I'll write to you anyway. This you'll know as you read my words. From here beside the lark's buttered breast, from under the heavy lids and the bright side kettle where we'll hum. We'll hum together, Bunny. Dickens be damned, we're now brightly doomed. Soon enough we'll see, the forest within the trees. To you, Tigre PS. are more or only this bed, maybe the floor too. We spend the day in, ordering takeout and hiding under the sheets. I get up and pee while Katt is talking about Milton. Her mouth's open, it's as rou...

Not the Willem DeKooning Retrospective (Not Even Close)

Willem DeKooning, Excavation (1950) oil on canvas Yesterday at work I bumped into this piece by Donald Kuspit on DeKooning's retrospective over at Artnet . Then this morning I bumped into this one on L Magazine's site, by Paddy Johnson . I don't know that Paddy Johnson demystifies DeKooning as much as she takes issue with his pallet, declaring it repetitive and boorish en masse. By contrast, Donald Kuspit writes an article painting DeKooning as a sadistic brute inextricably tied to the modern tradition in general and Picasso specifically. Together they make for some interesting reading, particularly as Kuspit never addresses the show itself in favor of drawing his conclusions from individual works. While Johnson seems to wear the show like an imaginary wool shawl, noting it's uncomfortable, out of style, and the zipper is broken. But she doesn't seem to get to a place that addresses what was actually there either, only what she felt was missing or to her mind ...

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