Suits and games she SD

Fig.1) Hamlet at The Begining

Suits and games she SD arm in arm Lightly made upon this grass the sweet creme the autumnal gyre She has these dire thoughts of war These buckets for both the waiting and her anxious thoughts Dance away Dance away Dream (re: Games, game, TT, theory, node, parachute and theme

Cock said, Gather all thee interns, free experience is upon us swiftly and it can not last. Suits and games she SD arm in arm Lightly made upon this grass the ur signs should be tall and proud. You should be goodly with denim t...

Dance again now, After drunk, broken, and hat, hat is much cleaned. Collect and save and be true for your work is free. Then Cock said, Collect and save and be true for your work is to the gentle homage of culture and the office of its Director. So go now, Go and be lunched on the last of these crusts and rinds, and hush.

Just wait says Cock, The morning syrup is the dew that runs down my legs length. It's from the femur to my shoe. I’m wearing it now like a gown and I'm out here with this Volkwagen. The Escorts, and the LeCars, It’s not like they were invented to the VanHalen today, It’s more like one of these cars is playing up, playing like Panama is really punk. But my legs hurt and my dad is the scariest mother fucker on earth.

Cock said, Bait and switch...

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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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