barack obama style

http://www.papermag.com/?section=video&vid=156&vcid=4

the things they write about us

this makes me laugh

the show with Ze Frank

Ah… this makes me laugh.

 And it’s art.. sort of.  I mean.  Video and such.  Well, blogging.  Whatever.

product placement

What Happened On Friday…

This is what happened on Friday.

 

I would also like this to count as I am Rel’s Smirking Revenge.

alsokindofnotreally

alsokindofnotreallyart-related-

The poem I wrote today in Literature (for those interested):

strange things
change things
break the world, and
rearrange things

like light
falling through a snowstorm,
it was a goddamn dream
in the middle of the night;
a shattered mirror’s broken form
hanging lightly on the white.

his compulsion, recreation
lead to revulsion, then creation
of murder mysteries in the dark
a broken mirror’s shattered forms
hang rightly from the mark.

a weeping, whopping
snipper-snapper angel thing
molts the feather from the wing-
a vision of the broken form
hangs nicely in the mirror, coming

closer to the psyche,
Freud’s weird music
playing sweetly, never

losing
its own oozing form.

the visual breaking
is remaking, stealing, taking
the ethos of America,
the idea of reform.

Cupid and his lover lie
bleeding, weeping on the floor, and then
they die.

exeunt! the parting, never
weary soul and aimless traveler
reach to heaven’s gate to weather
aimless soul and weary traveler
forever parting, reaching never.

little cubes,
my darlings lose
compulsive toes and tiny shoes
forever darlings, little cubes
wander darkly, and then they lose
that breadpath marked by nothing new
just little cubes, a thing to lose;

existing spiritually on the edge
hangs actually, perilously on the ledge
of Ledger’s life and mirror’s death
shattered form of Winter breath.

a circle, broken
is just a curve.
that goddamn dream has hit a nerve
from home I forward all returns.

widely turning, churning
strange things, mark the earth
as they change things
the beginning, as the end must make things
partially the same, yet change brings
us back again to here;
infinity lies between two mirrors
broken form, compelled by fear
to half laugh, and shed a tear
on behalf of weary traveler,
aimless spirit, unmasked master
reflected form upon strange matter
that lies bleeding on surface shattered
up until the tear, half-laughter
break the day and tear us back again
and then

…and salutaions

Picasso versus Braque.

 Braque wins!

Uhm.  Yeah.  I think I should have some art around here somewhere.