Haus

There was almost a fight at Gay Frat Haus a few nights ago.

But luckily, sharing was encouraged.

This past year.....

My friend Kelly took this digital photograph of me recently.
I don't think I have ever seen a shot by another person, in which I've felt like I can see myself.
Call me narcissistic, or call me someone who works pretty heavily in the mode of self portraiture, but I am in this photo.
I can read the past year or so, so precisely, so clearly. It's eerie to me, but incredible to see.
I also think the person in this picture is someone who is getting farther and farther away. And, I like that.

This is what the past year has looked like.....for my liver.

Moving On.

I have a feeling there will be lots more posts coming in the near future. I am sitting in my attic/studio with only a tank top on. It's not the warmest up here. I've been jumping around in various states of undress in front of the camera. I am thinking of starting a flckereilnswcw thing. I am going to buy some matte white paint. I am going to figure out how to bleed the radiators. I am going to take my camera back and might even print today. I'm moving very forward and after this weekend, and this moment right now, I'm moving very on.

Fuck. I'll never have a space like this n SF.
Fuck.

Dad Votes

I sent all of my family the same text message inquiring as to their voting status. My father responded via this hasty, typo'd, kind of awesome e-mail (and suffice it to say, when he says dope smoking, it's a term of endearment, wink wink) :



Go 'head Dad, go 'head.

I'm back.

Back from my whirlwind trip to my new home. Can't wait till I go and don't have to come back.
It's snowing, and thirty-six degrees out. I took very few photo's with the digital. Mostly 120 color. Also spent all my money. However, when I get paid I am sending those out. Then I'll get on scanning the negatifs for your general consumption.

My roommate John and I just spent about 5 minutes bitching about the axis of the Earth and the plague that is winter that it enacts on the northern hemisphere.

Here are some things that have made me happy lately, aside from my trip.


Coffee treats with my name in them.

Chloe visiting, and scooting (even if it's not in SF).
Max, my new boyfriend from San Francisco.
Cool pictures I've taken of projection equipment.

al - co - hol;_____

I'm always drunk in San Francisco;__
I always stay out of my mind.
But if you've been to San Francisco,
they say that things like this go on all the time.___

It never happens nowhere else,__
maybe it's the air;
Can't really seem to help myself;__
And, what's more, I  don't   care.

I'm always drunk in San Francisco;__
I'm never feeling any pain.
But tell me, why does San Francisco,
just like a lover's kiss, go straight to my brain?

I guess it's just the mood I'm in___
that acts like al - co - hol;___
Because I'm drunk in San Francisco,
and I don't drink at all.___________

[Repeat]

A Cautionary...

I was shopping at the party store...

....and saw this:

Melissa Joan Hart

One:

"Maybe I am just sub-conciously destroyed by pop culture."

While talking to my friend Bryan yesterday about voting and changes of address etc....We were discussing me not changing my registered address until after the election for a deep seated (by loads of political documentaries, thanks Filmmakers) that I will wind up in one of those hassles of "Oh, we don't have you listed here," or "You've never voted here before? Oh, you have to go here instead.." Bryan still votes where his parents live, out in bumble fuck. But not for any reasons like mine. He wants specifically to vote against Melissa Hart (former member of the House, PA District 4, running again this year after defeat last, and also royal conservative bitch). Good Reason. But Bryan kept calling her Melissa Joan Hart (Clarissa Explains It All, Sabrina the Teenage Witch). Surely these were not one in the same. We figured it out, and Bryan said one of the best things I have ever heard anyone ever say (above). On Point Bryan, On Point.

Two:
I am fucking exceptionally fascinated lately by peoples snapshot necessity. I've been asked multiple times in the past few days at work, about the photography policies of the museum. Policies aside, I have just had it on my brain. It's all people consuming. Not all, but some of it. It's people needing to validate, show, capture, and hold. I want to go back over some of my lecture shit about the snapshot and read read read and write write write. I think I am gestating right now. Gestation, cleaning my "studio space"...well, that's mostly relying on Marcus..., and writing. I made some official friends number getting etc. last night. I'm talking with Edgar about doing something. I'm going to be doing some travelling. I have 800 idea's. Something is going to get blown up soon. Positively.

Three:
Purses, What The Fuck, "Types," Cock Abstraction, PissFountain, PissChandelier, 35 Gay Men, Mural Length Foamcore, J.Fox's dog shit, White Tent Marimba/ist

Four:
I can't stop staring at the dude sitting outside ith the muscles and very well trimmed/grown beard.

Nipple to the Bottle.

Bear with it through the last paragraph, then let's discuss:

Alright. First of all. I wish that I got paid to publish online "Articles" that essentially amounted to what my notebook writings and ramblings look like at times. Writing critique aside...

Secondly. That last paragraph is pretty, sort of, apt. It's a nice little bit of an affirmation to read this outside of the group of people who "Get It" that I surround myself with. Lately, I have been settling some unsettling personal things and my mind has instantly (it's kind of incredible how quickly) gone back to occupying itself (note: Not me occupying myself...my brain just does this. It's where it goes, automatically) with this sort of queer fuckery. Music is something that I had never even considered. Really? I missed that. I guess my musical tastes are pretty rounded. I often bond with people over music, so most of my friends have similar broad ranging musical tastes. While I say broad, I do recognize my lean towards 80's, Synths, New Wave, Wacky, Tacky, and Danceable. But even within that, I feel I've got a pretty wide idea of what constitutes or is contained within all of those.

I do take a little bit of issue with the writers use of "The Gays" as an all-encompassing statement for us all. Especially when part of the point they are trying to make is that "The Gays" are often in fact not such a broad grouping, and that "The Gays" are actually as divided a group as any other social "type". They may actually be white middle class mainstream gays, or poor white blue collar gays, or even as the article tip-toes, "Urban" gays. Urban? In an article entitled "Why do gays hate Black music?," I find it incredible that the writer then can not say a a blatant "Mainstream white gay culture is kind of afraid of black culture, gay or in general." Is that not the underlying idea? Hey! Maybe some of "the gays" are like some of the everyone else, racism and all...

Of course this is not the case for (I would hope) most of, since we are grouping, "us." And, while I am sure most of these mainstream white gay's would not consider themselves racists (or classists, or agists, or sexists....) there is definitely this type of sentiment prevalent in the homo-normative (5!) gay bars/hangouts/social scenarios I've encountered. It's a similar happening at Kelly's Bar, in East Liberty (a largely poor black neighborhood in Pittsburgh that was a victim of what I would describe as racist urban planning in the 60's, which is now being gentrified by the neighboring affluent white Shadyside faster than you can eat an all natural locally grown organic fair trade gourmet cupcake). Having a jukebox loaded with discs of great old soul, jazz singers, and funk along with punk and rock standards is great when it's because you are into playing that music. However, not allowing rap/top 40 on their jukebox soley to keep the "Wrong Crowd" out is just the same old song. (even if in my opinion it's just fine without the top 40) It's the "We're not racist, we have lots of soul and funk on the Jukebox!" "We're not racist, we have Janet Jackson and Beyonce remixes on the video lounge screens" kind of mentality. Not racist, in a wizard hat wearing way, but racist nonetheless. It is a pinch of classism, a dab of racism, a smackering of elitism. Is there a word I am missing out on here that covers this all? No? Well I think we've hit it pretty close then. It's all of the above stewed together for stinking dose of disdain and social exclusivity.

Oh, as an aside, don't worry. You don't have to be black, or hispanic, or even the result of a horrible disfiguring/crippling accident to be disreguarded, feared, or simply given bitchy looks. You can even be white and non-conformist to common gay societal "norms" presented to you via hetero societal norm bearing mass media. This article basically comes down to a familiar conclusion. A good portion of "The Gays" are just like a good portion of everyone else. A good portion transparent, a good portion pretty shitty.

Alright. Time to figure out how this one is going to look on silver gelatin?

Piss Fan Pissfan

The work I did for the Still Image/Moving Picture Show, is now online. Click the smaller image to see the work and minute explanation.

2585

Bell and Howell 2585 16mm projector

Due an incredible stroke of dumb luck, and an incredible love of that fabulous man Edgar Um Bucholtz, I may (or may not, but most likely may) soon be the owner of my very own 16mm projector. We also may have some assorted videos and films on proper attire for bank tellers as well as proper conduct for them in the workplace. Sometimes life is sweet.

Sick.

I got a new seat cover, and finally got a rear rack for Animal. Animal has got a big shiny rack.
Also. There are dead autumn-y leaves outside the door to the Museum. Summer is leaving me.
I think I'm going to vomit.

Matchwood Preview

Check out this little audio interview with a few artists including myself who are showing at "The Still Image/Moving Pictures Festival" this Saturday.

http://matchwood.org/matchwoodlive/?p=38

Trip to Bumble.

This weekend I took some time off from the boxes. I went to my parents house. They live in Jersey Shore, PA. Weird name, weirder place. I partially wanted to just get out of the city, and into the country for a little while. I also partly wanted to avoid the guilt that would follow my grandfathers death if I had not visited, opting to drink heavily with friends on my time off. It's Sunday evening, I'm leaving sometime tomorrow, I have a doctors appt. at 5pm, but here is what has happened thus far:
-Photographed at two locations I have wanted to shoot 12o color at for ages. I think I got it.
-Saw a horse and buggy
-Saw my grandfather, and very coincidentally my aunt and two cousins, who I never see. Wonderful.
-Went to the Woolrich company store, where despite having the BEST flannels/flannel patterns ever, they do not believe in the size "Small". I bought a hat, a wool blanket, and an extremely cheap Nalgene bottle. My father bought me a (Medium) camoflaged print button up I plan on taking in. DEER camo print. In Fucking Credible.
-I frolicked in a field.
-Got a knife set for our kitchen, as well as a knife my grandfather was given by a family he stayed with when stationed in the phillipines. Reportedly made of downed Japanese aircraft metal and some sort of horn.
-Stole cast iron skillets from my parents.


We are cooking some cook-aht stuff tonight. Then I plan on going to find some trees or a field to sit in and relish. I think I might have to do this a few more times this summer. It's very relaxing and fits in with the whole cleansing thing that seems to be going on in my life right now. P.S. These images are all from photoboth. purely illustration.