The Jezabels
The Jezabels…NYC via Sydney.
I see Eno in their future.
AlbatrossStudio
May 21, 2012
May 16, 2012
Hanoi
Bon Voyage by Jetsetter is the book. Ha long bay in North Vietnam is the place. Man giving dinner a lift is the picture.
Shot this through a dirty car window driving back to Hanoi after an afternoon floating around Ha Long bay…sipping 33 Export and munching on fresh crab….day dreaming of napalm and flowing Ao Dai. Sunrise, we drive to Da Nang. Standing on six feet of ruin I could see hill 696 in the distance. Monkey mountain. There I saw my father’s ghost run by. Tracers illuminate… he in skivvies and flack jacket. The words ‘Shit bird’ falling from his mouth like a grenade with the pin pulled. He was 36, ten years younger than I…impossible. The ocean cracked and he was gone. ‘Georgy Girl’ by The Seekers was playing on a transistor radio deep inside my head, it was distant and the volume perfect. When I returned home I asked Pops if he would ever go back and he replied…’why?, I didn’t leave anything there’.
April 11, 2012
The 5th Ramone
Arturo Vega. The Ramones artistic director for 22 years…pioneer of The Bowery…tamer of hell.
February 19, 2012
Frederick Brosen
Frederick scares me. His paintings do not.
February 10, 2012
Robert Seyffert
Robert steals your automobile’s soul as it snores on the street…then leaves a ransom note trapped under the wiper.
January 24, 2012
Cuba
Acabo de volver de La Habana elogios de la revista Comida y Vino…or 15 things I dig about Cuba.
1) Havana Club 15 year old dark rum is God in a bottle and most likely made with commie Unicorn tears.
2) One Montecristo No.4 is $5 and at arms length at all times…not $16.78 and flown in from Toronto.
3) The coffee rocks and is made by old men in suits not chubby dudes in skinny jeans.
4) Not an Ugg was in sight.
5) Cristal beer with crunchy tostones and a sloppy bowl of lime and garlic mojo.
6) Not smoking indoors is illegal.
7) The birds sound different.
8) The ocean sounds different.
9) My name sounds different.
10) The Sartorialist will never be seen cycling down the Malecon ‘hunting’ for a sockless young man in brogues sporting a polka dot lime green hanky tucked into his blazer pocket.
11) Eating Ropa Vieja in someones living room that overlooks Parque Central while listening to Manuel Galban’s Los Twangueros.
12) The Mojito is a local and won’t stop following me.
13) The cars.
14) Cupcakes are not cool and never will be.
15) Even the ugly girls are pretty.
December 21, 2011
Walton Ford
It was pissing cats and dogs…appropriate weather for the animal infatuated Walton Ford. The first 30 minutes of our conversation revealed that we had both lived in Williamsburg Brooklyn back in the early 80′s when Puerto Rican boys shouldered nine irons…and flaming cars glowed and crackled in bombed out lots. Twenty five years later Walton has relocated to an abandoned train station nestled in the Berkshires. A 5 minute stroll to main street… a dead deer hitches a lift on the roof of a Ford F150. Burly men in plaid (not the Uniqlo-Faux lumberjacks of that bearded borough) can be seen hauling kegs of Pabst (because it’s cheap not ironic) and wheels of homemade cheese…because CHEESE IS FUCKING GOOD! Me?…I’m stuck in ‘Oh-No!…lita’ ground zero for everything I wish not to be near. Shopping zombies stuffed in Uggs and black tights wishing to be snow bunnies but looking more like road kill choking on over-priced cupcakes. I digress…all the time. Moving on…Kong escaped the station weeks earlier. Manhattan bound. Go see him… 4 he is mighty!
