Primo Patagucci!
for my birthday, i am now set with primo patagucci (patagonia) gear–ski pants, jacket, gloves and hat
and we’re off to ski again!
see ya on the poetry train!
I’m Blue by the 5.6.7.8’s
on a you tube roll here…here’s “I’m Blue” done by the girl garage punk surf band the 5.6.7.8’s in their version from Kill Bill
The Original Hairspray’s “I’m Blue” by the Ikettes
Almost every day someone finds my blog searching for more about the awesome song “I’m Blue” while couples do “The Dog” in the original John Waters’ Hairspray.
Since I couldn’t remember much more about it, and I didn’t trust what I could remember I did a little search for ya’ll and found that “I’m Blue” was originally recorded by the Ikettes with yes, Tina Turner doing backing vocals.
It also shows up in one of the Kill Bill’s by the girl band the 5.6.7.8’s in an entirely different really wild rockin version of the song. Not sure if I would want to try to do The Dog to that version–I think I’d get injured.
Now my next task is to try to link it in so you can hear it: haunting you for ever and making you horny too.
oh yeah, the art predator
new blogs by the dozen & art city ventura
yesterday
i have a more modest dream…using blogs to save the earth… yesterday i helped almost 30 students get their blogs going; i’ll post a link to those links soon. and today (with a little help from some friends) i started Art City’s blog http://artcityventura.wordpress.com
give it some love–it’s just a baby! my second born blog, my middle child, the write alley http://whisperdownthewritealley.wordpress.com got some attention today too–i posted this you tube of Martin Luther King and a portion of his “I Have a Dream” plus I posted the full text of it in honor and celebration of his birth. it sounds really cool if you start it then start the second one going…
prowling all over 3 blogs now…the art predator
lucky in love by my cat lulu
to have one of your own go to my cat lulu’s esty shop.
to make your own v-day cards in socal, lettre sauvage is holding card making workshops starting this weekend
unhabituated: 3:15 Experiment 8/10/05
for the poetry train…
330am aug 19 2005
habituated I guess
is the word for
getting used to
the alarm and
sleeping through it
once and then twice
the night terrors
maybe and maybe
that’s why they get worse
and why they don’t often
terrify me as much
as they used to
last night for example
I woke with a screech
there were large black
ants in the bed
they were after me
you could become habituated
too I suppose to
making love with someone
become so habituated that
you are bored or boring
or both become so
habituated to it as to
not really care to
in the end be a
really terrible lover and
what a crime that would be
to no longer pay attention to
be struck by be moved by
your lover’s scent curves
silkiness
the way your lovers tongue
moves in your mouth moves
you inside moves the
butterflies in your stomach
makes your lips tingle and
your toes curl
to have to remember to breathe
I don’t ever want to
become habituated to
sleep through my lovers embrace
my lovers legs entangle
our thighs scissor together
our arms snug about each other
move feet rubbing together
making fire
you can become habituated to
the breath of a place
but when you
go away to the mountains
you can bury your nose
in a ponderosa to
capture its vanilla scent
sit by a creek and
take in the cool damp air
you can pay attention to the
softness of pine needles
underfoot watch for belly flowers
quiet your voice to hear the
chickadees the hermit thrush
and when you return to the ocean
notice first the air softening
the orange blossoms hanging there
the thickness the heaviness
the denseness of the sea’s
exhalation each time it reaches shore
each day at dusk at sunset
the earth releases its
breath and you can too
the new day starts then
I think with the last
breaths of the old day
and the first breath of
the night
I guess if we can become so
habituated as to no
longer notice something as
important as this as
important as the birds’
morning greetings we can ignore
the injustices we are surrounded
by become habituated to all
the wrongs of the world
give up trying to make right
they say there are 3 kinds of love
infatuation
then something
then habituation
and as we become
habituated we lose all those
lovely feel good days
our brain makes
they say you have to
bring excitement to your life
I see it with the baby
everyday he is so
wildly alive to
everything he encounters
my birthday
yep earth rolled all the way around the sun once more the other day and here i am still, on earth anyway, but away from the cybersphere/blogosphere, up in the mountains in the snow…
yep they gotta get a wifi at that cabin. when they do, i will tell you aaaaallllll about it.
the art predator–a little older, but still on the prowl
the note on my windshield
the note on my windshield was in a sealed taped wet envelope.
i struggled to tear the damp paper but not injure the mysterious note.
the note was folded into a paper from T & T TRUCK & CRANE SERVICE.
when i opened it further i read
01/06/08
DEAR NEIGHBOR,
YESTERDAYS ACTION WAS NOT
INTENDED TO HAPPEN.
THANK YOU,
J.D.
brilliant eh? in my neighborhood, this mysterious note could refer to any number of actions that happened in the previous 2 days which i’d like to think were unintended.
like:
the 2 guys with the dog who threw the tire into the barranca (i called the police; the tire’s still there)
the guy who was stumbling around in the dark rainy night looking for someone named Dick (i said i couldn’t help him and scurried back into the house)
the owners of the dogs which shit next to where i stand to turn on the water spigot (the big monkey took the accumulated shit and dumped at the bottom of the steps of the asshole neighbor who has a dog which shits there but we already know he’s not jd and not going to apologize either)
the guy from casner exterminators who drove into a puddle during a rainstorm and splashed water all over me (but hey, why didn’t they apologize then?? why not use casner notepaper?)
or is this note about something about which i know nothing yet????
i’m left with a now dry mysterious note which i think may be apologizing for an unintended action a party to was an individual named J.D. (at least i think it’s a D). do i call T & T and ask them if they know any JDs? or just keep my eyes and ears open, like nancy drew (or my favorite trixie belden) waiting to see what unintended actions happen next?
if you have a clue, please drop me a line!!
sincerely, the art predator
like an anteater: 315 poem Aug 3, 2001
for the poetry train this week, instead of looking for another train poem (believe it or not, i have more!), i went deep into the 3:15 archives (well, not too deep–this one was from 2001 but published in 2006 in between sleeps: the 315 experiment 1993-2005)
anyway, this one seemed right for this rainy expectant night in 2008…as i sit here in the purple bath with the window open to let out the steam from the dryer (long story)
the watch alarm dashes
the dreams not even
fragments left to explore
no ephemeral ghosts even
just a gray crush of
burning eyes a tight hip
the little dog though
he’s quite awake
excited happy
ready to take on the day
his little black hairs
scattered across lavender sheets
black flea feces and white eggs
his tail tightly curled
he watches for fleas and
zaps them up his tongue
fast and efficient
like an anteater
art predator 