The show is up. The opening: Fri. June 3rd. 5pm - 9pm
The Artists:
Christopher St.John
Devin Mohr
CJ Lileikis
Jesi Asagi
Dark Sevier
Trying an experiment with this show and Rich has been very supportive of my pretentious attempt to not be a pretentious artist.
Is it a plant? or is it art? Living sculpture?
Carson came up with the idea of a secret bid on my work at the gallery as an option to pricing them. I have a minimum reserve price (super secret). Highest bidder over the reserve takes home the piece. Highly unusual.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 23, 2005
Life and Death 198
Cleaning today. Scrounging through found objects and deciding which ones to loose.
I have found several property options: Big spread on North Shore- no rent and no living on the land. There is the slaughterhouse in Ewa. Negotiating rent. Comes with trailer office (within squeeling distance). Possibility of cooperating with the Fuel Farm- planting biodesel crops between the rows of trees.
Found a dead Jackson Chamelion keiki on the walk today. Looked into the hibiscus archway to find the parents. Recuited them for a photo shoot then put them back. I brought the female in from the nursery a year ago and parked her there. A few months later I found a male and hooked them up.
I havent seen either one of the Jake-the Frogs. There is a skinny toad that hangs where Jake usually does.
I have found several property options: Big spread on North Shore- no rent and no living on the land. There is the slaughterhouse in Ewa. Negotiating rent. Comes with trailer office (within squeeling distance). Possibility of cooperating with the Fuel Farm- planting biodesel crops between the rows of trees.
Found a dead Jackson Chamelion keiki on the walk today. Looked into the hibiscus archway to find the parents. Recuited them for a photo shoot then put them back. I brought the female in from the nursery a year ago and parked her there. A few months later I found a male and hooked them up.
I havent seen either one of the Jake-the Frogs. There is a skinny toad that hangs where Jake usually does.
Life and Death 191
Sanguin fastle yunde heppin ontwot anglesa hundenquat. Genda hawerghuntin fecelope junctwada hippen uncalat justin muterde kappha junction whatsyer function.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Clutch...
Hanging on an island, watching with cool detatchment as the Nation that fostered me lists and burns. Feeling too far away to throw a rope to those that are trying to jump and swim before the hulk sinks and sucks them in, down and fast. Straining my eyes to see who will make it.
Like watching the History Channel live.
The wall is coming and I'm expecting to hear the breaks lock, have been expecting for a surreal amount of time. Fuck it. It's too late. The breaks would only jacknife this circus train. The wall will be ignored. I consider how the wall will feel about this.
I open a brightly collored bag with crunchy bits inside and soothe myself by eating them.
Like watching the History Channel live.
The wall is coming and I'm expecting to hear the breaks lock, have been expecting for a surreal amount of time. Fuck it. It's too late. The breaks would only jacknife this circus train. The wall will be ignored. I consider how the wall will feel about this.
I open a brightly collored bag with crunchy bits inside and soothe myself by eating them.
Shift
Saturday. Rain. Sleep. A visit from Griz. Coffee. Sculpture work. Pizza. Shower. Bowling. In the dark. Drinking. More than all stated above.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Shameless Self Promotion
Look at what I did.
June 3rd @ Marks Garage on Nuuanu in China Town dist. of Honolulu Hawai'i. Planet Earth (you know, the noisy planet).
The calceum sculptures, the bonsai xeriscapes, the mobiles, the book, the CD, the band.
In a group show with four others (Info on other artists posted here tomorrow).
The opening will be from 6pm to 10pm. There has been talk about a post opening opening where people can talk to the artists on a night less hectic than First Friday.
artfarmphotobloggingranterofnoeticinfluence
Stay tuned for more details.....
June 3rd @ Marks Garage on Nuuanu in China Town dist. of Honolulu Hawai'i. Planet Earth (you know, the noisy planet).
The calceum sculptures, the bonsai xeriscapes, the mobiles, the book, the CD, the band.
In a group show with four others (Info on other artists posted here tomorrow).
The opening will be from 6pm to 10pm. There has been talk about a post opening opening where people can talk to the artists on a night less hectic than First Friday.
artfarmphotobloggingranterofnoeticinfluence
Stay tuned for more details.....
Monday, May 16, 2005
Bud Humbug
I'm a big fan of the cognitive process. I enjoy using my cognition. Using my cognitive abilities I was able to solve many a riddle posed by the times. One of the simplest and earliest victories was gaining objectivity on a gestalt that emerged from the Great Marajuana Hoax. I saw that there was no actual crime in growing, selling, smoking, eating, or trafficking marijuana. Yet it was still against the law and considered criminal activity. It was considered criminal activity because it was against the law, not because there was any actual crime in the criminal activity. Got it? Isn't the root of the word criminal; crime?
The funny thing is, most of the cognitively facile have recognised the hoax and now ignore or laugh at the absurdity of it. Except maybe the ones that sit in prison for not playing along with the hoax. They might be laughing too, if they are able to ignore the laws liberally enough.
The hoax is so retro man, so 1950's, so Spanish Inquisition. It's not a game for intellegent people. It's a paranoid, fear based, oppressive, monster-in-the-closet kind of game. Boo! the Blue is gonna getcha! It's like tag, but with tazers and bullets. Fun fun fun.
Watching people who are still involved with the hoax can be entertaining, especially the ones that don't know it's a hoax. The slower people that never thought to ask WHY marijuana is illegal are the funniest to me. They're like kids in high school still believing that Santa puts those presents under the tree. It is difficult not to mock them. I endeavor to handle myself gracefully when engaging the grossly ignorant. I don't feel that it does anyone any good to make fun of the mentally retarded. I've tried telling those people about the hoax, but it was like pecking a hole in an egg that had an unrealized chick inside. I felt good for getting through to them until I realized they were still too gooey to handle the implications. Crack open a bunch at once and one can drown in the goo. Dangerous stuff, that goo.
There be an Art to talking to entities through their shells. Pod People live in the unreality of words: they know the words, but know not what inspired them, or spoke them. Until they break out of the shell of self absorbtion, they have no point of reference on the actual territory beyond their encapsulated perceptions, but may know the names and features of the symantic map by heart. Not uncommon for Pod People to think the map is the territory, the menu is the meal, the property is the land. God it's funny. KS (knee slapper).
How about those people that have realized the criminalization of a natural plant to be an absurd notion, but don't claim their cognitive victory for fear of being ostricised by the foolish. "The retard said I was an idiot for not believing in Santa anymore. Now he makes fun of me, and I am in need of a sanctioned drug so that I can interact with those retards with a straight face." Wacky people. Zany.
When are we gonna play a game that isn't so cold? Preserving people in zip-lock personalities. How about a warm game that accelerates the gestating cognitivity of the species? Then we can communicate with life directly, outside the prescribed. Hilarious.
The funny thing is, most of the cognitively facile have recognised the hoax and now ignore or laugh at the absurdity of it. Except maybe the ones that sit in prison for not playing along with the hoax. They might be laughing too, if they are able to ignore the laws liberally enough.
The hoax is so retro man, so 1950's, so Spanish Inquisition. It's not a game for intellegent people. It's a paranoid, fear based, oppressive, monster-in-the-closet kind of game. Boo! the Blue is gonna getcha! It's like tag, but with tazers and bullets. Fun fun fun.
Watching people who are still involved with the hoax can be entertaining, especially the ones that don't know it's a hoax. The slower people that never thought to ask WHY marijuana is illegal are the funniest to me. They're like kids in high school still believing that Santa puts those presents under the tree. It is difficult not to mock them. I endeavor to handle myself gracefully when engaging the grossly ignorant. I don't feel that it does anyone any good to make fun of the mentally retarded. I've tried telling those people about the hoax, but it was like pecking a hole in an egg that had an unrealized chick inside. I felt good for getting through to them until I realized they were still too gooey to handle the implications. Crack open a bunch at once and one can drown in the goo. Dangerous stuff, that goo.
There be an Art to talking to entities through their shells. Pod People live in the unreality of words: they know the words, but know not what inspired them, or spoke them. Until they break out of the shell of self absorbtion, they have no point of reference on the actual territory beyond their encapsulated perceptions, but may know the names and features of the symantic map by heart. Not uncommon for Pod People to think the map is the territory, the menu is the meal, the property is the land. God it's funny. KS (knee slapper).
How about those people that have realized the criminalization of a natural plant to be an absurd notion, but don't claim their cognitive victory for fear of being ostricised by the foolish. "The retard said I was an idiot for not believing in Santa anymore. Now he makes fun of me, and I am in need of a sanctioned drug so that I can interact with those retards with a straight face." Wacky people. Zany.
When are we gonna play a game that isn't so cold? Preserving people in zip-lock personalities. How about a warm game that accelerates the gestating cognitivity of the species? Then we can communicate with life directly, outside the prescribed. Hilarious.
Fowl Play
According to the Chinese I am a Monkey. Year of the Monkey just passed. I spent it in the jungle, climbing trees surrounded by bananas. Year of the Cock now. Year of the Horse was a couple of years ago. New years Day in the year of the Horse I found myself peeking through Jasons window and watching this random horse show up and run around the Kahalu'u farm. A Rooster was sighted running around the Palolo Nursery not long after the year crowed in. It had a three hen harem. Neighbor Slim thrown into a frenzy by the poential progeny shattering the morning birdsongs. I thought it auspicious that a rooster should arrive on its namesake year. Slim tried poisioning the birds by throwing rat poison in my media pile. The pile I use to grow my plants. On my organic nursury. It didn't work. Tried trapping. They caught it. Later, it escaped. They tried trapping again and caught rats that chewed holes in the traps to get out. Slims son shot and killed one with an air rifle. I found five eggs near my non-poisoned compost pile. I ate them. Now I wished I'd let them hatch. I'm rooting for the cock.
I lied..................
There is a hyperlink in the "OUT" entry that takes you to a 45 day special edition blog: The Year of the Cock. This will be a record of my transition from PATCO land to the next realm of endeavor. The Year of the Cock will have one page only. I will be revising it daily. I may retract. I may add. I might embellish. There will be hyperlinks coming and going, refrencing the reader back to this blog and to... other places. A blog with one page and a web of six billion hyperlinks. Give or take a few. There is a story here. Somewhere.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Curbside 048
Adrift. Loose. Kinda. Loose and adrift with a barge of stuff in tow. Was evicted from the "Office" today. Was givin no real reason. I was told that I have 45 days to vacate. The people told me that I have 45 days to find another "office" to live in, find another place to place my entire two acres of nursury plants, plus I want to dig out the thousands of plants that I have growing as field stock. Actually, they just told me to get out. I have no idea if they thought about what that would entail.
Ok. so, anyone have a few acres that they want converted into an experimental organic commercial wholesale nursury? Any one wanna buy some plants? Bargain Priced. Everything must go.
So I'll be having a work party, or two, in June. Need volunteers for a worthy cause.
Ok. so, anyone have a few acres that they want converted into an experimental organic commercial wholesale nursury? Any one wanna buy some plants? Bargain Priced. Everything must go.
So I'll be having a work party, or two, in June. Need volunteers for a worthy cause.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Kolohe.jpg
I will call Michael Ventura one of my favorite all time writers. He's saying it like no one else is saying it right now. I wouldn't call it pessimism. I wouldn't call it realism. I'd call it relevent.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
"The Office"
--- jackhaid@XXXXXXX wrote:
> Dark Lord- I don't have you mixed up Dark
> Meadowlark! You're a poet, yes? I KNOW things,
> dig? As for death threats, there are none coming
> from me- I don't live in the eight oh five. As long
> as you keep your hands of my stash there will be
> none in the future, either. Now, to get to the
> important stuff, Figgis is out for your scalp.
> Literally. He learned his technique from a
> throw-back Creek living in the woods of Cherokee
> County, Oklahoma around about 1979. He's just
> itichin' to try it out for the first time since
> Desert Storm, and he seems to have you in his
> sights. Why do you continue to push his buttons?
> So here's what you do: grab some Maui Wowie, catch
> a flight to Boise, rent a motorcycle and drive to
> Portland where you will meet Figgsey at his
> refurbished farm house outside of town (you know the
> one-remember how Horst worked you over?), hand over
> the transcript, and be sure to apologize. He'll ask
> you to spend a day in his sensory deprivation
> tank-DO IT-and thank Jesus and his henchmen that
> your brain is not showing. A day in the box is
> worth eggroll, understand? If not, I suggest you
> barricade yourself as if waiting out a tropical
> storm and lay off the high-grade cocaine for at
> least a week. Shave your eyebrows, wear an ascot,
> grow a van dyke and change your name to Julien.
> I'll check on your progress with the water works in
> 4-7 days.
>
> It's JackHaid,
> one word.
>
> Don't let Figgis know you split my name in two.
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Dark Sevier
> To: jackhaid@XXXXXXX
> Sent: Fri, 6 May 2005 16:09:37 -0700 (PDT)
> Subject: Re: Flattery will get you a ticket to the
> hash bar, dig?
>
Ok. jackhaid. Player of games. I don't know from Figgis. Actually, I don't know anything. I'm but a simple tree farmer living in a shack in the jungle. For some reason someone named Allan Dodds in the 805 wants to kill me. He says he has a gun and that it's looking for me. Maybe it's the gun that wants to kill me and Mr. Dodds is just his cheauffeur. Maybe it was a wrong number.
At any rate. I don't play games any more. I just play one game. It's fun to retreat from the mundane life of the 9 to 5 (or the 805) and slip into a safe little fantasy where one finds things interesting and titilating because the prospect of mystery and the literary product of fantasy juice the imagination. It looks like you have a nice little fiction dirivitive of the pulp percolating in your pc. Well good luck with that. I hope you find it entertaining. It seems that I prefer the exchange of genuine smiles and the wrangling of errant dreams that have come to life and returned to root around in my new seed beds.
Cut the shit. Talk straight or return to your online gaming lifestyle. My life is far more interesting than your fantasy. So there. Nyahhh.
-D
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
> Dark Lord- I don't have you mixed up Dark
> Meadowlark! You're a poet, yes? I KNOW things,
> dig? As for death threats, there are none coming
> from me- I don't live in the eight oh five. As long
> as you keep your hands of my stash there will be
> none in the future, either. Now, to get to the
> important stuff, Figgis is out for your scalp.
> Literally. He learned his technique from a
> throw-back Creek living in the woods of Cherokee
> County, Oklahoma around about 1979. He's just
> itichin' to try it out for the first time since
> Desert Storm, and he seems to have you in his
> sights. Why do you continue to push his buttons?
> So here's what you do: grab some Maui Wowie, catch
> a flight to Boise, rent a motorcycle and drive to
> Portland where you will meet Figgsey at his
> refurbished farm house outside of town (you know the
> one-remember how Horst worked you over?), hand over
> the transcript, and be sure to apologize. He'll ask
> you to spend a day in his sensory deprivation
> tank-DO IT-and thank Jesus and his henchmen that
> your brain is not showing. A day in the box is
> worth eggroll, understand? If not, I suggest you
> barricade yourself as if waiting out a tropical
> storm and lay off the high-grade cocaine for at
> least a week. Shave your eyebrows, wear an ascot,
> grow a van dyke and change your name to Julien.
> I'll check on your progress with the water works in
> 4-7 days.
>
> It's JackHaid,
> one word.
>
> Don't let Figgis know you split my name in two.
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Dark Sevier
> To: jackhaid@XXXXXXX
> Sent: Fri, 6 May 2005 16:09:37 -0700 (PDT)
> Subject: Re: Flattery will get you a ticket to the
> hash bar, dig?
>
Ok. jackhaid. Player of games. I don't know from Figgis. Actually, I don't know anything. I'm but a simple tree farmer living in a shack in the jungle. For some reason someone named Allan Dodds in the 805 wants to kill me. He says he has a gun and that it's looking for me. Maybe it's the gun that wants to kill me and Mr. Dodds is just his cheauffeur. Maybe it was a wrong number.
At any rate. I don't play games any more. I just play one game. It's fun to retreat from the mundane life of the 9 to 5 (or the 805) and slip into a safe little fantasy where one finds things interesting and titilating because the prospect of mystery and the literary product of fantasy juice the imagination. It looks like you have a nice little fiction dirivitive of the pulp percolating in your pc. Well good luck with that. I hope you find it entertaining. It seems that I prefer the exchange of genuine smiles and the wrangling of errant dreams that have come to life and returned to root around in my new seed beds.
Cut the shit. Talk straight or return to your online gaming lifestyle. My life is far more interesting than your fantasy. So there. Nyahhh.
-D
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Flitch
The photos have little or nothing to do with the entries. Except that last line I typed there. It has something to do with the photos. I like irony. Sometimes.
Right now I am thinking about an ex and how she needs to be spanked. How she wants to be spanked. It's the rare time when people who have dealt with her before will deal with her again, and when they do- inner spanking restraints are tested thoroughly. It's how she gets her human interaction. She yanks it toward her with question mark hooks which she sinks into unguarded psychies. Draw the suckers in with questions about them, about what they think about this and that. Then it's about what you think of her and her decisions, and her quandries and dramas. And it's about what you think about how someone else might have reacted to someting she said in passing but has been obsessing on for a week now. And later, you will become that person in a conversation she has with someone else. She will ask someone else about what they think you thought when she said someting some time ago. And that person might offer up an opinion about you, someone they never knew, and then she will take the arbitrary and enshrine it as a fact with her emotional reaction. Then there will be a misunderstanding. Then the questions fly and the hooks snag the sensitive and concerned and lessons on psychic self defence are burned into the virgin spaces of good samaritans.
Right now I am thinking about an ex and how she needs to be spanked. How she wants to be spanked. It's the rare time when people who have dealt with her before will deal with her again, and when they do- inner spanking restraints are tested thoroughly. It's how she gets her human interaction. She yanks it toward her with question mark hooks which she sinks into unguarded psychies. Draw the suckers in with questions about them, about what they think about this and that. Then it's about what you think of her and her decisions, and her quandries and dramas. And it's about what you think about how someone else might have reacted to someting she said in passing but has been obsessing on for a week now. And later, you will become that person in a conversation she has with someone else. She will ask someone else about what they think you thought when she said someting some time ago. And that person might offer up an opinion about you, someone they never knew, and then she will take the arbitrary and enshrine it as a fact with her emotional reaction. Then there will be a misunderstanding. Then the questions fly and the hooks snag the sensitive and concerned and lessons on psychic self defence are burned into the virgin spaces of good samaritans.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Saturday Bowling
Went bowling saturday night with the Vapor Puppets and Sister Karrie. We bowled three games. I won none. I enjoyed hurling an exceptionally round heavy object down an extrordinarily smooth solid surface. I would do it again.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Trying this now
Dead rat caught by my cat.
So, the co-ordination of words and images is a new thing for me. I uploaded a few pictures yesterday that I can then upload to this site. I hit my freebie quota. I uploaded 30 photo's from this weekend. I can't post any new photos 'til next month. so, for the month of May, the theme is bowling and xeriscapes.
I think I may have to start another blog. I
So, the co-ordination of words and images is a new thing for me. I uploaded a few pictures yesterday that I can then upload to this site. I hit my freebie quota. I uploaded 30 photo's from this weekend. I can't post any new photos 'til next month. so, for the month of May, the theme is bowling and xeriscapes.
I think I may have to start another blog. I
Kokua Xeriscape.jpg
Ok... I'm trying this photo thing out. Not sure what I'm doing yet. Bear with me...
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Friday, May 06, 2005
--- jackhaid@XXXXXXXX wrote:
> Darkie- The factory called. Figgis needs his
> goods. Without goods the factory stalls. As you
> know, this means no production, no income, no flow
> charts. I know that Figgis is about as funny as
> Fred Travolina on low grade meth, but he calls the
> shots, goddamnit, and I for one am not up to facing
> him down on the judo mat. I seriously doubt you are
> either. Unless, of course, your self-help guru has
> taught you how to better defend yourself as well.
> But sentimentality is for twerps, so don't thump my
> ball-bag-sack for the next 10-15 days. For that
> matter, don't ever come near it again unless you
> want glass shards to shower down upon you causing
> various forms of disfigurement. I scored a lid of
> the high-power today and I feel as if I'm hovering 3
> centimetres above the ground while hurtling through
> an endless garden of psychedelic dasies- I am
> becoming ever more able to appreciate the beauty and
> enjoy the freeing feeling of the goddamned
> hallucinatory splendor. Can you dig it? I mean
> really? My girlfriend, who you may know as either
> Margaret or Elsie-Karin, thinks I need to cool out,
> quit burning down, and maybe travel to Austin for
> some much needed R and/or R. I think she's been
> seeing her Yage connection again, and that maybe her
> spectral plane and mine are deviating just a bit.
> Agree? Anywho, let me know what you think, where
> your mind is right now, and maybe we can keep in
> touch and try to freak each other out occasionally.
> Sound good? I thought so.
>
> Yours in mutual distrust,
>
> JackHaid,
> blistered.
>
>
> P.S. Don't underestimate Figgis, Darkson, don't
> do it. He'll shave your nails beyond the quick and
> dunk them in Dawn in honor of that fucker Madge.
> Okay?
>
zxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxz
Testing...
Um, Thanks for the e-mail Jack Haid, or Alan Dodds, or whoever you are. Are you the same person with the 805 area code that gave me the death threat this morning? If so, I'm flattered that you consider me worth that kind of time and energy: I know that that kind of thing takes up a lot of head space. If you are not the same person, then I guess a door to the odd house worked it's way open this month and I'm a popular stop for the escapees.
Anyhoo, nice prose. The names don't ring a bell though. You made a lot of statements that look nice togeather, but I wonder if you don't have me mixed up with some other Dark. It looks like someone has been reading Hunter S. Thompson. I advise tking some Vitamin C, drinking lots of water, and getting some rest. Thanks for playing.
-D
> Darkie- The factory called. Figgis needs his
> goods. Without goods the factory stalls. As you
> know, this means no production, no income, no flow
> charts. I know that Figgis is about as funny as
> Fred Travolina on low grade meth, but he calls the
> shots, goddamnit, and I for one am not up to facing
> him down on the judo mat. I seriously doubt you are
> either. Unless, of course, your self-help guru has
> taught you how to better defend yourself as well.
> But sentimentality is for twerps, so don't thump my
> ball-bag-sack for the next 10-15 days. For that
> matter, don't ever come near it again unless you
> want glass shards to shower down upon you causing
> various forms of disfigurement. I scored a lid of
> the high-power today and I feel as if I'm hovering 3
> centimetres above the ground while hurtling through
> an endless garden of psychedelic dasies- I am
> becoming ever more able to appreciate the beauty and
> enjoy the freeing feeling of the goddamned
> hallucinatory splendor. Can you dig it? I mean
> really? My girlfriend, who you may know as either
> Margaret or Elsie-Karin, thinks I need to cool out,
> quit burning down, and maybe travel to Austin for
> some much needed R and/or R. I think she's been
> seeing her Yage connection again, and that maybe her
> spectral plane and mine are deviating just a bit.
> Agree? Anywho, let me know what you think, where
> your mind is right now, and maybe we can keep in
> touch and try to freak each other out occasionally.
> Sound good? I thought so.
>
> Yours in mutual distrust,
>
> JackHaid,
> blistered.
>
>
> P.S. Don't underestimate Figgis, Darkson, don't
> do it. He'll shave your nails beyond the quick and
> dunk them in Dawn in honor of that fucker Madge.
> Okay?
>
zxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxz
Testing...
Um, Thanks for the e-mail Jack Haid, or Alan Dodds, or whoever you are. Are you the same person with the 805 area code that gave me the death threat this morning? If so, I'm flattered that you consider me worth that kind of time and energy: I know that that kind of thing takes up a lot of head space. If you are not the same person, then I guess a door to the odd house worked it's way open this month and I'm a popular stop for the escapees.
Anyhoo, nice prose. The names don't ring a bell though. You made a lot of statements that look nice togeather, but I wonder if you don't have me mixed up with some other Dark. It looks like someone has been reading Hunter S. Thompson. I advise tking some Vitamin C, drinking lots of water, and getting some rest. Thanks for playing.
-D
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