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"During the sixties, I think, people forgot what emotions were supposed to be. And I don't think they every remembered. I think once you see emotions from a certain angle you can never think of them as real again. That's more less what has happened to me." —Andy Warhol

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Riding The Wild Bubble: The HoneyBun Chronicles Part 5: The Gentlemanly Art Of Spanking Print E-mail
Monday, 27 August 2007
spanking series prints

This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it if you are interested in a limited edition print of this piece, entitled "A Thousand Colors Made From Tears.

The Gentlemanly Art of Spanking

The saga continues.

As we last met, we were discussing San Francisco of the seventies, with a detour, jumping twenty years ahead, to Las Vegas and porn premiers. Not sure how that happened. So let us together scurried through the salient details of the next two decades so we can get back to HoneyBun, the spanking kit empire. 

Married in 1981. Reception at Presidio Officers Club, thanks to Sky King, wife's dad.

Kazoos on dance floor. Better solos than band. If looks could kill. Sky King loved it.

Sons in short order. William, November 9.1981. Nathan, June 26 1983. Every Breath You Take.

Bowie scores with Let's Dance and goes into a blackout for rest of decade. I'm in there with him a lot .

Working south of Market.

Trying to drink less.

Sent out original "Someone You Love Is Flapping" and "Bulboscity in Stasis" cards.

Brother Nate commits suicide at 31. Booze. Coke. Pills. Two notes.

I start drinking and smoking for the both of us. South of market and North Beach and the dive bars on San Pablo in Albany.

Affirming daily the 'One Bar' cosmology: that is to say, my brothers

There is only One Bar: it spans the whole globe and when we drink in one, we drink in brotherhood and fellowship with every other drinker across the world, in our different rooms.  

Wife thrilled with this revelation.

Work, after reading of $100K advance for 68-pg. book, Fup, begins on "Flapping."

 
The Snow Birds Print E-mail
Saturday, 31 March 2007
snowbirds2
I had the pleasure of attending a concert by the choral group WomenSing. Martin Bienvenuto, the choir's Director, is a master of unearthing little-known gems from the classical and modern choral repertoires and bringing them to life with the enthusiastic cooperation of the 55-women group. 
From the WomenSing website: "Believing that music is transformative and enlightening for both singer and listener alike, WomenSing is devoted to the study and performance of great choral repertoire and to sharing it with a broad audience."

The evening's repertory did not disappoint, ranging from Vivaldi's Beatus Vir to Haydn's String Quartet in Eb Major to the Snow Birds—Words by Sri Ananda Acharya (born 1883 to the Brahmin caste, later renouncing the world and settling in Norway) and music by Michael Head (1900-1976). The lyrics for the song cycle came from an early edition of Sri Ananda's poetry, entitled "The Snow Birds."

The lyrics to "Only A Singing Bird" I found particularly wonderful.

I am not God nor His messenger.
I am only a singing bird.
I am not Poet nor his Muse.
I am only a singing bird.
I am not Prophet.
I am not Sage—
I am only a singing bird.
 

I fly in the heav'ns across the seas.
And come to sing at thy door.
Each dawn when the morning God
smiles on the ocean,
Each eve when the twilight God
sings at earth's end,
Each night when the God of thy heart
sits in silence alone with the God of my heart.
I am only a singing bird.

 
The Most Beautiful Day In The History Of The World Print E-mail
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
My good friends Gustavo and Todd have started making comics for their website Want A Beaver? (It's still warm).
This one is my favorite, so far. I love the political ones as well.  I have a feeling NBC will not be knocking on their door anytime soon, as they did for 14 over at Gallery of the Absurd. (Way to go, 14!) 

wantabeaver1
And, not to be outdone, I have created a new strip, to which I will be adding frequently in the days and weeks months and years to come, I am sure, entitled "The Most Beautiful Day In The History of the World."
TMBD1

 

 
James Brown, R.I.P. Print E-mail
Friday, 29 December 2006

BROWN08

 

 

Mr. James Brown, the Godfather of Soul

(Video of "It's a Man's World" clip on the flipflop)

 
When I was just a sprout at Willard Junior High School on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, I often found myself cooling my heels in the dean's office, usually for trying, selflessly, to enliven an otherwise dreadfully boring class with a humorous quip or two, perhaps a series of them.

More often than not, it would be me and a couple of black guys who were also, in the language of today, most likely trying to keep it real, as only thirteen-year-olds can, within the oppressive confines of the conditioning system known as the Berkeley public school system.

And there we would sit together in the outer office, cooling our heels, waiting for the dean of boys, who knew us all on a first-name basis, to call us into his private domain.

 

Invariably, we would get in an argument about who was better, James Brown or The Beatles. 

I remember one time in particular. It was me and four guys.

They challenged me:

--Who's got more number one hits?

Me [mind you, I had no facts to back my claims up.]:

--The Beatles

Them:

--Who's made more money?

Me:

--The Beatles 

Them:

--Who's sold more albums?

Me:

--The Beatles

:::::::::::: [long pause wherein they all sort of gazed at the floor] :::::::::::

And then one guy looked me right in the eye and said:

"Well, who's got more SOUL??"  

 
What We Could Have Had Print E-mail
Saturday, 06 January 2007

orgazmo
What Steve Jobs foisted on us:mini

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

And no Fortran, either.

Frown

 And now, the ignominy of the iPhone:appleiphone4

 

I mean, where's the steering wheel? 

 
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