25 July 2020

12 March 2020

11 June 2019

21 January 2019






































                           CSBS

look

03 February 2018

31 January 2018

29 January 2018

06 November 2017

06 October 2017

LET ME BACK UP A LITTLE HERE.  Let you take the trunk section pull down seat in this blue '79 Caprice Station-Wagon that faces the "rear" window; but since you have let

 me back-up a little here now you see bumperstickers where it was meant you'd see

  windshields and I am stepping on it. You find it funny and worrisome at once, for this 

is not rear-wheel drive, and my acceleration in reverse gear is galloping - over the raised and bumpy railroad tracks and the Caprice goes airborne like some nissan major motion heckova hunkova ram tough truck commercial and your pants are pissed, you have stopped

 breathing and your adrenals could work no better if a flaming volkswagen beetle had to be lifted to save your own little bundle of joy, for I have not even turned my head to see the road

 in front of you; I am using the rearview mirror - this is what I meant by let me back up a 

little - don't worry it is a lightly travelled straight and mostly flat road lined with

 a lot of nothing but the occasional telephone pole to crash into should I lose

 control, I won't, I keep promising, reassuring it is almost impossible to roll one of these

 Caprice Station Wagons without a steep embankment... I did not want to scare you so though and I feel bad about the excitement upon your

 bladder, how pale you've gone; so now we coast. You take a deep breath, and I 

appreciate this as most of all as it is audience that I want for this little backing up of mine.

 Why don't we visit the drive-thru just like this: you go first I'll let the electric  window down and would you order me a small chocolate shake along with whatever you'd like.

 Do not try to escape or I will close the electric window on you, its one of the few things

 General Motors was doing right in '79 and you would be wise to take my word for the 

python like grip the window-crank-motor is capable of stopping you with - go ahead get yourself some fries if you like and we'll get back to letting me back up a little bit oh thank you, it is the greatest gift a person can give you know, to such an unforward looking being such as I, letting me back up a little, thank you so much, go ahead, make sure to buckle up and

17 September 2017



13 June 2017

20 January 2017

17 April 2016

21 August 2015

Preview
Purchase
Po Boy New Orleans









































"Mere Nola got me. It's the first poetry book in a very long time I read cover to cover and felt bad that it didn't go on. It's a hell of a book, memoir, diary, journal, told with perfect pitch, great ear, perfect spoken Ingles. Tremendous writer, truly, master of the new Nawrleans lit, if not a chef d'ecole."
-- Andrei Codrescu







I Wuv My Van
DIY Couch Demo

The Mona Lisa Contest

Flower Photography in the Nineties

Queenie
Penny



Rivers Paw


Fester

The Garage Door Storey

The Coffee Shop Photographs



There Is A Foot on Geary Street



It's in the Muni bay in front of Martell's Liquors at 20th Avenue; these pictures began in 1987 and end 2003. The last time I checked in 2011 it was still there, collecting its whathaveu. Nathan tries to correct me that Geary is not a Street, but a Boulevard, and a Grand one at that - its mail codes go from 94108 to 94121. But "there is a foot on Geary St." was the mutter that directed me to click my shutter the first time (after three years of notice) and this is what I mean by Language Photography...I recall my mild concern in 1997, when it was marked with orange paint as a defect to fix by a public works employee, but they never got around to repairing this impression made by a shoe cast in wet cement.


GREAT MOMENTS IN MEDICINE

Colour Night Real Estate Photography


Corners and Napkins




in the end a pen takes to brick and flails

in the beginning, next to portions of four bricks

is a filthy paper waiting thumbnail, a napkin

chats about waiting in chairs at a reading to hear

then, turning the page a door slams

eardrum pulsing last cigaret looks

these are real corners you could encounter in the world

close at the scale of napkins, inside and out

what I have found, is a wave form

of course,  lunar lighting. stubble of stucco -

I could tell you plenty about Stucco, but Corners and Napkins

is not concerned with stucco, some corners trap

some corners - we do not know

some corners we do, for they Deify light

lime says cool

orange invites lizards to cross

green on the produce sign says notice

napkin relieves, assures

napkin will take a bullet for the Chief

napkin signed verifies invention

napkin tapping at corners of mouth

now decide if to lie and emphasize

cloud billow sail

perfection can be  routinely achieved in the photography of napkins

these resin coated colored 4"x6" papers are satisfying to compile

for the napkin photograph solicits its surface to write on and

i love cycles of perfection to ruin

some of these corners are severe

they are hard and promise it is a cold cruel world

corners you would not like in a prison guard

we like the corner that wanders for god

that cant, that wiggle, is ours

10 Covers of Triton



TEN DOLLAR BOOK! 


Inspector Wear Skirts

Hypermiling Saved My Life

   My Life in the Photo Booth

Sqibb City








20 August 2015

I W C W I A C

I W N B D I T H

I W N L W T T C M N


Randy's Discipline

Teacher dictated the lyric to Randy transcribed it 25 times.
It was exhibited in 1989 at New Langton Arts in San Francisco,
"Special Collections."

From a collection of mostly handwritten papers gathered by William Passarelli
Including a distressed loose leaf by Randy with a no two letters alike handwriting:

1. I will come when I am called. I will not break dance in
the halls. I will not laugh when teacher calls my name.
2.
(x 25)

I heard, and became a colony of its refrain...

Chris Sullivan April 2009 New Orleans




14 July 2015



Ceilings in Warehouse Stores

31 May 2015

M ' o p e r a




Mot!


Mot!

THEY HAVE LEFT US

a smorgasbord of spills

a compendium of swills

a panoply of polenta

eggshells, coffee grounds

cookie crumbs

look! there's one

a Magnificent Morsel

of Oatmeal Raisin


up here who knows

if we ocean or land

so eat every speck of food on the plane

they give me

your voice came from so far away

it was so good to hear and say

Au, Contrail! 

("contrails" are flung: streamers of toilet paper)

above this ground of such travail

how the sky turns into a page

oblivious and blue

Rebecca Kauffman

Koom-Bacha Nation

Martha Strawn

Beheader of Prawns

That was 96

No, you are wrong

It must have been

Another throng

I like this one

The Italians are fun

Why dont we take a rest

That crumb is not going anywhere


the Crumb Sings




























Shall all your cares beguile:

Wond'ring how your pains were eas'd

And disdaining to be pleas'd

Till Alecto free the dead

From their eternal bands,

Till the snakes drop from her head,

And the whip from out her hands


Now that the sun hath veiled his light...


oh lets. adopt a comfortable posture

to lean

























and reminisce

we were just drying on the deck of the lake


David Whistles / Otis Redding


listening to Franticek and Jitka sing

the lonely Shepherd songs

from mountains of check republic

where Laffoley puzzled

the correct particle size pebble

to ballast the auxiliary

box-kite powered bird boat

kinda neo-dada Erica's

and Shannon's toy boat regatta

what was your favorite?

thing to lick?

Yes

I am a little embarrassed

Mops do not blush, just swell

of the liberally distributed dance floor sweat drop-lets of

Oh!

Giorgio!

I tried to sway him not to go but o

Georgia

is on my mind

Mot?

Mot

You know we can't have it all

And this sopped up bliss

Will just turn into mangy-ness

If we are not wrung soon

Oh Mot

We have to choose

Between this magnificently crumbled

Cookie and Vance's puddle of I-a-was-Ca

I think the former

So the lucky crumb is now the latter

Look!

There goes Gayle!

Au, Contrail...




May 1, 2008, Gathering at Lake Eden

produced by

Chris / Marguerite / Michael / Giuseppe Gavazza / Jan-Christoph / Nausicaa / Georgia / Molly / David / Elaine / Kevin / Marcus / Tom & Ted





Songs of Henry Purcell:

Music For a While

An Evening Hymn

25 February 2014

Notes toward a couch story In the beginning there was a 5 piece sectional in the living room. My earliest memory of it has me watching the Beatles first appearance on the Ed Sullivan show, when I was six. I was allowed to stay up late to see it. I remember the excitement of my older sister Frances, fuzzy black and white images and she loves you, yeah yeah yeah. Its dark but for the light of the tv and I can't recall the upholstery in this memory, but that it was a little drab. This was in Carmel, New York, at the end of a long driveway off of Highway 52 that announced itself with 4 sculptures of giant milk bottles, two quarts and two pints, for our house had been converted from a dairy barn.






Later that year the couch made its way out to a pink three bedroom tract home at 339 Cinderella Lane in Goleta, California. I was surprised when I got off the plane, because the western shows I liked to watch made me think we were moving to a place of dusty streets and wooden sidewalks, horses hitched to posts and swinging saloon doors rudely pushed open by men with shooters strapped to their hips. The couch was kind of dowdy, with skirting around the bottom and polished wooden armrests; it had two 4' bench sections at either end, then a single seat, then a curved middle section that connected to the last section. It was reupholstered in 1965 with fabric designs that repeated scenes from colonial american life, to match the Ethan Allan coffee and end tables that sported an imposing pair of rooster lamps. Sunday mornings our parents slept in and we enjoyed this unsupervised time to play in ways forbidden when they were about. Kevin and I were goofing in the living room, pretending that the carpet was molten lava and leaping over the safe continents of couch to the island of footstool; soon pillows were being tossed and cushions turned into shields until I, being the youngest and a little hyperactive, picked up the cushion of a 4' section and hoisted it over my head for the purpose of conking my brother. My father had just completed a months long endeavor, of assembling an advanced plastic model kit of the 19th century warship U.S. Constitution. He had done a beautiful job of it, masterfully applying glue, paint and rigging, and it was a marvel. He then suspended the finished work from the ceiling of the living room. That was on Saturday, putting it in the way of my raised cushion that Sunday morning, and it all came crashing down. Two of its masts were snapped, its intricate rigging trashed. I hoped somehow it could be fixed. He was decisive when he saw it what I'd done, picking it up, assessing it for a moment and then taking it out to the trash can. I don't remember him saying a word, but that he soon left the house and we did not see him until mid afternoon. He had a new kickball for me and told me I should play with it outside. Its one of those memories that time won't heal. Today I remain hushed by his restraint. There wasn't anything frivolous about his hobby. He'd quit drinking in 1963, and our home was among others, a cauldron of stress in the presence of chronic and tragic illness in the wake of a medical catastrophe that afflicted my mother in 1958. So that model making was his respite in the garage, listening to the radio, drinking coffee, smoking and pleasing himself by doing work he was good at to produce a centerpiece for all that early americana in the living room, and lasting for all of a day. His interests went through phases, and later it was tropical fish until there were 5 aquariums in the house. The last was a 10 gallon tank in the recreation room he had built around the patio. There was a walking catfish in that tank. Forget to close the lid and soon it would be on the lam, wriggling its way in search of the next pond. We found it and returned it several times, but for the last. Much later, I found its desiccated remains under the sectional couch in the living room. It had travelled through three rooms to get there.


21 November 2013



We gotta move this story along!

Listen I'm bringing some Ice Cream home and

We gotta get you a new Burner  Phone

NSA does what it does

they can't track every 20 bucks

rip out the battery snap it half

slam dunk scowl the nearest trash yeah

we gotta get you a new Burner Phone

21 April 2012

50,000 Things I Can Do Save(d) the E A R T H

49,990:



49,991:

"My Aesthetic did this to me..."



Assembly is in our genes; and now stuff is not just everywhere, its easy to get.

What expressive medium does not become collage.

What greater instrument of Collectography than the Internet, or proving ground

for the EGREGIOUS AESTHETIC ERROR?

Which if by nature proceeds from an appreciative regard and admiration and curiosity

to court and sight the Buckyball thin lattice structures a boundary the correct and

immemorial Aesthetic, with the other, cannot truly be said to harm?

Or that a right thing might not be made from a collection of these, abiding examples

of What Not.



The center image in collage below (49,992) is called Nourish, by Boyd Webb,

a narrative visual artist whose work appears entirely unacquainted with the

EAE, and says

"The wish to take the domestic into realms beyond the imaginable

seems to me to be a truly human aspiration
"


49.992:


From Jack Foley's weekly Cover to Cover poetry program at KPFA

It never occurred to me the Gray Whale had blood vessels large enough that
I could swim through, until I had the experience of hearing Heathcote Williams’
great ecopoem, Whale Nation, a brilliant collage dealing with creatures who can
boast “the largest brain ever created”:
“Blue seas cover seven-tenths of the earth’s surface,
And are the domain of the largest brain ever created,
With a fifty-million-year-old smile.”

This poem, famous in England, is almost unknown in the USA.

It is read by the author.

Part 1

Part 2




49,993


in Admiration of Lionel Williams
Color Sandwich Board Parlour Book
387" linear (giclee) Poboy + Marginalia,
Commissioned and Licensed, Slight Publications













49,994:

49,995: Why does the White Southerner Love George Bush?

He makes Jefferson Davis 2nd Worst President in American History


49,996:

Just prior to chores in the Garden

run your fingernails through a bar of soap;

and that dirt won't have a chance at wash time

49,997:

Why did the illiterate Junior White Southerner have to be "Grandfathered" in?

So Blacks could be Taxed Without Representation.

Why did the White Southerner introduce a ballot initiative whereby blacks
would vote overwhelmingly for their own electoral disenfranchisement?

Repeatedly Stealing Elections is too much like work!


49,998:

Support the N A T U R M O B I L...

"Taken from the word nature and mobile, Naturmobil is a vehicle designed

to run with the help of nature, specifically with the natural force of the horse"




49,999:

Extract every bit of toothpaste from the tube by tightly rolling

the tube as it is used. When empty, replace the cap and drive a screw

through the top to attach to cabinet door for a "pull" (thumb and forefinger) style handle.


50,000: If you can't do something Nice for the Earth, don't do it at all.