party at cthulhu's and you're not invited

...or how the bastard did not go mad with the knowledge of horrible evil

...or swimming with squid

so the mad russian held his record release party on friday and it was good times for all. brief history lesson: the mad russian works in a bank. he doesn't particularly like working in a bank. he took several electives in college and has a knack with doling out the catchy rhythms. so he makes his own music to keep his head screwed on right. his brother, the mad lawyer write his own movie scripts. oh and he plays alot of keyboards for the mad russian seeing as he will not form a band. he's entitled, trent reznor only forms one to tour. anyway, he has no desire to sell records and get famous. he just wants to make music and be happy. there you go, in a nutshell.

so the bastard got to throw a few back enjoy some empinadas thanks to the wonder twins and missus o'brian and chat about junk. i got to have the quarterly discussion about the biz with the twins and the bastard somehow avoided discussing politics which seemed oddly refreshing. as i mentioned before, bobby sherman was there and he's rediscovering his friends so he cornered me and asked me to throw the paint down. i told him i hadn't put paint to canvas in quite some time. bobby leans in and says to me, "well bastard, it's about time you got back on the horse. no time like the present". he was right and i went to town. arguably, this is NOT by ANY stretch my best work. the bastard couldn't call it his worst work because that lofty crown belongs to one out of the three paintings i banged out the night before my abstract painting crit at the end of the semester in 1992 while watching shaft in africa and, shaft's big score which had one of the coolest opening chase sequences while john shaft chase a pair of miscreants who are trying to steal his hubcaps while he's jogging through central park. this always begged the question of, "how the hell did john shaft get parking by central park and where the hell does he go around having a maserati on a gumshoe's salary? he must be one baaaaaad mutha...". well you get the idea. actually i should beg the question of why the was i watching blaxploitation films instead of just going to class? anyway, halfway through the "work" (and i use that term loosely), bobby sherman asks me, what does it mean, what are you trying to say with this painting and i don't remember what i said because the inner voice always has the best answer. i though of photos protopapas. photos gets to keep his name for two reasons. one because he's the greatest painter i have ever had the pleasure to have known and secondly, because he had the stones to chuck it and move back home to cyprus, which i didn't understand back then but now, i respect enormously. i used to pick his brain all of the time not for meaning to his work. it was non representational abstract (say that 3 times fast), it means whatever you want it to mean most of the time. i used to ask him about technique and just to sit on the floor of his studio and watch him work. whenever someone would ask him what he was doing and what it meant, he would cock his head and in his thick cyprussian accent would say,"ahhhhh, i just paint", because it's what he did and i wish i was channeling photos on friday night to remember that great line but, i was just glad to be channeling the bastard that made me the bastard i am today. go back to work, shiteyes.

—the bastard