last weak in anime...

wanted to put this up last week.

should have built a time machine to tell future me.

—the bastard

the bastard is givin that stuff out to ALL. those graffiti guys

…or



…things the bastard liked about 5pointz


…and






…THING the bastard DIDN'T like about 5pointz

so on Friday night,

the wife days to me, "bastard, you like teh graffiti, yes?"

"why yes wife… I likes teh graffiti"

so she schemes to me on having us walk up to the graffiti installation known as 5pointz which is STUPID touristy these days but the bastard has accepted this as a known quantity.

that way, I can digest the bullshit well enough.





so I agree and we take the family up there. the boy hasn't seen reasonable tagging since we were at the river wall in at Louis in 2009 and we were much more preoccupied with eating cold Arthur Bryants at the time.

so we headed up.

and while at first blush a family of four with a stroller looked out of place at an abandoned building covered in some fair to excellent work, the bastard has to say that he was a fucking breath of fresh (F-R-E-S-H. fresh fresh fresh fresh fresh) air compared to the pack of wild kuwaii girls and there attempts at myspace style self portraiture in front of the graffiti.

a breath of fresh air compared to the eurotrash who asked my son to get out of the way of "thaa peece" he wanted to photograph.



and a goddam sight better than the black turtleneck crowd who ogled the same stuff they scorned 10 years ago when this stuff was the symbol of urban blight rather than that of urban renewal.

but what took the cake for me was this…

a monster truck pulls up the block

with the monster logo on it and a bunch of chuckleheads swarm upon the place in monster energy drink shirts on.

and a couple walk by and the man says to the woman , "the attention to detail is incredible".

"yeah", she concurs and then I kind of went back in time for a second.

I was at the Greene street gallery with art school and we're looking at a crappy sculpture of an apple core made of plaster and the guy in the black turtleneck leans over to the girl half his age and says in a throaty voice, "it's so dynamic. it's very indicative of the fall of man."

meanwhile back in 2011, the bastard is getting a laugh at how all of these white folk who would have never given this a second thought 10-15 years ago sees this stuff I grew up around as full of attention to detail.

don't get me wrong, it was some dope looking examples of wild stour circa the mid to late 80's and definitely more evolved but I would never quote anything out of artspeak to elevate it to anything more than what it is…

graffiti.

and I wouldn't paint three murals for any of the ass this guy was trying to pull down. unless you like that sort of thing.

oh well, it was still good to look at and I made burgers later on.

—the bastard

way back machine

so, the bastard stopped by the chairman's place to pick up my ladder.

that way the bastard's winter collection can be accessed when I get to the garage.

upon leaving I came across some wheat paste induced time travel or perhaps someone's Kerry/edwards leftovers.

the sign reads:

kill more

steal more

bless dumber

now the bastard doesn't want to disrupt the hipster dynamic or anything with any of his old man talk but,


perhaps we can move on from here. we're a couple years in now. oddly enough this is pasted to a construction site that has only ceased dormancy recently with graffiti declaring that "Obama is going to change everything".

the juxtaposition is interesting.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

 haruhi suzumiya wants your money

—the bastard

…on basement lighting

I was tagged in a post on the book of face this afternoon by my colleague from art school.

I don't talk about art school as much anymore because when I do, people looked bored.

people i talk to at parties like to hrar about magazines and deer meat and how great it is to barely art direct killing stuff monthly.

no one gives a good god damn about sfumato,

or about arabesque,

or pendentives.

nah. no one gives a shit about how this painting was very indicative of the fall of man.

no one wants to hear about basement lighting and about Caravaggio.

but Leo did.

Leo was a broken man. born in the wrong time. hated art majors who came to class and a used tule at will.

you see Leo failed as a painter in his youth.

because no one gave a shit about sfumato in a time when Warhol was painting soup cans.

so he didn't teach so much as he seethed at you,

you young fucker.

you don't know shit.

and I'm going to make you know about it.

but once, for a week during the semester, he changed his tone, to speak about Caravaggio.

and during this segment of the course,  this angry man lit up in a way I never saw an educator come to life about a subject in 16 years of being in the educational system.

it changed me forever.

because he loved Caravaggio so much.

Leo is dead now so, I never got to thank him for bringing some light into the basement of my soul.

I miss talking about art school.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

special naked pervert edition

so, the bastard is cleaning out screenshots from soul eater and i don't know why i grabbed this.

but,

i'm glad i did.

—the bastard

it is time…

…for stormy weather




and his has nothing to do with me gettng married in three weeks.

anyway, the bastard is on his way out for the weekly hump to get the car when he decides to check the weather and it says

IT'S GONNA RAIN, JERK!

that said,

I'm going back to my old high school tomorrow morning to proctor a graphic design test.

it really goes back to one of my bigger bitches about my education.

you see,

I never learned how to find a job in school,

and it really bugs me to this day while looking down from the fucking heap I stand on top of.

things may have been different if I knew.

maybe not.

who cares, you can't be living in the past or multiple realities for that matter.

but the bastard can change the future.

not for me but for some other jackass.

but more importantly, I scored a seat on an air conditioned F train and I'm fulla whiskey.

props to me.

—the bastard

...on otakuology part two

...oldies but goodies.


this isn't the first model i ever built.

the first one i ever built was the title character of the mobile suit gundam series.

and he looked like this.

only dirty and covered with sawdust because i worked in my parents unfinished basement on models when i was a boy.

i used some old assed testors paint which went on like spackle but, it was what i could afford on a junior high school kid's salary.

and it was before i found a store in my neighborhood that carried better paints.

the unfortunate thing with gundam was this. it was my first piece and i had never put anything together but WW II airplanes (my brother and my dad worked on this b-29 in the living room and i helped by, gluing the propellors on wrong) and i globbed the paint on,

and got my fingerprints all over it,

and glue,

and crap.

so it never looked good but, i loved it and played all the time with it. because it was a robot too and that was cool when i was 11. when i was older, i tried to fix the paint on it but using thinner and it destroyrd the plastic. and i was sad about it. but i was a teenager by then so, i wasn't that sad about it.

i think that when you're older, you lament lost things from your past more than you did at the time of loss because it is only when you're older that you realize the permanence of things lost. like innocence, you'll never get it back.

and that stings.

later on during junior high, ray and i would order from a place in massachusetts called the cosmic connection, which is long gone.

and

ray and i ordered this 1/144 of full armor gundam, which didn't appear in TOS. it was more of a suit from a manga side story.

SIDEBAR: mobile suit gundam has been putting out manga about the tv shows mythos as long as they have been putting together tv series. in fact unicorn gundam which will be airing in 6 episodes over the next year or came from manga. what is manga you ask? boy, did you come to the wrong place shiteyes.

anyway, cosmic was carrying this suit and ray and i bought two. it was kind of like book of the month club, with robots. that said, it's the earliest living example of stuff i did. i have older kits that i did later. some of which are 30 years old but, i didn't buy them until later on in life.

i wonder if aside from enriching my time on this ball, if this crap does nothing more than collect dust. most of them have collect cigarette tar as well. it's a dirty business

—the bastard

...on motivational speaking

i was having a conversation with my ladyfriend tonight.

we're in the middle of putting together birth announcements.

and she had remarked on how she doesn't want to do anything too too nutty as our daughter is more of a night sleeper than a day sleeper.

"i'm not gonna go nuts. when am i gonna have the time to do that?", she asks

"you gonna do it anyway". air and light and time and space don't mean a thing.", the bastard responds

"what?"

so i went to the web and grabbed hank's poem about it. i used to have it on my office wall.

it helped the bastard with the "conundrum".

what conundrum do you mean?

well young jerks, it's like this.

you wanna be an artist but you need to pay the bills.

so you get a job.

now you have cash in pocket

but

no time to create.

what to do.

so a really good friend told me about a drunk named hank and this poem that i kept on the wall in my office and at home in my workspace and it was my compass for a long time.

and perhaps sometimes it still is.

air and light and time and space

"–you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have
a place and the time to
create."

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

i read it to my ladyfriend tonight and it reminded me of a time when the bastard was struggling and he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

developing film for unappreciative assholes.

designing album packages at 2 in the morning for some shady guy who stills owes me money and moved to vermont.

reminded me because i'm here.

top of my game.

end of the road.

one year later.

i miss my closest buds because they weren't as lucky or they got fed up and left.

still standing. at the end of the tunnel. and i don't know what to do next.

you'd think it was all it's cracked up to be.

and i'm not gonna tell you it ain't

but i ain't gonna tell you it is.

but i'll tell you this,

i would really love to see lobster come into the office in that phillies hat to grub a cuppa coffee these days.

dunno what i'd give for that.

—the bastard