Banksy Sez

"The time of getting fame for your name on its own is over. Artwork that is only about wanting to be famous will never make you famous. Any fame is a by-product of making something that means something. You don't go to a restaurant and order a meal because you want to have a shit."

-Banksy/UK

Cell Phone Minutes

Cell Phone Minutes - a collective enterprise

[Warning: Not for kiddies or those with weak GI systems]

[Office Guy #2 enters elevator]
Office Guy #1: How about this rain?
Office Guy #2:Yeah.
#1: If it keeps up, I'm gonna build an ark.
#2: Tss.
[Short pause]
#1: They say it's gonna be like this until the middle of next month.
#2: Oh yeah.
#1: That's not right…must be global warming or something.
#2: Yeah…know what they say about March? It comes in like a...
#1: Comes in like a lion; goes out like a lamb.
#2: Ha! The lion must have ate the lamb.
#1: Or had more lions.
#2: Or, how 'bout this: maybe the lion fucked the lamb silly, all doggy style, or would that be lion-lamby style?
[Silence]
#2: Or, how 'bout this: maybe the lamb and the lion are in an elevator talking about the fucking weather like a couple of Simpletons and the lamb pulls out a switchblade and cut the lion's throat then just casually as the goddamn day is long got off on his office tower floor like nothing ever happened and left the lion bleeding on the floor for someone else to talk about the fucking weather with? How 'bout that? Ha-ha! That's fucking funny as hell!
#1 Uh, yeah. How 'bout the Raiders, huh? Problems with the quarterback…
#3: I took a shit this morning and didn't flush the toilet and took a shower and when I looked in the toilet after my shower my shit looked like a pussy so I fucked it. Just arched my back a whole lot and stuck my dick in the toilet and fucked it like mashed potatoes.
[Awkward silence]
#1: When you're fucking shit, do you have the same problem I have? How do you keep it from falling apart?
#2: Duct tape.
#1: Mashed potatoes too?
Office Guy #3: Yeah, duct tape.
[#1 exits elevator]
#3: Duh!
#2: He's never fucked a shit in his life.
#3: I know, but he will today, I wish I owned a duct tape store.
#2: Stupid shit fuckin' virgin...
#3: I didn't want to say this in front of him because I didn't want him to think I was weird, but I wasn't actually fucking shit. We'll, I was, but my girlfriend's aborted fetus was underneath the shit and she had forgotten to flush it before she took her shower. So I was fucking a dead fetus THROUGH shit.
#2: That's what I figured.
[Pause]
#2: How many minutes do you get on your calling plan?
[Exit elevator]
#3: Oh, I get 500 minutes plus a free phone every two years. I got this bitchin’ camera and video phone. Wanna see a phone-video of me fucking a dead fetus through shit?
[Pause]
#2: Uh, sure, what the hell...
[End]

Oranges

One through Four

Daffodil

Empty

Of Reason & Revelation (in three parts)

I.

Fire and brimstone rantings
Versus, or in conjunction with,
Random assignment and control groupings

We place our hopes; our dreams
In the hands of pitch people
Shilling eternal life
When this existence is already
(A living (hell) on earth)

So, uh, what gives there?
Simply put: I cannot accept
Determination by man or by faith
I do not pick your cotton
Do not – please – pick my destiny

Sure, there are varying
Degrees of “knack for happiness”
And diversity in nuance and tone
We are all tourists here

II.

When the curiosity wanes
There will be nothing left of the brain
When the instinct fades
There will be nothing left of the body

III.

Authenticity
As means of voracity
My capacity

Fire

Can You Keep Secrets?

I.

So here we are
Living our life-enhancing experiences
Because of our particular fears of
Sinking into apathy

Reflecting on our short, short lives
And collective myths of false paradises
Finding spaces in the middle of spectrums
Between building for those I love
And terrorizing them into submission

By art or accident
Split between art and life

Constant reminders of successes and failures
Of things to come
And of things left behind
The timeliness of creation

Our rewards upon our return
From hell personal and collective
It truth revealed and truth yet concealed
But without malice, greed, or impishness

Come mock the great
Burn the clutter
Wait patiently but intensely
Even if for an entire lifetime

It is my job – my occupation – my passion
The sum of all training and preparation
To be able to see through the knots
Yours, theirs, mine

---------------------------------------

II.

Here the kids have honed some of the most
Severe fashion and severe hair
And eyeglasses advertising instant credibility
So committed to scene and moment
Everyone is (their own) royalty here

Nothing is left to chance – I know!
From socks to tattoos ironic
Or topics for disdain or debate
There is certain affect in common
But little overly expressed excitement

Vintage as the newest of the new
Hiding in plain view
As secret as clouds or hunger
The hardest core of post-hip authenticity

Display

Looking Out Side

Don't Worry - More Soon

Yeah, I know...nothing new in a week. Fuck! There will be next week...some serious thought time coming soon.