Let's see. At this time last year I was just about at the end of my time in debauchery, radical debauchery. I had no liege, no care and nothing to lose. And then all of fate shifted the moment I tongue kissed my friends at the end of that dirty little hipster bar. _ _ _ _ took her drugs and left. Well more accurately, made a bunch of phone calls, withheld her pills and dragged it out for another two weeks but that was the moment it was essentially over. E3 had it out too, that was it for him, don't kiss a black man in public. Period. He held on to that shit for six weeks and showed up at the office to end it. Well, more accurately, he dragged it out for another month or two but that moment was it, over. That one hit me just as hard. Hard is a good word for it - we live hard, we play hard, we go down hard, we end each other with such course certainty and drag ourselves like rag dolls over the broken asphalt, usually high on something. Quick. It's over. Whack. And then it is. All in all, what goes down is a matter of pride and certainty. Each wants more than the next. Each wants another jewel, another dollar, another fuck, another heart, another year and will be willing to give up each, one by one, until the totality of it is something like a negative sum. Letting go is good. Necessary. But sad, like toy soldiers, individually sad, empty. Then the lonely time in the empty places is spent on romantic ideology or worse, sentimentality, awful, waiting for a time to return or a new one, more perfect than the last, to begin. Or if the utter pain of it comes to bear and lays one out cold then desperation sets in and efforts are made to salvage the pieces. I'm a salvager. I believe long gone and broken things can be brought to life for the love they failed to realize. On a phone call or a wish wars can be undone, crimes can be erased and we can march forward for all of our hapless wants and actions.
I tried to make it everyday. I made a pledge to do it but once the cancer came to town I faltered and missed here and there but managed to maintain one post per day on average as some days I gave two or more. Plus the pictures. Pictures will often suffice for several days. The right ones, rightly placed. I managed to make it and to make it known where I was and just how far off I choose to go. I started this on the 15 of January and I'll carry it out until then being certain that 365 entries for the year from January 15, 2008 to January 15, 2009 are complete. I'll do it for you. I'll complete this for you and for myself because I can't give up and I won't give up and I don't give up. A salvager.
Then there are two projects on the horizon; Buttercup & Rose, all of the dirt and scars, piss and shit, flora and joy that shoves us toward perfection, and next year's project with the big camera, views of tomorrow from what made me. Stay tuned.
Stay solid in the heat of it tonight. Stay warm and look your neighbor in the eye and hold out your hand and ride, supine to the motor...
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
beat
Bang the drum slowly.
Wake up Daniel.
It's Rose.
Wake up.
I'm awake, I've been awake.
What have you been hiding?
Nothing.
True. Then what more do you need?
Depends who's asking.
Silence.
I need a way to safety.
You will not get this.
I need a telephone call then.
Who will you call?
Buttercup.
She will use you.
I want her to.
She will disappoint you.
I want her to.
Then you will get more of this.
I shake my head, looking down between my knees.
Get your friend to the doctor.
Which friend?
Mack.
Mack collapsed a few days back, clear out, for several minutes, paralyzed as in a stroke. Then he came to, scared and looking for help, not mustering up enough strength with the paralysis to get the phone out. Buttercup calls.
Hey babe.
Daniel I'm sick.
It's Rose.
Babe, what should I do?
What hurts?
My stomach, on the right side.
Is this your intestine or your liver? Is it your small intestines hurting?
I don't know. I'm scared.
I shake my head again as in a yes, looking down between my knees.
What do the doctors say?
They say it sounds like gall bladder stones.
(Shit those are painful.) Fuck. Let me look them up.
Are you online?
Just a minute. (Sure enough, symptoms indicate bile.)
I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take.
Yea.
What should I do?
Wait and if the pain is too much go to the emergency room.
Why don't you come live here?
And do what doll? (But I knew I would be better off just leaving, defecting if necessary.) I'll need supplies. But I must come on my own, not for sickness.
This sucks.
Most things do.
And I can hear the voices of my children stammering about. I can hear them calling me from across the open land and hear their responses. I can hear it over the dirty pine and clanging steel of the rail below. I can hear it over the loudmouth fags near the end bar stool chucking darts. I can hear them over the voices of other children nestled in with family. I can hear my children's voices louder than the ringing of my ears and louder than the pulse of body fluid over strained pants and groans of night terrors. I hear something there. And before long I know I'll be asleep and the morning will come and I'll get up, if nothing more than, to find out what comes next.
Wake up Daniel.
It's Rose.
Wake up.
I'm awake, I've been awake.
What have you been hiding?
Nothing.
True. Then what more do you need?
Depends who's asking.
Silence.
I need a way to safety.
You will not get this.
I need a telephone call then.
Who will you call?
Buttercup.
She will use you.
I want her to.
She will disappoint you.
I want her to.
Then you will get more of this.
I shake my head, looking down between my knees.
Get your friend to the doctor.
Which friend?
Mack.
Mack collapsed a few days back, clear out, for several minutes, paralyzed as in a stroke. Then he came to, scared and looking for help, not mustering up enough strength with the paralysis to get the phone out. Buttercup calls.
Hey babe.
Daniel I'm sick.
It's Rose.
Babe, what should I do?
What hurts?
My stomach, on the right side.
Is this your intestine or your liver? Is it your small intestines hurting?
I don't know. I'm scared.
I shake my head again as in a yes, looking down between my knees.
What do the doctors say?
They say it sounds like gall bladder stones.
(Shit those are painful.) Fuck. Let me look them up.
Are you online?
Just a minute. (Sure enough, symptoms indicate bile.)
I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take.
Yea.
What should I do?
Wait and if the pain is too much go to the emergency room.
Why don't you come live here?
And do what doll? (But I knew I would be better off just leaving, defecting if necessary.) I'll need supplies. But I must come on my own, not for sickness.
This sucks.
Most things do.
And I can hear the voices of my children stammering about. I can hear them calling me from across the open land and hear their responses. I can hear it over the dirty pine and clanging steel of the rail below. I can hear it over the loudmouth fags near the end bar stool chucking darts. I can hear them over the voices of other children nestled in with family. I can hear my children's voices louder than the ringing of my ears and louder than the pulse of body fluid over strained pants and groans of night terrors. I hear something there. And before long I know I'll be asleep and the morning will come and I'll get up, if nothing more than, to find out what comes next.
Monday, December 29, 2008
crossing borders
I watched the border guard flip through my notes, reading and straining to read the details.
Why are you traveling in someone else's car?
I borrow it to see my girlfriend.
Where'd you meet her?
The girlfriend or the owner of this car.
The girlfriend.
Where I work, at the museum.
Why does she let you use her car?
(Have you seen the car dipshit? It's an '89 rust covered shitbox. I bought it but she registered it because it is cheaper. I don't want a car really but my girlfriend got cancer so I made it happen.)
Because I need it to see my girlfriend. I cross about every other week in this car. Is there a way I can avoid this? Is there a way I can avoid this type of treatment?
Cross in your own car.
Right.
Fuck it, I read where the guard read. The guard is a woman.
"One heel underneath her ass comes the tomb. One heel and we are sunk. An Indian (the Eastern Bunch) and a cyst, the growing kind, the ones that have a dabble, we're here, we're born. Baby I DO LOVE YOU but do you see me, can you see me? Do you have the purpose and the pardon. All of your superficial interests are gone and done. You are done. As sure as cancer has told you, you are done and we are afloat. We are the memory of you. You are the memory of we. I hate Romantics more than sentimentalists. We are cooked together in the witches stew. WE are entropimentalists." -- "Tell Z, move thru - bend the branches"
Why are you traveling in someone else's car?
I borrow it to see my girlfriend.
Where'd you meet her?
The girlfriend or the owner of this car.
The girlfriend.
Where I work, at the museum.
Why does she let you use her car?
(Have you seen the car dipshit? It's an '89 rust covered shitbox. I bought it but she registered it because it is cheaper. I don't want a car really but my girlfriend got cancer so I made it happen.)
Because I need it to see my girlfriend. I cross about every other week in this car. Is there a way I can avoid this? Is there a way I can avoid this type of treatment?
Cross in your own car.
Right.
Fuck it, I read where the guard read. The guard is a woman.
"One heel underneath her ass comes the tomb. One heel and we are sunk. An Indian (the Eastern Bunch) and a cyst, the growing kind, the ones that have a dabble, we're here, we're born. Baby I DO LOVE YOU but do you see me, can you see me? Do you have the purpose and the pardon. All of your superficial interests are gone and done. You are done. As sure as cancer has told you, you are done and we are afloat. We are the memory of you. You are the memory of we. I hate Romantics more than sentimentalists. We are cooked together in the witches stew. WE are entropimentalists." -- "Tell Z, move thru - bend the branches"
Sunday, December 28, 2008
of myths and madmen
Dear reader the time is coming where I am going to say goodbye to you again. The year is nearly over and you have been privy to most of it. I can share some and to my
extent will say that it is a precarious road, a thin line, a vaulted mirror. I see it and then I don't. You see more, that's the thing. How could I know any of it? A year. But I've got something to lose now. I always did but now I see it. There are those of you who hate it and who hate me. I think of the cowards and madmen, the whores and angels and I know I am blessed. Right now, there is work to do. And I'll do it until the blow comes that lays it low. Rise up you dirty bitches, make merry in the spotted sea and watch for the code. Your neighbor will deliver the news.
extent will say that it is a precarious road, a thin line, a vaulted mirror. I see it and then I don't. You see more, that's the thing. How could I know any of it? A year. But I've got something to lose now. I always did but now I see it. There are those of you who hate it and who hate me. I think of the cowards and madmen, the whores and angels and I know I am blessed. Right now, there is work to do. And I'll do it until the blow comes that lays it low. Rise up you dirty bitches, make merry in the spotted sea and watch for the code. Your neighbor will deliver the news.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
17 Dark Gems
17 dark gems:
1. I awake thinking who deserves who? There's a real argument. I say, build my bridge and forget. You say, wait.
2. I am a common man, here are my signs: *shelter, *clean air, *safety, *the end.
3. There, right there, right there's an edge. walk off.
4. I ask, did death touch you? All eyes look up.
5. I masturbate with bleach. A priest told me that it would stop the dirty habit.
6. Hospitalized. Hospitality. Hopscotch. Hope.
7. What we share in fact is direct experience. Direct experience is bust because anything less would irritate trauma. Better to just accept it.
8. Imagine total acceptance.
9. What disease will do for you. Disease will open your eyes and with it your beliefs and ask you to know what your beliefs can be. Disease will see your child to sleep and your plans to bear. Disease will not end you, it will begin you. Everyday disease will move you forward.
10. Who's got time for an examined life? Answer: not-a. no one.
11. If you let me in, I let you in. When you come alive, I come alive.
12. The baby boomers drank your milkshake.
13. Who is your audience? The absolute other pieced together with certain faculties - *language *empathy *vision, this is all.
14. Wisdom point #11, no one essentially cares. This is Nihilism. It is essentially positive.
15. Football players may sometimes make love, man on man.
16. What is love? Love is the distance between communications.
17. There are beings which live near the speed of light and regularly traverse the solar system. I saw them once. Occasionally I will attempt to speak with them when I know they are near. One day a year the world turns slowly, more slowly than usual and this is the day I can communicate.
1. I awake thinking who deserves who? There's a real argument. I say, build my bridge and forget. You say, wait.
2. I am a common man, here are my signs: *shelter, *clean air, *safety, *the end.
3. There, right there, right there's an edge. walk off.
4. I ask, did death touch you? All eyes look up.
5. I masturbate with bleach. A priest told me that it would stop the dirty habit.
6. Hospitalized. Hospitality. Hopscotch. Hope.
7. What we share in fact is direct experience. Direct experience is bust because anything less would irritate trauma. Better to just accept it.
8. Imagine total acceptance.
9. What disease will do for you. Disease will open your eyes and with it your beliefs and ask you to know what your beliefs can be. Disease will see your child to sleep and your plans to bear. Disease will not end you, it will begin you. Everyday disease will move you forward.
10. Who's got time for an examined life? Answer: not-a. no one.
11. If you let me in, I let you in. When you come alive, I come alive.
12. The baby boomers drank your milkshake.
13. Who is your audience? The absolute other pieced together with certain faculties - *language *empathy *vision, this is all.
14. Wisdom point #11, no one essentially cares. This is Nihilism. It is essentially positive.
15. Football players may sometimes make love, man on man.
16. What is love? Love is the distance between communications.
17. There are beings which live near the speed of light and regularly traverse the solar system. I saw them once. Occasionally I will attempt to speak with them when I know they are near. One day a year the world turns slowly, more slowly than usual and this is the day I can communicate.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
My name is Rose
My name is Rose. It used to be Daniel but I changed it. I'm still Daniel in a way like Mars was a planet but our relationship has changed. I haven't changed but my relationship to you has. And your relationship to me has changed. So now I am Rose. It was Daniel but now I am Rose. Aasp got to calling me Rose and Z got to calling me Rose and I'm here a Rose. A Primrose. I tried going back for a while but then I kept meeting more Daniels and one started working in the office and another at the bar and this was too confusing so I said, call me Rose and they did. So now I'm Rose. Rose is good enough. I don't have a last name because I don't need one. I'm just Rose. Come what may.
To avoid confusion I've put together a transition team, so you may see Daniel "Rose" Cosentino and the like but I will simply be Rose. The blog will remain the pRose, DC. (the DC a memorial to what was and where I come from and love to the family) but I am simply Rose and slowly the remnants of my former name will be shifted and turned and blotted and morphed out until all the little documents of my officiality will simply read Rose and only Rose. And I will be me and you will know me just as you knew me. And I will wait for you and I will look for you. Rose.
To avoid confusion I've put together a transition team, so you may see Daniel "Rose" Cosentino and the like but I will simply be Rose. The blog will remain the pRose, DC. (the DC a memorial to what was and where I come from and love to the family) but I am simply Rose and slowly the remnants of my former name will be shifted and turned and blotted and morphed out until all the little documents of my officiality will simply read Rose and only Rose. And I will be me and you will know me just as you knew me. And I will wait for you and I will look for you. Rose.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Pulse Miami
Pulse Miami was the best fair by far in my opinion. Here are 10 plus works:
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Monday, December 8, 2008
My name is Rose
My name is Rose. It used to be Daniel but I changed it. I'm still Daniel in a way like Mars was a planet but our relationship has changed. I haven't changed but my relationship to you has. And your relationship to me has changed. So now I am Rose. It was Daniel but now I am Rose. Aasp got to calling me Rose and Z got to calling me Rose and I'm here a Rose. A Primrose. I tried going back for a while but then I kept meeting more Daniels and one started working in the office and another at the bar and this was too confusing so I said, call me Rose and they did. So now I'm Rose. Rose is good enough. I don't have a last name because I don't need one. I'm just Rose. Come what may.
To avoid confusion I've put together a transition team, so you may see Daniel "Rose" Cosentino and the like but I will simply be Rose. The blog will remain the pRose, DC. (the DC a memorial to what was and where I come from and love to the family) but I am simply Rose and slowly the remnants of my former name will be shifted and turned and blotted and morphed out until all the little documents of my officiality will simply read Rose and only Rose. And I will be me and you will know me just as you knew me. And I will wait for you and I will look for you. Rose.
To avoid confusion I've put together a transition team, so you may see Daniel "Rose" Cosentino and the like but I will simply be Rose. The blog will remain the pRose, DC. (the DC a memorial to what was and where I come from and love to the family) but I am simply Rose and slowly the remnants of my former name will be shifted and turned and blotted and morphed out until all the little documents of my officiality will simply read Rose and only Rose. And I will be me and you will know me just as you knew me. And I will wait for you and I will look for you. Rose.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Art Basel Miami Beach
Friday, December 5, 2008
Scope Miami
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Art Perform ("Dear Clem", Jordan Wolfson)
Excerpt of Jordan Wolfson's "Dear Clem" performed at Art Perform, Friday December 5, Art Basel Miami Beach 2008. Wolfson will auction the recording of this performance as a digital video tape still loaded in the camera along with the camera that recorded it on ebay - when I find the post I will add it here. The original letter that this piece draws its stage from can be downloaded here: http://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/searchimages/images/item_6588.htm As a note to readers: this piece requires some specific knowledge of Clement Greenberg's (wikipedia +) theories along with Barnett Newman's (Wikipedia +) philosophy of imaging.
{Video documentation of this performance has been removed on request of Jordan Wolfson}
{Video documentation of this performance has been removed on request of Jordan Wolfson}
Art Positions (selections from)
Situated directly at the beachfront, 20 young galleries display their programs
in shipping containers converted to public art spaces.
Beachfront at Collins Park, between 21st and 22nd Street.
Andersens Contemporary - Berlin. This windmill generates power for a camera shutter which then displays as a timelapse landscape on a laptop computer also powered by the wind. Unfortunately there is no online exhibit of this artists works but they were worth exploring - next time you're in Berlin I suppose...
+:
+:
+: boy enjoyed this one. The movement of the elastic also created static. Fun.
+: Blow 111, London. This was a fun exhibit partially due to the center piece distributing Whiskey and Port. I also have video of the moving media on the small screen display near the rear of this container.
+:
+:
+: Video of performance.
+: This Budget Rent-A-Van was a gorilla art space parked out front. Shortly after this picture was taken the cops kicked them out. In other words, these are our people...
in shipping containers converted to public art spaces.
Beachfront at Collins Park, between 21st and 22nd Street.
Andersens Contemporary - Berlin. This windmill generates power for a camera shutter which then displays as a timelapse landscape on a laptop computer also powered by the wind. Unfortunately there is no online exhibit of this artists works but they were worth exploring - next time you're in Berlin I suppose...
+:
+:
+: boy enjoyed this one. The movement of the elastic also created static. Fun.
+: Blow 111, London. This was a fun exhibit partially due to the center piece distributing Whiskey and Port. I also have video of the moving media on the small screen display near the rear of this container.
+:
+:
+: Video of performance.
+: This Budget Rent-A-Van was a gorilla art space parked out front. Shortly after this picture was taken the cops kicked them out. In other words, these are our people...
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