Sideshow Nostalgia & a spit out the side.

Nothing makes me more content than circus oddities. Sideshows are long gone & the majority of shows available are derived from L.A. inspired, Hot Topic esque beginnings. Granted, there are some superb ones, be that as it may, Sideshows are much akin to tattoo culture nowadays.
Back in say, Bowery days, tattoos were dangerous, raw & one had done more than climb a couple of rungs up the ladder had you acquired one. Now, any schmuck with a credit card can get one. The element is gone and an Ed Hardy bedazzled $100 T shirt has taken it's place. The positive sentiment would be a greater and more accepted understanding of tattoo culture, but it just sparks unwanted conversation in Home Depot, nothing more.
Sideshows have always fascinated me and for a time too long to be acceptable; from childhood I wanted to be in one. I always found the tattooed lady to be the most silent force. She was independent, a little scary, gorgeous and making a decent living.
Oddities; self made or not, are the universe's last gracious gift, don't look it in the mouth. Enjoy.

Why NYC Subways are God's best kept Secret.

Some days when I am the unfortunate patron in a 7-11 or other convenience store, the pangs of holy fuck I am WAY behind enemy lines claw at my innards & I miss the magic of NYC & even more so the subway.
There, I fade into the nothingness, am able to be a silent or vocal observer/participant depending on given situation & just absorb the "what the fuck" of the moment. Here in NJ, S.O.Sing in a sea of Old Navy connoisseurs, horrific perfume choices, juxtaposed between heavily laden sweatsuit customers doesn't make for a very diverse, inviting environment for an arrogant douche like me.
So here's to you NY. You weird batch of fucks that I hold near and dear to me heart. Remain in that cut & keep it real.

Fucked Cats & Sanja Iveković.

Goddamnit it's cold. What the fuck. You can fill a mutual void by bitching about it collectively at Sanja Iveković's current exhibition at the Moma entitled: Sweet Violence running till 3/26/12. Then you can act like you are above it all when you have gleaned a little from the show and forget the weather.

Here's some weird cats. Fuck you, it's that kind of day. XO

Harsh Words & Gestures for New Years'.

So I went to bed at exactly 11:56 but had been asleep for 2 ours prior. I awoke to Beiber waxing someone's knob about how great they were, kissed Matt goodnight, he wished me a Happy New Year, I smiled, waved good night to our friend & took our dogs to bed. To all of you devout slags who were convinced we were all done for, I m extremely proud of you for the valiant efforts in securing your own bunkers, writing angry & threanting blog posts along with homemade pamphlets accusing the masses of ignorant & unprepared behavior concerning a disaster of this magnitude all while excercising a passive aggresive stance on the matter. Kudos.
The Mayans simply did not know how to successfully secure a place for the additional time that was unaccounted for hence the abrupt halt of the calander; not the end of the world as we know it. The end of the world came when Snookie wrote a fucking book. Look alive douchers.
Anyhow, my time in NY is coming to a close and it has been a successful excursion. I have photographed 1 dead skunk with an exposed tough grill, ate a baked ziti that would lead one to sell their sibling for another bite & best of all spent the weekend with Matt, a great friend & wise animals.
There are no pics for these last 2 posts because I am not at my personal computer and do not want to overload my friend's laptop with the random hookers, horrific babies and what some may consider "disturbing" art. Better visuals tomorrow.
If you got teary eyes over commercials last night at a certain point, you are ok. This year will be better than the last, you never have to deal with it again and you are one step closer to being who you want and not who people make you out to be. There is a difference and you have a choice. Be good.

Don't Fucking Embarrass Me.

Fucking New Year's Eve. It just doesn't hold the same weight it once did when I was removed from who I really was and my average state was incapacitated. I most likely will not even be awake when midnight strikes and it's fortunate that I am already part of a 12 step group so I have additional help picking up the pieces.
New Year's Eve signifies meaningless and usually uneventful sex with a stranger that upon further inspection in the morning has fucking bacnce, has an unusual gray cat that has a questionable eye twitch and a tired red velvet couch........uhh, perhaps I have went too far into the darkness...the above are things that I have no experience with at all........;|
New Year's is another day much like the 4th of July, that is another excuse to get crunked, junked and fucked with strange people wearing even stranger hats and where bad habit forming takes place. It is my hope that you will keep your collective vaginas and dicks on lockdown unless you are willing to go to all lengths to rid yourself of a mystery rash and or warts, keep your resolutions, or even better don't make any, get that shit done every day rather than betting all your chips in one day like all the rest of the free world and last but not least, do not attempt to recreate a Korbel champagne commercial tonight, accept wherever you are and deal with it. If you try and make it a Yellowtail kind of experience, everyone will just feel bad for you and your wasted Brute aftershave that scored you nothing but looks of pity and still, no closer to getting your wang fondled. Gals, keep the girls on lockdown, pull your fucking skirt down and for fucks sake don not do sake bombs, that shit is as sloppy as your blowjobs in the bartender's Dodge Stratus.

Have a great one folks and I hope to hear all the dirt next year.

Hierarchical Scale of Avoidance just to get to 2 years.

Today means many things. The hierarchical order will fall as least to most important.
If ever there was a designer that is not boring me to fucking tears it is Bora Aksu.
Here is the Spring 2012 line.

For your weary little at a loss for interesting conversation at your friend's dinner party debacle is Ross Goldstein. He is showing at Fuse Gallery until 1/11/2012.
93 2nd Ave (btwn 5 & 6th Sts)
NYC
Gorilla Grape:

And......today is 2 years. 2 years since I had decided that I was the owner of good ideas and hasty decisions. 2 years since I have knocked on a stranger's door and waited for hours for a spot closer to death but never the end. 2 years in which acceptance has replaced fear of everything & maybe even you.
Heroin will always have a place in my life, it just won't be in my veins anymore.
Thank you.