Kiki Smith saving me......AGAIN.

Kiki Smith does for me what the Catholic church does for a devout Sicilian woman of 89. Her attention to the obscene, deniable and obvious in a raw way paves the way for an honest self appraisal and growth as a human being if one allows one self to experience it.
I am coming up on a 2 year celebration. For those of you who know what that means; great, for those of you who do not, keep coming.
When I began this journey again, I found that Kiki Smith's "Born" resonated with me in a beyond personal, Grandma hug, have your period in the 6th grade kind of way. My perception of the piece has changed with my own growth although it still holds the same sentiment and secret for me.
My hope for you is that art will become water, air and a nourishment not easily drawn from in everyday hum drum of this chitta we perceive to be "living." I know I appear to be waving a fucking hanky at you and wearing white, but positive and surreal effects should be shared. So I m sharing. You're better than you know.

It's a McQueen morning.

I have many obsessions; the one most in the forefront is gorgeous clothes. My opinion of gorgeous may vary from the average person due to what one may coin as defects or taste; eye of beholder I suppose.
Alexander McQueen has been my go to for inspiration, envy and a myriad of other wisps of garment wisdom for years. I m a sucker for Tartan, Victorian dress and when the two are married to straight up odd; pearls will be clutched.
Here are some of my favorites.....Enjoy.

17 March 1969 – 11 February 2010

Time does not make it Easier.

Last I saw you, you were on a spaceship to nowhere & making passive aggressive progress toward an unseen force of mediocrity

You told me with baited breath, bought excitement & carnal motives that you had arrived.....

I knew you hadn't & so did you.

I wanted to slap your hand and take away dessert, but you slapped an arm, took aim, pointed, shot, hit & took your life

We made grass whistles and played wizard outside your apartment complex..you held my jar open to I could put a butterfly in it

I held my chest when they put you in the ground

I miss the goals that you wanted and pine for psychosocial mind frame that fits..

Such a windy day.



Artwork by Boubou.

No one wants to see your rose tattoo on your ankle you fucking slag.

My awareness of increasingly categorized people as a "well being" collective for example; are frightening. What I mean by this is, that by simply wearing Hardtail and carrying a $65 yoga mat with you, drinking green tea infusions and breathing properly for 1 hour somehow has constituted "health", inducting one into the "holistic health" community.

But alternative health is not the only category. To my horror and ever massing dismay, a show performed in the manner of Project Runway, Accessory etc..will air in January about "ink." The terms & slang associated with tattoos now a days are some of my worst pet peeves. They are as follows: ink, tats, guns, sweet ink, nice ink, tatty etc...
The notion that a group of people set on distancing themselves from the normal flow and hum drum of everyday conformity has become safe, somewhat accepted, (but not accepted enough for it to plow into professional everyday life) and not promulgated like Princess Di's death.

These collective communities are fucked. These are the very wishful wasps and yuppies who lack creativity, moxy and most of all character who after Ritz cracker & caviar infused dinner parties discuss how they need to change up their group of "friends" and they end up infiltrating "outside" plots of folks they find more "interesting."

To all the insidious douche bags pre-ordering Rodney Yee's new DVD, the fucktard booking their piddly flash Gothic cross tattoo with their dead relative's name in it, to the mid life crisis couple befriending lesbians; we would all be thrilled if you would go fuck yourselves, your intervention is not needed. We are not here to provide the missing link in your life nor bring you into ours. Just keep doling out "chicken nuggets" to your kids, going to Asbury Park and other collective "hot spots" on the weekend and crying yourself to sleep in your own backyard.

Many Thanks.

Suicide is the new "Housewives."

Suicide: (Latin suicidium, from sui caedere, "to kill oneself") is the act of intentionally causing one's own death.

Neil DaCosta: Suicide.

Vegan Death By Chocolate Mousse Cakes.

Ingredients:
Crust:

1/2 cup white flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
1/4 cup canola oil
2 tablespoons soymilk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt

Mousse

1 cup semisweet vegan chocolate chips
340 g firm silken tofu
1/2 cup soymilk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Chocolate Sauce

1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons cocoa powder
1 tablespoon white flour
1/2 cup soymilk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

1
Crust: Pre-Heat Oven to 350f (180c) and Oil a Large Muffin tin.
2
In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, sugar and cocoa powder.
3
In a small bowl mix oil,maple syrup, soy milk, vanilla and salt.
4
Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix well.
5
In the Large muffin tin, spread some batter into the one muffin thingy and make a small crust. continue until all batter is used up.
6
Bake for 10-18 minutes, than let cool.
7
Mousse: Melt chocolate chips in microwave,
8
In a blender, blend tofu, melted chocolate chips, soy milk and vanilla extract until smooth.
9
Put mousse in the crusts, than let chill for 2 or more hours.
10
Chocolate Sauce: Mix all Ingredients together in a small saucepan and bring to a boil, than take off heat and let cool down.
11
Pour over Mousse Cakes.