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[20 Mar 2008|03:18am] |
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[16 Oct 2007|04:25pm] |
Architectural Maquette for a Public Space (To Be Viewed in Private), aka "The Victim as Beauty"
Fall 2007, Twelve 10inch x 10inch pieces of museum board, bound with Linen Tape
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[13 Oct 2007|06:32pm] |
A Beautiful Imprisonment
Springl 2007, 40 Pages, Coptic Binding
Edition of Three
Two copies available for $45 each.
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[13 Oct 2007|06:30pm] |
Catastrophe
Fall 2006, 16 Pages, Japanese Stab Binding
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[12 Aug 2007|11:44pm] |
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| excerpt |
[25 Jul 2007|12:53am] |
are you dying?
are you going to die?
or are you going to dye your shoes a new color
(the summer of the swans or
the summer of death)
(the color of the sky or
the color of an iv emptying into a body)
are you dead yet?
can you haunt me?
oh, i guess you already are.
i heard that it wasn't your fault, it was his
you were clean like mr. clean's forehead
but his head and foreskin (or lack thereof)
weren't clean
or covered
you just closed your eyes and let him stick it in
it was a good night
you wrote about it the next morning in your journal
you dreamed about it happening again
so it did
and he did it again
and you pretended not to notice because it doesn't really matter
car crashed, plane crashed, terrorist attack, random heart failure
you don't have to be paranoid
you are paranoid
you're not paranoid
come on get in the care
let's go for a ride somewhere
so i guess you said that all the porn you watched
well, it was all fake and fantasy
it didn't affect what you thought about the real world
but what about him?
when you first met him he said he had
just broken up with his girlfriend
your roommate said that was hot
you didn't care
you just thought that he was hot
and he was
but now he's dead
he might still be hot
you don't know because you didn't go
to the funeral i guess
the two of you never spoke about it the first night
or the second
or the third
or the fourth
or, well, ever actually
a few hookups and he got bored and his girlfriend got back together
with him
she's not dead
but her parents are going to sue
'cause she's almost dead
can see haunt me too?
oh, okay she already is.
i guess that's okay
i didn't really want it but if she already does
and i haven't really been too bothered by it it doesn't
really matter any more.
so i guess you're all dead now
did he fuck anybody else?
oh. weird. are they dead too?
i guess that makes sense.
can they haunt me?
oh, same thing huh.
i guess maybe i have just stopped paying attention
i guess maybe i should start again?
you're paying attention for me right?
'cause i get too distracted and sometimes i
forget
i guess it's a good thing you can't fuck ghosts
'cause you're kind of hot, and it's easier this way
you know, to not have to think about you fucking me
oh, i guess you're only a bottom anyway.
yeah i guess i probably would have fucked you too.
how come nobody in hollywood has died from it?
how come nobody famous has died from it recently?
oh i guess you're right, famous people aren't real
they don't have real sex that like, involves bodies
it's all just images
but aren't you just an image?
yeah, i guess you're right
while you may be fake, what you did
when i was watching, definitely wasn't fake
well i guess i'll let you go now.
i mean, i guess it's not even a huge deal anymore
the bookstore i work at only has like three books on it
can you measure importance in terms of consumerism?
oh, sorry, i guess i said i'll let you go.
yeah, that was a stupid question.
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| A sequel of sorts... |
[24 Feb 2007|01:03pm] |
LENT
(a sequel of sorts)
1.
This year for Lent,
I am
giving up.
(I wasn't religious
until I found God in bed one night.)
Last night, last week, last month--
[As that tiny death arrives again,
the world turns white-but-
my eyes roll forward, once again.
He asked, "You frown
when you come?"
And I'm forced to answer,
yet again.
I told him--"No! You don't understand;
it's an explosion--
the mushroom cloud that ends
The World.
My head rolls back as I watch--
I'm upside down.
So really,
I smile."]
And it was watching
--looking at--
that upside down smile
that made me
realize.
That I have been nowhere.
That I have had no one.
That I will have no one.
That no one will be mine.
2.
But then, after he watched
the end of the world,
I saw the white too.
But the white I saw wasn't
an end--
It was the beginning.
White light envelopes the sky
[White light envelopes everything]
and it's then that I realized,
met, acquired, knew
God.
But during my climax,
for the first time,
I understood.
3.
I understood that quintessential French term
that I have encountered so often.
Le petit mort,
my own little death came in a period of
transcendence?
Nothing that deep.
It really just emphasized the fact that I was empty.
And not empty in a sort of
romanticized way that most of us
fags imply.
N.
“So in finding God I like,
denounced the world.
And now it's like, an obsession
or something.”
Ash Wednesday has passed
Good Friday is over
and for Lent,
I'm giving up.
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[12 Feb 2007|01:39am] |
THE ARCHITECTURE OF DESIRE
an enigma for Jean-Jacques Lequeu
Prelude-
Were the temples you built
a new home
for the whores that you loved?
Are there labyrinthine corridors that
confuse outsiders, creating
an hypnotic trail, a meditation, an end?
The nun looks out the window at the top of the temple,
sitting down, I can see the reflection of her habit
crawling up her ass.
1-
Sister Cecilia has turned her back--
Sister Cecila has turned and now gazes--
her exposed breasts a beacon of direction.
"Follow."
Her body emotes, but her face reveals nothing,
floating down the hallways, colonnades on
both sides.
A veritable forest is visible behind the temple--
though it's [artificial] layout deceives.
It's nothing
but a large, stoic, French garden.
The possibility of getting lost inside
it's twists
and
turns
makes me curious enough [...]
(but) I keep following.
"There,"
she points to a small, adorned door that I
push open--
2-
Once inside the room--
a spacious blank canvas of wall,
decorated by three congruous windows,
a hollow dome above my head, walls more than
thrice
my height.
Directly out the central window I see a large dome,
a flame erupting out of the top.
Through a window in it's utter center I can see a man
glimpsing out.
He ducks away as he catches my eye.
(For a moment I imagine it's my possible lover,
but he is far away from where I am right
now.)
3-
I turn around to face the single mirror
in my boudoir, but the reflection
of my face (twisted, yearning) startles me--
my suitcase falls and a fading
photograph
of my possible lover
falls
out.
I reach down and pick it up.
I compare the picture to the vestige
left in the window of the dome.
The flame goes out.
I walk to the window and
call out his name.
The only response is a hollow echo from
my chamber.
(Everything is symmetrical in this place;
even the echo resounds consonantly.)
In bed, I sleep,
In dream, I fly.
4-
I awake, a sister knocking--
"Sir? Breakfast."
And footsteps follow down
the hall.
I arise and look out my window
once more.
The man is there again,
but this time
he stays.
I stare and decide that yes,
that is my possible lover,
he has followed me here.
But as I wave, looking for
acknowledgment
He simply stares back,
v a c a n t l y.
And it's then I know that my
possible lover
is not possible.
And the hollow halls echo my thoughts,
(for the Merzbau was just an empty tomb)
and it's my body that's a temple of erotic misery.
Epilogue-
"My baby says, my baby says,
we can live in the empty spaces of this life."
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[30 Jan 2007|01:29pm] |
The Frightened Woman
It's not so easy to remember when
I drifted into something relevant,
Or whatever I could never have been,
With feelings of pleasure I would cement--
There's not a lot to do around the world,
But I could let my self drift to the sky
and fall down while watching myself twirl.
Blah blah blah etcetera I can't die.
The air's not tight and my lungs aren't full,
I can keep falling for hours if I want,
Into the ocean where the dark tide's pull
rescues me from that woman's burning cunt--
Desire is nothing without a body,
And mine is nothing but disembodied.
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[13 Nov 2006|12:07am] |
Obliscence, 02/03
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[21 Oct 2006|02:22pm] |
Discarded image for an in-progess project.
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[15 Oct 2006|06:34pm] |
"People plant bombs on buses because they're looking for God."
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[09 Oct 2006|10:41am] |
Possible Narratives: Part One
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[02 Oct 2006|10:30pm] |
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[08 Jun 2006|02:06pm] |
"Heretic! You're as incapable of adoration as you are of love! If I believed I was loved by a god, or loved one, I'd tear off my clothes right now and swim unflinching through a sea of sharks to give myself to him--like those Polynesian girls who threw themselves naked into the sea, with only red flowers in their hair, to meet the ships carrying white men who perhaps were gods to them, and who would wed them, brutally, after the manner of gods. They would swim far out to sea in search of such men, and they sang when they saw the sails. The sailors tossed down ropes and drew them out of the water like big shiny fish, and took them, roughly, over a coil of rope or on the boards of the deck. I do not think the sailors loved them, they were only vulgar men, deprived of women for a long time, and when they saw a necklace or a bracelet of pearls they took it in exchange for a string of worthless beads or a blow of the fist, and sometimes they threw the girls back into the sea, exhausted as they were after submitted to so many men. But they were lovers, those girls. And for that reason nothing could discourage them, and if they managed to reach land, the stories they told persuaded th eir younger companions to put fresh flowers in their hair and run naked into the sea, to be robbed and raped and murdered in their turn by the white gods, when the signal came that the ships were near."
--André Pieyre de Mandiargues, The Girl Beneath the Lion (translated by Richard Howard)
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[17 Mar 2006|12:55am] |
"what's god's name?
i can't remember."
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[19 Feb 2006|03:56am] |
"Every man is, consciously or not, researching, remembering his childhood. When I was a child, there was no TV, only movies. I saw so many films...with the innocent eyes of a child. Maybe I am trying to recapture those moments and make films with the same eyes I had to see..."
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[12 Oct 2005|12:17am] |
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