see

see these trees filter light through baited sighs, lighting past roses breaking on chosen wrath. ringing bathtubs, rubbing rusty dusty highways. biplanes devour skylanes, whining through the wiffowills. spilling spells through foggy mountaintops, towering over the mops that drop frivolously. skinny roads are walked, chocked full of twists and turns, yearning to reach a final destination that simply continues to further itself from the hoard. bored of the sinew that ties us all into one sloppy spaghetti mess. looking for something les then what they think we should be blessed with. breaking evenly through menial barriers to come to realizations that provide stabilization in broken motions. floating through bloated memories of oversalted seas. the breeze through fair skinned creaks. meeting and seeding.

snitchesandstitches

from rags to riches, you get too big for your britches - paintings get into my eyes like onions. hopefully yours too - logic and lies, tired without ties - the year closes one eye and opens onto a moonlit field of hospital hostels leaking through the trenches, parkside benches, and disposable wrenches - love living hate living forever - quivering arrows drawn on the backside of blackeyes. pea pods pecking on deck with carcrash wrecksite - be ready steady live in heaven in 2011 - everything looks better from above - small feelings are gigantic

chin chin

grin grit teeth maliciously, breaking backs, camels hump ferocious, precocious minds linger like broken fingers.

GET THIS SHIT OUTTA MY HOUSE!

Life living lusty busty breaking bones scones pie pans stoking draculaic didadactic tactics tickling picked eggwhites and thanksgiving gluttony. Show at Cafe Orwell (247 Varet BTW bogart and white [morgan stop on L train]) on FRIDAY THE THIRD opening reception starts at 6 oclock, with bands going on quickly thereafter. Maybe even a bittabanjo as well. Hope to see allayas there! heres some toddlerfodder...

progressnprocess

cross eyed flesh mongers hump ferociously in a stupor. while tandem bucktoothed violins weep in corners a bold faced uneven humpback trains pet squirrels to steal wallets. baboons screech in horrible pitches while throwing feces towards the hand of god. blocks of poisonous dust particles. bamboo prisons leak fluorescent sludge, smudging sticks on ill gotten gains. brains plummet dieting on grapefruit passion lingering on the shirt-collar of a white-collar.

oilssss

one layer of oils...

workinprogress.doesitexist?

is something you're working on ever done? or is it always done and never in the process of being finished? lately i've been feeling like everything is done at every stage of the work. every step being as pure as the one following. it is hard to know where to stop. luckily this coincides with every other part of life as well. it is always near impossible to understand a situation in life or painting unless you step back from it and look at it from new ripe eyesockets. figures, everything amazing sometimes terrifies and confuses when looked at too closely. work until you wanna work on something else, if you come back to it then it isn't done. seems simple enough.