spot of eagle

See that winged speck? That's a bald eagle.

wispy

stolen

My parents found this safe in the woods by their house. They haven't moved it. We discovered the cashbox while I was visiting them. Most likely, this is the result of a long-ago convenience store robbery. The door appears to have been blown off with an explosive.

former animal portraiture

animal portraiture

a couple of weeks ago, i was picture takin' for my job. this is part of a series of one tree. one tree and all it's little parts, including these folks roosting at the top.

salem

I grew up in Salem, Missouri. While off for a few days around Christmas (Jewish family, actually),I went back armed with quite a bit of film. Here's the first installment of photos. A couple of these were double exposures. While I'm quite happy with the way they turned out (who doesn't want to turn their dad into a freakish ghost in coveralls?), I must admit they were mistakes. Happy accidents.

man a tee

what if...?

what if the videos i transcribe were turned into plays? these would be lines in such long-winded things:

TM: Veggie stirfry. We had that yesterday. That was good.

JM: Macaroni and cheese.

helpful

My friend James is writing a short story involving carnies and con men during the depression. I have not read this story, but I offered to complete it for him. These were his options:

1. And then, with one swift motion, the hot dog was entirely devoured. It was gone and in it’s place was my sadness. The sadness of leaving something behind. But it was not left behind. It was in my stomach. Intestines, mechanically separated chicken. Bits of sawdust. Bits of rat.

2. For all the world could see the impact of the carnie. Bright colors and bad taste. They will be with us forever. Forever and a day.

3. Love for the bearded woman was shed like so many pounds from the fat woman. It was over. It was all over and I was crushed. Literally, crushed.

questions

so, friends, i just want some input: should i make prints of my illustrations and perhaps sell them? would you buy them? would someone?

also, who reads this? just say hi.

hay is for horses

bears. oh my.

i think this has to be the next nonfiction book i read. "bears: a brief history

speaking of chinese things, i'm a rooster. i'm a cock.

you are extinct

this article makes me feel crappy about being human. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/05/world/asia/05turtle.html

this is the planet's last known female Yangtze soft-shell turtle. she's about 80 years old and lives in this really crappy looking zoo in china.

are sexy

because i have myself listed as middle eastern on myspace, i get weird ads for middle eastern dating sites online. this is probably the weirdest one yet.

In history there are no control groups. There is no one to tell us what might have been. We weep over the might have been, but there is no might have been. There never was.

--Cormac Mccarthy
All the Pretty Horses

The first drawings I remember making were of little birds with nostrils instead of beaks. I think I’ve seen other children making this mistake. Anthropomorphism in the form of childhood indiscretion.

bicycle adventure for one

on the riverfront trail, monstrous cranes eat chunks of metal. it was like watching dinosaurs delicately devour fallen prey.
along the riverfront trail.


cherokee street: where skulls shoot hearts from their eyes.

from my yard and my future scarf

it's getting chilly out there.

marketplace

I heard this on my drive home from work today and wrote it on my hand. I was listening to Marketplace on NPR.

Confession: I rewrote this on my hand because the words were almost washed off and, as they were written while driving, quite messy.

manfailure

Years ago, I viewed Douglas Coupland's site pretty often. I'm back at it.

you are the start of something bigger

It strikes me as odd that you can make eye contact with someone that will still proceed to not care whether or not they run you over. Make eye contact, start turning, and still the driver watching you will continue on as if you are not present.

For years, it has amazed me how human walking is always one step away from disaster. We balance somehow, but if balance and equilibrium fail us, it is possible to fall flat on your face. It happens. Biking is the same way, but faster.

hiking castlewood

someone else (or perhaps the same person) wrote "love is radical". i prefer "poop".

shake it.


gnarly.
red flag! actually, these markers were on a lot of trees. from growing up in the middle of the woods, i learned that flags on trees generally mean one of three things: boundary of something, diseased, or going to get cut down.

in 3D (just like moonwalker)

but not really. these photos were taken on a "3D" camera from the '80s. they were supposed to be sent away (to the '80s), but i opted to just have them processed normally, causing four very similar frames next to each other. these are from a few months ago.

slab o' bacon

this is also in granite city.

bell-air

this was taken near the granite city, il area. i believe it is the sign for a drive-in that no longer exists.

the art of boredom/procrastination

i sat down at the computer with intentions of working on a video transcription. this happened instead.

cocktail napkin

this is another photo from the day of my birth, 26 years later. st. louis's downtown looks like something apocalyptic happened. things are strewn oddly about and a film of dirt covers a large amount of objects, many of which are misplaced--such as my little napkin friend here.

two things

1. i am listening to npr and heard that a woman running a race was hit by a deer last weekend. she has had two (or wains it three?) previous encounters with deer, both in which she hit them with her car.

2. on tv last night, this was said: the cw and kfc would like to remind you to celebrate black music history month.

liongirl

this guy (or actually, maybe lion/girl) was in my backyard a couple weeks ago. there's often trash back there. most recently, it was an empty carton of oj (or was it limeade?) and numerous junk mailers. my backyard is really just a bed of gravel meant for parking on, some weeds, and a possibly failing compost attempt made by my roommate.

memorial birds

this weekend, i hung out in the park and watched several groups of ducklings following their mamas around a pond (which, by the way, is chock full of crawfish).

unfortunately, this group of fledglings didn't make it out of their nest alive. i found them on the way home from a friend's house on my birthday--which happened to fall on memorial day this year.