Coverage

I Need This Soundtrack!

Ty,

I need the soundtrack from this video: Bucket's Very Hard Day. Rich said he just looped your original from some other project.

-Phil

True. The sounds are from this piece: [clicky]. But, I cannot locate the video even in my archive. Anyone have a link to that vid? You can always search here: [clicky].

But, speaking of videos, I just found this (while looking for Doot-Da-Diddily-Doot video):

Bonald Tells A Story About Something

It's Official: I'm Dying

Okay. Look up there. That's my ATM (automated teller machine) card. As you can see I've had it since 1996. That's 12 years. Longer than I've been married and longer than I've known most of my friends. Longer than my child's entire life by a factor of nearly two.

To use an ATM you insert your card and you type in your PIN (personal identification number). I was away from the house this weekend for Thanksgiving and I went to an ATM to get some cash. I didn't get any cash.

I have forgotten my PIN. Totally and completely. My card and account "frozen" because of too many attempts at typing a PIN.

It's been a great life and I suppose I'll miss you...'cept that I'll be dead and incapable of thoughts and feelings such as nostalgia. So it begins...I am dying. It's official.

Goodbye.

Pennsylvania Hotel Window

Legal Trio

Looking In

Don't Post These

"I've been warned by all subjects that they don't want these online.

But I had to share. This is what my family does on Thanksgiving now.

(photos to follow)"

- RPW

Sent from my iPhone

Everybody's in Columbus, Ohio.

On Ignorance

So I go into the 7-11 in small town Pennsylvania and I look around for a New York Times. You know how I roll. I don't see a New York Times but my 90 year-old companion (the father of my wife) knows that this particular 7-11 sells the New York Times. So I ask.

I ask the helpful proprietor of the 7-11 if they had the New York Times. The Indian (dot-not-feather) proprietor fellow says, "No Times today." I can accept that. But he adds, "It's a holiday." He says this twice since my 90 year-old companion didn't quite believe that logic (all Ivy League university professor emeritus and shit). So the proprietor fellow says it yet again, "No Times today, it's a holiday."

So I laughed that off and went off looking for apple juice because my child has requested that I bring her some apple juice back from the 7-11. I take the apple juice to the register and the Indian (dot not feather) proprietor woman says, "No Times today, it's a holiday." I reply, of course, "I believe that's already been established by a factor of like eight." I added, of course, "But the news, as you should know, never takes a holiday."

She (the Indian dot-not-feather woman) says, "Uggg! You're so ignorant!" Shocking, I know! To be called "ignorant" by a store-keep is wildly shocking. But I immediately replied ('cuz I'm quick like that), "Ah, but you're the one working at 7-11...on a holiday." You should have seen her eyes. She was pissed! I thought she was going to ask me to leave (but it's 7-11).

Now to be honest, I do believe she was using "ignorant" as a simple insult rather than a specific one; a throwaway that I've heard Indians (dot not feather) use before.

So my 90 year-old companion decides to slum it with an Philadelphia Inquirer or some third-tier rag like that. I add the newspaper to my apple juice purchase and I say, clearly and calmly like Barack, "I'd like you to bag that." She bags it. She angrily thrusts the receipt my way and I say, "You my place my receipt in the bag."

Damn! I all upper casted her dot-not-feather ass. And she understood.

Ha! Look at the ignorant guy looking for a New York Times on a holiday. We just drove over to Starbucks and got one. Since news never takes a holiday.

For Hate of Hotels

[clicky] for bed series

Rhode Trip

Today's Daily Quotation of the Day (De Jour)

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

-Nietzsche

[via Rickey Powell]

17 On

Dead-letter cars and
Worst headache I've ever had
Stone-cold tone-deafness

The Black Faced Artist Dudes Working the Internets Are All American Heroes

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Home Town Notes (on Jon B's Birthday)

On occasion, and in more peaceful moments, we all tend to ponder how we've become who we are and how we got here. It's normal and it's natural just like any sort of masturbation. In fact, "blogging" (Web logging) is pretty much the ultimate manifestation of masturbation; the manual stimulation of an organ. Our minds wander, and we ponder. So here we go.

I've already figured out how I became who I am. It's pretty simple in its ultimate distillation and my home town plays a significant part. My hometown is Claremont, California. From what I just read in the Los Angeles Times, there's a P.C. thanksgiving controversy thing going on there right now. And I'm not surprised at all.

"Some say having students dress up as pilgrims and Native Americans is 'demeaning.' Their opponents say they are elitists injecting politics into a simple children's celebration."

[clicky]

It's the basic ingredients of the Great Culture War of America and it's happening in my very own home town. Quaint, huh?

The wiki says that Claremont is know as the city of "trees and Ph.D.s." That's just beat. Trees are nice and all but from what I remember, the Clare-hood is a college town and a retirement town. This may explain how my little village is embroiled a Great Culture War of America battle. Asshole trees have little to do with this thing.

Back in the day, when we all dressed up like pilgrims and indians and went Christmas Caroling (back when it was actually called "Christmas Caroling" and not something retarded like "Winter Sing-song Parade" or something), I distinctly remember visiting, as a class, the famous Claremont retirement communities of Pilgrim Place and Mt. San Antonio Gardens. We were cute relief from all the dying. And everybody knew that most of the vaunted Claremont old money was molding in mattresses at these centers.

Older, richer people are generally quite conservative and as a reflection of who is buttering the municipal bread, the Claremont city government has always been quite conservative. Very slow growth, restrictive toward big commerce, and a high authoritarian police force. Outsiders are more tolerated than welcomed. I believe the city has only grown at a rate of about a 5% per decade since I lived there. Still fewer than 35,000 residents in town is amazing for southern California. Just try to get a permit to build a new home. It's hard to do. Unless you have something to barter.

Yet Claremont is generally known as a college town. With eight colleges (most say seven, but I know better) within the city limits, it is indeed very much a college town. There is definitely a town-gown thing but it has always been peaceful compared with college towns like Berkeley. But college egg-heads are generally quite liberal and the college's influence on the town has always been quite righty.

And so the continuation of this fake-ass, drummed-up, Culture War of America drama isn't surprising to me at all. You have conservatives and liberals living together. You have the Claremont Institute in the same space as Ben Harper, Buckethead, and Snoop Dogg. Shit, I distinctly remember my 5th grade teacher reminding us to tell our parents to vote for Gerald Ford. Everybody voted for Jimmy Carter and nobody was surprised.

91711 - Represent!

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Claremont tags:

1 [clicky]
2 [clicky]
3 [clicky]

Untitled (Found: Boy Lower Brace)

Branding

In yesterday's New York Times Sunday Magazine, there was an article, a discussion of, advertising and branding. Blah-blah-blah, the usual shit [clicky].

So I'm reading this article and my child says, "Hey, when you're finished with that I want to circle the ones I like." My 6.5 year-old child (maybe even to a lesser degree than others her age, in fact) is so brand savvy, she is volunteering to identify positive identifications with some of the world's largest corporations.

So she did the circling part. That was in and of itself fascinating. She circled some obvious "like" choices for a kid: McDonalds, Pixar, Oreo, Hot Wheels, and Baskin Robbins. She's a kid. But it was surprising that she chose "like" choice graphics related to: Blogger, Citi, Bank of America, John Deere, Red Bull, among others.

So, I asked if she wanted to tell me what she knew about each of the 237 icons. She agreed and was able to correctly identify the business of half of the icons. She got 116/237 correct, 49%(she probably recognized about 70% of the icons but had no clue about all of their business or interests, but that is irrelevant). I was kind of stunned, particularly, when she got one's like Avis, DHL, Mercedes, Bose, Ebay, and Samsung correct.

And yes, British Petroleum does indeed have a reach to the pre-pre-pre-pre-driving market.

What Matters

So here is a thing. Rich sent me a note last night, which got me to thinking about some stuff.

From Rich:

Betsy asked, "How important is it, or was it ever, to you to have someone? Anyone? Listen to what you recorded? Was it usually to please yourself, and that was enough, or was it incomplete until it had been received by another?"

I replied, "Depending on the song, it mattered if either Dan or Ty heard it. It's part of a continuing non-verbal dialogue I've been having with them for 15-20 years. Occasionally there is another party (non-Ty, non-Dan) who needs to receive the song. But the larger world? No, it didn't/doesn't matter. Mostly, they're for me to enjoy making and listening to."

Just to catch everybody up, Rich is a Berkeley, California recording artist and art collaborator of mine who, may I mention, is probably the most technically talented musician and recordist of the whole bunch of us. And probably his greatest genius is that he debuts his work infrequently, almost occasionally. You just have to wait for it but it's always worth that wait. Rich is perhaps one of my three closest friends as well. He's family.

Anyway, I totally know what he's talking about. It's not like The Creative Process at the micro-craft level (me, Rich, BDW, BN, etc.) is driven by, or that specific works are intended for the masses; a larger world. Not by a long shot. When someone I don't know references my work it's just shocking. Even more shocking is seeing your work (a CD or book) in someone's home all mingling with the other CDs and books on shelves and stuff; that's almost paralyzing. Having someone you don't know send you a link to your work at some internet site you've never heard of is blindingly incomprehensible. When people offer to give me money for my work, I become completely retarded.

And let me just say how fortunate I feel to be on somebody's "mattered" list. How bad ass is that? One could only hope to be on "mattered" lists but I hadn't even pondered that notion until this very moment.

It really is interesting how, when you are making something, no matter how driven you are at the moment, how focused you are on a particular nuance, or how outside standard deviations of your previous comfort or style you are, that there are always certain personal expectations and quality thresholds of a certain few—the "mattereds"—that must be met or no progress is made.

I know I filter and intend delivery to a very short "mattered" list:

In straight photography, I tend to think of how Christine, Lily, or Cassady would react. They pretty much serve as my art school jury. Their interactions vary from immediately reactive to analytical beyond what you even realized about your own work (you learn stuff). It's not like I'm thinking about how something might be received while I'm making it, but there is a nagging presence. I feel that any of the three of 'em could out-shoot me on any given day and know so much more of the mechanics of photography so I just try to shoot things they would either miss or that falls outside of their personal styles. It's like always playing the big game on the road, as the visitor, and in a foreign country.

In music/sound/audio concept art, it's just Rich and Big Dave Wave who both cognitively challenge my concepts and my executions. Fuckers are always pacing my brain when I'm just trying to make something work. Often the Rich/Dave standard is impossibly high if not simply unattainable. These two know, have heard, and have made far too much for you to feel you are springing anything new on them. You can just hope that they miss your numerous technical glitches and shortcomings and give you some credit for trying something, if not new, something difficult.

In visual concept art (including video) I guess it's still Big Dave Wave and Rich. Flip-flop the order of technical expertise and experience and you have an equally demanding and savvy panel of experts to please. In this category the best I could every hope for is silence. I figure I live to fight another day when I hear nothing about what I'll call a retarded visual style. I feel personally punished here the most because I will only do things a certain way. It's as if I know what I kind of want to do.

I do not know if the concept of creative filter is the same as Betsy's question of importance of delivery to specified audience or not, but I do think there is a very distinct interaction, if not overlap, between getting output to specified targets and considering that specified target audience during the creative process. But, again, there is always a presence of that audience in your being. It becomes a matter of how you feed those beasts. If you cannot satisfy yourself, at least you can try to sate your demons.

And I guess I really only expect these filters and presences to be my total audience. I am always surprised to get feedback from someone other than a half-dozen people. It totally freaks me out too. It's as freaky as it is disappointing when a particular expected target misses something so fucking obviously targeted to them for their tacit approval. Art is a bitch in this way.

But this isn't what drives me. What drives me to push my own boundaries of style, technique, and production is that I am cognizant that I am going to run out of ideas at any moment and be completely washed. Forever. I totally sacrifice quality for quantity because when I'm washed up I can always go back and fix some stuff, I suppose. But I really don't know shit, do I? Creativity is a bitch in this way.

So looping back to Betsy's inquiry, is art incomplete until it is utilized by a target/audience? I don't know. But even with my filters and my demons I'm only trying to do the only think I really know to do whether I'm doing it well or not. I cannot ever say I am satisfied with any product. To do it to please myself would be far too narcissistically masturbatory. I am sometimes relieved that I have finished something that I allow myself about four seconds of peace. But then I have to move on to what's next. But to do it for an audience? I don't think I could work if that was the pre-condition.

Now to Rich's point of non-verbal dialog over years. Absolutely. This is how I've grown to communicate with those closest to me. This is the language of middlespaces. And while I do technically enjoy making things, I rarely allow myself the space to enjoy listening to or otherwise interact with my products. Those gifts are for my future; when I can no longer create. Because that day will come, I fear.

Lewis Hyde, I believe, would agree.

Merry Racist Christmas

Is this the most racist thing in the history of racism and/or Christmas or what?

Sunday Worship: The Epic Explanation Award (and a little passive-aggressive on the side)

Sunday Worship: Not LA Today

Dreams of My...

An outline from last night's dreaming:

- There are nuanced and specific distinctions between a hit and an assassination. It's as much mental justification as it is dissonance reduction.

- I was dispatched to a location, given a cover, and an alibi scheme via mobile device. It was a gig.

- My goal was to take a target out. The assignment was without context. No context; no remorse.

- I arrived at a small, dark shop on the outskirts of a big city to drop a middle-aged, unkempt black man; the proprietor.

- Identification was verified. Work began.

- I couldn't though, for some compassionate reason, bear to kill the man eye-to-eye so I had to drop something on the floor and shoot him in the temple as he bent to pick it up. It was messy as hell. I felt I knew this person. I felt a little touch of remorse.

- I packed a silver pistol with silver silencer. It was heavy but I knew it to be reliable and efficient. I was a killing machine.

- Instead of a mob-style "pop & drop" where one immediately drops the weapon after a kill, I kept the weapon with me because I feared for my safety. I had no attachment to the weapon but I believed that I still needed it to survive.

- I hid the pistol under the front passenger seat but was highly cognizant that I had to dispose of this dirty weapon as soon as practicable. As I drove it audibly shifted with a heavy thud to my right.

- I didn't want to but I had to drive dirty to my alibi/cover location to meet friends who didn't possess knowledge of my occupation and would have only missed me for minutes. Mental note: "dispose of the gun" - ran on endless loop. I kept an eye out for disposal sites (dumpsters, ravines, storm drains, etc.).

- Dinner with unsuspecting friends and all that was on my mind was that they had no idea I was a professional (albeit empathetic) killer for hire. And damn good at it. I told them I was in "consulting."

End.

Father of the Year

Dear Father of the Year Committee:

So, I was sitting in my car at the corner of F Street and 1st when I realized that I promised the girl that "I'd see" about ordering tickets for the High School Musical Live concert at Wolf Trap. I had promised her that "I'd see" about these tickets several weeks back when she first made me do a computer search and promise to try (I shouldn't have ever introduced her to computers).

Tickets went on sale today at noon. Yikes! I remembered that "I'd see" about those tickets at 12:17 p.m. And I wasn't anywhere near a computer. I was going to get disowned for sure.

I know that tickets to this show (September 4th 2009) would go fast since the brokers were already selling them for $500+ per. So I hopped on my iPhone right there and then; at the corner of F Street and 1st at 12:18 p.m. today.

Wolf Trap > Upcoming shows > 2009 > September > High School Musical Live > Etc. Tiny touch screen buttons, tiny screen. Sitting on the corner of F and 1st waiting to get mugged. Selected "best seats available" to save some time and effort. Had to do the whole registration thing too since I hadn't ordered anything from Wolf Trap in years (since Medeski, Martin & Wood before the famous 9/11 day). There I was typing address, email, telephone, blood type, tax returns from the last five years, and listing of every sexual partner (that portion of the form didn't take very long). And I'm actually shaking because I know I'm going to fuck something up and not get these tickets that I promised that "I'd see" about and then my child would have a great slight story for therapy in 20 years.

$314.00 later (four tickets, service charge, "print at home charge" -- yes they charge me $4.50 to print my own $300 tickets) we're going to High School Musical Live on September 4, 2009. 2009!

I know, she may not be into High School Musical in 10 months but like any investment I will be able to sell these bitches for a premium.

Sincerely,

-ty

Saturday Workshop: "Only After I Have Some Coffee"

Friday's Question - Mikaeel al Jaksunni

LOS ANGELES, Nov. 21 (UPI) -- Pop star Michael Jackson has converted to Islam at a ceremony in Los Angeles attended by Yousef Islam, the singer formerly known as Cat Stevens, sources say.

Jackson, whose once-amazing career has been eclipsed in recent years by reports of bizarre behavior, as well as legal and financial troubles, is said to have changed his name to Mikaeel and taken the shahada -- or made a declaration of belief -- as part of his conversion to Islam, Al-Arabiya said Friday.

The religious ceremony reportedly took place at the Hollywood Hills home of Toto keyboardist Steve Porcaro, who composed music for Jackson's iconic "Thriller" album.

I don't know what's funnier (and by funny I do mean "odd" rather than "ha-ha"):

• Michael Jackson converting from Jehovah's Witness to Islam
• Cat Stevens is still alive (seriously?)
  
• That this happened at Steve "Hold The Line" Porcaro's house

Friday's question: Is it even possible for Michael Jackson, or "Mikaeel," to do anything to make us hate him more? What's left, cannibalism? I guess if he tries to make a new album that would definitely be worse. The guy makes Prince and Dick Cheney seem sane. Hopefully he marries Sarah Palin for my personal amusement.

Weigh in, Middlespacers.

You Are Not An Artist - 7

Because....

He is:

[clicky]

You = Fail
because you are the wave, not the water

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YANAA archive: [clicky]

Untitled (splatters)

Commission / ("Auction Piece" for filing)

[click above for larger]

Family, Washington, D.C.

9-panel
32" x 22" image
36 x 25" framed in black plastic

Dark-Light Light

Represent H8rz!

[order *clicky* now]

[order later]

Context:

1. [clicky]
2. [clicky]

Middlespace, where "living in my own customized world" isn't just some lame ass slogan.

Pop-Psych: Mechanic Artist Performer Doer

Typealyzer: This is what/who I am:

[clicky] to go

Notes:

1) The word, "generally" is misspelled above. Do we trust the science given the heuristic?

2) The analysis indicates that the author of Middlespace Live is of the type:

Artist - The gentle and compassionate type. They are especially attuned their inner values and what other people need. They are not friends of many words and tend to take the worries of the world on their shoulders. They tend to follow the path of least resistance and have to look out not to be taken advantage of.

They often prefer working quietly, behind the scene as a part of a team. They tend to value their friends and family above what they do for a living.

3) The analysis indicates that the author of The Rhinosnort Highway is of the type:

Mechanics

4) The analysis indicates that the author of Middlespaced is of the type:

Performer - The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

They enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.

5) The analysis indicates that the author of Middlespace Arts is of the type:

Doer - The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities.

The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.

1,000 Word Summary of November 2008

There is a picture
A topic for pondering
Beyond two K eight

"With anything important, with things that are grand
There are two sides the coin, there're smooth and the sand"

Here's the deal: Today I want to summarize what's going on the planet Earth. And I only have 1,000 words to do that in. Why am I time-encapsulating November 2008? Because after what will be inevitably called "the W years," we really have no idea what lies ahead but some thing(s) will change. We do not know how Barack H. Obama will govern (or if he's really some secret Muslim socialist). We don't know the depth of our economic crevasses. And we do not know which world events will impact our personal and societal well-being. Do we?

Now that we are past that very famous election, everyone I know is pretty optimistic and in a positive future-focused state. Except I only know people who I think are as smart and informed as I. My sample sucks. Maybe those 58,862,563 people who voted for Sarah Palin are pessimistic and a little bit pissed. We know nothing.

Using today's news as our guide, here are the top five stories form…now:

• Lines Grow At US Unemployment Offices
• Arizona Governor Said to Be Pick for Homeland Security Post
• Waxman Unseats Dingle
• UN Agrees DR Congo Troop Increase
• Top Court in California Will Review Proposition 8

Firstly, is the Waxman thing important? And who cares? Waxman's moving to chair the Committee on Energy and Commerce is actually significant. Dingle's been chair since 1981. And he's from Michigan and he's nuts. Waxman's from California and is a workhorse. Dingle is an out of tune Hummer with and a leaky gas tank and Waxman's a hydrogen Prius that is only driven when the trip is over 20 miles. Basically that Prius is now in charge of the part of the government that's all about oil and the environment. You should care.

Napolitano? She's a wonderful pick. Here's the skinny on Janet: 1) She was Anita Hill's lawyer; 2) She's a Democrat in her second term as Arizona's governor; 3) She was a United States Attorney involved with the Oklahoma City bombing; 4) She understands border and immigration issues; and, 5) She's intelligent. It is another brilliant, well-researched, and optimal pick.

And, speaking of politics, dang if the Barack H. Obama Jiu Jitsu mojo isn't sweet, swift, and lethal with regard to Lieberman and the Clintons. If you don't understand what I mean let me essplain, Lucy:

Lieberman was Dead Man Walking and he knew it. Joe now has a new president, Joe campaigned for McCain, scary Rham Emmanuel is now Chief of Staff, and a tidal wave of "punish Joe" sentiment was brewing. Dead man, right? No! What did Barack bless? A plan that allowed him to keep most of his power and a slap on the wrist. Joe is now a grateful servant of King Barack. With the Minnesota and Georgia senate races still in play, and with Ted Stevens losing in Alaska, the Democratic senate is on the verge of a magic 60-vote lock-out. The beholden Joe is now a blue caucus man.

And the Barack Hit Mob shut the Clintons down by dangling Secretary of State in front of Hillary. Bill now has to open the books and step away; to go away. It's that genius, yuns.

And speaking of kissing rings, it was embarrassing to watch John McCain play good house Negro for massa Barry. Painful.

Unemployment? It's going to get so much worse too. I just said yesterday, "Citibank must be totally fucked if they're laying off 50,000 before Christmas." The U.S. auto industry? The convenience, retail, and entertainment sectors? I've been watching these dominoes for years. They're totally fucked!

Unfortunately, crime will skyrocket with everyone being out of work at Christmastime. People are going to steal to get gifts for their children. Stealing begets violence, etc. People will max out what's left on their credit cards and panic in unexpected ways. February will be very black (and not just for History Month).

It seems with all the hoopla, this Congo situation is getting little attention. Here's the short version: Forget political boundaries and governments because boundaries are irrelevant and the governments are ineffective to do anything other than make problems worse. Let's just say "in Africa" so you understand.

In Africa, two old tribes, the Tutsi and the Hutu, hate each other and only wants to kill, rape, and torture the other. So there is unprecedented and horrific murder, rape, and torture affecting millions. But most of these millions don't want to fight, get killed, raped, tortured, or be forced to kill, rape, or torture so they try to leave the conflict areas which continually spread and move. And by "leave" I don't mean booking a moving van to take shit to their other houses. No, leave means just get the fuck up and go, now! That means hundreds of thousands of people are wandering toward a safety that doesn't exist. These people are starving as well as getting killed, raped, and tortured because they were born into the wrong tribe.

Anyway, no western country wants to get seriously involved because then that country would have to kill the rebels and be killed by the rebels. So it would be a brand new war half way 'round the world (except in terms of humanity, a justifiable war). And the U.S. is still looking for aluminum tubes and bullshit in Iraq. Just terrible and so, so sad all around.

Lastly in California, the state Supreme Court is going to weigh-in on that nasty Proposition h8 outcome. Logic and precedent would dictate that that court would come to the obvious and logical decision that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional, that marriage for all should stand as legally valid, and should continue. Why shouldn't you be able and encouraged to marry your unmarried sweetheart? Duh!

And here we are.

[Word count: 1,000]

Putting the Soccer Mom Chair Back

And by soccer mom, I mean me.

New Middlespace T-Shirt!

Mopetown Mopetards T

[clicky] to view or order Mopetard shirt

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Other Middlespace products from Middlespace Apparel:

MopeWare

Babies!

Hardaway Family Reunion

Daddy Get Your Camera

Haiku 2008 Late

Eviction witness
Too sad for photography
Shit thrown to the curb

Untitled (Barnraising or America)

You Are Not An Artist - 6

Yes, that chair is taken:

Headphones on, [clicky] image to play it:


Late 90s Velvet Lounge days of all-improv and borrowed drums from the French Mistake and stuff.

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YANAA archive: [clicky]

Ask Ty...November 18

It must be Tuesday, Middlespacers, because I'm answering your questions

Q: Ty,

Barack Obama went to live with his white grandparents. Ty Hardaway went to live with his black grandmother. Is that significant?

- Whitey

Ty: Good question and an even better observation, Whitey. Shit if we're still not talking about the world famous presidential election of 2008™. Damn if the very world famous president-elect Barack H. Obama didn't fuck everybody's shit up so bad that we've only begun to even understand that he fucked our shit up so bad only to just now start pondering what it means to us personally and globally, historically, and in terms of how the future is forged. We are at very tip-top of that iceberg, yuns.

There are multiple reads to your question, Whitey. One read, which I do not believe is what you're onto or that I like very much, is that Barry went with white grandma and is now kind of a big deal as world's most powerful human-elect. Ty went with black grandma and is a total loser. Like I said, that's one read and I don't like it very much.

Another read is: What are the significant differences in Barry Obama's life and mine given that both young brown boys went on to live with people other than their parents? Does living outside the traditional small-town American schema make a difference in one's life and how are any of those differences moderated by the race of the grandparent the subject is connected with?

Let's start with similarities and differences with the Ty & Barry Fact Cheat Sheet®:


There are more similarities than there are differences, no? Now I haven't read "Dreams of My Father: A story of race and inheritance" (yet) so I cannot speak to motivations, but I think the chief difference is that we wanted to be--were driven to be--very different things in life. Our deliberate legacy mapping took us in different directions. One public. One private.

Obviously a spark had to have been ignited at some point. I think Barry decided on law late in his Oxy tenure and made that happen. Me, I've always been an artist (or what I conceived an artist to be while forever hating the term "artist"). Even in my academic and corporate histories there are some pretty clear evidence of someone goofing on (if not clearly gaming) the insular seriousness and historical purposes of each realm.

We've both strive, Barry and I, to be HNIC [Hawaiian nights in California]. We both run shit. We don't lack for confidence or opinion. We both look good in suits. But I've never really liked the law or lawyers. I don't really enjoy people that much either. Maybe Barry's more of an arts consumer than he is a creator. Dunno.

But, and to your question, Whitey, what does the grandparent's race have to do with anything? We both ended up as proper-talking, high-stepping, university-educated, never-forgetting, under control while controlling systems and paradigms, new gangster New Americans (NGNAs). But Barry just turned that shit up to 11.

Apparently the race of the grandparent(s) has/have very little to do with outcomes because the environment of each household, whether it be the Dunhams or my grandmother, Doris Mae King, was dominated by love. Nurture in black and in white: Supportive. Encouraging. Disciplined. Race not a factor, Whitey. The love of our caregivers allowed up to pursue our dreams. Dreams of our grandparents.

Are we happy, Barry and I? Probably no and never will be. Do we know our assignments? Yep. Do we cover? Indeed.

Nature make us who we are. Nurture makes us who we will be.

Just a guess,

-ty

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Ask Ty... Archive: [clicky]

Naturally

So my daughter's first grade class just finished a module on urban design and planning, naturally. She chose to be in the "commercial" group (or the "commercial" team, I'm sure). I guess there was a commercial, residential, municipal, and industrial team. Given she had the first pick in her group, she chose to research and build Toys R Us, naturally. What kid wouldn't? What, you didn't do urban planning in first grade?

As part of this module her class took a trip to the National Building Museum in Washington, D.C. -- ObamaTown. After the field trip she brought home the above building which is not Toys R Us.

Apparently it is "Eagles' Stadium" home of the Philadelphia Eagles. And yes, apparently, it is a commercial building and not a municipal facility according to little Ms. County Superintendent's List. What, you didn't have a first period marking period Superintendent's List in first grade?

Lily & the Dogs

Terrific!

Been Caught Giggin'

Four photos by Lily V.





So Lily did some PAing for me for a weekend shoot. I threw her a camera and she caught me working. By the way, Lily was a terrific assistant. I hope I can get her to work with me again.

You Are Not An Artist - 5

You are not an artist. You wanna know why?

This is why. Take a look at this art:

[clicky]

And it must be art because she's not even a Mulatto.

Trust me? Represent!

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YANAA archive: [clicky]

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