Saturday, October 24, 2009


***This entry has been updated with a cubicle read bonus!***

This is a rant. Let me disclaim that I do not hate the worker. I can't stand that the tendency of some professionals or people in industries to harp on or expose people they are competitive with in their field on the grounds that the person may have been a little comically seedy or had some sexy fun in some pictures. Especially when they were mine and (Roger P's) pictures and I had to remove them. That's what is really souring, I liked them. And looked good. Anyay, here's the rant. I don't really hate anyone. I wrote it right after I pulled them due to idle gossip about them in an office the very next morning they were posted. Glad I'm checked in on with A.M. NY. That's actually really scary. Here the read:

Not every night is amazing. When I got to the loft party the police had raided it, but they let me in! I love the NYPD. Nobody was out. Sometimes I have to make art out of a lame night later, lying around on my computer till 5 a.m. as the alcohol turns to sugar. We make our own entertainment hamming it up for the camera...

Aren't these sexy? WHOOP! Half of them removed. AHEM.

Well this is what I wrote as a few were left...

Isn't it great to feel sexy now and then? Nobody was out so we started posing! I love that friends of mine and I can goof around and then politely say goodnight as we get into our cabs and go home. The world is so boring for most people, at most all they can do is glare at what they project as being subversive and judge. If it was really gross you wouldn't rake around looking for it. A man never looks long at anything he doesn't like...

These are Helmut Newton photographs, if you never saw them in the college where you learned to be a number cruncher (at best). Do these disgust you? Do you think these models lost their careers over the images? Is this trash? Is this ugly?

Robert Mapplethorpe had a great talent for producing technically sound photographs that were, in my opinion, tastefully provocative. Im sorry that my images weren't quite so well planned and shot with only a travel size Leica camera. They are fun though. May I say I am hard to insult, but I get very insulted when people, in their mundane and actually sad lives, find filth and trash in fun playful premeditated images, associating these images with me or the people in them. It's a very rude projection that I don't really want to look at. If I do I can go look at your blog, no? Why don't you call it the ugly blog... or ugly thoughts? That might suit you better. And so long as we're all bullied up to bar with gawking I'd like to remind you that our appearances are fantasy. The tattooed wild man you see before you is still _________personal____________ a gentleman that for better or worse hasn't fallen far from the tree. I may have altered myself to look like a hispanic hustler from 1990 (well, I'm trying... do you know where I can find some white Guess? jeans?), but truth be told I was raised amongst more Puritanism and judgement than you could imagine (hence preachers daughters complex I have and proud of the bizarre term), a (still) young man descended from ______________________ printed in black and white in the ____________persona________*I know its nuts I retract* *and just used stars*. I'm a white boy 9with flava. What this all means is that what I do with my images and people is art and I will do as I please because that's the nature of art. It's art, backoff!! Seriously though, if you insist on making peoples lives less pleasant by misinterpreting art and beauty and fun, then, well, I guess that's your crummy business. Try to relate, like OH like maybe you went to a Pimp and Ho theme party in the suburbs and were scandalous wearing all those matching day glo bob wigs with girlfriends? Like that, just more memorable. And styled.

Did I have to pull this up for you? God, your weekends must be dreadful!

OK, Now that everybody has been TOLD let's get back to MY NIGHT:

This is when Graffiti artists prove their worth.

Busy day withe the script writing uptown. Have to get an additional Dr apparently. I'm not going to get into it, but it seems I'm being forced into... a therapist. Yes. Or they won't give me elephant sleeping pills. Yeaop. It's like that. That's what I learned up town earlier to day. M hmmm.

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