"Blackmail, Dogma and Online Diplomas"

god bless my friend PS. not only does he organize his books by smell, he has moving boxes that read as such. pretty pretty pretty pretty special.

Occam's Amygdala

"During a panic attack, the body typically releases large amounts of adrenaline into the bloodstream." - Science Daily

see, this statement here is where science has gone wrong in the study of panic attacks. who am i though? what clue would i have? would real life experience be enough? i got that!

from my perspective, from the inside, it's the adrenaline that causes the panic attack. without the adrenaline, there'd be no panic. it's not a chicken or the egg conundrum. why haven't i ever read anything like this?

adrenaline is produced in the little amygdala nugget of the brain.


if other parts of the brain can be oversized or undersized causing a myriad of mental disorders, then why not the amygdala? and if the amygdala can be oversized and overproductive, then wouldn't it produce more adrenaline? and if a person produces excessive adrenaline, then wouldn't they have panic disorder?

if this theory was proven, one could have surgery or injections to decrease the size perhaps and thus get rid of panic disorder altogether.


ps. Isn't this an example of Occam's razor?

Best Song Ever?

could it be? is The King of Carrot Flowers 1-3 the best song ever?

ladies and gentlemen...meet a strong contender for The All-Time Best-Of Ever.

Hi Spring, Is that You?

thank you, jesus, spring is almost here.

the sky tonight on my way home. about 6:00pm PST.

at last.

Twitterwood

things we know:
1. there are "famous" people on Twitter
2. there are "famous" people's people advertising for their "famous" people on Twitter
3. some "famous" people actually like Twitter and use it accordingly

and best of all

4. some "famous" people don't have to do anything, and they still have followers on Twitter, although when the "famous" person is something of an eccentric, then doing nothing constitutes as something, and it's damn funny.

(see image, below, for visual assistance.)

The Weather Report

glory glory hallalujah!!

some absurdity has thankfully been added to my life. for those of you who feel starved: pick up your vitamins and minerals here.

in case some of you have never viewed mr. lynch's weather report, click on the top square button to get your daily video of weather in LA reported as if it's different everyday instead of always the same.

a little funny in your tummy is a great way to start your day.

or get into twitter and catch all kinds of nutty one-liners like, "Thought of the Day: Let a smile be your umbrella."

can you imagine a world without david lynch?


he also talks about a "Field of Unity" on his blog. religious people think this is proof "prayer works." for me it's about hearing the far away voices of my dead grandparents. it's about being an open wound most of the time. it's about a connection to the field of unity that is painfully strong. aka empathy. it's about giving off major electricity. this is not a good donation to the unified field. i am an emotional terrorist, someone spreading electric confusion throughout time-space.

isn't acerbic a great word?

Childhood Home

(click on picture to enlarge)

taking screenshots of my childhood home on google earth. i can see the bricks my grandfather put down. dad remains unforgiven for selling.

the guy who bought it was in class of '89. i was class of '88.

Meeting John Waters

a favorite painting* of mine of my old friend D. I have a special memory with D. he took me to meet JW one lucky day in December of 2003.

it was right after work on a rainy evening when i got a call from D. saying, "wanna meet john waters and go to a cocktail party with me? My boss gave me tickets!" DO I?! without question!!

we met up at the castro theatre a half hour later. there was to be a cocktail party with food and then a meet-n-greet with john, followed by a spoken word performance by john. we stood in line and waited. at the last minute, D. took off his shirt. and boy, is he gorgeous. a swimmer. and tall. john's bodyguard saw us coming. i was at my thinnest and cutest but i might as well have been invisible when the bodyguard called out to john, "Flesh! Incoming flesh!" we stood by john as his eyes followed D. to a position next to him. clearly john was moved. nice. next we handed him a VCR tape of a movie we worked on together. it had gotten a small release in the states and was of exactly the type of bad-taste and humor we knew john would love. and he did! we told him we thought he might like this movie we're in and handed it to him. upon reading the title his reaction was immediate: "Oh! I already have it! My agent gave it to me in Chicago last weekend!"

and then we were shuttled away. our hearts were pounding in our heads. this was truly unbelievable news!! we raced back upstairs to the cocktail party to call the filmmakers and tell them. their heads exploded and their hearts fell to their feet. it was very fun. and john is hysterical and non-stop entertaining. i could listen to him for hours. actually you can listen to him a little bit here.

*this is an example of stopping at just the right time. i had a friend help me with that. otherwise this thing would be covered head to toe in color. and would suck.

minimalism is difficult.

Shut your boca!

my friend EC recently introduced me to the photographic method, Bokeh. coined by the japanese, it's about focus in photography. primarily with a soft edge. i love this word. although for me my mind goes directly to the spanish word for "mouth,"

"boca."

i was told, as a child, to "shut" my "boca" on many an occasion.

my step-dad's family speaks a lot of spanish because they own a vineyard and vineyard workers are typically of latin descent (and of grandchild descent, no kidding), as well as maids. plus they traveled a lot to Spain, Mexico and South America because my step-grandfather was a pilot for Pan Am.

"leche" "agua" "zapatos" and "pantalones" were spoken of frequently as well. not nearly enough "chocolaté," however.

in contrast, in the deep south the maids were black. i did not learn new words from Mary Lee who took care of me, but she was sweet as pie. my grandparents hired her for help with housework and taking care of me when i was a toddler; they both worked and my mom was back in school after leaving my dad. i have fond and very clear memories of Mary Lee*. but i can't remember the name of the latina maid in california who came into my life later. only her words. interesting.

*one day my mom and i drove her home. how i remember this at age an age under 2 is because it was a strong emotional memory. she lived in a shotgun shack in natchez, mississippi; across the river from my grandparent's house in Louisiana. i was stared at by all the little boys playing in the tiny alley-way that lined the fronts of the tiny houses. it was so new for me. strange. in 1972, blacks and whites were still somwhat segregated in the rural parts of the deep south. i don't think Mary Lee liked us having to drive her home. I think she preferred her privacy. i say this only from the image in my head of her shutting the car door, walking the steps to the front door of her home and turning around and waving...in a sad? way, in a nervous? way in an uncomfortable? way, in a waving away? way. and then my mom waving and driving away quickly. i guess that might be my very very first memory.


thanks, EC for bringing some deep deep memories back. xo

What is it?

mushroom.

Valentine's...

...day turned out pretty pretty pretty pretty great. saw irma thomas, a woman who doesn't take jack from anyone, while we ate sushi. stayed in a crazy Best Western with a japanese pop decorating theme that is owned by Joie de Vivre Hotels (known for their fancy boutique hotels) (???).


went shopping a little in the upper fillmore and bought these fingerless gloves from the marc jacobs store for $5. guy said, But winter is almost over!" i said, "But there's always gonna be another winter! and another cigarette." ($5????)


keychain made of soapstone from deYoung Museum we couldn't get into to see Andy Warhol's album art show. it came in many colors, but this was the only one with a blemish. it stood out. two things i know something about:


other v-day images include signs to and fro various habitats:






and of course i partied down with guy and had a great time. thanks, guy. times infinity.

I Know You

you know when you meet someone and they look familiar? like, a lot, otherwise you wouldn't say anything? and then you say something? and the person says, "I don't think so"? but you also recognize the name of the face so your mind keeps working? no time markers. no placement in time. nothing. just knowing.

abnormal amount of time for me to pinpoint how i know a face: 1 hour
normal time: 1-2 days.
slightly bad amount of time: 2 months.
horrifying amount of time: never (i have one and it's disturbing).

christmas night guy and i go to our neighbors' house for some christmas cheer, just before we fly out to mexico. there we meet a guy. his name i recognize like he's famous, i know it that well. then his face, i look and i know the face, but only barely, like he's a sidelines kinda guy. i think i place him and ask, "do you know my friends DP and LS?" he says, No. HUH. ok...

nearly two months go by. but i still occasionally find myself wondering Who Was That Guy? then tonight i go over to my neighbors' house again. we're hanging out. i remember to tell them, Hey, that guy, your friend the artist who i thought i knew...i still haven't figured it out, but i know i know him and it's buggin'!

M says, well let's look at his facebook page. and this we do. and there's a picture he posted today of a flying eyeball and this flying eyeball takes me back immediately to my psychedelic shop years and i feel a connection. i say with certainty but kind of under my breath, "the flying eyeball* reminds me of The Psychedelic Shop. i know him from The Psychedelic Shop. he was a part of that..." and friend M's husband M says, "yes, he was." and friend M's husband M would know this kind of thing.

i'm amazed. i tell them how i haven't been inside the store (it closed down in '97) or talked to anyone from it since 1995. i realize i'm remembering a face i saw maybe twice and not for at least 14 years. i tell them i think i maybe bought posters from their friend because i was a buyer. that maybe he did some graphics work for my boss or some poster i sold a lot of or...

but no more info came. there's more to this story than i can remember, but i know it's something interesting or i wouldn't be so intent on finding out what it was. "interesting" at The Psychedelic Shop was "shocking and unacceptable" to most of the rest of the world.

i need to remember the room i met him in back then and then i'll know. i just can't see it yet. only the face and the name. and a general geographical clue and span-of-time clue.

major progress was made today on placing this face. it's the only one burning holes in my memory at the moment, but it still hurts.


*amazing and legendary poster artist rick griffin drew the original flying eyeball, as seen in the poster above.

Dave Markey's Notes on the Year Punk Broke

a really fun road journal found here, written by 1991: The Year Punk Broke director, Dave Markey.

been waiting for the dvd to come out for years. website says it's been finished since 2004. what's the big holdup i wonder what's the big holdup on more of that backstage non-sequitor silly fun punk rock heaven action?

this will have to do for now.

unless you haven't seen the truly hilarious, bizarre, energetic and personal documentary yet. consider yourself lucky. if you loved the grunge era at all, lived through it at all, wish you had lived through it at all, or want to travel back to it at all...then check it out, yo. it'll rock your socks. (god, especially Babes in Toyland. amazing!)



glad i still have my VCR.

"Kittens Inspired by Kittens"

putting silly viral youtube videos up on the Jones isn't really what we do here at the Jones.

there is no way around this one though. had to do it. HAD.



my favorites have to be the screaming kittens and "i'm your mom!" "no...she's not."

how about you? try to pick only one. try.

Love, Yoko

when i read this i can almost imagine (ha ha "imagine") it "working." i can imagine doing this and feeling BETTER. this is what i'm saying people. my goal: be nicer! don't swear at people while driving! be more patient! stop hating people! stop hating the world! be less self-centered! send out the onochord message instead!

Send the ONOCHORD message:
“I LOVE YOU”
by repeatedly blinking the light
in the frequencies and durations
required for the message:
from ships
from the top of the mountains
from buildings
using whole buildings
in town squares
from the sky
and to the sky.

Keep sending the message
to the end of the year
and beyond.
Keep sending the message
everywhere on the earth
and to the universe
Keep sending.

For individuals:
send the message by hand
or using flashlights
or with lighters

The message I LOVE YOU in ONOCHORD is:

I i
LOVE ii
YOU iii

I love you!

Facebook Is Not Your Friend!!!!

i hate that FACEBOOK is the only way many people choose to talk to their friends and/or family. guy says i'm just very good at communication and shouldn't expect others to be the same (email phone calls postal service?). but i don't think i'm special and i do think people have gotten lazy and communicate PERSONALLY less and less and that this will create a social scar on the already-thin skin of humanity.

maybe i'm overreacting. god knows that is a gift of mine. still, it comes as no surprise to me that a year after i post a rant about this very subject, Facebook falsehood has escalated to a whole new level.

YES!!!

Later, Lux

it was 1982 and way past my bedtime. in fact, i had to sneak out of my bedroom, turn my doorknob very very slowly and then silently - at my most teenage paranoid - creep down the hall to the tv in the living room. it was midnight and Night Flight was on channel 50 (out of Santa Rosa, CA). i wanted to watch "URGH! A music war," but my parents would never allow it. for one it included staying up past 9pm (no matter that i'm an insomniac) and secondly, it involved punk rock (what is it? they wondered, alarmed) on the TV. "why would a midnight movie be any good for our daughter?"

so i snuck. i put big floor pillows around the screen, through which i peered. this cut the light that seemed gigantic in our small house, where my unpredictably raging step-dad lived and ruled. we had a vcr. it was pretty new. it was a top-loader, which i always considered more sophisticated, contradictory to what turned out to be the trend. i slid my tape in. i had the volume dial turned all the way down but i couldn't get it quiet enough. i pressed play. god, those machines were loud. any minute i could be discovered and grounded forever.

and then it came on. the movie. i watched it for the Police but then i saw The Cramps, among many others of an ilk i knew nothing of. i was just catching on to Punk Rock but swayed by the pretty boys of New Wave. i watched Lux Interior slither around like a snake/lizard. poison ivy swirled her hips like a whirlpool in the works. i remember feeling nothing but frozen, i was MESMERIZED and scared at the same time. i had no idea what was going on, but it was out of this world and i couldn't stop watching.

now Lux is dead. i'm 38 and Lux has died.

the last time i saw The Cramps...is hard to say. they played SF every halloween for a good decade. I went four times. I think.

what's more ingrained in my memory is the second time i ever heard them.

my friend JP had moved into a studio on Harriet, right off 6th and Howard in the City. he was painting and listening to this instantly, almost-too perfect, hip-swaying, shot-shootin', rowdy, dirty, grindy punk rock. i asked who it was. he laughed a little and said, "The Cramps." it was 1995. i couldn't believe it. i remembered seeing Lux as a 12-year-old and this, THIS is the music he wrote?! that scary man with the slithery body?

and JP said, yeah, you know, THE CRAMPS!* hahhahaha.



so sad to hear Lux left today. his death came too soon for a man never a note, a grind, a kiss, a sway different than on he was on Night Flight at midnight in 1982.


*(they're instantly lovable. JP gave me some tapes. i couldn't believe i did not know. they were so accessible and fun, "Can your pussy do the dog?" AND they played NAPA STATE. how cool can you get?)

Favorite Cramps Song: The Most Exalted Potentate of Love.

I heart sushi and jazz (and andy...and hotels)

going to see Irma Thomas on the night of the valentine. the main draw was Yoshis and she happened to be playing that night.

i was dubious when i read that she's R&B, rather than the Jazz i expect from Yoshi's.

no doubts anymore.



starting the day off with a stop at the deYoung. unbelievable coincidence: my stay in the city, andy warhol profiled at the deYoung. i can barely BARELY contain my excitement for valentine's day. for once i don't feel deep purple dread.

staying here after the show. i feel pretty lucky. and like guy and i have reached a milestone, we're cresting the first hump and it feels good (cresting the first hump). it's been a long, hard, steep climb. we've dealt with broken boots and bad gps...successfully.

Dedication

my friend at luddite machine posted something fantastic for guy and me today. it's like a radio dedication from the future. what a nice thing! and it'll make you happy too. be warned.

a smile is on its way.

I Believe Patty

she was brainwashed. end of story. if you've ever known someone who's been brainwashed, then it's pretty easy to believe.

the SLA started with a home invasion...a home invasion ruined patty for YEARS!

One night with Clementine

and hairy eyeball on the dvd player.

it tells a story.

that begins with a bar of xanax.

Plant from another mother

one of the coolest things i saw all weekend.



(if you can identify this mysterious creature, let me know.)

New painting #1 - day 3

stage 4 - still a long way to go.

Released

My stay at the mental hospital and subsequent mental class assignment is OVER. I have been declared less insane!!

It's really really hard challenging yourself and everything you've known about yourself and how it's not all real and what to do.

So no one ever really does it. It sucks. What sane person would want to do such a thing.

Notes on a Meeting #2

Lost painting of Jerry suddenly returns

this was painted in 1989 for painting class. the themes were always like, "HUNGER" "SLEEP" etc. i couldn't work with that so i just painted whatever i wanted and made it apply with a story during crits. eventually i was reprimanded for this. the man knew i was lazy.

he did like jerry though. i think the assignment was "feed." after class a classmate stopped me in the stairwell, "hey!" he said, "hey, do you mind if i borrow your stlye?" and was shocked. stunned. said, "sure!" without thinking about it. he thanked me and ran off.

i've never figured out what "style" he was talking about. it has occurred to me that maybe he was being sarcastic.

5 dimensions. the edge of space. string theorists agree. holographic world.

enjoy trying to picture this. i recommend attempting to picture however because it is so mind-fucking you can't believe it.

my gift to you given to me by J. thanks, J.