Signs

the iPhone, while having terrible AT&T service, does allow me to photograph every interesting sign i find. which is a lot.


downtown san francisco.


castro, san francisco.


Go-Kart Racing, Burlingame.

Facebook wants to steal your face

this happened to an old boyfriend of mine when general internet use was brand new. he would never leave it. while he already suffered from mental illness of some kind, this pushed him over the edge into paranoid schizophrenia and i think what was termed back then, "internet psychosis." old boyfriend built his first computer himself. it's speed was 70 megahertz and that was sooo impressive.

then he completely lost his mind, convinced the "sufis" were following him and that there was a major "paper trail" on him online.

he was obsessed with the face on mars.

facebook is bad. i'll say it again. if i'd been smarter i would have been able to find my friend without it. just watch out kids. don't get soul-sucked.

"Maru and the Big Box"

Dear John Lurie,

dudes miss you.

thanks for the art.





(photo ca. 2006)

"Ideas are like fish"

david lynch just won a dress.

i'll explain it later, but check this out for now.

you could say i've been catching fish for years, but only just recently collected enough to know what i caught them for.

The correct brain

this little comic coming to you today from L.A. correspondent (and artist) JnoE.



since everyone is starving now, it's best to be an artist...you can create with your own body and brain. no additional information or help necessary. artists (musicians, writers et al) are the walking talking money-making masters of the future. or at least of now.

cheers to all artists. to those who got support growing up and got to go to fancy art schools; both those who went into debt for it and those with a free ride. and to those who did not have support growing up or the money or impetus to find the money or parents to pay for fancy art school. cheers to the street artists of every city and those who rose out of poverty to bust out (haring, basquiat, twist). special cheers to the painters on the streets of new orleans (bless their humidity-filled souls and acrylic-only paintings). cheers to my nephew who is just beginning to draw.

your heart dictates what your hand does. if your heart makes your hand draw then do a lot of it and be THANKFUL that you were born with a TALENT because in the end (like now) apparently whatever we have in/on our bodies/brains is all we get. those without an obvious talent suffer harder.

but of course!! epiphany.

amazing things i can carry in my hands all at once

1.
cigarettes
united airlines voucher
tecate
headlamp
lighter
cig butt
iphone

And another one's gone, another one's gone...

another one bites the dust.
my "fine furniture retail/web/catalog establishment" copyediting/writing/production art has come to an end. a layoff.

i got 2 minutes notice.

"Not enough work." they say. I believe 'em. even doing two people's work. in fact, i think i got laid off for doing too much work. if i'd been more of a slug, no one would notice there wasn't enough work. (ahhh, that lady is even more cunning than i thought!)

being laid off (non-contracted) still hurts. even for the 7th time in 5 years. ESPECIALLY for the 7th time in 5 years.

at least i have a little light at the end of the tunnel.

little for now.


(here's a dare: type in "laid off" "lost job" and "unemployment" into the search engine and see what has happened in the last three years of this Jones' life.)

Sonic Zeppelin??

whoa.

(and i kind of hate to post this article. i wish they did not call sonic youth "pretentious for a reason." they are so far from pretentious. the fact that they are perceived that way is a near-30-year-joke by thurston moore. come on, catch up.)

Beck in the day

thanks very much to our friend, PB we have a link here to a beck show in 1996. The Lollipop Festival in Stockholm.

we thank our friend, PB because he has not only hooked us up to the only tunes worth turning itunes on for tonight, but he has reminded us of Beck's everlasting Odelay tour.

three times we saw him on this tour. THREE. the first: the Warfield. one of the four times we've forgotten/and-or not recognized our exact location at some point when we looked around...so involved in the music and show we were. we laughed so much. he was hilarious and wonderful and it was the Warfield.

second time was at Henry J. in Berkeley. Saw this show with little sister B. We had seats, which suck because everyone just sits there and nods their heads when it's time to ROCK. so we moved to a little door entry not being used and lost our shit all over it. super fun time.

third time we saw beck on his neverending Odelay tour was at the live 105-sponsored Green Christmas Ball at the Cow Palace. Massive space, funny seats...not too concerned. had no idea it would be the last time we would ever hear or see allen ginsberg read. we believe he came on just before beck and hung out with him a bit as beck talked to the crowd. beck was wearing a white suit and white yarmulke, which was especially wonderful during songs like "Novacane."

if our friends weren't around, would we forget everything we ever knew? do we select our friends subconsciously yet purposefully, to get support for memories we want to keep?

if that's the case then i am one successful motherfucker. and a motherfucker who should stop talking like we're in ayn rand's anthem*, no matter how much it's our favorite book.
xo

never heard this song...until now. a guero throw-away?:

Dear God, Thank you for PJ Harvey

thank you.

"I cancel my subscription to the resurrection"

today starts a new kind of life for me.

i'm not looking for a job ever again. i'm not writing intro letters or resumes or interviewing or turning in a writing test ever again. i'm not meeting new coworkers, getting used to their habits, learning new filing systems, learning new procesess or finding out a male coworker is making more than me at a lower level. ever again.

i will not ever have someone tell me the fluorescents must be on because they can't see. ever again. i will never have to listen to the slow-chip crunching of the department hag. ever. or the shrill voice of panic during "crunch-time" or be told that something that's important to me doesn't really matter. or work hard, so hard all the time and still lose jobs once a year. never ever again.

no more being told that i'm doing too much work that i'm taking away work from someone else or that people don't do their jobs right and there's nothing you can do about it and oh by the way your hours are cut or stupid shit like that that corporate people say. nope. not ever.

no more feeling sick from long days of beige cubicle and no sunlight.
or air.
and no music.
and no movement forward.

no more craigslist. no more monkey at the keyboard. no more fear of thinking or fear of getting "caught" being smarter than a superior. and dealing with the fallout and the complicated interpersonal workings of non-family or friend-members in your breathing space 40 hours a week. yeah, no way.

never ever again will i tread water in that pool, holding my breath and praying i don't drown. nope.

i have left the trail.

the plan has become clear. i'm seeing light behind the hole after years of digging. the light is leading the way and i suddenly know exactly what to do and how to get there.

and i'm about to break through.

and be free.

Eye of the Spector

the right decision was made.

it's too bad someone so talented had to fuck up so badly. but it's not like that doesn't happen all the fucking time.

As a survivor of violent experiences at the hands of madmen, i'm glad he's getting the boot. right up the bum bum hopefully.

Most Public Typo Ever

found on the back of a car, people, right there in the manufacturer's handwriting: GRADN CARAVAN.

seriously.

i stared all the way from hwy. 101 in San Rafael to San Anselmo - about 15 minutes in heavy traffic.

GRADN CARAVAN. right there above the back license plate as seen here in the 2001 version (click for better view).

Cell Phone Booth

this comes to you from my new official L.A. correspondent, J"no"E. as a JnoE, he's qualifies as a Jones.

found in silverlake, ca. silverlake seems to have a clue. Bravo, Silverlake!

Music Flashback: Duran Duran

Duran Duran is coming to Saratoga on July 8th.

how funny it would be to see the band that was my first concert ever.

how weird it would be to see the band that was my first concert ever for the first time since 1984 (2nd time -'86). especially because i stopped listening after Arcadia, which wasn't really them.

when they broke up, i supported it because they were starting to suck.

the story was interesting; the drummer, Roger Taylor, "went crazy and had to retire to rural England." the guitarist, Andy Taylor, "had enough of fame" and went on to play in the hideous band, Power Station with DD bassist, John Taylor and the singer/songwriter Robert Palmer. LAME. Hollywood Walk Of LAME.

and what was nick rhodes up to all that time besides immortalizing his unique hetero drag queen look in the pages of random magazines from countries americans rarely saw except at international newstands in metropolitan cities?

having enough of fame and going crazy made them a little tiny bit punk rock. then...they reformed and by that time the little girls weren't interested anymore.

simon leBon was my favorite (favourite) as a teenager. i'm pleased to see him here wearing my own current favorite (favourite) uniform of jeans and jack purcells. when i was in love with him he was 26 and i was 14. i wonder if he's still sexy? can't tell from the picture. even with the great outfit. i guess it's possible. i know i'm still sexy 25 years later.

oh. ew. that sounds gross.

(wait a goddamn minute...andy taylor is not in this picture. shahhhhh.)

5ives to share with you

by the man, merlin mann.

Love, Yoko #2

this is a message dedicated to me because it's like my own problems but my problems have no solutions, but this poem does...and it's dedicated to my dear friend DB whose nephew was killed on Tuesday night by his peers in a weird accident not yet sussed out.

"Bless you for your anger.
For it is a sign of rising energy.
Direct not to your family, waste not on your enemy.
Transform the energy to versatility
And it will bring you prosperity.

Bless you for your sorrow
For it is a sign of vulnerability.
Share not with your family, direct not to yourself.
Transform the energy to sympathy
And it will bring you love.

Bless you for your greed
For it is a sign of great capacity.
Direct not to your family. Direct not to the world.
Transform the energy to giving.
Give as much as you wish to take,
And you will receive satisfaction.

Bless you for your jealousy
For it is a sign of empathy
Direct not to your family, direct not to your friends.
Transform the energy to admiration
And what you admire
Will become part of your life

Bless you for your fear
For it is a sign of wisdom.
Do not hold yourself in fear.
Transform the enerfy to flexibility
And you will be free
From what you fear.

Bless you for your search of direction
For it is a sign of aspiration.
Transform the energy to receptivity
And the direction will come to you.

Bless you for the times you see evil.
Evil is energy mishandled and it feeds on your support.
Feed not and it will self-destruct.
Shed light and it will cease to be.

Bless you for the times you feel no love.
Open your heart to life anyway
and in time you will find
love in you.

Bless you, bless you, bless you.
Bless you for what you are.
You are a sea of goodness, a sea of love.
Count your blessings every day for they are your protection
Which stands between you and what you wish not.
Count your curses and they will be a wall
Which stands between you and what you wish.

The world has all that you need
And you have the power
to attract what you wish.
Wish for health, wish for joy.
Remember you are loved.

I love you!"
y.o.

Notes on a Meeting #6: I love you San Francisco

going back eight years for this installment of Notes on a Meeting.

(click on image to enlarge)

Bio-Art

drawing above of my mom by my dad in 1968, 2 years before i was born.

bio-dad. man of mystery. guy liked living on the outside, did not want in. he told me this. it was clear and i respected it.

he died in Louisiana unexpectedly two years ago in one month. his friend found him dead in bed. he'd been clean for two years but the kitchen was filled with beer cans. the friend had seen him that morning and there had been no beer in sight. he did this in the evening. then he turned a fan on and got in bed. he died in the night. i'm glad he got to feel drunk and happy one last time even though it really meant...the last time.

his stuff was shipped to me by the friend. everything big like his tv and car were donated to a local charity at her suggestion and my blessing.

i kept thinking i'd go and throw his ashes into the Mississippi River, on which banks he grew up and died on. time passed. his ashes sat in my cousin's garage. it freaked her out. it took me a year to realize i was not going south to throw ashes into a river. bio-dad was dead. it was over. no need to bring it up again and get sad again and feel the pain again for no reason.

my cousin shipped the ashes to me about six months ago. i guess, i don't know. they sit in a faux-marble, hideous, cinder block style urn on top of a very tall bookcase in the great room.

right after he died, his friend sent me a small box of stuff that was of no meaning to anyone but me possibly. bills, letters, postcards i had sent him, photos of his cat, some drawings, a painting, a cd of "The Ratpack." when guy encouraged the opening of the box, i wasn't ready.

now, two years later, i am. and i went through it and i found these beautiful brushes, pretty untarnished due to his clean acrylic painting. i use oils, my brushes are worn. but his barely-used brushes are soft and perfect for my work. this is surprising. his friend wrapped them for shipping as she found them: in a bumble bee mug.


god, i miss him.

Can I Have Your Apple Crisp?

memory: in the cafeteria during lunch in elementary school, I would
routinely walk the around all the tables and ask kids if they wanted their
apple crisp. "do you want your apple crisp? Yeah? Ok." "hey, do you want
your apple crisp?" I remember people getting mad at me for it, ignoring, or
giving me a weird look. I didn't care. I HAD TO HAVE the apple crisp.

Thinking back...apple crisp was my comfort food. Grandmama made it. When she wasn't around and life sucked, I was desperate to be comforted and apple crisp did it because of her.