In defiance of my standard mode of operation of picking a random image from the internet that is in some way associated with the post title, today I’ve included a photo of a pallet I used for well over a decade. It weighs over a pound, and is now fairly useless as I constantly loose my wet paint in amongst all of that which is dried.
So there is a little slice from the old archives for you.
As a purveyor of most things I find of interest, I spend a great deal of time perusing the web, copying and pasting emails, and so forth, in order to cobble together these thrice weekly posts. Since last weekend’s horror in Paris, I’ve been at a loss to compile my feelings in any way that might make sense, and because I generally use this as a platform to convey my ideas, or in the very rare instance, a solution, I felt at odds by not saying anything at all.
Then it occurred to me that in some shape or for I already had.
Not about what happened in Paris specifically, but how I’m determined to at least try and respond to any social injustice, environmental catastrophe, or anything in-between.
I had two posts which I’ve not only personally reflected on with some regularity, but one I even went so far as to recycle for my article in last month’s Dirt Rag Magazine. If by chance you missed it, it can be found here;
And sort of the blueprint for that one, (if you will), can be found here. For me, both have become somewhat of a mantra, because as my news feed clogs to the point of complete gridlock with hopelessness, and thousands of voices declaring their individual perspectives, if I don’t maintain the focus that those declarations have given me, I will most surely sink.
Without question, my thoughts are with the Syrian refugees, the victims of the mind-numbing terror in Paris, and even to a degree, the young people of ISIS who are with so little hope that their only response is to visit destruction and despair upon anyone who opposes their skewed world view. I’m committed to not breaking, and vigilance in maintaining the most positive vibrations I can muster.
And it’s with that, that I now post this video that April inadvertently brought to my attention, because if there’s nothing about drunk girls and baby fuzzy buddies that makes you smile, then I’m afraid you’re beyond any help I can provide;
I could get lost in that clip.
In unrelated news regarding to dying, apparently drinking coffee has recently been linked to not doing it prematurely.
I think I’ll have another cup.
Also, and because I want this here readership to live as long as possible, did you know that I partnered with Doma Coffee a few years ago and came up with my own real-live blend of beans?
It’s true, I did.
It’s a fair trade, four bean blend from Mexico, Honduras, Peru and Brazil, and dark roasted, because I think light roasted coffee tastes terrible.
All the new fancypants coffee shops that insist on playing ‘Pumped Up Kicks’, and are staffed with insufferable individuals with handlebar mustaches, man buns, frilly ironic homemade aprons, and/or bejeweled librarian glasses, who treat each coffee drink as if it’s been handed down by God Herself love light roasted coffee, and I strongly dislike those places.
If this blend sounds like it strikes your fancy, the beans get roasted and sent straight from Doma within moments of your order, (the price includes shipping), and can be found right here.
Moving onto other items of note- I should mention that as a business person, I’m fairly terrible. I don’t schedule product releases during proper times of year, my wallet is usually always full of receipts I forget to give my book keeper, and when it comes to doing anything to streamline operations, I’d rather nap. However, I am pretty good at getting random crap made. I believe in the business world that’s called ‘product development‘.
Why, I just took delivery of a pile of KVLT patches which would look real nice on your gross gutter punk vest;
You’re gonna be the toughest looking character under the bridge;
Though I’ve just about run out of useable real estate on my own grubby vest, between spare changing at the Neurosis show, I was still able to find time to track down a needle and thread;
If you’d like to get one or two of these for yourself, or perhaps a loved one, I have a stack waiting to go out and they can be found right here.
Maybe a piddly little patch or a bag of delicious coffee is beneath your income tax bracket. Maybe you’d like something a little more high zoot, while at the same time illustrating to the world that you have taste in art that doesn’t suck. Lucky for you Steve brought the following item to my attention, and Jason helped me with the exchange rate.
For only £1,000 you can get a five book set of Francis Bacon’s paintings;
That’s just $1,526 for us Americans, and I don’t know about you, but I have that kind of money to burn.
If you’re interested in seeing what it’s like to email someone regarding prohibitively expensive books, hit up the estate and ask them if their refrigerator is running.
I’ve long been a fan of Bacon’s work, and once even made the trip to the LA County Museum just to see an exhibition. I was an idiot eighteen year old who couldn’t fully appreciate what I was seeing, but I was present just the same, and at the very least held onto a pamphlet from the show;
Critics often noted that over the span of his career, his painting style never evolved, though clearly those who appreciated his work never cared. I always very much liked it, as well as (almost more so) the chaos in which it was created;
He might not have been much of a housekeeper, but at least in the literal sense, he was no stranger to a palette of many different shades.