The Crass Menagerie

My Photo
Location: The Promised Land

This is my triumphant return to the lifestyle I've always furthered and forwarded in my heart, at least, so let's blast off. The first half of my life has been incredible and the second segment will include more splendors than any Ottoman Sultan could ever have wished for in his golden repose. Anyway, fasten your laughter belt cuz you're on a collision course with wackiness.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Off your tractors!

That's me at Brasstown Valley in north Georgia last year about to crunch one ... camera man. Not really. I'm taking a break from a painting that I've just started in the last day or two and this is the way I unwind? Oy! But really folks, the thing with the golf clubs and balls and holes and the hazards--look out!! The season is upon us with The Masters just round the corner and this reporter can't wait. Earlier, on Mannix: for the latest painting I grabbed the first photo that really caught my eye and it was of an old girlfriend, Annemarie Bright, who's pic I snapped on the beach in Nice at sunset in July of the year 2000. I wouldn't have/ couldn't have painted this a few years ago but now when I see it I just thought, wow, what a great photo and the image is purely mine. Where ever she is I hope she's doing great and that she's found a guy almost as good as me or, better yet, found that special lady and they're off doing their thing. Don't wear green and think that I won't find you. Excuse me. Time is a ... there's no way to finish that right now so I'll ramble on about headlights that flash on the blinds, meaning that Buddy, aka Stacks, is home. More later if I can...

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Barnacle Groans

That was the title of the Mad magazine parody of Barnaby Jones. Who remembered that? Ok, I've spent about an hour trying to upload a photo and it ain't gonna happen which makes me wonder how much time is blown trying to get computers to work and I've got a cable connection... yawn. I sound old and sedate and far from the whisky days of yore or the tequila summer of '91 that was ignited by cousin Rod in whom we did not trust but you loved the man anyway because he loved a good time and inspired others to act foolish which is most admirable in this crazy era we've stumbled into which is in need of an injection of mexican brown straight into the mainline since things have become a bit mundane in these United States which I patronize and I'll just be Tony, no more, no less. People speak of Oprah being powerful which blows my mind but I don't think democracy in its purest form really works because people who give Oprah "power" probably shouldn't get a vote because there's a serious world out there that demands attention some of the time and hypno-toad is out there to fuck you up. It's a good thing I was born into swarthy latin charm or I'd have to rely on my fists more than I do now. Anyhoo, I promise to fight this photo blight and work my virtual ass off to bring some prime visual delights to all my readers who I welcome to come to me with problems or suggestions, whether they see god as hairy thunderer or cosmic muffin.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

View Master

This was something of a mistake, actually but I'm going to let it ride and see how it goes. Meanwhile there's a fantastic sunset looking west over Moab, Utah from last spring. One of those nights when you're driving along and then the sky just opens up for you and runs a show before taking off for nightfall and not telling when he'd come back again so you're left in the dark and you go to the drink and that only makes you miss the sunrise because you're so sick with the poison that you can't wait for the sleep to come and then hope it never ends but it does and you have to go back to the world to get that special feeling again and it starts over. Whatever. I love games. Last night's haiku:

My blood running thin
In the stupid Smarch weather
The wind never stops

All right, that sunset is worth looking at twice because it's there and it's best just to let it be, you see, so I thunder and rage for a display to impress the ladies but I'd most likely not know when to quit and let the winnings slip away so it's fine at the end of the day. There was a little Jake LaMotta in there for some reason. Downright lyrical when you analyze it as you should because the world needs laughter and you should seek that which makes you guffaw so get the chickens in the barn and lock up the rooster's pride before the big one hits and we're all left wondering where it all went so fast but you can't beat me on the grade! That's how I'll go out someday. Good thing I'm not attracted to Jodie Foster. I will say a prayer for her, though, and her whole thing on the hill there, man. Peace.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Is happy day

We'll stay with a greenish theme for now since today was the first day of spring. Pictured here are my parents, Carole and Jose Antonio, living in Japan circa 1961. It was from this simple, eastern sensibility that I developed and morphed into this dragon in the wrong cage but I'm making friends and learning to play with others so things will work out. It is the cliche rainy night in Georgia and the sheriff is probably lurkin' around and I know little sister don't miss when she aims her gun but that's not important right now, Chicago, we need that two-niner! Karma dares me to be patient so I'll see what I can do.

Back on my couch
The focus on nothing
Different than before
Conflicting similarities
Assault me all at once
The birds awake and loud
A certain song brings back the season
No glance back at the burning city
We want a happy god!
Jasmine swallowing the mailbox
Ladybug crawling on my denim jacket
Spring a riot of emotion
Desire turns to hunger
Call the strongest spirits of the past
Watch the hand work
Saying a prayer for my enemies
Fills me with a sense of benevolence
Foiling their plans
While I climb higher
Trying to inspire!
A tow truck in the southern night
Upsets the birds and racoons
And Ella Fitzgerald
Any way you like it
Mother earth has it
New grasses come up
A good time for pie!

On reading this out loud to a friend it was decided that it read better as a howl or a rant at the very least so call me and I'll recite it, under swat team supervision, of course. Stupid Smarch weather. Whoever gets that please leave a comment and let me know. It's easy. The Smarch part, not the Silence of the Lambs. That's too easy. Anyway, I welcome the bitter cold wet night and know that I'll soon have my back resting on warm desert sandstone and then I'll get up and look for seeds to purchase or a place for my seed to find purchase or some free seeds without purchase is often the best way to go but it's time for that seed, dammit!! Thank you, for a real good time in advance. Don't look for a bulllet point here, you see, because you can't get to heaven on the wings of a gun (The Folksmen) so make a hit and run random act of kindness and see if it helps turn the faucet all the way off.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Saints Preserve Us

This is now just a memory or, more accurately, a digital photo of a memory of Bob's black bug in front of my sister's house in Echo Park which is an area that keeps The Shield in business but you get used to helicopters and soon it's like giant annoying flies are buzzing far overhead but they don't bother you unless you bother them (mostly true) so I again pray for all living creatures, maybe a little extra for the great ones, and do my thing which I'm starting to figure out and that makes me happy that I can still learn things, including tricks, which no kid deserves. Oops, then. Forgot what day it just became and refuse to retype the party of the first part (anyone get the reference to "The Quiet Man?") so we now recognize the mighty Irish who somehow have managed to export culture in a unique manner that has touched the world so I swear that I shall raise a pint of the mother's milk which is Guiness Extra Stout to the uneducated or illiterate which is one of the funniest things I've written in a long time, says I, and I can taste the creamy goodness already, can't you? Meanhwhile, back in the deep south I advertise young love for sale, or was that Cole Porter? I started to quote Woody Allen and say that I deserved Cole Porter but that would make me sound gay and I'm just a fan of the ladyships that sail up and down the four winds, forever! Spring is in the air and I have the scent and I start to remember important stuff that I used to know and can now put knowledge into action and crush any who oppose me, unlike the Irish. Maybe that was uncalled for but that's our world and we cling to it like so much static in a pile of freshly laundered whites, dude, so we're forced to realize that bones break and cats scratch the fever in to you so deep that you can't get her out of your head and the drink doesn't work any more and I still swim back in time to the sound of a Volkswagen.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Calling all cars

Winter holds on in the west while the southeast enjoys early spring. My time dwindles and tomorrow I lose the Chevalier to his rightful owner and that will be sad though I am looking forward to sleeping in past eight in the morning. Today a cloud layer sits over the giant bowl of Los Angeles in contrast to yesterday when I drove the Black Dahlia over and up into the hills behind Glendale, up highway 2 and in just fifteen minutes found myself alone on beautiful curving mountain road where, in the rear view mirror, the center line looked like a black and yellow ribbon blowing behind the wonderful car, the top down, sun on my face, the sounds of Dark Star pouring out of the speakers and into the clear crisp air. All this just an easy trek from my new back yard. I found a fine spot up a little ridge and sat on a bed of pine needles amid the atomic pine cones that peppered the area and put my face to the sun and meditated while listening to the sounds of the canyon, the voice of the raven, the attack speed wings of a falcon knifing through the updraft, and an almost constant tremor of rocks falling to remind me that the world is alive and I now had a direct transmitter to god.

Monday, March 06, 2006

169 and feelin' fine

This is my boy and bro, Sergio, doing his thing which should inspire anyone.
The Oscars are behind us now and Hollywood settles back to the business of turning out quality images for the betterment of The World which is fine with me. One big cycle to be sure but I believe in cycles and spin for fortune because you gotta eat, they would have us believe and I am testing that theory, completing a phase with all the trimmings and only Ab Snopes for company along with Walter and the faithful Chevalier in the Fortress of Understatement which is well stocked with necessities and I can check out any time I like but I can never leave so I linger through rinse, soak, spin, and emerge, against all odds, with another shot at the car and I don't want any more goats, you see, so I'll recruit young girls to live on my ranch and we'll amuse each other 'til the end of time.

Sitting in California
Listening to Highway 2
Roxy Music to compete
And a gnawing pug
I release myself
To my own recognizance
And promise
Never to do it again
Which is a lie
Maybe I should've opened with that

Starting fresh in pursuit of dharma
Friday night meeting new people
I've known for a long time
Drinking water on the floor
Sucked in to films
And charged conversation
Laughing hurricanes
And then back to the old cold black bug
To my tiny cavern realm
With a seat at the bar

And the latest haikus...

Dog slurping water
Again ready for attack
Sleeping on carpet

Cleansing brings the cold
Warming up the old engine
Sneaking through the night

Thursday, March 02, 2006

All I need...

Last night I had the pleasure to attend a special screening of "Ryan's Daughter" at the LA Film School which has a 300 seat theater with THX sound and state of the art facilities. My friend Jeff is on the faculty there and has access to this enormous toy and we put it to the test in grand fashion. Imagine having your own theater without being Michael Jackson. Jeff and I, along with Annabelle for dressing, kicked back and were in awe of our situation, watching one of the great overlooked classics in a format that probably never would have come to pass otherwise. Our own actual theater with a screen bigger than most that you'll find these days and any seat you want that wasn't occupied by the two other people left us feeling giddy. Even after four hours in there we were ready to watch it again. Now we want to watch every David Lean film in our own pleasure palace, the only drawback being that there's no safe haven for portable euphoria but there's always the back alley life.
Otherwise the California cleanse continues and I sweep the dust from mind and body in preparation for deeds that I must perform which is cool since I have my black 1970 VW bug which is terrible to drive but I love every minute of it, priming the pump and trying to work the break at the same time while making big pulls on the ultra thin steering wheel, listening to the AM radio pour out of the speakers that straddle the speedometer and not knowing how to work the heater because nothing is labeled which is fine since I'm in high school again. Stay gold, Pony Boy.