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Porch

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Check the thriftys drive through and bridge near wholefoods for more girlspeggingboysdotcom. Also think there might be one in the alley of the hunter building downtown but not positive

Thanks for the info. I probably have two dozen more shots I've found since my original post. Also, no need for anonymity. Let's be pals.

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20 July 1933--13 June 2023

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Phil Spector

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Instagram

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After eight--nine?--months of near-solitude, a line like everyone will be there and we’ll all wish them well rings especially loudly in the dark spaces I’ve found myself in lately. Some much-needed optimism, even if Henry checks all news will be good news from now on with a clear-eyed as if, realizing that while the good things don’t last, they can, at their best, feel otherwise in their moment. Which is enough, for now, or then.

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Garth Brooks got it so perfectly right on his very first single you can almost forgive the decades of near-total pap that came after. 

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Robert Frank 9 November 1924--9 September 2019

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An Essay

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“[The audience] is best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism...imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It's covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth, no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

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In honor of the Holiday/Halloween in the Reagan Years

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It’s generally not in my nature to be a cheerful person: it’s typically a given that I will take a dim view of things if given the chance--not out of some childish Everything Sucks kind of worldview, but rather because that view has been borne out and reinforced by how things typically shake out, not just for me, but for a vast number of poor fuckers rolling to and fro on this earth, most of whom I realize have it far worse than I do. 

That this worldview is largely reflected in the art I prefer should be no great surprise. Most of the stuff I like tends to be at best pretty serious, and at worst could probably be described as dark or depressing. Negative, even. 

So I’m ever more shocked and surprised when someone can create art that overcomes that darkness, that manages to uplift. That has the strength, the strength I so often lack, for optimism in the face of the unsurmountable facts of the world we live in. To see clearly, if only for a few minutes. 

19 August 1940--6 October 2020

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Our hero finds his inner peace

Set of Doctor Zhivago 1965

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Imagine the brass horn warm to the touch from the heat of all his air, the soft bells of his lungs that spill and ring.

23 September 1926

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And like good men, I am disabled From understanding what we are taught not to condemn

In honor of the Holiday

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What is that which the breeze half conceals, half discloses?

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Oh I'll tell you how it pains to say this ugliness is ours