When the garden flowers baby are dead yes
And your mind your mind is full of red
a woman on the bed weltering in blood!

a sublimated murder-- a soft murder, appropriate to a sad and frightened time.




20 Facebook updates from the last 3 months

  • is haunted by intense dreams of circular dancing in the entryway of a surgery clinic and uncontrollable weeping.
  • had a little heavy cream in his coffee.
  • "question[s] not [his] Ratiocination, but only the stanchness of his pump."
  • just wants to curl up with Florence Marryat's The Blood of the Vampire.
  • "There is a great deal of confusion about what to do with pizza boxes."
  • pulled everything apart, became convinced that the resultant mess would never fit back together, moped egregiously, and only now has realized that everything is going to be fine, that pulling apart was likely the right thing to do after all.
  • would like for someone to choreograph a piece called "Pizza Joints."
  • constantly sees from his windows people walking dogs and therefore muses a good bit on dog-walking.
  • woke up singing Lil' Kim's "Dreams."
  • loves hearing Knnth practice "Cielito Lindo."
  • is Merritt R. Butrick as Johnny Slash Ulasewicz.
  • will be chewing on Anna Wintour's David Letterman appearance for quite some time.
  • "awoke, heated and unrefreshed."
  • wondered out loud, "How many blueberries equal a carrot?"
  • digs the Harrison Street exit off of the Southwest Bike Path.
  • became indignant while shopping at Metcalfe’s Sentry.
  • ate a raw potato in an anxiety dream.
  • momentarily confused La Jetée and Jean Naté™.
  • : People have ideas, and then they do things.
  • will now read until bedtime.


From the UW Archives

1969. I am hunted by the seriousness, the cigarette, the stump-
like shadows of the legs, the limp and knotted posture of the hand.


From My Archives

mask, 1998 or 1999.



In a recent scintillating conversation over dinner, friends mentioned Stephen Colbert's request that viewers ensure his inclusion in Conservapedia's Conservative Bible Project. I later re-encountered an 18th-century precursor in Lewis's The Monk (1796), penned when he was a tender 19 year-old:

He examined the Book which She had been reading, and had now placed upon the Table. It was the Bible.

'How!' said the Friar to himself; 'Antonia reads the Bible, and is still so ignorant?'

But, upon a further inspection, He found that Elvira had made exactly the same remark. That prudent Mother, while She admired the beauties of the sacred writings, was convinced that, unrestricted, no reading more improper could be permitted a young Woman. Many of the narratives can only tend to excite ideas the worst calculated for a female breast: Every thing is called plainly and roundly by its name; and the annals of a Brothel would scarcely furnish a greater choice of indecent expressions. Yet this is the Book which young Women are recommended to study; which is put into the hands of Children, able to comprehend little more than those passages of which they had better remain ignorant; and which but too frequently inculcates the first rudiments of vice, and gives the first alarm to the still sleeping passions. Of this was Elvira so fully convinced, that She would have preferred putting into her Daughter's hands 'Amadis de Gaul,' or 'The Valiant Champion, Tirante the White;' and would sooner have authorised her studying the lewd exploits of 'Don Galaor,' or the lascivious jokes of the 'Damsel Plazer di mi vida.' She had in consequence made two resolutions respecting the Bible. The first was that Antonia should not read it till She was of an age to feel its beauties, and profit by its morality: The second, that it should be copied out with her own hand, and all improper passages either altered or omitted. She had adhered to this determination, and such was the Bible which Antonia was reading: It had been lately delivered to her, and She perused it with an avidity, with a delight that was inexpressible. Ambrosio perceived his mistake, and replaced the Book upon the Table.

Scarce is an idiocy not already skewered in the lush annals of 18th-century British literature.


From My Archives

More dinners for one, late 1990's.



From My Archives: For Mike

the chaps prepared in the very kitchen where I ate and
served others, late 90's. photos (these two among those more
rarely exhibited from the series) by bradford.


Friends, we've had some technical trouble of late. Our beloved 'puter Tanya died, uh, on my birthday last week. Tanya was our dvr, the keeper of m'stories. She managed to eek out one last "Glee" before giving up the ghost. Knnth was promptly ordered to stop at nothing in the preservation and continued collection of m'stories as they come rollin' in. He's rebuilt his current computer into a dvr and accomplished all manner of stunning technical feats in a matter of days. The digital camera, however, remains temporarily out of commission. So, pictures I took to illustrate the Osis dust didn't make the press deadline. "Osis on the Shelf" and "The Morning After the Initial Use" will be posted at a later date. As will numerous produce pictures. In the meantime, I'll try my best to keep the blog at a low simmer.

Notes on Osis Dust It Mattifying Powder

Text [from Erk]: Thank u 4 the dust! I love it!

Text [from Bradford]: Jen says it's Playa Hair in a bottle-- for that desert-windblown effect. I love how it dirties up clean hair in seconds!

Bradford [in a voicemail]: It's as though you've spent the whole weekend at the beach or the pool, getting in and out of the water without ever washing your hair.

Bradford [in a voicemail]: Use about 1/2 tsp., rubbing it around on your palms before running it through your dry hair.

Erk: (measuring out 1/4 tsp. into his hand) That looks about right!


From My Archives: For Mike

early iterations and studies of the plastic tank, late 90's.
to protect my public image, I'm afraid I censored the pic
of the plastic-bag shorts. That image along with another
from the same shoot are readily available for uncensored
viewing in person, by appointment only.



From My Archives

photos of dinner-for-one in san francisco, late 90's. the scans don't do the photos
justice, but i post them nonetheless to mark the similarities and differences
between my past and present practices.



This just in from The Mountain Press, newspaper of my people in East TN.

For Bradford


Mountaineer Huguenot Pioneer Spirit at Table

Huguenot Torte. Not much of a looker (thank goodness the recipe specifies sunken-ness as a sign of done-ness), but-- like an apple pecan pie with a meringue crust-- very tasty.


For Kate




The Backstreet Boys are sad to announce they have cancelled today's NYC PINKTOBER Hard Rock Café signing due to member, Brian Litrell having been diagnosed with the Swine Flu. The other 3 members, Nick Carter, Howie Dorough and AJ McLean have seen a doctor and are not showing any symptoms. As a preventive measure, the doctor has prescribed Tamiflu to the group and their touring party, who had just returned to the states from Tokyo.

This unfortunate occurrence will also result in the cancelling of the group's CBS Early Show performance tomorrow, Tuesday October 6th. BSB was scheduled to perform their new single "Straight Through My Heart." The intimate performance at PC Richards (downtown) has also been cancelled and rescheduled for a later date.

"We were really looking forward to spending time with our closest fans and friends in NYC and take part of PINKTOBER, an unbelievable and important program" Litrell says. "I hope we can come back soon and do everything we can to help."

The Backstreet Boys are in New York in support of their new album THIS IS US, out tomorrow, October 6th on Jive Records. The rest of the band's promotional schedule for this week has not been determined. Details to come.

www.backstreetboys.com www.myspace.com/backstreetboys
www.youtube.com/bsbofficial twitter.com/backstreetboys

For more information, please contact:

Steven Trachtenbroit Greg Miller
Big Hassle Big Hassle
212.619.1360 310.428.2064
steven@bighassle.com greg@bighassle.com



Plums from past weeks at the market. The first time I bought fruit from this great older husband and wife team, I quickly dumped a plastic container of the plums I wanted into a recycled plastic bag I'd brought along with me. The wife farmer, who had been helping another customer, looked at me with horror and then looked at husband farmer in a fury. We were both accused of potentially bruising the fruit. This, mind you, is uncharacteristic of the market culture in which most farmers reuse plastic containers, sending produce home with customers in plastic bags alone. The following week, I gently ribbed wife farmer: "I thought you were going to reach over the table and slap me!" She reacted shyly as Wisconsinites are often want to do in such circumstances, but I spied a blush of acknowledgment. And husband farmer responded, "If the customer wants to do that, then..."-- an explanation that sounded like it had been first delivered and later repeated to wife farmer in his own defense. Nevertheless, then and in future weeks, I was all too happy to let my plums be packed carefully and safely in their plastic container within a hefty paper bag. I wholeheartedly appreciate that wife farmer serves the fruit before all else-- before the customer and before the marital contract. The plums were all the more delicious because of it.