● monkeybone twitertotem, fullsize● me being woke up by Eggtooth Jeff, 1999● old painting ● old painting● a comics panel i drew which washeavily influenced by Kaz.. . . . . . . . . . .
::Kaz is the King of Komiks!!! ::
"Scramgravy Ain't Wavy" :& the screwball Smokey Stover ! :"1506 Nix Nix"
::Kaz sez: " be an artist, it's easy!" ::
Good morning shunsine!
Ohho,colorfull i say,and that monkey is "hyväntuulisen ilkikurinen"heräävä kurkistus, but creepy? heh, he...beautifull colorfull mess. Interestings links.
Satu:i like that description of my monkey "hyväntuulisen ilkikurinen"= )he is one of the million monkies atta typewriter......"creepy peephole" i should have said, or "sleepy peephole & the vague blur" would have been better.Stephen:"shunsine"indeed!i was often vampiric in those days, up all nights etc.but that pad i had, it was great. an old old house built in 1908, 3813 Church St. in Clarkston,a good fit for displaced persons of many different backgrounds, it really was too...i could go to Thriftown & get 555 smokes for regular domestic prices & a great Vietnamese market sold Black Cats for cheap too, the Craven "A" classic, one of the shopkeepers was confused when i ask'd for a pack of Craven "A" until i pointed at them, he sed "oh, you mean black cats", after that, i loved going in there & saying "gimme apacka blackcats". i would often take walks in the morning, enjoying the sonic beauty of the muslim call to prayer.one time i was walking & came across a big heavy long chain, i picked it up & carried around my shoulders, compell'd for some unknown reason, i felt it was sumsorta personal atonement for all of America's sins.that house was great tho, very cheap rent, i never lock'd my door, i hadda little sign that sed "friends come in", it was right in front of the railroad trax, i love the train, sometimes late at night i would sit out on the sloping gravel driveway naked as the long trains went by, my neighbor was an Iraqui who was married to a Vietnamese woman, we often ate figs together, he would write things in Arabic for me, he kept special pigeons & there was always the cooing sound around.that's the kinda place i need to find again, i was totally happy & my freakwings were spread far, that's when i first start'd wearing granolagirl hippyskirts & playing w/ typewriters, a cool duo i work'd with, Crisco & Brother-in-Law, would come to hangout, Crisco once told me i was a "trueblue artist", one of the best compliments i've ever gotten.i end'd up getting evicted because of not paying rent for a few months, but it was a stroke of fortune -- the house burned to the ground 3 months after i left, i went to explore it after it had burn'd & it was very sad, they tore down what remain'd eventually, the empty lot still sits there, i'd love to buy that lot & make a house out of shipping containers, at the port in Savannah, you can but shipping containers for $2500, it would only take 3 or 4 of them to make a nice house, sadly i think i'll never be a property owner because of my lousy credit history etc., if i did have a place of my own you can rest assured it would become like Paradise Gardens or something like P a s q u a n, i can only dream......
oh yeah,the house had been split up into a quadplex, i was in "D", i found out that Clarkston has once been call'd Goat-town, that's what i wrote on my door, 3813 goat-town, the landlord never visit'd, my joint was cover'd w/ collage on the walls, i am the supremo king of all tacky thumbholes, i gotta bigbucket 'o thumbtacks, i could walk to the library, a great Ethopian cafè sold real expresso for $1.50, i think i need to move back to Clarkston, i've been in the sticks for too long...
Beautiful reminiscence, Troy, and a beautiful picture - as beautiful as the house itself, covered in paintings and collage and freedom and openness and love with the sound of late night freight trains and nakedness full spilling airdom outwards, fig eating fig leafing.You are my hippyskirt brother. I too want to live like that. My freakdom is so contained. I may at some point buy a caravan and plant myself by the sea along the Ayrshire coast with a view of Arran's jaggy mountains and my volcanic sisterrock Ailsa Craig.I'm about to read a couple of books about the communal living experiments of the 60s and 70s. We have a virtual artists colony on the web. We can see and hear but we can't touch or taste or smell. Still, nothing can hinder us. Nothing can stop the electronic psyche spread of creation tremors across the continents. We've carried the chains and atoned for our sins and are moving towards our inheritance.Deep gratitude for you and your experience of Clarkston.
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