brickwallviews

what makes a man start fires?

         “half my life is an act of revision.”

         
          -john irving


         "my bout with depression lasted 5 chambers"

         -raymond pettibone

-david wojnarowicz,
  "arthur rimbaud in new york" (duchamp, pier), 1978-79


jambalaya:
william t vollmann.
started reading the "vollmann reader" today.
i know i know. started? today?
hey. 15 or so years of drinking doesn't
exactly lend itself to reading pal.
i have catching up to do. patience.
i read "whores for gloria" some years back
but don't remember it. (see above)
anyway. the vollmann reader.
figured it's a good "intro".
(note: there are two 4-yr-old girls
behind me as i type this. one is mine.
my daughter i mean. sicko.
anyway, they are screaming and singing.
loudly.
one now understands why burroughs always
carried a gun. i mean i wouldn't....)
where was (am) i?
vollmann. ah yes. william t.
genius. madman. both? neither?
probably a genius and likely the
best (and certainly most prolific)
writer of his generation. readable?
dunno. yet.
great writing (for me) is that which
has less to do with the words on the page
but where said words takes one. (?)
you can utilize a host of pretty adjectives
adverbs nouns and such to describe some
intense vile (or loving) act. or.
you can be just be blunt and honest.
honest writing (and art) is always best.
always.
honesty can be poetic.
as can a drive-by.
it's also a bitch to produce consistently.
the honest art i mean.
bill burroughs did.
chuck palahniuk does.
bukowski. check.
vollmann. ditto.
honesty is tough in all things. it hurts.
but mom was right. it's best.
that's what vollmann seems to nail. brutal
unflinching stripped down truth.
beautiful or despicable. take it or leave it.
i am trying. and failing. but working.
i will get back to ya on ol' vollmann
as i ingest a hearty serving in the
months to come.
more on that honesty thing later too.

footie:
arsenal got throttled 4-1 at liverpool.
ouch!
we have only one able striker.
hopefully we can limp to the finish line
and hold on to 4th place.
(insert prayer here)

gotta go... it's my turn to sing my abc's.

brickwallboy.
over.
out.

lifetime video

quickie...

lifetime have posted the vid for their tune
"airport monday morning".
enjoy.

have
you
ever
you ever heard a joke or a line
that is in such bad taste you
sorta feel weird about having
heard it much less sharing it?

again, me neither.

but this one, it goes...

late.

Dreamed I was a fireman.
I just smoked and watched you burn.
Dreamed I was an astronaut.
I shot you down like a juggernaut.
Dreamed we were still going out.
Had that one a few times now.
Woke up to find we were not. It's good to be awake.
Dreamed I was a tidal wave.
I ravaged your coast, There were no survivors.
Dreamed I was your landlord.
I showed you a place when you had lovers.
If I was a vampire, I wouldn't suck your blood.
Then I dreamed I was you. Sweetest dream I have had.
If you could hear the dreams I've had,
my dear,
They would give you nightmares for a week.
But you're not here and I can never sleep.
Come home so I can be a creep.
Dreamed I was a dream.
I stole you away in your sleep.
Saved you from a fire, A gun for hire,
I introduced you to a vampire.
A wave crashed on the beach.
We rolled around in its foamy grasp.
Kissing in the chaos of a kelpy sea.
Seems I couldn't save you from me.
Maybe I'm obsessive to think like this.
Probably not impressing you with
my cheap tricks.
Honey, it's depressing
what depression does to some.
I'll play the part for hours

But I know you'll never come.

-jawbreaker, "fireman"

locate towel, throw it in:
you should probably stop reading. now.
if you're fed up with the insanity.
get up. go make coffee.
go shopping. anything.
it's best you not continue.
if you feel this mad world is on
the brink of tipping.
do not read on.
hooligans.
volleyball hooligans.
deep breath's. stop drop and roll.
today's most eligible spot for vacation
annihilation.
greece.
you know, in europe. on continent. sorta.
two rival volleyball (stay with me) teams met.
the respective supporters clashed.
one dead. several seriously injured.
i warned you. several times.
did i mention volleyball?
volleyball.
fans.
hooligans.
violence.
death.
get your affairs in order.



jean michel basquiat /
andy warhol, arm and hammer (1985)


i'm creative, no i'm a hack:
ever have a great idea. just marvelous.
clever. brilliant. perhaps genius.
ever have an idea for a book.
painting.
song.
omelette.
and as your browsing the shelves.
wandering the aisles.
browsing al gore's internet.
bam! there's your idea.
it's right there staring you in the face
with those, "i've already arrived" eyes.
the shelf. the screen. the radio.
for all the world to behold.
ever have an idea so thought provoking,
so original, it will shake the creative
world to it's very foundations.
but somebody had it first.

yea. me neither.

have a good weekend. really.

...end of transmission.
brickwallboy signing off.

arkansas deathride?

        "another day,
         another beer,
         another cigarette"

        -bickley, down the hatch

        "he was a clown on a mission
         he had big floppy shoes
         and a nose to match.
         he could only think of one thing
         smilin' at your kiddies
         while he's checking out your skivvies"

        -bickley, sniffy (the clown)

profound. no?

don't sign that yet:
as palahniuk might say:
what they didn't teach you in art school.
after all the hours of painting, drawing,
critiques, theory. the lectures on color,
form, chiaroscuro. the 60 required hours
of art history. all that time and paint.
what they failed to mention was that all
this art based academia. this scholarship.
it was ample preparation for a career
as a struggling, disillusioned real estate
appraiser.

gumbo:
they have apparently repealed the law
against hunting bears in the areas
adjacent to yellowstone national park.
if your calendar is so clear,
your penis so small. that you feel
the need to kill grizzly bears.
shoot yourself.
while we're talking about penises.
a study has just been released indicating
circumcision reduces heterosexual
males chances of contracting hiv
by 60 percent. what struck me as odd,
even a bit humorous about said study.
one of the chief members of the team
of scientists responsible.
his name:
kevin de cock.
i shit you not.

i heard my former band, bickley,
on xm radio the other day. kinda neato.
a little math here. patience.
15 minutes of fame. ok 1 min 48 sec.
divided by 4 members. equals.
uhhh. 37 seconds.
do you know who I am? thought so.
cop.

teddy bears. cattails. cotton candy.
roller skates. puppy dogs. balloons.
cake.
flowers.
stabbings.
see, i'm not always dark.

footie:
god save the queen! stop the presses!
england scored a goal!
(insert oohs and aahs here)
3 goals in fact.
liverpool's stevie gerrard netted 2 as
the three lions defeated mighty (sic) andorra
in euro 2008 qualifying 3 - nil.
did i mention the arsenal meet the
aforementioned liverpool on the weekend.
international soccer football. drying paint.
it's up to you.


brickwallview:
just between us.
if you find yourself hanging about the kitchen
at a friend of a friend's dinner party.
and you glance at the fridge and notice one
of those cute magnetic shopping lists.
"mom's grocery list" it might say.
if you see this little pad, stuck up on
the stainless steel with ice maker and
purified water dispenser landmark.
if say, you just happen to notice "mom's"
little list currently includes:
chloroform.
twine.
forceps.
jumper cables.
butt plug.

feign nausea. and politely excuse yourself.
post haste.

peace. brickwallboy.

fine, and you?

jackson pollock, she-wolf, 1943

        “The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself
         completely”

        “Knowing your own darkness is the best method for   
         dealing with the darkness of other people.”

       - carl gustav jung

self portrait to the sixth power:
inner voices.
we all have them no?
berkowitz's took form of a dog ordering him to kill.
mine.
they simply order me to grab a beer
and take in some english football.
well, there is the french one.
can't make out whether it wants me to
prepare a fish stew or prepare the
crawlspace as a mass grave?
working on that one.
the loudest one often informs me i don't
care for people. don't like them particularly.
no young boy dreams of growing up to be
an alcoholic anti-social introvert.
my problem is i decided to fight this fella.
at my first double-a meeting a guy says to me.
"you seem pretty bright, that will be a problem"
now i understand. some.
my dislike of social gatherings is not a pride point.
not something i choose to embrace.
the beer. the football. been there drank that.
i have always been one to have a small group
of close-knit friends/family i choose to
be close to. better or worse. worse.
cocktail parties. another cocktail please.
dinner parties. another cocktail please.
art openings. another cocktail please.
oh, and move your ralph lauren ass
so's i can see that matisse.
freud and jung could figure this one out.
course they were gobbling opiates and absinthe. so.
so my point, if there is one here somewhere.
listen to your inner voices. battle them if you must.
you must. sonofsam lost. dog 5 sam nil.
they will suggest the absurd. the insane.
and yes, on occasion the fanciful.
turn darkness into light. at least try. daily.
embrace people. i will. i am. trying i mean.
damn.
this bra is way too small.

this that:
i started (finally) not only carrying, but actually
utilizing a journal this week. 'bout time.

creative writing as a coping mechanism.

saw a woman getting a tattoo on tv last night.
(tv ok for me, bad for you)
she spoke of the "anchoring" effect of motherhood.
housewifehood.
my wife is ten times the man i will ever be. really.
she saves lives everyday without knowing it.
a superhero sans cape.
anyway. this woman. tattoo girl.
talked of how the tat was for her etc.
how nothing could take her kids away.
lasers can remove the ink.
the kids are hers forever.
two words sweetheart. amber alert.
see also: child protective services
see also: ugly divorce

never is a four letter word.

yes i know, i'm a friggin ray of sunshine!

laugh. a lot. at yourself.
with your family. fight the darkness.
embrace the darkness.
let the woes of life bleed out.
work hard. play hard.
order 2 desserts.

g'day then fine people.
brickwallboy is outta here.

self portrait sans answers

       To his secretary after a visit from Kurt Cobain:
      "There's something wrong with that boy.
       He frowns for no reason."

      

“Every man has inside himself a parasitic being
        who is acting not at all to his advantage.”

        -william s burroughs

weak  adj.  1 deficient in strength, power, vigor, or number.
2 unconvincing. weak moment time when one is
unusually compliant or temptable.
weak-en v.; weak-ly adj.; weak-ness n.

see also: ice cream
see also: television

see also: brickwallboy

some words:   
how do you explain madness to your kids?
how do explain hate? racism? famine?
how do you tell your 4 yr old daughter your an alcoholic?
sweetie! after you finish getting me a beer...
let's talk about the dangers of drugs. boys.
homeless peeps walk by our house regularly...
my kids want to know their plight. the whys. the hows.
how do you tell them, that without your mom,
i would likely be walking toward the bayou. the shelter.
how do you tell the most precious thing you've ever
had any part in, there's plenty of evil. inside. outside.
pedophiles? thieves? rapists? attorneys?
enjoy lollipops while you can. how do you explain this?
how do you explain yourself?






perhaps parking at church, instead of the liquor store
(is a start)? perhaps.


things (ill) literate:   
finished palahniuk's "diary"... now,
on to "survivor" and all his novels will be re-read and i
will await "rant".
mark danielweski's "only revolutions" is out. i mentioned it
a month or so back. check it out. is it a novel? art object?
waste of time? again, may be worth having solely as an object...
will likely take quite an effort to get through. you'll see
what i mean if you pick it up and browse. i may attempt
his "house of leaves" as my summer book conquest.
or david foster wallace's "infinite jest". clearly a novel
ahead of it's time. imagine if palahniuk and burroughs
did a rewrite on war and peace. and pynchon did the editing.
that's "infinite jest". well sorta.
there's a "readers guide" published on it for chrissakes!

reading books way outta your intellectual league
as a coping mechanism.

brickwallview:
gay's not gay, hell... gay's not even cool anymore.
damn. either is punk rock. or coffee. or meth.
jocks and corporations eventually claim all that
was once cool. or sexy. america. whadya gonna do?

until then brave citizens subjects.

brickwallboy signing off.

depression and longing, mixed media on recycled paper

“The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass
of our life, the clearer we should see through it.”

          -Niccolo Machiavelli

untitled number 22:   

eight beers. two vicodin. rinse. repeat.
for the record, my father died just over seven years ago.
for the record, i've missed him much longer than that.
16 years old. not me. the truck.
we sat broken down in who-knows-where oklahoma.
we waited. we talked. we shared a coke.
all we needed was a gallon of water.
all i needed was a gallon of firewater.
10 years old. me. not the truck.
cowboys just killing the broncos.
staubach. dorsett. too tall. the manster.
chips. coke. joy.
only a couple hour drive. tops.
only four to six hours partying. minimum.
two wines. four vodkas. rinse. repeat.
eric and i paid you a visit.
you're dead dad. we visited. your cadaver.
my crazy emo-hurricane father. bloated on slab.
6 beers. 4 bong hits. rinse. repeat.
still life sans pulse.
the d-line was great that day pops.
for the record, you're dead.
for the record, i miss you.
i have for 31 years.
love you. let's get together for the
malaysian gran prix.
therapy session.
double a meeting.
embrace wife.
rinse.
repeat.

news:    iraq not a very stable place. still.
georgetown goes to final four. me and the pope
are indeed pleased.
tiger woods decent golfer. still.
international football not any more attractive
than it was during germany 2006. arsenal resumes
play this weekend. thanks god.

brickwallview:    people generally engage others
in conservation primarily so they can
talk about themselves.

i know i know, guilty as charged.

chin up people, the whole monday as a downer
concepts is just a ploy by the man to keep us at bay/ in line.
or... perhaps i'm just paranoid. a little.

eco-terrorism as a coping mechanism.

brickwallboy. oooooooooooo...  uuuuuuuuuuuu...  ttttttttttttt.

beisbol

        "let's play three."

        - ernie banks

        "every time i look at my pocket book
          i see jackie robinson."

        -willie mays

...myson'sopeningdayballgameslashcarnivalistoday
thereshoulsbefunandfrivolityinabundance,no?
hotdogssodapopcornandsurelyplentyofsugary
candyandsuch.okthentimetogetuniformsandthe
likeinplaceandreadytorootrootrootforthehome
team.vivaamericaandshit...

...boozegunsandthelessfortunate...

...arelikelyfrownedupon...

brickwallview:  barry bonds is not a nice man.

...brickwallboyout...

...endoftransmission.

portrait of the artist as a young addict

        "what they don't teach you in art school is never,
         ever tell people you wanted to be an artist.
         just so you know,  for the rest of your life,
         people will torture you by saying how you
         used to love to draw when you were young.
         you used to love to paint."

        "just for the record, knowing when people
         are only pretending to like you
         isn't such a great skill to have."

        "just for the record, the weather today
         is partly soused with occasional bursts
         of despair and irritation."

         -chuck palahniuk, from "diary"

figure 1:   there's this clock, you know, next to my bed.
this morning i can tell you, describe to you, in
nauseating detail every inch of the surface of this clock.
there's 11 buttons.
the font is arial bd bt.
the lcd display, like my retina, is red.
there's a small scratch just left of the hour numeral.
another larger scratch adjacent to the snooze bar.
my wife snores.
my daughter snores.
people need various auto repairs.
these same people are not the early-to-bed type.
i would have killed for eleven a valium.
our dog snores.
the clock was assembled elsewhere. me too.

music:    (2) look-forward-to releases in coming months...
the weakerthans and friggin' fishbone!
groovy.

beautiful game:   euro 2008 qualifying this weekend.
lots of shark vs minnow matchups mostly.
the gunners off until liverpool  roadie on the 31st.

brickwallview:   meredith vieira should probably
get katie couric's new job too.

a happy weekend then.

brickwallboy signing off.

still life with dung beetle

“There is a time to stop reading, there is a time to STOP trying to WRITE,
there is a time to kick the whole bloated sensation of ART out on its whore-ass.”

                -charles bukowski

“Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.”

                -charles bukowski

diuretic:   more plumbing action at the doctor house today.

finished up palahniuk's "choke" last night. again, makes one

straddle the line between throwing in the towel or

attacking the word processor with inspiration. or go to the can.

to begin "diary" today, looking forward to it. for real.

this seems to be double spaced for reasons unknown.

i hope to have enough of my obituary tome completed by

mid may (2008?)

to let mrs. brickwallboy and hobbs give me some feedback.

they will likely dump my body in the sticks. and elope.

last evening my son was documenting my daughters bout

with vomiting and dry heaving. that's my boy.

my wife has a possible ugly confrontation with an uppity,

obnoxious, realtor (go figure) woman who is attempting

to hi-jack the (are you sitting down)... pta.

i know who my money's on.

people don't drive well. particularly.

bad mood yesterday. medium well today.

sport:   my (alleged) nfl team, los texans, acquired qb matt schaub
from the falcons all but marking the end of david carr's stay in h-town.
probably good for all concerned. all the best to carr but he has the
approval rating of that w guy so he needs a change as much
as the texans offense does. welcome schaub. note the
sudden single spacing. i have.

brickwallview:   don't take this the wrong way. i mean, i like cheese.
cheddar, jack, bleu, limburger, toe, dick. whatever.
but when was the memo passed around that made having cheese
on all things food-like the rule rather than the exception? when?

outro:   i promise to lay-off the palahniukesqe barbs sooner
rather than later. but.

"hero worship" isn't the right word,
but it's the first word that comes to mind.
     see also: idol worship.
     see also: stalker.

bwb out. go aggies (sic).