brickwallviews

its a bird. its a plane. its a goddamn shame.

     "Once you replace negative thoughts
      with positive ones,
      you'll start having positive results."

     -willie nelson

I had all these great items to post today, no shit, i really did. time though has once again asserted its dominance on my mere measly human self and interrupted what was surely to be an unprecedented blog post of near un-real proportions. yea right. it was (will be) pretty good though. probably. fingers crossed here.

the hero dies wins in this one:
the nfl draft was held this weekend. (thats american football, for the record). now im sure there are quite a few feel-good stories involving young-cum-millionaires that were selected and made their dreams come true etc etc. however, in my opinion (read: fact) one such story is frankly, well, better.
he is a big guy. really big at his position. by all accounts he is a

good kid.

decent student.

god fearing.

he grew up dirt poor in alabama and used his extraordinary abilities with a football (american) to earn a scholarship to lsu. blah blah blah the thing that made his being drafted (1st overall to the oakland raiders) special is it wasnt just he and his folks gathering to wait and hear when and by whom he was drafted. his entire community united for the occasion. at his boyhood church, his high school gymnasium, his uncles house, the rib joint, hell even the barber shop. ya see, the area where he grew up, its not new orleans or even louisiana, but it did virtually disappear during hurricane katrina.

in the days and weeks that followed the storm he was back and forth helping rescue efforts, supply caravans and the like. he is said to have put up as many as 15 siblings, cousins and friends at his 1 bedroom apartment in baton rouge. but the coolest story. cool i say. he found a wandering legend on the streets the morning after all hell broke loose.

fats domino.

jamarcus russell, lsu (and now raiders) quarterback was walking (wading?) down the street and bumped into friggin fats domino. he brought him up to his apartment and cared for him for several days. according to reports they simply hung out and discussed life, death and the best local cuisine.

now if only al davis, the "stuck in 1972" megalomaniac owner of the raiders would have a massive coronary. a hero may truly win in the end. god speed mr russell.



jackson pollock, cathedral (1947)

no matter what you hear, read or see people...
never
lose
hope!

brickwallview:
heather king is not only a survivor of the highest order. shes a nice person.
oh yea, and a damned good writer (as mentioned previously).
buy her book. read her book.

brickwallboy loves ya baby.

it speaks for itself they said

brev·i·ty  - [brev-i-tee] –noun
1. shortness of time or duration; briefness: the brevity of human life.
2. the quality of expressing much in few words; terseness:
Brevity is the soul of wit.

[Origin: 1500–10; < AF brevite, OF brievete. See brief, -ity]

—Synonyms 2. compactness, succinctness, pithiness. Brevity, conciseness refer to the use of few words in speaking. Brevity emphasizes the short duration of speech: reduced to extreme brevity. Conciseness emphasizes compactness of expression: clear in spite of great conciseness.
—Antonyms 1, 2. length.

it is going to be 86 degrees here today. i bring you:

cy twombly, summer madness (1990)


bwb.  o   u   t.

take a look around take a look around

   

     “I don't give a toss about writing really.
      It's a bit ironic that the things I'm really into
      are music and football, and I have never 
      really been good at either.”

    -irvine welsh (author of trainspotting and filth)

just a wee post this morning. tired or something.
at a to-remain-unnamed corporate coffee shop (that i quite like and that has a round green-based logo with some mermaid like figure all headquartered somewhere just south of western canada)  i overheard a woman say, "what is this world coming to?".

this just in sister.

it aint "coming to" nuttin'.

its here!

and it's raining dogshit and razor blades sweetheart.
look around.
you bess put down that low-fat half-caf sweet tooth mocha latte and grab your umbrella and galoshes.
ive seen the moral compass and its pointing south.
like, oh my god, forever. like for eternity and stuff, like really.

(figuratively speaking of course)



roy lichtenstein, reflections on the scream (1990)
© Estate of Roy Lichtenstein.

i guess thats enough for this fine saturday morning.

brickwallboy heading to me daughters mini-olympics.

"the bulgarian              judge
                      gives

a

                                           10!"

whats that lassie, theres a problem at the lake?

    “The media's the most powerful entity on earth.
      They have the power to make the innocent guilty
      and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power.
      Because they control the minds of the masses.”

    -malcolm x

would anyone come?
today. you know, in the times in which we live. the media is god. the boss. the big kahuna. you cannot escape their tentacles. a car bomb can go off in lagos and an alert can appear on your cell phone while burning bodies are still running from the building. shit happens that fast nowadays, for real. if britney spears misses her period there are news crews from all over the planet checking her trash for spent tampons each evening. in his fantastic novel, choke, one of the themes or subtexts explores the increasingly clear phenomenon wherein media coverage or witnesses somehow make an event "real". if the cops had dragged rodney king to an alley and then beat the shit out of him, did it ever really happen? would anyone care about anything if it wasnt plastered all over their lives? now, im not bright enough to to properly explore this concept but i do find it fascinating and somewhat alarming. if i fell over my keyboard right now, victim of an aneurysm of cardiac arrest. would anyone know i died? i lived? who cares right. theres shit to check out on the tube.
a tanker truck lost control on a freeway overpass here this morning. the truck exploded and caused much chaos. of course every barbie doll newsie was "first on the scene" and giving us the blow by blow account. funny thing though. a local kid saw the wreck and immediately ran to his house and grabbed his, you guessed it, videocam! so... at least half of the news coverage this fine morning told of this guys filming "the whole thing". not the dead driver. not the fact that god knows what chemical was spilled burning all over the freeway. a guy caught it all on tape. so it must have actually happened then right?
palahniuk mentioned the crucifixion in this context. if jesus had died alone, of a barbituate overdose, whould anyone have given a damn?

some words:
possible names for bands i will never ever start or even try, for sure:

• japanese weekend
• le ballot absentee
• the henry lee lucas quartet
• opening act
• the thierry henry experience
• marcus welby mc
• les porcupines

just a few for now.

arsenal host fulham sunday. we (they) have 3 games left and we need only 1 single point from these three matches to secure a champions league spot for next season. heres hoping we get 3 sunday so i can rest a bit easier. we host chelsea next weekend and could play spoiler in the title race. should be great fun. maybe. oh yea, the fulham match. this sunday 4/29, live @ 10am cst on fox soccer!

please read craig clevengers, the contortionists' handbook when you get a chance. dear wife, mr. hobbs, i got yall covered.

portrait of craig clevenger (2005)

i guess thats about all i have for now. its a bit weird around here, so i may be in touch soon.

in the words of garrison keillor...
be well, do good works
and dont leave any dna behind (ok, so i added a bit of a twist)

brickwallboy bidding adieu!

lowest common denominator

    "i'm building
     calluses where i'm supposed to feel
     and i'm betting all that's left
     on the chance there's something real
     forgive me
     i've sewn shut the crater in my chest
     can you help me
     release the stitches and untie the mess?"

    -the loved ones, breathe in (2006)

moral vacuum:
so you submit your website (uniform resource locator) to google (a popular search engine on the world wide web) so good people like yourselves will be directed to ones sight when they do a search on google. the engineer types at the aforementioned search engine perform what they call "web crawls". these crawls peruse millions of web posts and extract terms which in turn are used to direct searches to sites or posts including said term.
    ex: search: chuck palahniuk= possible hit to my wee site.
so. the following narrative, although clearly shameful and despicable, is designed, based on the above explanation to drive more folks (read: degenerates. youll understand momentarily) to brickwallviews.
i sincerely apologize in advance.

a young boy porn stares at an apple tree. he is transfixed lesbians by all the bright shiny ripe apples dangling from its branches. he is not bondage entirely sure he understands who god is but feels certain he must have something fisting to do with these wondrous apples. the small boy  foot fetish can hear his little sister laughing somewhere off in the distance. she too must be gods work. for though she tits often angers him with her whining and fit throwing she is his sister and he loves her very much. the boy ejaculation notices one of the apples appears to be barely hanging on, so very close to breaking free and toppling to the earth. he can almost taste the sweetness as he focuses on this one soon to be free red wonder. dogs bark. flowers bloom. his mom insists that god is responsible orgasm for all the beauty of the world. he believes her while at the same time wondering if he is responsible for all that is beautiful, who then is in charge of ugliness. the sun is beginning to set and the little boy knows his mom will be calling him to supper soon. he turns transvestites and hesitates just as he notices the object of his attention falling from the tree. he bends to sluts pick up the juicy piece of fruit and begins to walk toward the house. as he walks he dildo wonders. if god made this delicious apple. and the sun. and the trees. and marcy. why did he cocks let that man kill his daddy?

you were warned.

cease and desist:
boycott the warped tour.
thats right. do not attend. for any reason. ever. the romance, the spirit that is was punk rock was greatly embodied in the concept of 3 or 4 bands saving up their cash, getting their hands on a van, calling people all over the country setting up shows and heading out in a juvenile detention bound caravan to play their music, see the world and crash on whoevers floor that would have them. the warped tour is the definition of a wolf in sheeps clothing. green. punk. diverse. underground.
bullshit. it is a corporate mega festival thrown together and packaged up to sell to kids who think iggy pop is some weird high-caffeine soft drink. it is effectively killing the traditional underground rock tour. if little johnny can see 15 bands for $100 bucks in one day, why bother to see 8 or 10 separate shows over the course of the summer. quick fix. musical fast food. cultural take-out.
boycott the warped tour.
2 years ago the lawrence arms took the stage and stared out at 15,000 or so sweaty young bodies and told them they, and the people in charge of this traveling pseudo punk rock carnival are killing rock and roll. an hour after they walked off stage they were asked to pack their shit and go home. forever banned from the warped tour. reason 426 why they are the best p-rock band in the world right now. theyre right you know.
boycott the warped tour.

andrew wyeth, christinas world (1948)

brickwallview:

internet explorer 7 (i.e. ie7)...

                          

                            is

            death.

brickwallboy outta here.

self portrait with raked leaves

    “Your heart is my piñata.”

    -chuck palaniuk

remember?:
i remember.
when you told some loud mouth to pipe down at the movies and he confronted us in the parking lot and then decided he had better things to do than get a beat-down from a 50 year old man.
i remember.
when we sat huddled together. 2 blankets covering our frozen wet bodies as we watched the cowboys make a late comeback to beat the vikings in the playoffs.
i remember.
all your little catch phrases like when we would be heading out the door..."popcorn, peanuts, chewing gum".
i remember.
you telling me you'd kick my ass if i ever used the "n" word.
i remember.
you setting me up my own little drawing table in your office so i could "create" by your side.
i remember.
you showing me the basic steps in drawing a human head and face while some big band tunes wailed away on your turntable.
i remember.
grinding the clutch a couple times before getting it right and the joy that showed in your eyes as i smoothly shifted through the gears.
i remember.
sitting in the stands as a formula 1 car took to the track in indianapolis for the first time and wishing more than anything ive ever wished for in my life that you were sitting next to me. as tears ran down my face.
i remember.
always will.


david hockney, portrait of an artist (pool with two figures, 1971)


rant:
since you asked. be it known that for the record. you know, like (note usage) all official and all. the best (punk rock) song of 2006 was indisputably "great lakes/great escapes" by the lawrence arms. and although it is only??? uh... april. we have a winner for two-ot-ot-seven. "cant think about it now" by lifetime. so if youre in some p-rock band and youre in the studio entertaining some misguided illusion that you are about to record the tune that will be all conquering this year. go to lunch. since you asked.
need to read jonathan safran foers'(*) 2 novels: "everything is illuminated" and "extremely loud and incredibly close". as do you.
i am extremely geeked about this crop of post-post-post-post modernist authors who see the novel format in new and creative light. the use of words and language as a visual medium has long fascinated me and there are (and yes, have been) a number of quite talented writers exploring this concept. is it art for arts sake? i dunno. in some cases it seems perhaps so. see danielewski's "only revolutions". clever yes, but a book or piece of writing should maintain some level of readability. communication via language, yes? there is much to be learned here. im on the case.
heard former secretary of labor (under billary) on npr this morning... he said, "a friend in washington is someone who will stab you in the front". funny no?
the temperature around here is cooling with each day. in the office i mean. i am starting to feel like my relationship with my mother might never be the same again. now i must figure out if this is good

or

bad?

i intend to add this new amazon widget thingamajig to the site that will serve as a "recommended reading" type thing.
    see also: required reading
    see also: required listening

speaking of...  buy this dvd. now.

did i mention the queen's an arsenal fan. well, theres one "actual" life achievement she can claim.

oh oh oh... my wee site-stats service tells me the page has 499 hits. if you dear reader happen to be at the sight right now (bored to death no doubt) and look to the bottom left portion of your viewing apparatus and it reads: 500! you, as the 5ooth friggin visitor win a 5-pack of brickwallviews bookmarks and a p-rock compilation (cdr) hand assembled and burned by yers truly! hell yes im serious. email me.

go forth and prosper.

brickwallboy.

(*)Jonathan Safran Foer (born 1977) is an American writer best known for his 2002 novel Everything Is Illuminated. He lives in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife, the novelist Nicole Krauss, and their son, Sasha

fart for farts sake

postmodern art. postmodern literature. clever?
good? art for arts sake? book as object? the process as art. visual literature?
character painting?   i dunno.   leave me alone a minute. would ya pass the butter already?

man ray, portrait of salvador dali

but enough about me, right? go sing a song, read a good book. hell. write a song or book. do something that makes yer peepee tingle. did i just write that? out loud? apologies, really. dont be a virginia tech copycat. have a little originality for gods sake. like, (note use of term "like") poison the tater salad at the company picnic or something. or save lives and taxpayers' money. if your so miserable and just cant go on. display a little common courtesy at least. carbon monoxide via the car in the garage. nah, thats unfriendly to the environment folks. geez. enough dire talk already. just for the record. it takes a lot more courage to do something positive and helpful than it does to eat your gun. but if you must. be considerate of others. please. others may have their shit together. a plan. a future. i dont have a clue what the hell im talking about. talking about overstating the obvious. blammo.

but enough about me, right? my daughter drew a super cool picture of spongebob squarepants.

girls got it baby. not sure what it is,
                                                         but shes got        it.

but enough about me, right?

brickwallboymostcandidlysigningoffgoodcitizens.

episode 4 (appendix a)

queen mum is a gooner!

mc carthys "the road" wins 2007 pulitzer prize for fiction!
it is a masterpice people. you will cry. perhaps often

brave new world episode 4

    “Parents can only give good advice or put them
      on the right paths, but the final forming of a
      person's character lies in their own hands.”

    -anne frank

i
told
my
boss
/
parents
i
am
leaving
the
firm!
(reINSERT ABOVE STATEMENT AGAIN HERE WITH CAPITALIZED LETTERS)
feels like not just a monkey but every monkey in madagascar has suddenly leaped from atop my backside!
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
kinda like the piss shivers.
now all i have to do is succeed or fail. at least it will be on my terms done with honesty, without guilt and based on situations and environments of my choosing. sounds a bit like adulthood. i feel like a doctor will come in at any moment and slap me on the ass. birth at 39! welcome. much to spiel on this revelation (revolution?) in the future (yea, like you maggots care) but too much to vent all at once. really.

guts. (segue-way to below). guts. guts. i had a wee bit for a couple minutes anyway. please note.

barkeep, sparkling water with a twist of relief pleassir.

iliterati:
as the world, ok, so as huge fans of the ever honest ever wacky writing of chuck palahniuk wait with baited breath for the release of his new novel "rant". i give you the (possibly) uninitiated a taster, a sample if you will. first ones free. this short story appears in his novel / collection "haunted". legend has it several people either puked and/or vomited during a couple of his readings on his "haunted" book tour a couple years back. so go check out chuck  palahniuks "guts". um... enjoy?

 

breathe. it will be ok.

maybe.

brickwallboy...  sober and emotionally    spent     signing off.
                                                                  
                                                                                                             cigarette?

please disperse in an orderly manner

not sure what the deal is, i mean i was comfortable and the temperature was fine no horns honking or homies bumping the bass as they rolled by it just seems my mind wont let me relax enough to continue sleeping and it is going to drive me fucking out of my mind eventually what with thoughts of an appraisal i need to finish up or the obvious runaway train of thoughts regarding the upcoming career move or arsenal scores or this friggin blogamajig or sex or yard work or tile guy or an idea for the book or god forbid an idea for a painting or how my daughter will fare at a new school or my sons batting average it just seems as though the shopping list dominates

• soy milk
• fruit
• chicken
• peanut butter
• water
• cat food

whenever i appear to have layed it all to rest for the time being and sleep approaches hello there stupid another layer of thought is peeled back and i toss and turn and contemplate and should i just get up or continue to lie to myself like, "oh i will fall back asleep in just a minute, hang in there" but that is bullshit and i know it and the dog knows it as do the crickets and birds and bees and birds in the lovely trees but hey maybe just maybe this odd image will leave me alone you know free your mind and all that crap but coffee does kinda sound good a buzz of sorts anyway and maybe i can get downstairs and enjoy some peace and feed the cat and pour some coffee and go out back and have a quiet cigarette while the world is still resting and my mind is already wandering and hey maybe i should take advantage of the solitude and do a blog post

on

      the             insanity

                                                                 that

   has                                    become

                          my

sleeping

                                                     habits.

want some coffee?