Bacano, Padre, Chevere, the tits.

The mornings always start with coffee no matter what, there are seriously no exceptions to this rule. Thinking of the past morning I contemplated fasting and having meditative moments where I could reach into some transcendental brain clouds. My body can wait but it soon hits a shutdown point where food becomes an insatiable need, a function that I can't ignore. Right now I am ignoring sleep because I want to finish my drawings and books and possibly write some handwritten letters/postcards to people I truly care about. However, if you clone me will I still be able to laugh at the same jokes? Or enjoy the same books? Or taste my favorite food the same way? SLEEP?

I once had a cookie with Vietnamese coffee, chocolate chips and almonds. The gentleman selling them paid $6,000 for his booth at union square. I paid $2 for his delicious cookie.
  Barf 

Current Book list:

• Gilles Deleuze - Critical Essays
• Ken Kessey - Sometimes a Great Notion (schizophrenic portal into the old Pacific Northwest)
• Nicolas Slonimsky - Lexicon of Musical Invective (critical assaults on composers since Beethoven's time)

Musics:

• Ethiopiques: ANY volume
• Brain Eno - Music for Airports

SUNDAY night I stumbled in on the Oregon band LOVERS <3<3<3<3

Yesterday This past Sunday was a full platter kind of day. YBBS! continues to record in Harlem with Mr. Dave and I believe we have some wonderful tracks that are slowly forming into the future of future sounds. Mom, we are making babies that sound like other babies that maybe come from the sea floor or possibly the duodenum.

Beats is the word and rhythm is my muse...wandering we go, indio....


......and when we finally decided to venture into the night, Bushwick became Siberia. We were lost and grey for a brief moment until we rang the bell at Soul 2 Soul ~ a wonderful local bar near Goodbye blue Monday for Brer Brian's weekly Sunday open jams (starting up again on January 3). There we met up with some of my favorite musicians Brer Brian , Spencer , Christina B who were all jamming and meshing in musical harmony. The crew made some noise and we decided to only stick around for a tiny moment because the wind outside was fierce and my fingers were beyond icy.

....4 blocks later we were in front of the Market Hotel and of course we have this ritual my friend kidrainbow and I, that we must always peek inside the Market no matter what. It has almost never failed to surprise us and last night was no exception. We walked right in to witness the last four songs of the Oregon based band LOVERS . Three beautiful women playing pure electro pop love songs that made me want to cuddle/dance with small furry animals. Fragile but sweet harmonies, glitchy chirps and a tight drummer all made me love Lovers on this desperately cold winter's night.
Check them...... <3

OOOOoooo NEON INDIAN ooooOOOO @Market Hotel

December 18, 2009....me encontre en el Market Hotel (anteriormente un speakeasy dominicano) con el Neon Indian, el proyecto electro pop/rock de Alan Palomo (tambien conocido por su trabajo en el proyecto VEGA).

Not surprising.....simply exciting.

NEON INDIAN

Este chiquillo, de origen mejicano crecido en tejas le puso las pilas a la noche. Con la ayuda del baterista Jason Faries y un bajista (nombre no me recuerdo) Neon Indian se propuso a traer una energia unica, calurosa que le trajo vida a la presentacion electronica, que usualmente me deja fria. El resultado fueron sondios extraterestres mescaldos con elementos de funk. Sumamente bailable y lo que puedo describir al ver su presentacion fue semejante a lo que me imagino son los 'glitches y tweeks' de una colonia de microbios.

Microbial space funk.......Neon Indian is the junk.....crunk and dancing to their beats, this boy Palomo can play me his songs any day of the week.

Anti-rape with a lttle bit of unintentional arousal

arkitipintel.com/2008/01/14/rape-axe-the-anti-rape-condom

I feel slightly saddened by this image. My heart has called many lovers predators despite the fact that I have willingly invited them into my life. My friend explained this to me...it is all about penetration and how its physical manifestation explains the reasons why women acquire feelings even if they mentally prepare to give themselves casually to their lovers.

I personally, am trying to refine my standards and value my time. I put this personal bit of information out to the world because in my heart I truly believe there are people of quality and understanding. I am also at a point in my life where I need a lot of transparency with the people I choose to surround me.

Here is the link to Santiago Sierra's Art/porn film shown at Art Basel....if you've evern been curious about the mind of a sex addict, her it is.

http://www.santiago-sierra.com/200807_1024.php

Life after life after life...Basel, penetraitors, and inanimate boyfriends

There are too many songs, too many words and too many lost loves. For breakfast my grandmother made me wonderfully simple eggs with a fluffy arepa filled with love. On the beach I transformed myself into a golden nano particle and rode a large and slow bus from the mall to the beach finally walking to the enourmous warehouse filled with art.

Yes,there was a lot of art but the energy seemed predictable, too late to fit in my timeline. Note: My thoughts on Miami are filled with 18 years of jaded bias but I do appreciate the glimpses into Dubai's and Mumbai's gallery scene. I did have a brief connection with the spanish artist Santiago Sierra's porn/art film, which described his perspective on race relations and the conquest of the new world. For a brief moment the film allowed me to relive a cold unemotional feeling I wanted to push out of my being. A love addict's pain is a sex addicts venom.

Los Penetrados

I feel that I will be a ghost for the next week - completely off the grid. No phone and no computer (at least until i get a new adaptor). I am available to document in house calls involving strong telepathic connections directly into to my neural pathways. If you are interested please send me a smoke signal.

....and here begins my retreat
revealing oxygen through rough air
a silent sun song reveals dusty remnants.
Those clouds emerge like artic tundras
but I won't wait for peak moments
because if rare is hope then I have gone missing.
where is my time if not in pieces?
where are those growing roses destined
to fight the rough mass of death
I suppose I will hold it in for just a moment,
for just one more moment I will despair and cry and shout and mourn the death of a lost moment for which there was no time long enough to find my way to her.

Music for 16 Futurists: The Future Sounds Like an Electric toothbrush

As a performer my agenda is to transform "play" and childhood wonder into an equal opportunity art form. This year's visual arts performance festival PERFORMA 09 legitimizes this play and packages it into bite size morsels.

The 2009 commission: Music for 16 Futurists - Noise Intoners (intonarumori)asked modern composers and performers; including Elliot Sharp, Ulrich Krieger, Mike Patton and Tony Conrad to create new pieces based off the compositions of Italian futurist painter Luigi Russolo. The compositions featured a range of structured and improvised sonic playgrounds in which the sound of revving engines, mechanical toothbrushes, bees buzzing, tension cranks, and hums melded to create a landscape of mechanical chanting. Russolo's quote, "There is no such thing as silence," proved especially true as I continuously felt the need to add my own chair squeaks, sighs and occasional cellphone vibrations to the pieces. My fidgeting and scratching added texture while the constant whispers in between pieces extended each performance.

My favorite portion of the evening included Ulrich Krieger's Back to the Future, California or what I like to call "Nervous Breakdown w Pocket Trumpet." The piece was silly and manic, engaging the audience to participate in what seemed like an argument we could never win. The audience felt helpless as Krieger hurled insults and irrational logic. After the fact I realized that yelling back would have been completely acceptable and probably written into the actual score.

The audience was also composed of Bushwick performers I recognized but don't actually know ie. "The Boy With the Wedding Dress and the Tiara" whose performances I have randomly sabotaged (in a good way). I was hoping he would have feigned some exasperation at some point in the night and demanded his place on stage.

Overall, the performances were pretty conservative if not a bit boring for my taste. As a re-creationist recital it was a success and I appreciate the opportunity to hear Russolo's instruments as they were originally meant to be experienced.

However, my recommendations for a more forward thinking performance would have been to ritualistically burn the instruments; branding them as the underlying framework of our mechano/industrial past. We should learn the techniques in order to forget them and become more intuitive as performers.

a little bit of doggy love