Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Photorama III

(Black Hole, from Barking Wall, 2010)

Two things, I finally updated my website with new work, click here, and I have two pieces in Gallery TPW's annual fundraiser, Photorama, this year, which takes place this Friday (November 26) and will be up until December 4th. For more info, click here.

That's it.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

girls shake it.

This sky used to be full of white, I used to be high up there. I've asked myself what happened so many times it's a response to salutation, meaningless. A box of used memories keeps me company, and my door is firmly shut. Today, I tell myself, will fade into the next, and when it happens I won't be so surprised. I started to take care of far too many plants, and I often forget to water them all. I started to think I'd be better off in the desert, but I'm not as tough anymore. Where my arms used to reach to but never came close enough to touch has become smeared and finger-greased all-too-familiar, I know this place too well, I can feel and smell all I want to but I won't. I put my foot down along time ago, my boots are cool now, and I feel a fire roast in my stomach. I don't have indigestion, everything is fine. I'll dive when the ship hits the bottom of the ocean, I'll see the world burn but not by my hands. I'll be the voice that was left silent for so long it has become a thought, a ponder, and a wonder of where and how, who this be, and what can't be said is what is spoken in words as text, and a stranger to all. Kissing goodbyes, these days, kissing high-fives like smacks and kicks to the groin for my big month. I think I forgot how to lie, and all I have to say is that today is your today, with one kick, yelling this is very much sparta. Into a pit, I hope there are spikes to meet you, I hope it hurts. To my enemies I flash pistols, to my friends I pour forty oh-zee's, so girls shake those thangs, make every rotation count, and if you cry you cry, just carry on, singing that song, in full so this chorus sounds heavy and phat, for anything else can sleep like dirt naps, and I don't sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death. (and I say, ain't that right, and I wait for Nas to respond, right-right-right-one-mic-aight.)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I have full-scale work in the Whodunnit Live Auction this year, come see, it will be firing up the night tonight starting at eight.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I.O.P.W. (In Other People's Words) pt.II

Brooke. You arrived first. No big deal. Sit and write and wait, but please don't drink too much coffee. It will only make you jittery and your guts will hurt and those jives will be mistaken for nerves and it is better to just sit and write and wait, patiently, unnerved and full of boiled truth. Be so truthful. Order gin because you like it. Order what you want. You have been dating people. You have been going on frequent dates. This is a new thing for you but it isn't really hard at all, if you just stick to being yourself. The most difficult part of the whole thing is going home, insomniac'd and wondering how they have just viewed you. That part is a little tricky, especially because it is easy to confuse talking with spouting. People'd, you talk. Alone, you spout. So going home, alone, and thinking about the whole event, knowing you will never really come close to answering the question of how you were just viewed, can lead you to a kick in the gut for even wondering towards something that could potentially be self-defeating. You don't have the answers to questions like this but yet you still ask yourself questions like this. This is your number one downfall of self. Try not to do this when you get home. It will make you feel lousy. Okay. Take this time to go to the washroom and read the back of a stall before they arrive. Close your eyes when you pee and tell yourself that the first phrase you see when you open will be a reflection of the evening's coming events. "Sagan is my nightmare". (Jesus!). Think of making a book about bathroom stall confessions. Wash your hands and stare at your pupils reflect. Wonder what age you look like tonight. Wonder if they will think you look twenty-six or younger or like Brooke, tonight. Catch yourself worrying about it a little and then wonder why you are worrying about it at all. Understand that it is because you hate looking like a 17 year old. Consider maybe upgrading your World Famous backpack to a purse. Wonder if men like backpacks. Wonder if men like purses. Wonder if men really even give a shit about the things women carry around all the time. Love your backpack again. Sit and drink your gin. Don't worry about drinking it slowly, you are very good at maintaining mind and conversation regardless of gin and it's effects. Similarly, order doubles if you want to, don't apologize, order sweet potato fries, don't eat like a girl, if you are hungry just order whatever it is you are hungry for. You will start this correctly and honestly. Don't agree with them for the sake of agreeing. Let your laugh be rifled if it gets there. You won't lie, or stretch truths, though they will think you are because of how you speak about things. Be an open book. Answer every question in earnest and expect earnest answers. Trust that they will give you earnest answers but try, if you remember, to test them and make sure. Actually, maybe don't trust so fully at first, like you always do. Yes, perhaps that's it; Don't come off as incredibly naive. Make them feel at ease. You adore your friends but forget their advice right now and listen to your mothers: Be yourself/You are not charming/You are not a charmer/Look into their eyes and beyond them/Search their soul and ask them what they are not saying/Force honesty/Force it out of them because you deserve it, but mostly because they do too. See if they trust their Mother. Be gentle. Let them know you are wild but also gentle and very good. Try and let them know this upon first glance, without even talking. Before the hello's and creature comforts, before your skull begins awkwardly cracking open towards them in a way they are probably not used to, before you blink, before they do, let them know with your eyes that you do not play games at all. Let them know you respect them simply because they are a body with feelings attached. Let them know you respect yourself too. Try not to apologize so much. You say sorry a lot for things that don't warrant it. Actually, you probably say sorry more than anyone you know. Stop doing that. Please express, somehow, that you are not intimidating. (You really aren't at all. You are… well… all shades of awkward silver and you like it that way. That girl in that booth over there is though. She is what that word looks like. She emits intimidation. Holy fuck she is really fucking beautiful). Okay. Look into their eyes. Do not be afraid to do so, but if they are afraid then revert, because you don't really want to scare them. Try and let them see your mind first. Let them know your heart is as big as Jupiter's or something equivalent and it needs hands the size of the milky way to cradle it's love but you do not expect them to have Jupiter-sized hard-working hands with involved webs of nebula veins and unearthly lifelines able to visit other galaxies. Let them know that you don't really expect anyone to, not even yourself. Say all of these things without actually saying them, just make it known that you have no expectations from this. Give them a hug when they arrive if only because hugging is way better than shaking hands and your hands are always clammy anyhow. Don't feel weird about hugging or say sorry in your mind because you are just being honest, and yourself, and that is just what you do. You know yourself and your tendencies. Yes. And you have absolutely no expectations of this and have trouble thinking about what will even happen at all.

Please try and do all of this within the first 5 minutes, so that you can just only feel again.

-Brooke Manning

Monday, November 8, 2010

I.O.P.W. (In Other People's Words) pt.I

An Introduction:
A good friend of mine asked to place words on here, and I never thought of having features of other writers and thoughtful minds contribute here until his approach. With that said, here is something on the lines of Learning To Love Yourself (More), by Christopher Heller.

grow a beard. definitely. chicks dig it. its masculine not overtly butch. attractive, definitely. wear boots. steel toed. brown, worn leather. dress well. not flashy. keep it simple but high quality. speak softly. with economy. say words as if you have a limited supply. make eye contact. HARD. be first in everything. first to grin. first to touch. but don't let her notice. its all flowing, you're winning. be funny. not laugh at loud funny. make a joke and move on. you've done it before. you've scored a touchdown, now return the ball to the ref and go about your business. Treat her as her. never reveal anything about what you do. go with the flow. most definitely. don't force anything. as in never let your thoughts of 'the future' get in the way of right here, right now. Be instinctual but smart. Never overwhelm. she shouldn't see it coming BUT she shouldn't be knocked back on her heels either. You laugh too. laugh at anything meant to be funny, don't worry, you will see it coming a mile away. Communicate. make faces - expressions that are short-handed for 'had a bad day' - 'we need milk' - that last one might be tough. make negatives into cute. go out with the boys and never say a bad word about her. the will want to date her. she becomes more desirable, but she is all yours. make her know that.

-Christopher Heller, November 7th, 2010