monoprints moneyprints

what's the worst part of hell?

not enough whiskey.

i've been doing a lot of monoprinting lately (a lot.) in all three of my studio classes. i'm really glad my professors are all okay with it, i feel like everything is becoming so solidified and unified and probably all kinds of -fied's. i went to dolphin on my way home from rite-aid tonight, and laid out all the small-format monoprints i have, and counted somewhere in the sixties. they're all around postcard size, and some time i may start sending them out- the only problem is that they're mostly fail-comments: about being sad, lonely, fucked up, blasphemous. it's all there. anyway, while they were all laid out in front of me i picked out some of my favorites, the ones that show a good array of what they're like, here they are.

in other news:
i had a really good day today, for the most part. i stopped taking my medicine. probably the worst part was that i bought a pack of drum this morning (at the old price) and lost it at around 5 pm when i lied down on a bench in cohen plaza. but, that's really not that bad, so i guess it really was a good day.
i'm listening to otis redding right now, and it's good. duh. later it will be billie holiday, and it was be good, too.


"do you like billie holiday?"

"oh, i love him."

this is pretty neat for a cover i think. it's weird the way the author's name and the smaller text praising the book work out together, to start and end at just the right places. i'm not a graphic designer so i don't know how a graphic designer did it, but i'm more of a mathematician, and i know if i were told to make this work it would take some quadratic equations and (maybe?) differentials? i'm not sure, it's been a while since i've done legitimate math- thanks mica.

here's a shirt i found on ffffound the other day, and i think the sentiment is pretty true to my own, but if i ever turned my life choices into a shirt, it would hopefully kick a lot more ass than this. some bird-head wearing fuck-me shoes? honestly?

i've been doing a lot of work lately that's equated me to jesus and the son of god, and i have no idea why. part of it might just be more blasphemy, which is always nice, part of it is thinking that i'm suffering for other people, which is weird. i'll take pictures of all those fun things later, when i get them back from dolphin.
also, i bought a corn cob pipe today. why? i don't know. i just felt like it was the right thing to do at this point in my life. so i did it and it tasted pretty good when i smoked from it, and there's that. ALSO, i'm reading things by jacques ellul, friedrich nietzsche, michael bakunin, and theodore kaczynski: i don't know if i should keep reading or just blow shit up all over the place. i really like it. i'm reading all these things because i'm writing a paper on the unabomber and glorifying him a bit, maybe not in his exact actions, but at least in his ideals and for having some fucking motivation to do something about it rather than sit back and watch nature dissolve and technology take over. (says the man typing at the keyboard.)

i guess i'll try this out

for me, art hardly consists of images any more.
what does that mean? i haven't drawn a legitimate picture or painting since the beginning of this year; if it has no words in it, i seem to not care about it. where is the line drawn between being and artist and a poet? what makes barbara kruger an artist and not a writer? or jenny holzer? fuck if i know.
what i do know:
i only want to write things. when they're long i call them poems, when they're short i call them art, and all of them are emotionally taxing.