I wanted to put two things out there.

One, if anyone else has photos would they mind sharing them, sending them, etc...

and

To the people who may have win items in the auction, I know this sounds strange bt I was so caught up in making the art that I failed to document any of it. Would new owners mind scanning or taking a photo of their new pieces.

adam fitz















MC











the read letter

black bear combo







siderunners

I'm on the low end of the digital photo revolution so we still posses the memory card that came with the camera. Also, I had literally finished pieces yesterday afternoon so I hadn't the foresight to try and bring a polaroid or anything. I had thirty pictures to work with. I missed pictures of Gretchen hanging the art, Arty sipping his Makers Mark, Michael cocking an eyebrow, Angie working the table, Soren dancing his ass off, Sandini working his magic...literally. You get the point. So the next series of posts are all the ones I have. Here you go.

Tom
Mikey
Tim
Doug
Dersu
Mike
Adam
Nate
Sappy
Todd
Andy
Martha
Stacy
Angie
Gretchen
The Morseland (Dave Alex Adam Tony)
Dominic
Irene
Donaldson
Megan
Jamie aka Sandini
Lonnie
Delilah's
Shari
Jon
Lisa
Sissy
Bubba
Seema
Moe
Patty
Nina
Sam
Kristen
Adam
Peter
Andreia
Brenda
Scott
Dan
Jill
Kim
Deana
Ana
Arturo
Paul (and lovely girlfriend)
Alex
Nik
Myrna
Gloria
Jose
Brian
Jenni
Amanda (Cakes)
Stacy
Amanda Jane
Jeff
Jen
Laurie
Brian
Joseph
Tybe
Judd
Petar
Ana
Eugene (and girlfriend)
Paul
Shannon
Peter (and fiance)
Mike
Tom
Laura
Eugenia
Gerardo
Andreas
Dan
Cassie
Bina
Becca
Linzie
Lauren
Mirka
Lena
Lisa
Pat
Amber
Tonette
Sunny

Michael

Too much to say. Overwhelmed at the amazing love that everyone gave. Yes, I am (crying) and will continue to do so.

Amazed at the amazing friend who like a train conductor kept going until we got there. And even then he still didn't sit down. He has in his own way finished the last leg of my treatment. After the cancer was removed from my body, after they pumped me full of poison, he pulled me out of it all and said in that matter of fact slighlty sarcastic growl, wake up.

And now, I'm here.

In the lovely words of another friend, we built ourselves a barn.

My train conductor, my friend, I wrote him a letter a little while ago. I don't mean to violate the sanctity and intimacy of our relationship but I am struggling to try and see him without getting completely emotional, so I'll start here, with this:

Strangely when I woke up I ended meeting your second self. And it became like the story of the man who fell down the ten foot hole who called out to all the people walking by - the priest, the doctor, the policeman, the girl who works at Jewel - and found eventually his friend and called out to him and his friend strangely and crazily jumped into the hole with him. The man screamed at his friend why did you jump into the hole?? Now we're both fucking stuck in here. And the friend, laughing, said, "It's ok. I've been down here before. I know the way out."

The addendum to the story is that both friends have to take very dangerous avenues and continuously fall into holes. The other one eventually comes along and jumps in and (we) begin again.

I am Jack's happy metaphor. I am Jack's hospital visit.

I am Jack's lifelong friend.

I sat up Atticus in bed this morning while Irene was getting ready and watched while I stretched out. He kept looking at Sariah, the Siamese, and I wondered with his intense fascination now if he would later be a cat lover or just nonchalantly pass them by or maybe even hate them. God knows the paths we take that feed our likes and dislikes, our loves and hates. What will happen to him, how will he be transformed in the strange temperature of puberty? I think about that especially with his sister going through it right now. I get so busy, so caught up with what they say is important things that there are moments like splashes of water in the face when I look at her, clutching a book to her chest or smiling that I realize she is growing. It makes me want to cry. I feel distant and far away from her and I realize that this part of it may be necessary, that distance as she is crossing bridges that I don't know. But she and I have always had a tenuous relationship. Mostly on my part. I feel like there is always something stopping me from embracing her fully. Someone always reminding me that I am not her father or some other nonsense. Or maybe this is all me, in my head. Perhaps I have held back from loving her and now she is crossing a body of water and I am at the shore saying, don't go! Not yet. Is this what happens when they get older. Is this what it means to be a parent? Is this my love, always present always there, telling me that I have to learn to meet this new person that she has not yet become instead of her meeting me? How silly and adult of me. I need to adapt not her. I am not growing like that. My growth now is internal working it's way into my soul.

I carry so much weight from my childhood that despite my cursing out loud and damning certain people to take it back (Take it back, I say, like a bad name someone has called me, take it back) maybe I just need to let it all go.

My second self is screaming at me right now in the left corner of my head, HOW? You fucking asshole, HOW? Tell me how and I will do it.

I'm working on it.

I am.

I wanted to send a shout out to pine cone 4, a new blog y'all should check out. The author is a cold mofo in the best sense.

It turns out that the man the police shot in London was a Brazilian citizen. Since the news of the shooting I have not been able to stop thinking about it. The descriptions of a cornered fox. The immediacy of five shots fired. I hesitate in judging anyone let alone a recently terrorized city on high alert but there is a brutality, an efficient brutality to what happened. Even before we found out he was a Brazilian citizen, you could hear the world inhaling its breath sharply in anticipation.

Strange week, last week. New books about Rwanda are being released. Most shockingly or I should say the most resonant with me is Machete Season, in which journalist Jean Hatzfield interviews Hutus years after the genocide . It brings to mind something that often escapes public discourse, the often more mundane and less alluring and news-worthy details. All I can do is quote an excerpt from the book taken from salon:

Many men insisted that this life -- the one where they woke up and killed people all day -- was a better one. "Man can get used to killing, if he kills on and on," said Alphonse. Fulgence went one step further: "The more we saw people die, the less we thought about their lives, the less we talked about their deaths. And the more we got used to enjoying it."

Both the first event in London and the events in Rwanda and currently in Darfur and in unnamed places all over world stir in me the bewilderment over motivation and the cry for humanity or at least, mercy, sympathy. Some of those answers aren't black and white. They are not even shades recognizable to me but the forcefulness of belief, of anyone's belief that doesn't parallel one's own is often incomprehensible. Then your eyes lower and you slowly enter worlds, different worlds. I use the word mundane and I do not use it lightly. I don't use it as slander or disrespect to the ever watching ghosts. But mundane suggests motivations and actions that people aren't willing to accept because they are, how do you say this.....I don't know how you say it. I don't. How do you create a dialogue based on the fact that men gathered together to kill their neighbors and it became community building and a new, richer way of life? How do you condemn them while struggling to understand, no - to empathize - because then you will truly understand. And then will you really? Can you understand the motivation of a policeman who shoots five rounds into an unarmed civilian because the anger in him and the threat of his daily life (or what else was going on in him?)? He acted in a brutal but human (?) way that many world neighbors could identify with? Did this make him savage?? Across the ocean a ghost is carrying a machete and pointing to the policeman and his country with the distinct African edged sword of a look that says. "Yes?"

I feel I am typing this wholly unprepared for this weight and dialogue. That is all I will say for now. Please forgive me for leaving it hanging like that.

Things I have learned this morning...

Violin, any form - classical or country or other, calms everyone in the house. Well, at least the dogs, the cat, Atticus and I. We caught a song by Carrie Rodriguez and Chip Taylor (Wild Thing Chip Taylor) that soothed the lot early this morn.

Feeding Atticus a combination of formula, pears and cereal is not successful. He spits it out gleefully and I find my glasses covered in muck.

Since the feeling in my feet is pretty slim and accounting for the fact that I am kind of....clunky and not at all, how do you say, dancer like in my movements (you'd think being so tall I'd have some semblance of grace) I bang my foot quite often. I banged my little toe last night and I think I broke it. I mean, I can't feel it but boy my foot throbs. Maybe.

I once had an art teacher who, as a way of getting us kids to capture the essence of an object instead of just making a visual approximation of it, explained that not every line we drew had to be one continuous flow; if we were to occasionally lift the pencil from the paper, in just the right place, the eye would automatically leap the gap. "The eye loves it," she explained. "It loves connecting that line."

-Stephanie Zacharek

So just a few more thoughts.

I am a radio fanatic. I mean, I love the instruments themselves (and am always on the hunt for a nice antique one and global one) and I love listening to it. Love it. Growing up my dad would always listen to WLS in the mornings to the Don Wade and Roma show. I remember when Bob Lassiter was one. I grew up with it.

Now I am a religious listener of NPR. I talk to Sissy about this a lot. It's always good to have someone to talk to about it. So, nerd that I am, Saturdays, you know the day where all sane people are going to the beach and having fun, are my favorite radio days. I shuffle around the house, clean, cook and paint and listen most of the day. I start with with a show that really annoys the fuck (my new favorite phrase) out of everyone, Car Talk. Yes, I indeed love the Tappit brothers. Then Wait Wait Don't Tell ME. Because it seriously makes me smile and laugh out loud. I dream of having Carl Kasell's voice on our answering machine.

Then, if I truly have the time I listen to This American Life I do. This weekend's show was amazing. You should check it out. I listened to it on the road yesterday. I usually take a break to watch cooking shows on PBS because I love cooking, then if I am lucky after I pick up Irene from work I get to listen to Stories on Stage in the evenings. Which always melts me.

So yes, say what you will. I dread the day when my son finds out that his dad is a nerd. A fact that makes my wife giggle on a daily basis.

So if anyone is eagerly looking for quality time on Saturdays, bring over a deck of cards, I'll cook, my dog will be crazy for ten minutes, the baby will sleep and well, you know the rest.

Many congratulations to Donaldson on his birthday yesterday. I have to say that in going to see him and friends at Bad Dog Tavern last night it suddenly hit me how tall he is. He hugged me and I had to stand on my tip toes to kiss him.

Maybe that is the reason for his enthusiastic worldview these days. He can see things coming over the hill sooner than we can.

Go to:

Ghost dancers
Thai boys dressed as ghosts stand near a display of traditional masks Saturday, July 9, in DanSai, Thailand, at the annual Phi Ta Khon, or Ghost Dancers, festival.

one last picture for the week 

my most recent cancer (CEA) test 

a letter sent to me from my dear friend 

First off, I had a strange dream last night that I was doing ecstasy with Doc Severinson. When I woke up I nudged Irene and she told me not to talk so loud or I'd wake Atticus and then I told her an she said , "Who the fuck is Doc Severinson?" That might have been also a dream too.

The amount of work and effort being put into the benefit is overwhelming and amazing. It is time to start giving everyone the props they deserve. If you haven't visited the website for ShirtsAgainst then I suggest you do. ShirtsAgainst and its founding member, idea originator, Michael Cianfrani, who is a workaholic when it comes to helping others (and helping me) and just maybe a glutton for stress and truly the driving force behind all this goodness, have been working like crazy.

A visit to the site page will give you more info but I'd personally like to say the names of the performers in these pages:

The Read Letter
The Siderunners
Black Bear Combo
Adam Fitz

Donaldson: The (always funny) MC
The (always) Great Sandini who will be performing magic

There are, of course the people behind the scenes. You know who you are especially my favorite art(ist) critic Gretchen Boies who kindly lent us her apartment for a quick pre-show art display and has constantly lent me her ear for numerous babbling (on my part) sessions.

I could speak volumes as they say about all the bands of each I have a cd in my car. Adam Fitz who I have not formally met but who has lent his time to the evening, well I have two of his songs passed on to me. What I am trying to say is no one is just playing willy-nilly. Check them out. They are as diverse as it comes. They are all, I might add, worth trekking out to The Morseland on Wednesday July 27th to come see. 9:30 pm. Besides the fact that I am truly not one to ever toot my own horn I am a strong fervent supporter of good music. They are, obviously, all brilliant for supporting this night. Wait until you hear their music. In fact, forget this is a night about me (I'm trying to). Come and support the bands and a hell of a good organization.

I heard the Morseland has good food too if anyone wants to show up early.

Cheers.

sunday, with family 

I guess the thing of it is, with children, there is no Undo button. Once they see you do something, hear something, then that's it. Shouldn't we, though, be accountable for everything we do then?

I've met a lot of artists who believe then when the work is done, they're not responsible for it anymore. I can't understand that. That seems irresponsible. You can't put something out there and without being accountable for it. Sincerity and responsibility are very important things. Once tany work enters the public sphere; copied, leaving the studio, ftp'd, sent, spray painted; then the power dynamic and identity changes.

I look at Irene, my wife, who is insanely passionate about what she does. But she is extremely pragmatic as well. She makes art that people take into and wear in the public realm. And she is very responsible about that. Very conscious and very demanding of her clients. Which is not to say she doesn't take risks. She designs hair to the person and who they are. Now that's pressure. I'd like to see some artists deal with that.

Ok, I need to stop.

I'll leave this alone for awhile.

My chest hurts.

I have been angry all evening. For what reason I couldn't tell you. It seems so blind. I keep telling invisible people, gods, nature to make it go away. Atticus was crying in his crib and I went in there frustrated and angry. I looked at him crying and I got really scared. There are times when I have gotten angry in front of him and it freaks me out. When I look at him I wonder if he sees that and will mimic it later. I started to mimic it and then it grew inside of me a lot like my cancer and now it's seems like its fused to my life and head that even though it doesn't always poke its head out it's there, like that person who always hangs around but never leaves because you are scared of him, or maybe scared of losing him. Maybe it isn't even real. There are images in my head that I see after I get angry, images I saw when I was a kid, real people I saw when I was a kid. I held Atticus tonight and cried and said make it stop, take theme away, make it stop, i don't want to see it anymore.

Growing up, I became the person that was the opposite of all that, at least tried to. I tried to run away from violence and anger and frustration. I understand the anger, I mean, I understand where it came from for certain people. I can never understand the manifestation of violence. It is in me likle a bad gene waiting to be recessive or become part of my future. It ssits there eyeing me. I eye it back and we are locked in each other's gaze. I reacted to the violence the only way I knew how, by being a different person. There are people who have told me that anger is not a bad thing. It is necessary. It's how you get angry that defines you. I want to believe that. I know I have touched in this topic before in these pages.

I'll leave it at that. I had more to say but I deleted it. It sounded cheesy.

I saw one of my dearest friends this weekend. If we're lucky we get to see each other once maybe twice (usually once) a year and at the end of ever visit I find myself starting to cry and by the time I get in the car I end up doing so. I miss her. She got to see Atticus and Gabrielle and my wife told me in the car on the way home how neither of us says much to each other, that we don't need to. We can communicate through feeling and knowledge of each other. We can sit there drinking coffee trying not to think about the impending departure. At least that's how she saw it and that's how I feel it.

My friend during our visit was telling me how this blog of mine is...very intimate.

I am mentally humming the Sufjan Stevens song Casmir Pulaski in my head. He's doing an album for each of the fifty states. He's on Illinois. I need to make dinner. The house is quiet and the dogs are laying on the kitchen floor. Our cat is mad at me for pushing her away whie she was licking my hand.

I am going to paint after making dinner and make phone calls and not think about the ants in our kitchen.

I am also thinking of the movie Spring Forward with Liev Shreiber and Ned Beatty. I gave it to a good friend for his 30th birthday. If you have a free evening, check it out.

See, I recommended a movie. This blog isn't that intense.

The venue for the benefit has changed. Instead of T's it is now being held at The Morseland in Rogers Park. Same evening. I'll let you know more details when I find them out.

I am humbled that human beings are, based on their love or judgment of my character, working their asses off to throw me a benefit, to help me frame art, to laugh when I say thank you...to help me firmly plant two feet on the ground and join the motion again. Human beings are amazing. My heart does not forget easily.

Neither, I might add, does the universe.

Late in my teaching career, the last two years of it, I started teaching South African history to my students. I petitioned to teach the class, arguing that I could get the kids interested in the world by starting with one place first. You can't hand them the world in one semester and hope for the best. Besides, I had ulterior motives.

South Africa has been very close to my heart since I was a child. I don't know if being born in Tanzania I carried my displacement with me and longed, subliminally, to go back. Starting at a very young age I eyed the Southern tip with a mixture of awe, hurt and anger. I couldn't understand how people could be so cruel and how no one would stand up and at least publicly do something. My first televised exposure was Albert Finney's TV-version of the Biko trial, The Biko Inquest. I must have been nine or ten.

I remember Mandela being freed. Then it came, the Truth and Reconciliation hearings.

I get chills just writing this. Unless you've actually taken the time to view even bits of the hearings you may not understand why it is so chilling. No dramatization could ever capture seeing the truth live. I hate to sound so pragmatic but to see a South African police officer recount how he tortured and killed a young man while his family listens in the front row is one of the hardest things I have ever watched. And I am detatched, watching on a TV in Chicago.

So they gave me the ok to do the course.

In the next post, maybe, I'll tell you about the class. The two things I remember most both have to do with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. At one moment during the hearings you can see him breaking down and crying immensely. At the end of the hearings Bill Moyers interviews him and Tutu says, to Moyers' amazement, and I am quoting from memory here, "People are amazing." Those damn eyes of his nearly bulging out of his head as he is saying this. What he is saying is that he is amazed at the capacity of human beings. It is a compliment. After everything he has seen. People are amazing.

I am far humbled in life. As a human being, as an American, as an Indian, as a man. As a cancer patient. I humble myself before the universe. I am amazed at the capacity of human beings. If they are capable of so much evil, they must also be capable of so much love. They must. I have t believe this. My vessel has carried me this far, what can I give? What can I give back to the universe, to the friends who help me across the river, to the wife who catches me when I fall?

Jesus.

Coffee on a Sunday morning. This is what happens. And decaf to boot.

Having a bit of a sentimental night. Went to Gretchen's house and met Mike and Angie there to discuss framing possibilities for all the art for the upcoming benefit. Brought Atticus and Gabrielle with.

Remembered old memories. Not sure why. Re-read old blog entries. Remembered old lives. Want to post (re-post) the playlists people sent in for Atticus. So sweet and beautiful.

----------

here is one list for young Atticus:

Across the Universe The Beatles
Longer Boats Cat Stevens
Into the Mystic Van Morrison (though I love Valerie Carter?s version)
Wayfaring Stranger by anybody, but listen to Johnny Cash doing it
Spoon River recorded by Steve Goodman
Love Affair with Everyday Livin The Woodentops
Everybody Hurts R.E.M
She Breaks for Rainbows B 52?s
Time of the Season The Zombies
It?s Not What You?ve Got, It?s How You Use It Carrie Lucas
Stars are in Your Eyes Guild of Temporal Adventurers (Kendra Smith)

with love, from Shari
----------
Teardrop - Massive Attack
Fade into You - Mazzy Star
The Cool, Cool River - Paul Simon (off 1964-1993)
Let it Be - The Beatles
Te Deum - Arvo Part
Valentine Heart - Tanita Tikaram
Angels Song - Bodhi Busick
Cello Song - Nick Drake
Amazing Grace - Ani Difranco (off Living in Clip)
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
O Pallanhaare - Lata Mangeshkar & Udit Narayan on the Lagaan Soundtrack
The Wind - Cat Stevens
Twinkle Little Star - The Read Letter
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Roberta Flack
The Cross - Prince
As - Stevie Wonder
More Than This - Roxy Music
Promenade - U2
In This Heart - Sinead O'Connor
The Flesh Failures (Let the Sunshine In) - Hair
Dancing to the Rhythm - Stevie Wonder (off Natural Wonder)
Starfish and Coffee - Prince
Life is Good - Los Lobos
May This Be Love - Emmylou Harris
 
Wow, this is really mellow (for the most part). Hopefully I will perk up as he gets older.
 
Enjoy Atticus!
 
Megan
----------
The Donaldson:
Sorry it took so long, but here's my list of music for new ears, in no
real order.
Cheers,
CD
01. Hey Jude -- The Beatles
02. The Girl from Ipanema -- Stan Getz & Joao Gilberto, w. Astrud Gilberto
03. Ripple -- The Grateful Dead
04. Put Your Big Toe in the Milk of Human Kindness -- Elvis Costello
05. Message to You Rudy -- The Specials
06. Trouble -- Coldplay
07. Good To Be On the Road Back Home -- Cornershop
08. Innocent When You Dream (78) -- Tom Waits
09. Arlington Girl -- Shivaree
10. What is the Light? -- The Flaming Lips
----------
Mikey:
Atticus Songs
Sit Down – James
Kooks – David Bowie
I Don’t Wanna Grow Up – Tom Waits
Satellite Of Love – Lou Reed
Olsen Olsen – Sigur Ros
As Long As The Grass Shall Grow – Johnny Cash And June Carter
Oh Yoko – John Lennon
Sir Duke – Stevie Wonder
Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again – Bob Dylan
Mercy Mercy Me – Marvin Gaye
Give Up The Funk – Parliament
Isobel – Bjork
Say No Go – De La Soul
Animal Farm – The Kinks
Honey Don’t Think - Grant Lee Buffalo
Arturo:
geneva - the god of sleep
autour de lucie - guiding hands
autour de lucie - island
gene - we'll find our own way
jeff buckley - hallelujah
magnetic fields - nothing matters when we're dancing
massive attack - teardrop
mc almont and butler - falling
the postal service - such great heights
james brown - i feel good
----------
so many other songs got the cut for various reasons...honorable mentions include - suede - saturday night, marvin gaye- whats going on , suede - simon, gene - somewher in the world , acdc - dirty deeds done dirt cheap :P
deana:
Rock on, Atticus. Always remember: The Wheel in the Sky keeps on turnin'...
Love, The Other Redhead.
The Band - The Weight
Aretha Franklin - The Weight
Black Sabbath - War Pigs
Roy Buchanan - The Messiah Will Come Again (for the guitar, if nothing else)
Howlin' Wolf - Highway 49
Angel Eyes - Emmylou Harris/Willie Nelson
Landslide - Fleetwood Mac
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
Last Caress - Misfits (not until later in life)
Me & Bobby Mcgee - Kris Kristofferson
Always on my Mind - Willie Nelson
On the Road Again - Willie Nelson
Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys - Willie Nelson
Burn One Down - Ben Harper
Simple Man - Lynyrd Skynyrd
What's Going On - Marvin Gaye
Happy Song - Otis Redding
Ms. Jackson - Outkast
Karma Police - Radiohead
Midnight Rider - Allman Bros.
Ain't Wastin' No More Time - Allman Bros.
Zion - Lauryn Hill
Up on Cripple Creek - The Band
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - The Band
Wildflowers - Tom Petty
Wheel in the Sky - Journey
Seven Spanish Angels - Ray Charles/Willie Nelson

These things happened to me today.

I stared at Atticus this morning after he woke up at 6:00 am.

I dropped Gabrielle off at day camp along with 36 brownies. I gave her a kiss goodbye and she was all smiles. I kept thinking that no matter how sour we are with each other I'll always have that morning with her when I drop her off at school or daycare. I always get to work her and kiss her goodbye. I get to remember that. Will she? I told Irene this evening that most kids not matter how much baggage they trudge around, no matter how sour they are, they at some point want their moms to come in stroke their heads and tell them that everything is going to be alright. I am 31 and I still want my wife to do that.

My computer at work crashed due to a virus.

I talked to my friend about chemotherapy.

I bought a Butterfinger in the vending machine. I shouldn't have. My body doesn't need it.

I went to pick up Gabrielle tonight at her acting class in Evanston. I got there with a little time to spare, bought a cookie, grabbed my book and sat on a bench and read.

An old lady sat next to me after awhile. She was reading Ethan Frome. It felt nice the two of us sitting there, wordlessly enjoying different ends of a bench and the same day.

Our drive back I listened to Andrew Bird's live version of Sovay. Upon hearing it, Gabs asked me to listen to the song we listened to this morning when I dropped her off at day camp. She said, you know that song, he sounds like this guy. Then I remembered it was Rufus Wainwright singing Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk.

My left hand cramped up while I was driving home and I had a slight freakout. It just shut and I had to pry it open. Scared me.

We stopped by Orange Garden, our favorite Chinese restaurant, on the way home and we picked up a small dinner. I thought and said out loud, this fine meal represents the last of our petty cash. Funny, since Gabs brought Ghostbusters to school today for the kids to watch (if it was appropriate - it wasn't).

Our back yard has two raspberry trees. We walk all over them and trample them into the apartment. The pavement in back looks like acne.

Atticus screamed like holy hell while he was in his play gym seat thingie. Screamed in a good way.

Now my dog is lying on the floor, one patch on her is the exact shape of a heart. I spent money I don't have. And I feel like if I blink summer will be gone.

My first gut reaction was a feeling of joy, moving on the crest of a wave and looking forward as if someone picked me up by my collar and flung me forward out of the waiting room of life. Ships sail by me and I find myself with an oar on a plank of wood setting course straight ahead, moving forward in the time-sense of forward. And since we are always moving forward, I guess I am just riding a wave as is my friend.

I don't know if anyone remembers this movie but in Teachers, there is a scene where escaped mental patient Richard Mulligan impersonates a history teacher and gets all his students on a desk to re-enact Washington crossing the Delaware.

That's exactly how I feel.

In other news, my sister started her job in DC. It sounds like long exhausting days but it also sounds like she is loving it. Cheers.

The German site R.A.M. has video of Albert Ayler among others. Feel free to check it out. I love the host, he's so demure and forbidding in what looks like an unused room in his apartment. Andrew Bird and Daniel Johnston are shown as well. As is the wonderful Antony. Enjoy.

I would like to assert an important point in these pages. This benefit is courtesy of Shirts Against.
Here is their bio:

Shirtsagainst is incorporating as a non-for-profit organization dedicated to assisting disabled artists.

Artists are free thinkers often on the fringes of mainstream society. In the pursuit of the time and skills to create art, they are frequently forced to make difficult career choices. Artists usually maintain only service-level employment, with little or no insurance or savings account.

Artists with illnesses frequently find themselves in an even more vulnerable state. If the artist has a treatable condition, even if diagnosed early in life, the process of treatment and continuing care can cripple the artist's intentions with a lifetime of insurmountable debt. The situation can deteriorate to the point where the artist is unable to pursue their art or secure treatment for their condition.

Shirts Against assists these artists, so that they may continue to create and live life to the fullest extent possible. We seek to provide disabled artists with access to support for day-to-day monetary concerns, funds for medical care and art supplies, and an online home for discussion and sharing.

Shirts Against's raises funds for these artists through the sale of t-shirts bearing their work or design and by holding benefit events. Our goal is to become the single banner that many who fight for different causes can gather under, and fly, together.

They have taken the time, effort, finances and heart to lend me their support and I hope you can come out to support the organization. This will hopefully be the first of many benefits. I hope it is a success that it allows for others down the line to step up. Music (four amazing artists) will be performed and along with other merchandise, my art and shirts against shirts will be auctioned off.

Visit the website and if you have any questions contact them or feel free to holler at me.

Learn more about the next ShirtsAgainst benefit.