Theory on Longevity

I've been thinking about going to the gym recently. Then I thought, what's the point? Look at the lifespan of a sloth... between 20 and 40 years. A cheetah? About 14 years. Look at Jack Lalaine, he lived to be 96. He ate right and worked out every day. George Burns, who smoked cigars and probably ate whatever he wanted, lived to be 101. Keith Richards smokes constantly and plays guitar, he's 68. Jim Fixx the great running advocate dropped dead on the side of the road while jogging in Vermont at 52. Stephen Hawking can't move his finger, he's 70. Need I say more?

Fuck the gym, I'm going sloth.

Here's my theory: The moment you're born you're predisposed with a certain number of heartbeats. The average heart beats around 2.8 billion times in a lifetime. So, if you use them up on some stupid treadmill that's not so good. I suggest everyone barely move. Get a beer, sit on the deck in the sun and watch all the other bozos play volleyball. When you're 80, they'll all be dead.

Speaking of what's good and bad for you, I walked past a pub on 44th Street and saw this box in the trash. "For institutional use only"? What does that mean? Extra pink slime?

Spring has sprung in front of the San Remo on CPW.

Give Thanks

Let's all breathe a HUGE sigh of relief that Rick Santorum--the idiotic, Bush-loving, abortion-hating, homophobic, religious lunatic--has dropped out of the presidential race. First off, who the hell EVER supported this moron? Not to mention he's had eight kids. Hey Rick, ever heard of overpopulation? There are seven billion (with a B) people on the earth.

This guy TRULY is a worthless, small-minded imbecile. Not to mention crazy (see last paragraph).

Stupid Santorum quotes:

“Earlier in my political career, I had the opportunity to read the speech, and I almost threw up.” –Rick Santorum, on JFK's 1960 speech about the importance of separation of church and state (October 2011) adding later that Kennedy had caused "great harm in America."

"President Obama wants everybody in America to go to college. What a snob ... Oh, I understand why he wants you to go to college. He wants to remake you in his image.”

“I believe that any doctor that performs an abortion, I would advocate that any doctor that performs an abortion, should be criminally charged for doing so.”

"All of us have heard people say, 'I privately am against abortion, homosexual marriage, stem cell research, cloning. But who am I to decide that it's not right for somebody else?' It sounds good, but it is the corruption of freedom of conscience"

He has stated a policy of "drill everywhere" for oil and that there is "enough oil, coal and natural gas to last for centuries".

Santorum believes that global warming is a "beautifully concocted scheme" by the political left and "an excuse for more government control of your life".

And finally, the icing on the cake, as I posted before:

In 1996, the Santorum's son Gabriel was born prematurely after twenty weeks of pregnancy and died in the hospital two hours after birth. Karen wrote that she and Rick slept with the dead infant between them in the hospital that night, then brought his body home the following day and introduced it to their children as "your brother Gabriel".

Can you say "F-U-C-K-I-N-G C-R-A-Z-Y" ?????

Now, if we can just get rid of Mitt!! The other, slightly less retarded, moron.

Sights & Psychics

Someone apparently bought new shoes, then placed their old pair in the box and set them next to a mailbox. I find that odd.

The last two days have been beautiful. Sunset in Central Park.

While walking through the West Village, a shock of red hair caught my eye from across the street, sitting in a little french cafe.

A psychic can supposedly tell any random person when they'll get married, how many kids they'll have, their future job possibilities and even impending doom. Yet, they can't seem to pick out six random numbers of a lottery. I find that odd.

Only $10 to predict your past, present and future. What a bargain! A close friend just confided in me that she's been seeing a psychic. Given that she's very educated, I find that very surprising. At "only" $50 a session she swears by it. I don't think I want to know what the future has in store for me, good or bad.

Usually I walk past these places and try to look away. If you do happen to glance over and make eye contact with the woman in the window, she'll make hand gestures saying, "Come in, come in...." Trying to seduce you into that deceitful, psychic web of hers.

Overthinking

I've been a bad blogger. I've been holed up in my apartment, staying up til 5:00am reading, editing, seeking inspiration and contemplating my future in this chosen life as a creative person. I'm unmotivated and have called on certain creative friends to help me with making a book or a show. I need to do something. I need a kick in the pants.

Last week I did the art crawl (searching for inspiration?) and as usual saw some beautiful things and some real "head scratchers".

Beautiful work by William Bailey

Then you have this mess by Ron Gorchov. Non-skilled, sloppy, uninteresting, lifeless. Looks like something a "special needs" person might do during art therapy class. Total bullshit.

Beautiful

I asked one of the pretentious employees clad in black (as always) how much this "piece" by Henning Bohl was and she said with a serious but annoyed tone, "That piece is fifteen thousand." I smiled, raised an eyebrow and said, "Really?" with a look that read, "Seriously? You just be fucking kidding."

Off the subject of art....

Late the other night I waited a very long time for an A train. Tired of standing, the C train came so I took it. The car was empty which I found a bit unnerving. This is a rare occurrence. I couldn't help but wonder who might step on at the next stop. A gang, a criminal, a lunatic, no one? I pulled my trusty Buck knife from my bag and held it in my front coat pocket. I shouldn't be so paranoid.

Repeat Offender & Robert

Back in November, I wrote about a crazy woman (man/transvestite) knocking on my door sobbing that a child in the building had been electrocuted the night before. She was asking for donations for flowers. I gave her/him money. I was scammed--there was no kid and no death.

A few days ago I heard a knock at the door and when I opened it I quickly realized that my little scammer was back. Not recognizing me, she claimed that a man just down the street had been electrocuted and was collecting money for flowers. After hearing the whole tragic story, I looked concerned and said, "Let me get you some money, I'll be back in a moment." I closed the door, ran into the kitchen and called the police. They said, "Stall her." I opened the door with cash in my hand and said, "Explain to me what happened again." She looked at the cash in my hand, thinking she was so close to closing the deal. I asked how much the average person gave where she replied, "Oh, 10 or 20 dollars." Then, I quickly pulled out my point-and-shoot camera and took a photo of her, which startled her. Suddenly, she paused and seemed to remember me. She quickly excused herself and started down the steps as I followed. When we reached the lobby I held the door shut and said, "You bitch, you pulled this stunt a few months ago. Give me back the money I gave you the last time." She panicked and said, "I never took your money." I said, "Yes you did, stick around, the police will be here shortly." She ripped the door open and ran outside. I yelled at her, "Give me back my money you thief!" There was a small group of Hispanic people on the front stoop, wondering what was going on. I watched the scammer run across the street as I dialed the police to see what was taking so long. They showed up 15 minutes later. The scammer got away.

The scammer.

The other day I saw the worst gallery show in recent memory at the Leica gallery by Frank Dabba Smith. Total crap. Leaving within minutes, I pressed the elevator button and noticed the name "Robert" just below it. This reminded me of my late grandfather, whom I hadn't thought about in years. We weren't close nor do I have many fond memories. He always favored my brother Mike to the point of being obvious. Perhaps he was reaching out from beyond. Or, more likely, it was just an elevator named Robert. Or the company of....

B&W City Scenes

Legs, Chelsea.

As long as I've lived in the city, I've never set foot in the main library on 42nd Street and Fifth Ave. It's an amazing research/reference library with this huge beautiful reading room. But, you can't check out books there. You fill out a little slip for the books you want, they bring them to you, you read them, you leave. Who knew?

Walking down the steps of an old building on West 46th Street, I glanced over the railing from the 4th floor.

Old people in front of a laundromat in Hell's Kitchen. At that age, the dating ratio looks pretty promising. Man-about-town and his harem of goddesses.

Art Night

"You talkin to me?" You never know who or what you'll see when doing the art crawl in Chelsea. A show of paintings by Robert De Niro, Sr. (1922-1993). Meryl Streep and John Turturro showed up as well. Not that I'm into celebs or anything, just thought it was an interesting sighting.

A great night of good and bad art, cheap wine, good friends and Thai food. For my birthday (Wed.), my friend Laurah gave me a SIGNED copy of Cindy Sherman's book from Moma. It was a gag gift after I called the show "a thirty-year exercise of extreme narscissism." A very cool gift though.

Reminds me of my wish to be buried under a Japanese maple after I die.

[Art Night, cont.]

Ridiculous crappy art for around five grand. Seriously?

A naked painted lady strolling the Mick Rock show. She got a lot more attention than his 70s era snapshots. He's gone a bit too "Warhol" for my taste. Taking his classic old snapshots of rock and roll legends and overly manipulating them in Photoshop, taking them away from their original, and better, state. Overall.... they sucked. A lesson that most of the time "reinvention" doesn't work.

Interesting ceramic piece.

More stupid art that looks like a six year old painted it: $10K

An owl made from cardboard and rubber bands. $4K. Whoever buys this should be locked away in an asylum. It'll never sell and will be in a recycling bag by next week. Total bullshit.

City Sights

Rainy cobblestone street in Soho.

Just when you think every single inch of real estate in Manhattan has been developed you run across a derelict vacant lot like this one on the Lower East Side. Shocking that something hasn't been built on it yet.

Another lot just off Fifth Ave., only a few blocks away from the Empire State Building.

They remind me of photos taken of Harlem in the 60s by Bruce Davidson.

Funny and Inspiring

Someone sent this to me and it made me chuckle. I should have business cards made up like this. I'd give out 500 a day.

Yesterday I went to the Guggenheim to see the new exhibit of photos by Francesca Woodman. She received her first camera in her early teens and over the next eight or nine years she created a fairly large body of work. Mostly small self-portraits of herself nude. She attended RISD, then went on to study at various art colonies, before finally moving to NYC. She tried her hand at fashion photography, which didn't really pan out. In 1981 at 22 years old she jumped either from a bedroom window or off her roof and committed suicide. Her body was not identified for some time because the fall rendered her unrecognizable. Her parents, who are both artists, have been releasing her work since the 1990s for books and various exhibits. A sad ending to what was a promising career in fine art. Then again, as in the case of Diane Arbus, one's early demise can have an enormously positive effect on an artist's career, creating the persona of another extremely talented artist who was literally tormented to death. Look at what it did for Van Gogh!

Anyway, it was a lovely, inspiring show. When I got home I dusted off my old medium format YashicaMat. Just like the one she used.

As an homage to Francesca, I've added two frames of my new friend, "S". A lovely and willing muse.

Everything Good Is Bad

Why is it that ALL things that taste great are bad for you? Ice cream, butter, croissants, pasta, chocolate, sugar, milk, all pastries, pancakes, booze, candy, red meat, processed meat, non-organic fruits and vegetables. Shit, not much left. And what is left, doesn't taste all that great. I tried to eat a bowl of berries ("nature's candy") but without a bit of sugar or honey they weren't all that great. Ever eat plain oatmeal? Tastes like wallpaper paste. I do love my Fuji apples, cantaloupe, watermelon but they're all seasonal. Basically, all the really good stuff kills you.

I hate to admit it but I love Pepsi. Knowing it's bad for me I only allow myself maybe two a week. Yesterday I saw this article in the paper and immediately grabbed my chest. Now I can't even have that... ever.

They can put a man on the moon but they can't make a single sweet treat that is healthy and delicious.. I find that amazing...and sad.

Dangerous Pop Tarts & Hair Styles

I found this odd police report on some random site. I imagine it had to be an old stale pop tart.

Walking through Soho the other day I glanced inside a barber shop window to find these fine examples of haircut styles they offer.

Game Change

I watched the movie "Game Change" last night and all I can say is "holy shit." I remember the first time I saw Sarah Palin and wondered how such a dim-witted, uninteresting, self-proclaimed "soccer mom" could actually get that close to being the vice president of our country. Then again, the biggest imbecile in the world, George W. Bush, became president. Why and how am I surprised at Americans' stupidity? And poor McCain, convinced by advisers to choose her as his running mate, was in the dark about how stupid she was until it was too late. His staff protected him to a fault. I actually feel bad for the old guy. He may have won that election had he picked someone else.

I suggest everyone watch this movie on HBO. Especially those of you who were stupid enough to vote for Palin. Because if you actually pulled that lever with her name on it, even after her countless media screw-ups, you will be ashamed of your own stupidity. Then again, those same people pulled levers for Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush at the voting booth and can't (or won't) believe they're two of the worst presidents in U.S. history.

And now it looks like the Republicans will have Romney. Another bible-thumping, pro-life half-wit trying to win over other gullible morons with his campaign promises. But this time (I pray) the smarter man will again win. Like him or not, history will show that Obama's eight years in office will have been a hell of a lot better than Bush's war-infused, financial-implosion fiasco. Thank God that moron is gone. I actually point and laugh at people who admit to ever voting for Bush Jr. And, if you were stupid enough to vote for him, hopefully you have realized your mistake and will try to redeem yourself.

Or, then again, maybe you don't regret it, which again shows how stupid and gullible some Americans can be. When, even after all the facts are compiled they still stand behind their man... or woman.

I'm sure skeptics will claim "Game Change" is a some sort of liberal-biased propaganda film. I laugh at them too. Sometimes the truth hurts.

Here's how it works:

If you voted for Reagan = You made a mistake.

If you voted for Bush/Cheney the first time = You were stupid.

If you voted for Bush/Cheney the second time = Really? You should be ashamed of yourself.

If you voted for McCain/Palin = You need serious psychiatric evaluation.

If you're planning to vote for Romney = Please don't vote. You're obviously mentally retarded and not capable of making logical decisions.

I fell in love on Saturday

While at the farmers market buying my weekly supply of Fuji apples, I glanced down to see the cutest thing I'd ever seen in my life: a 9-week-old Australian cattle dog. It was love at first sight. I felt a sudden rush of paternal instinct flood my heart, imagining the closest I'd ever come to fatherhood. (Not to mention a hell of a lot cheaper and one millionth the responsibility.)

Maybe one day when I'm a reclusive artist living in my cabin in the woods. Just me and my Australian cattle dog.

She was jumping around so much I didn't get a sharp frame. Obviously pet photography is not in my future.

Tell It Like It Is

New Yorkers vent in creative ways. That's why I like having a blog. I love having a forum to bitch and rant about the things I dislike (as well as the things I love). My friends who read my blog will usually tell me I'm crotchety after I post something they don't agree with.

Someone scribbled their two cents on about 20 of these subway notices posted along the West 4th Street platform. Track construction makes travel very inconvenient at times and it never seems to end. I guess writing "You son of a bitch" on every notice made that person feel better.

This scribble was on fire hose bag in the stairwell of an art gallery in Chelsea. Seems an odd place to make a political statement.

This was on a bicycle parked in Soho. Evidently bike shops are usually run by unfriendly people. Zen Bikes claims, "We're not dicks!!!" Great sales slogan!