What's Not Painted, Played

If it were all notes and no air, it wouldn't be jazz.

Peace.

SOLD - Charlie Parker 06/09/09

The Reveal In Reverse

I've been doing my Twitpic real-time cell phone pictures for about a month. It looks like around 10-20 people check'em out each time and a few people have commented and shared the pics with their followers, adding a caption. Sweet.

Here're the final shots of the pieces I thought worked the best so far:

http://twitpic.com/5q548 - John Lennon
http://twitpic.com/5mtns - Isaac Hayes
http://twitpic.com/5kz9g - Bradley Nowell
http://twitpic.com/58524 - Billie Holiday
http://twitpic.com/548gw - Alice Cooper
http://twitpic.com/4shyl - Sammy Davis Jr.
http://twitpic.com/4nzun - Neil Young

You can go backwards from those to see the faces disappear.

Kinda cool.

Peace.

Bruce Springsteen 06/03/09

Tom Waits' One Red Eye

Like trying to lay down a track with a jackhammer outside, a loud record label usually distracts, detracts from a piece. It's hard to look away from a bright red dot in the middle of the sky.

So I put it in the middle of his eye.

Peace.

Thanks Be

Ray Bradbury John Lennon Gandhi The Grassy Knoll Mark Twain Bernini Noguchi Mark Waldman Robert Heinlein Mr. Layton Jimmy Connors Tricky Bill Augustine Bob Marley DaVinci Warhol Rothko Novros Bob Dylan Thomas Jefferson Airplane HST Bill Murray Johnny Depp Benicio Del Toro Poe Bach Hugh McLeod Mona Brookes Ed Buttwinick Jonathan Bickart Jason Clift Kurt Cobain Van Gogh Emil Nolde Aldous Huxley Jim Morrison George Segal Franz Kline Jim Jarmusch David Lynch Tank Girl Peter Gabriel Penderecki Future Sound Of London Alan Watts Hesse Chris Guillebeau Groucho Marx Faith No More Robert Altman Homicide: Life On The Streets Get Smart Picasso Nick Drake Shannon Hoon Sam Watterson Douglas Adams The Coen Brothers John Turturro Chuck Pahalniuk Mussorgsky Glenn Gould Brad Pitt Cary Grant CSN&Y The Beatles Eminem Kafka DJ Shadow Autechre Miles Davis Trent Reznor Will Farrell The Verve Beck Gnarls Barkley Philip Glass Steve Reich Mitch Hedburg Bill Cosby George Carlin Michael&Wendy Edlen

Peace.

Where Are You, Hunter?

It's a fucking joke. "Candle in the Wind", Christ. What a twisted fuck, mocking his own death before it happens.

Better image would be the explosion of a bullet from one of his myriad of guns stretched out over the span of his years. Or the flames pissing out of a lighter fluid bottle over the distance.

Where are you, Hunter? Not you the man, the ashes smoldering around Owl Farm, but YOU, the raw, the angst-ridden, the truth, the savior of these United States of America. In earnest, YOU are ME, are WE. YOU are down there, buried below ever piling loads of shit; glossy, plasticy propanganda puked out in sound bytes and article subtitles and podcasts, whatever the fuck those are. Where are YOU!!!! WE need to dig YOU out, free YOU from Vegas, explode YOU out of a peyote button to burn down this farce.

This farce of transparency, of authenticity, of total access, of behind-the-scenes, of reality. YOU ARE ME!!! WE are Hunter. WE have to be! WE have to, individually and as the unholy mob, dig out of this shit. Media today should be US, not them, not the Fourth Estate. WE still mindlessly drone on, regurgitating their puked up tripe. Vietnam and Cambodia? Look at Afghanistan and Iraq. Fuck.

Hunter the man did indeed give up, give out. But maybe his self-martyrdom could actually serve the Hunter in US, forcing US to find him, to save him. So HE can save US! There's your fucking authentic giving. Selfless patriotism, not blind peevish sheepery. Serve truth, not people. Give to the Constitution, not the asses and elephants.

Maybe I'm not looking hard enough. Maybe it's MY fault. Of course it's MY fault. I am everybody, I AM HUNTER!!!!!

Where am I? Who the fuck are YOU?

Peace.