Thursday, May 29, 2008

When The Homeless Attack

Musings From A Message Board…

LonghornBuc - sloshy = asshole?

Sure, Sloshy can be an asshole, but in the 3-4 times we've hung out, I've never witnessed it. I think like many of us, it's mostly a selective process - he CAN be an asshole if he WANTS to. I can be too. Sloshy is someone I consider a friend, and I try not to hang out with assholes.

Some people have no choice in the matter.

Which leads me to…

Ahhhhh Winnie (not quoted due to lack of respect)

Penguin - I think the reaction to this thread is pretty piss poor.

Don't go away Pengy - issa gonna get better!

Winnie Winnie. Winnie. You are not stupid, ([i]you're welcome[/i]), but you have a small mind. If one were to think of the larger picture, that person would realize that there's no merit in continuing to say the same thing over and over. That same person would not spend so much time and effort to publicly prove how clever and full of themself they are. I don't know (or care) your age, but maybe one day you will grow up (evolve?) and realize it's not all about you. Not yet though. Right now, it IS all about you.

I have decided that when I address you it will be for sport. Or for pointing out the inconsistencies you so consistently tout yourself for. Ad nauseam. Which in itself, is also sport. In my heterosexual world, sportfucking requires a pussy. I enjoy a good sportfuck as much as anybody, and you are a pussy. Hence a perfect match for my occasional entertainment.

But back to the consistency thing…

I read back through the first two pages of the thread to be, you know, accountable. I didn't see where anyone attacked you for your baseball opinions, unless you think that just because someone disagrees with you, it's an attack. I did see that several people mentioned that you've danced this little jig before, but rearranged the letters to make new sentences. I am not opposed to a disagreement or a debate of ANY opinions. Nor am I opposed to someone pointing out that you continue to post the same thing over and over. I would say it has been done in a civil way even. Therefore, you are once again inaccurate in that there is no irony or double standard.

I'm one of the first people leading the charge? Meh, that's debatable, though you would probably feel it's an attack.

So here you've come falling from the lowest branch of the tree, flopping amongst the pine needles and the caribou shit, in a pink tutu and mismatched ripped stockings. Dirty pink ballet slippers and and a yellow-green translucent mucus draining from your nose. The repetitive whimpering sounds leave even Todd Redmond indignant.

You are now my bitch.

It's okay Winnie. It probably won't last. Even the Court Jester (the Fool) was regarded as superior to the serf assigned to cleaning the stables. There is honor in being my bitch. Many a clever person has strived for such a position. As you most certainly will, all have ultimately failed, and left me with a sense of disappointment in the human condition.

So you're baffled eh? Does that mean you're confused? I wouldn't think so, being that I've already stated that I don't think you're stupid. So it it this?

Do you have a gag in your mouth Winnie? Or is it a funnel? Are ya dressed in latex or rubber as any good slave would be? Are you perched attentive in your leather platform ballet slippers and the rubber, the last in a line of ruddy latrines? The rubber mask covers your eyes and entire face leaving only a little hole for breath (which I control) under the nose. Your hands are restrained behind you, right? Better be tight. Not enough to cause pain. The pain will be psychological. In the mask there is a threaded opening - a permanent fixture for the curved funnel. Inserted into the funnel is a ribbed and flexible hose, about an inch and a half in diameter. The other end of this hose is your anus. Or is it a pussy? Either way, this (for now) allows you luxurious access to your own feces, which you have been feeding on for years. It's going to get worse Winter. See, that end of the hose that is in your ass (or is it a pussy?) is coming out. The fluids and solids I will deposit into that hose, the funnel, your mouth, will shock the most hardened medical examiner in all of Romania.

After this, I will effortlessly hail a cab in downtown Pittsburgh. No tip to the concierge, whatsoever.

You Fucking Pussy.

Saturday, May 24, 2008


I really don't feel like typing a lot these days, but I vowed to myself to update this space more frequently.

I've decided to feature a friend in this edition. She's an extremely accomplished and recognized art nude model, who goes by the name Candy Poses.

One of the many wonderful things about her is that she makes me better. Of the hundreds of models I've worked with, I can count on one hand the ones I can make this statement about.

I have "issues" with shooting this type of work. I do not consider this to be pornography at all, but I can see how some would. I consider it art, and sincerely appreciate the brave few who not only agree, but have the trust and willingness to participate.

So here's one outside the series, from our second shoot. This was on a day in which I had just found out that my cousin, who I was close to, and almost exactly my age (mid 40s) had been given only a few months to live. I just wasn't feeling it that day, and cut the shoot short, with no expectation of anything good coming of the day, with so much else on my mind.

Like I said, she makes me better.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Noir Life

I've had the good fortune of a pleasant, inspiring and continued conversation with a fashion photographer who's work I truly admire.

You can see his work here.

Other than that, everything else in the world fucking sucks. 

Except the girl in this photo. I like the composition well enough.

I've been in kind of a noir mood lately.

Maybe I'll expand on that later.

With venom.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Zen And A Bologna Sandwich

When I was in like the second or third grade, I was sitting in the back seat of the school bus because that's what the hoodlum kids would do.

There was this kid who lived just up the street from me who's real name was (and probably still is) Paul.

The reason for the following events what was not because he was fat, but because he was an annoying Pussy.

And he was apparently annoying me more than usual on that day.

I found a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich on the floor of the bus, which had probably been in the bus all day in the hot sun.

I unwrapped the bologna and mayonnaise sandwich from it's Clingwrap. I remember that it was Clingwrap, or a similar brand.

I opened the bologna and mayonnaise sandwich, and I smeared the mayonnaise side into his hair.

Upon hearing of the event, his mother called my mother, and it went like this…

"Misris Maaaartin. Would you please tell your son to stop smearing bologna and mayonnaise sandwiches into my son Paul's head on the school bus."

"Yes. I'll be sure to do that."

It's really cool when your parents are trying to scold you for doing something bad, but can't keep themselves from laughing, and in this case, actually mocking the boy's mother and the way she spoke on the phone. My mom is a nice lady and wouldn't normally do this, but we were both laughing so hard, there was no actual punishment.

I promised my mom that I would never smear a bologna and mayonnaise sandwich into the back of Paul's head ever again.

And I never did.

I took this photo in Prague, in 1998. It has nothing to do with the true story preceding it.

I think it may still be the best photo I've ever shot.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

I. Suck.

Some people say you're supposed to update your blog every day. I don't necessarily believe in all that, but six months is pathetic.

If anybody's still paying attention, I promise I'll TRY to do better.

Life hasn't exactly been a bowl of fucking cherries either.

There have however, been occasional highlights…



Robert Mitchum BTW, was THE FUCKING MAN!

Click Here For Proof

That's Julian Cope, from the exceptional (and out-of-print) "Skellington" album.