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richard serra, hand catching lead, 1968
william wegman, selected works, 1972

I PREDICT THE FUTURE

been thinking a lot about VISIONARIES these days, maybe because i am so totally bound to the things directly in front of or behind me. i barely notice trends, patterns in the weather, the way the world is headed. this is something i wish i could fix. rhan, for one, has remarkable forward-thinking skills. glenn gould had them when he resolved to stop performing concerts. andy warhol had them in spades. there are people whose entire energies are devoted to shaping the world ahead, or people for whom this inclination is totally natural. goddamn.

meanwhile, it's been a good week. we saw an all-female improv troupe last night, which led to an ardent discussion (argument) about the merits of improv comedy in general. rhan is decidedly con. i'm still up in the air.

meanwhile, we here at touch touch are transfixed by two dvd seasons of TIM AND ERIC AWESOME SHOW GREAT JOB! which, if you pared them down a bit, would be museum-ready fine art. here's what you do: rent season two, watch the episodes in order until you reach OOH MAMMA. it will become apparent to you when you see it. i think.

it's monday morning again, somehow. how does that happen?



sasha and i keep on keepin' on: SATANSBRATEN this week at film orgy. watch one movie with us.

ABANDONED SCHOOLS IN DETROIT.



photos by JAMES GRIFFIOEN.

images like these are popping up everywhere.
sign of the times...

"I LOVE THAT WORD: DESPERATE. IT'S SO ROMANTIC."

we drove down to the beach today. it was my idea! i usually have no need for it.
we listened to music on the way there, dipped our toes in the ocean, and drove back.

RED TAPE DIARIES

"CLAIM FOR REFUND NOT OVER $5,000"
the parking box ate my twenty dollar bill last night
and this is what i have to fill out and send in to get it back
pending receipt and review.

YOU CAN'T UNTELL A TALE
YOU CAN'T OUT-SLOW A SNAIL

i attended my second yoga class this weekend, which was curiously harder for me than the first class. the arrogance of letting seven days elapse without any exercise or preparation caught up with me. i had eaten two slices of day-old pizza for breakfast that morning; i fell out of several poses with an ungraceful thud. i even hurt my hand a little. strange to feel your muscles start shaking.

watched WOMAN IN THE DUNES and couldn't stop staring at kyoko kishida--there are angles from which we look remarkably alike. the basic organization of her features is the same, anyway: big lips, big eyes, dark hair. sometimes i would squint when she came on screen to blur the distinction between us even more. i imagined myself as a real actress for the first time.

rhan just told me that ingmar bergman had nine children with five different wives, and that he had little interest in being a father at all. he simply removed himself from it, choosing instead to live alone on some isle someplace. this only confirms for me that there is no such thing as the "right way" to live your life.

above:
CHONTO, dir. CARSON MELL, 2007.
an excellent use of thirteen minutes.

we were riding in the car - i was in the back seat taking a nap - granddad was driving - at first it sounded like popcorn to me - then i felt the momentum and was thrown down to the floor - broken glass, breaking glass - glass with blood, wet and frozen - he somehow drove it, landing into a parking spot - a crowd came out, some covering their mouths - there was some shouting - i blacked out

she was annoyed that she had to ask for my social security card...again - that was the point, i never got one - somehow, the subject never came up in my life - i thought that i felt invisible and i guess maybe, i was - she led me under a bridge more like a tunnel - before we entered, she shouted out loud "hold your fire gentleman, we're coming through."


we were in a small office - there were 4 or 5 girls and there was me - it did not matter that i was there and that i was the only male - i was just there and i was paid no mind - i had some cheese crackers and a bottle of coca-cola - i fell asleep on the floor - i woke to the sound of a nose whistle that did not bother me - i felt soft and gentle and safe



video - thanks to westernbling, tombystone, postingoldtapes

On most mornings after he moved to Arcueil, Satie would return to Paris on foot, a distance of about ten kilometres, stopping frequently at his favourite cafés on route. Accoring to Templier, "he walked slowly, taking small steps, his umbrella held tight under his arm. When talking he would stop, bend one knee a little, adjust his pince-nez and place his fist on his lap. The we would take off once more with small deliberate steps."

When he eventually reached Paris he visited friends, or arranged to meet them in other cafés by sending pneumatiques. Often the walking from place to place continued, focusing on Montmarte before the war, and subsequently on Montparnasse. From here, Satie would catch the last train back to Arcueil at about 1.00am, or, if he was still engaged in serious drinking, he would miss the train and begin the long walk home during the early hours of the morning. Then the daily round would begin again.

Roger Shattuck, in conversations with John Cage in 1982, put forward the interesting theory that "the source of Satie's sense of musical beat--the possibility of variation within repetition, the effect of boredom on the organism--may be this endless walking back and forth across the same landscape day after day . . . the total observation of a very limited and narrow environment." During his walks, Satie was also observed stopping to jot down ideas by the light of the street lamps he passed.

"the total observation of a very limited and narrow environment"

this is something i should have down in spades by now. laziness is my only defense, and it's not an adequate one!

the song is "sleepyhead" by passion pit, discovered on all songs considered today.

the insights into satie were found on daily routines.

a little glimpse into my day off.

samantha morton is the number one all-time favorite.

MORVERN CALLAR, dir. LYNNE RAMSAY, 2002

THINGS ON MY MIND
-patti smith
-comfort
-organization
-time

we saw two great films this weekend with our remarkable friend. we hopped around from place to place under her enthusiastic guidance. i exercised today for the first time in many months.

yoga demands confusing and contrary exertions of different parts of your body at the same time. left hip pressed down toward the mat; inner thighs pull in towards the tummy. shake your head no and melt the heart. i think the intuition for these motions is learned over time.

on saturday i went back to the county museum to revisit the german exhibit, but it was way too crowded to navigate. i retreated into the permanent collection.

i felt profoundly COMFORTED seeing the richard serras again, and then MOVED! to realize that it is comfort above all things that forms the common thread between all the art i love the most.

-comfort in repetition;
-comfort in safety;
-comfort in slowness;
-comfort in quiet;
-comfort in enclosed spaces;
-comfort in order.

i'd like to make things that evoke comfort in the way i know comfort!

1. patti smith & robert mapplethorpe, 1969
2. hanne darboven, ein monat, 1974
3. on kawara, 1978

i woke up wandering. i could not finish the chapter. the first lines of the paragraph were an obstruction, these were not words. i could not understand them. i was well into the book. i had been enjoying it, but that day it felt like it was written in another language.

we could not go inside the museum. they turned us away. i can almost imagine something like
fate was at play. it was not their fault. we were no longer members and we needed the money for other things.

we walked around in the neutral light of the day. but this was no ordinary day. pig was found. a man with no eyes, another without legs. we toyed with idea of miniature bottles of tequila, then quickly dismissed it. elvis presley's hound dog played loud from a store front in spainish.

i crossed the street with a painted lady - dyed red, pink and blue.
i missed my chance to steal her soul, uh, take her picture.
most likely her soul could not be stolen.

yeah, i flipped the image on its side. because that's the way i saw it.