whiskey, menageries, aviaries, faulkner, international white ales, seafood, wine, rock and roll music, recession tequilla, laughter, ambidextrous finger bang, major league babe.
check out more of his pants-dropping work at daveisdrawing.com
Dave says Ciao
My friend Dave and I met in Italian class. The only thing we said to each other was Ciao Ciao because we didn't know much Italian at that point. But there was something in the way he said Ciao Ciao and the way he wore socks under his skate shoes that let me know we'd be friends forever. Now he is making cool things like this food font (note the melting cheese stick N) and writing things like this as his status of face book:
whiskey, menageries, aviaries, faulkner, international white ales, seafood, wine, rock and roll music, recession tequilla, laughter, ambidextrous finger bang, major league babe.
check out more of his pants-dropping work at daveisdrawing.com
whiskey, menageries, aviaries, faulkner, international white ales, seafood, wine, rock and roll music, recession tequilla, laughter, ambidextrous finger bang, major league babe.
check out more of his pants-dropping work at daveisdrawing.com
Giant Squid, Revisited
An imprompteau dinner party sparked an imprompteau conversation about giant squid. Although this has been featured on my blog before, I thought I'd re-post so we can all be on the same page.
My New Yorker friend Rachel once told me that she thought that giant squid were going to be the "next humans."
She explained to me that squid had the physical capabilities (tentacles that can function like our arms, brains that rival our own in creative thinking, and the largest eyes in the animal kingdom that focus like telescopes) to be the next big things. (China is to the US as squids are to humans, sort of thing.)
This meant, Rachel told me, that squid were probably already using tools! They were most likely creating undersea villages and even cities that we humans (with our limited lung capacity and fear of dark depths) had not yet discovered! And they would soon, Rachel proclaimed as she licked homemade vodka sauce from a wooden spoon, take over as the dominant species on the planet!
(Rachel is super smart and knows every banal detail of the entire history of New York City and its subway system, so even though I found her squid theory a bit ridiculous, I eventually started to get into it.)
I was reminded of Rachel's obsession with marine cephalopods when I read that giant squid (and dangerous ones!) have made a cameo in usually benign waters of Santa Cruz.
Seven-foot squid lurking in my personal pocket of the Pacific? Oh no!
These things could squeeze the air out of a human (and that human could be me!) with a mere tightening of their tentacles!
They had beaks for flesh poking! (Many a dying WHALE were found with squid beaks lodged into their blubber.)
They had ink sacks for inking! (I've always fantasized about having a sack of ink all my own, readily available if I need to blind anyone, cover my tracks, or whet my quill for the signing of an important document...)
And the most intimidating squid fact of all: squids have THREE hearts! Did this mean that squid could not only overpower us physically but also emotionally? If I met face to face with a Giant Squid, would this mean I would be forced into a heart to heart?
And the Santa Cruz Sentinel had left me spellbound once more...
I started to imagine what a squid city might look like.
Would it be gloomy and maze-like, an under water Venice in the winter?
Would it be bubbly and effervescent, a Little Mermaid sing-song tale complete with crabs playing moroccas?
Would it be towering and translucent, a transparent version of Manhattan and its skyscrapers? (Would skyscrapers need a new name if they were built under water? Sea-scrapers? Would the underwater Manhattan be the coral jungle rather than the concrete?)
I imagined neighborhoods in a squid city:
The posh and pretentious Bush Club Squid, adorned in their finest tentacles, parading the streets of an under-sea Soho.
The rough and tumble Cuttlefish, their spear-heads ready for anything, in a blue version of Brooklyn.
The darling Jewel Squid out for a stroll in the deep waters of the Upper East Side.
The Colossal Squid making transactions on a wet Wall Street. The Hooked Squid shooting heroin in Harlem. The Inshore, the Calamari, the Grass Squid basking in groups of two and three on the Jersey Shore...
And if squid could already use tools, did that mean that they were on the road to as creative and destructive of a path as we humans? And if their brains were so big, and they each had EIGHT arms, would that mean they would move quickly past their cave-squid period and rapidly into an age of S-Pods and S-Macs that were faster and more reliable than our iPods and iMacs, and without the heavy exoskeletons?
Would squid like to get to know each other on Myspace? Poke each other on Facebook?
Or would those squid electrocute themselves with all those cords...that hair-dryer-in-the-sink, electricity-meets-water-and-you-die mumbo jumbo that our mothers always told us about?
Would they just not have the spine for all these complexities that we have come to relish?
I think I will call Rachel up today and ask her what she thinks of all of this. She will be in the kitchen in her underwear, pouring the vodka into her sauce, and she will laugh like a true youth when I ask about the squid. She will tell me that she has already done all the research there is to be done on squid, and did I know that they had the largest eyes in the animal kingdom? and that she still has the drawing of the squid on the refridgerator that she did in her math class when she already knew all the formulas and didn't have to pay attention, and that she misses me, come back to New York.
My New Yorker friend Rachel once told me that she thought that giant squid were going to be the "next humans."
She explained to me that squid had the physical capabilities (tentacles that can function like our arms, brains that rival our own in creative thinking, and the largest eyes in the animal kingdom that focus like telescopes) to be the next big things. (China is to the US as squids are to humans, sort of thing.)
This meant, Rachel told me, that squid were probably already using tools! They were most likely creating undersea villages and even cities that we humans (with our limited lung capacity and fear of dark depths) had not yet discovered! And they would soon, Rachel proclaimed as she licked homemade vodka sauce from a wooden spoon, take over as the dominant species on the planet!
(Rachel is super smart and knows every banal detail of the entire history of New York City and its subway system, so even though I found her squid theory a bit ridiculous, I eventually started to get into it.)
I was reminded of Rachel's obsession with marine cephalopods when I read that giant squid (and dangerous ones!) have made a cameo in usually benign waters of Santa Cruz.
Seven-foot squid lurking in my personal pocket of the Pacific? Oh no!
These things could squeeze the air out of a human (and that human could be me!) with a mere tightening of their tentacles!
They had beaks for flesh poking! (Many a dying WHALE were found with squid beaks lodged into their blubber.)
They had ink sacks for inking! (I've always fantasized about having a sack of ink all my own, readily available if I need to blind anyone, cover my tracks, or whet my quill for the signing of an important document...)
And the most intimidating squid fact of all: squids have THREE hearts! Did this mean that squid could not only overpower us physically but also emotionally? If I met face to face with a Giant Squid, would this mean I would be forced into a heart to heart?
And the Santa Cruz Sentinel had left me spellbound once more...
I started to imagine what a squid city might look like.
Would it be gloomy and maze-like, an under water Venice in the winter?
Would it be bubbly and effervescent, a Little Mermaid sing-song tale complete with crabs playing moroccas?
Would it be towering and translucent, a transparent version of Manhattan and its skyscrapers? (Would skyscrapers need a new name if they were built under water? Sea-scrapers? Would the underwater Manhattan be the coral jungle rather than the concrete?)
I imagined neighborhoods in a squid city:
The posh and pretentious Bush Club Squid, adorned in their finest tentacles, parading the streets of an under-sea Soho.
The rough and tumble Cuttlefish, their spear-heads ready for anything, in a blue version of Brooklyn.
The darling Jewel Squid out for a stroll in the deep waters of the Upper East Side.
The Colossal Squid making transactions on a wet Wall Street. The Hooked Squid shooting heroin in Harlem. The Inshore, the Calamari, the Grass Squid basking in groups of two and three on the Jersey Shore...
And if squid could already use tools, did that mean that they were on the road to as creative and destructive of a path as we humans? And if their brains were so big, and they each had EIGHT arms, would that mean they would move quickly past their cave-squid period and rapidly into an age of S-Pods and S-Macs that were faster and more reliable than our iPods and iMacs, and without the heavy exoskeletons?
Would squid like to get to know each other on Myspace? Poke each other on Facebook?
Or would those squid electrocute themselves with all those cords...that hair-dryer-in-the-sink, electricity-meets-water-and-you-die mumbo jumbo that our mothers always told us about?
Would they just not have the spine for all these complexities that we have come to relish?
I think I will call Rachel up today and ask her what she thinks of all of this. She will be in the kitchen in her underwear, pouring the vodka into her sauce, and she will laugh like a true youth when I ask about the squid. She will tell me that she has already done all the research there is to be done on squid, and did I know that they had the largest eyes in the animal kingdom? and that she still has the drawing of the squid on the refridgerator that she did in her math class when she already knew all the formulas and didn't have to pay attention, and that she misses me, come back to New York.
Plaid Review
So my cute friends Emily Jern-Miller and Junior Clemmons have just launched their amazing new poetry journal, PLAID REVIEW. It features some amazing poems by writing students at CCA, and others. (Make sure to look at Sarah Fontaine's work - she is one of my best friends in the world and her writing feels like rainbows.) Also, the site feature some of my art work! Hip hip, horray!
So check it out!
www.plaidreview.com
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
