Showing posts with label san francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label san francisco. Show all posts
July 27, 2017
HIATUS? NEVER.
OH MY.
took a look.
there's a room of animals.
there's a room with drawings all over the place.
it's scary.
oh yeah, another hole in the wall now looking greasy along the edges.
IT'S A MESSAGE.
did something disappear within like a sick animal or is this another calling crevasse?
more faxes came in. the pile is a pattern. too much damn profanity in it. it mentions some orange chump whose name rhymes with CHUMP.
it's abominable stuff, the work of this creature and its minions. Yuck.
there's also a love letter to trans people.
we aren't slowing down for shit.
it's just a bit of quiet civil war that we beloved artists are facing. will we give up? HAH.
fuck, i got a high-five last week for yelling at some pig in his patrol car. fucking pig sped up at me at a crosswalk on the stroll home. lousy stinking swine then goes all Biff Tanner with sly mocking "watch where you're going..." like some fascist scum out of a movie. The pig was dark-skinned; pig traits travel along all the pathways of the body to taint its souls. It's a nasty power trip that seemingly attracts weak characters and unpleasant bullies into its service here in the good 'ole USA. His eyes were brimming with menace, the frustrated eyes of a murderer with free time on his clenched fists.
I yelled back, "you're supposed to look out for us" and then called the pig "the proverbial" as I turned to leave. he stayed in his squad car, angry as a beaten back rapist.
FROM THE DESK OF SHALO P
honestly kids, fuck the pigs.
this won't make news. it won't set the world on fire, but an old Italian fellow followed me into the store I'd ducked into for cover and shook my hand with love and spirit.
he said "good work, they should be looking out for us, but that just isn't the case".
his smiling eyes were a pep.
keep love in your heart and don't let those pigs get to ya.
love,
The Management
transcribed by Dordery Marks and laid down here by a kind creature...
February 9, 2017
WHAT COMES BEFORE ZERO / SORTA A PORTAL
WHAT COMES BEFORE ZERO?
SORTA A PORTAL
A PRESENCE PRESENTED FROM PARLAY BETWEEN TWO SIBLINGS,
freely WILLING TO PARTAKE IN A fresh CINEMA ENDEAVOR FOR THE SAKE OF THE SAINTS (WITHOUT WHOM WE'D NOT BE OBLIGED TO INDULGE WOULDA WUZZA WUZZZIT)
THIS PARTICULAR MASTERPIECE IS BY JOHNNY ROGERS, PRODUCED BY SHALO P AS THE PRIMORDIAL SLASH BEFORE EVENTUALLY BEING ENVELOPED INTO THE ORGANISM CRAFTED IN STEELY SLICK VOID.
IT WAS PRODUCED BY SHALO P UNDER A CLEAN BET - OR A BARGAIN, STRUCK BACK IN THE COLD LAST DAYS OF "THE TORMENTORS" CYCLE WHEN HE PRODUCED AND PRESENTED "THE FIRST ROOM" TO YOUNG MASTER ROGERS, A VERITABLE MONUMENT TO WILDERNESS CONFINED IN THE SEAMS OF A DREAM, a bridge - the first.
THE TORMENTORS WAS A STEADY WAVE OF FRICTION BETWEEN ANOTHER PAIR OF CURSED CREATURES THAT CAME TO FRUITION WITH AN FASHIONABLE EXHIBITION AT MERIDIAN GALLERY, WITH CRITICAL ACCLAIM ON A LUSH SPOT ON FOGGY NOB HILL. THAT'S SAN FRANCISCO, YA KATS. YOU CAN HEAR ITS VOICE IN ITS SPIRIT.
"WHAT WAS POURED INTO THE FOUNDATION LAID AT STAKE OUR VERY SOULS. IT WAS A RITUAL OF BLOOD, SCARLET FOOTSTEPS FRESHLY PADDED ABOUT EVERYWHERE."
THE MEDIUM WAS THE MESSAGE AND THE MEDIUM WAS AWFULLY MANGLED INDEED, DAWG. THE "TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS" OF THEN, WAS A SPY'S VENTURE, A SPECTATOR'S COLLATION OF A GREAT STORM'S MONUMENTAL TRANSGRESSION INTO THE PRIME REAL ESTATE OF THE ZEITGEIST, A VERITABLE SINEWED COLLECTIVE PSYCHIC BORDERLAND THE HUMAN RACE INHABITED IN ITS WANTS, WILES, AND WILLS.
THOSE YEARS WERE WROTH WITH STRANGE METAPHYSIC BREAKTHROUGHS, LIKE FIGURING OUT ABOUT FOOD STAMPS AND ENDLESS COFFEE REFILLS AT GAS STATIONS, AND WHICH BAKERY THREW OUT STALE BREAD EARLY. GLADLY, ONENESS WAS ATTAINED WITH SOME RESOLUTE QUIET IN THEM "INNER WOODS" INSTEAD OF JUST BLOWING A COUPLE OF TRUCK DRIVERS FOR MONEY LIKE THAT GYM TEACHER ONCE ADVISED.
ANYHOO.
VOIDS OVERLAPPED LIKE SHEETS AND DRAPED SHADOWS ON LOVERS ENTWINED - VENGEANCE AND ITS WEAPONS WERE SEIZED BY THE DIVINE - SET TO DANCE OR PRANCE AS WE SOMERSAULT FORTH TO THE GATES OF TRUEST SOUTH.
THE FIRST STEP WAS VENGEANCE. MIX THAT WITH A KNACK FOR BINDING IMAGERY AS ONE IN A RIVER TUMBLING HUMANITIES SACRED SYMBOLS INTO A BLENDER - THE ZEITGEIST DISPOSSESSED, REPOSSESSED, AND UNTETHERED FROM ITS MOORINGS, TO LUMBER FORTH INTO VAST NEW TERRITORY.
THE ASSEMBLING / DISASSEMBLING IS A LIBERATION TO ITS CLATTER OF INTERPRETATIONS AS WE ALL DANCE TO A CLASH OF QUESTIONABLE INTELLECTUAL CREATION, MELDED HOT FROM MATERIAL IN THE MIND, SAND FROM THE DESERT OF THE UNREAL, CLAWING AT THE HUMAN SPIRIT, CHARRING THE INSIDES TO CINDERS AND SHIFTING THE STONE PUS CLUTTER FASHIONED TO FUNCTION AS A INHIBITER OF EXPANDING THE IRIS. WE WERE DOWN AGAIN FOR NEW PERCEPTIONS.
THIS HAD TO BE THE BEGINNING OF A DIFFERENT CINEMA, NOTHING LESS THAN CRIMNAL.
SHALO P REPORTEDLY STARTED THE DEAL UP TO SET A MENTALLY CONCEIVED "DEDICATED ROOM" - the prototype - TO BE EXTRAPOLATED UPON AND SHARED UNTO FUTURE TRAVELERS IN THE AS YET-TO-BE STORIES AWAITED A HORIZON UPON THE HORIZON AWAY. SHALO P ELABORATED WITH A ROOM FURNISHED WITH A BEVY OF MELTED CEREAL BOXES, DECREPIT AND DESECRATED WITH IMMOBILE FIERY SPIRES FLASHING OUT, AND CUNNINGLY CUT PAPER FLAMES SPILLING FROM ITS COLORFUL SHAFTS. THE PAINTED MOTIONS WERE CRAFTED IN PANCAKE-THICK DRIPPY COLORFULNESS, A PAINTER, A POURER, NONE POORER THAN THAT RICH BITCH. SOME OF THESE SCULPTURES SEEMED TO BURST, CAPTURED IN THEIR FROZEN CARTOON TIME, YET ROTTING LIKE ABANDONED PLANTS. THE ROOM WAS PEPPERED WITH BALLOON SCULPTURES TOO, ALL SWIPED FROM A SWEETHEART. THAT LIL' NOOK SHOOK WITH ZEALOUSY CRAFTED FROM CEREAL BOXES BLEEDING BRIGHT SMOLDERING COLORS ONTO THE FLOOR. THE GLITTERY GLAM GATES OF HELL HAD BUT A WORD OVER ITS GLISTENING SEAL - REJOICE.
THE MOUTH OF HELL OPENED WITH A HANDSHAKE. IT WOULD EVENTUALLY BE AN IMMERSIVE TALE WOVEN OUT OF WILD VOLATILE FABRICS - REPRESENTING A GENRE UNTO ITSELF - A DRASTIC TAKE ON FUN CELEBRATING SORROW IN THE SACRED FOOTSTEPS OF HAPPINESS.
OUR CINEMA VENTURED TO WRESTLE WITH ITS UNBALANCED NUMBERS / ONES AND ZEROS, LIGHT, INTEGRITY, A JOURNEY BETWEEN PIXELS, AND THE CAPTURING OF DECONSTRUCTION - WITH GLITCHES IN THEIR NATURAL HABITAT - CRAFTING A SHADOW LANDSCAPE REPRESENTING HUMANITY'S DYING FROZEN GRINNING FACE AU NATURALE WITHIN THE ONSLAUGHT OF THE INFORMATION AGE'S SELF-MADE BLISS. A GREAT UNFATHOMABLE STORM WAS CASUALLY RUMBLING FORTH ACROSS MENTAL PLANES WITH A BOOMBOX STASHED IN FRAPULOID FOLDS OF VOID OVERLAPPING SYNERGISTIC ECSTASY, SETTING THE STAGE FOR OUR SINGULAR SONG.
THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF VENGEANCE 2.0.
IT WAS VITAL TO CRACK OPEN THAT PROVERBIAL CASK OF AMONTILLADO AGAIN TO LURE ALL OUR FRIENDS ON DOWNWARD TO A QUAINT UNDERGROUND CELLAR SCREENING WHERE THE DISEMBODIED LIGHT BUSTS ALL THEM BRICKS WITH ITS DIVINITY-GIVEN CINEMA SPIDER LIMBS, A SORT OF CONSCIOUSNESS IMBUED TO PROVIDE HONEST DISCOURSE, AND AN IMMERSIVE COFFIN FOR THE PESKY EXPECTATIONS OF THE WORLD BEFORE.
THIS IS ONE OF THE FIRST TASTES OF TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS - A RESPONSE TO JOHNNY ROGERS, PRESSED INTO VHS BACK WHEN THIS OFFICE WAS SET IN THE WOODS, PLAYED ON THE WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE VOID TO CHIME IN OUR FIRST REAL DAYS WITH THE MYSTERY COMPANY - TELEVISION FOR GHOSTS, A NEARLY AGELESS ENTITY THAT ONLY EXISTED IN LEGEND AND TAPE.
FOR THE FIRST FEATURE "PRODUCED BY SHALO P" JUST MEANT THAT THE STORY WAS HATCHED UNDER DURESS FROM THE COUNT OF DEFCON FAB, WITH VENGEANCE PERSONIFIED WRITHING IN WRATH, AND A JOURNEY SOMEWHAT CUT SHORT PERHAPS,
MORE LIKELY ENVELOPED IN THE WARMTH OF THE VOID. THIS SECOND CAPITULATION WAS CARVED FROM THE DANK BLACK STUFF ITSELF.
SO SINK A TOE IN THIS BLACK RIVER TO STROLL ONWARD TO THIS SECOND INCARNATION WITH KIND RESERVE OR PERHAPS ANOINT SOME UNHOLY CHAPEL SINCE ITS A BIT OF A UH LOVE LETTER.
THE ALLUSION IS THE ILLUSION AS MUCH AS THE ROSE IS THE RUSE.
YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HEAD ALONE BY YOURSELF FROM THIS POINT.
WITH LOVE AND KIND REGARDS,
VENGEANCE.
Dordery Marks (with notes provided by Shalo P)
San Francisco CA
July 24, 2016
PETER GRAY HURLEY: GARDEN DRAWINGS
You might remember "good" PETE from DEATH TRIP.
Surprisingly - that handsome pat of butter didn't die.
Surprisingly - that handsome pat of butter didn't die.
Despite this, I still have great news.
ANYHOO
We're gonna get real mad and have revenge against ALL THE SQUARES by reintroducing them to rock n' roll and charming their pants off - and hopefully lovingly mating their pants off too. We might seriously settle down with these squares we met... have a family... quit the art biz...
These lips MUST kiss those cracked stretches to renew life to native Fantastica!
Yes yeah. Cool shit will flourish.
It's a one-night event, please write this down and take note.
You can even get a tattoo now and wash it off with soap.
You can even get a tattoo now and wash it off with soap.
love,
sp
PETER GRAY HURLEY: GARDEN DRAWINGS
Hayes Valley Art Works
Hayes Valley Art Works
456 Laguna Street
San Francisco, California 94102
June 10, 2016
THE BEDROOM SUITE / NEW DVD EDITION
We are happy to present Television for Ghosts : THE BEDROOM SUITE
in a brand new brusquefully lustful edition of this contemporary cinema classic.
NOW AVAILABLE for purchase at Catharine Clark Gallery in foggy ole' San Francisco!
THIS IS A LIMITED EDITION DEAL, REAL LOVE-YOU-SO-TENDER-CINEMA FOR THE SERIOUS CINEPHILE. PAY UP THE SCRATCH OR NO ONE GETS HURT. This blood is delicious dood!!! Don't scrimp on the good stuff. YA'LL DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MISSES OR MADAMS 'TIL YA LET THE FIRE LICK YA SOMETHING UNFATHOMABLE.
Actually, THE BEDROOM SUITE is quite a unique feat in ultra-alive cinema, each explosive chapter, full of tender surprises - each single edition - a fucking fuzzy peach and absolutely fucking perfect. It's lean mean "down-home goodness" from our home to yours.
in a brand new brusquefully lustful edition of this contemporary cinema classic.
NOW AVAILABLE for purchase at Catharine Clark Gallery in foggy ole' San Francisco!
THIS IS A LIMITED EDITION DEAL, REAL LOVE-YOU-SO-TENDER-CINEMA FOR THE SERIOUS CINEPHILE. PAY UP THE SCRATCH OR NO ONE GETS HURT. This blood is delicious dood!!! Don't scrimp on the good stuff. YA'LL DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MISSES OR MADAMS 'TIL YA LET THE FIRE LICK YA SOMETHING UNFATHOMABLE.
hep hep,
: )
SP
SOLO ORGAN / ATOM HEART AND BEYOND THE INFINITE
SOLO ORGAN
ATOM HEART MOTHER
AND BEYOND THE INFINITE
now available at these fine stores.
designed by WE, of THE TVG WORKSHOP.
FROM THE DESK OF-
Rasputin.
May 26, 2016
TODAY IN...
TODAY IN
OUR LITTLE WORLD
Open letter to Pals and Friends,
FROM: your gentle, and "formal" Shalo P; formally informal, NAHMEAN?
The expanding literary branch of Television For Ghosts is somewhat steadily gaining red fizzy steam.
At first, all we thought it would take was some firm encouragement and strong coffee with our collaborators to obtain the sort of intellectual synergy that could, hopefully, follow through into something worth stimulating the senses endlessly with smarty quandries, wry witticism, and moral ambiguities laid transparently, like a clever bridge between filantropic ogres with the audience as river, coming away filthy rich. But when the odds grew irreconcilably steep - not one would have guessed that all it takes is a swift swing from a menacing spiky wooden mace on a rusty bike-chain.
It revved up the menace and generally pepped up the room with its clangly chorus striking the walls while I rolled down the hallways doing the Fluorescent Shockwave, chipping the potted succulents with cloppy clash, and eventually landing on the back desk with a rock-all-night thud.
A metal part ricocheted off the old studio coffee maker near K's Corner (more of nook, really).
I left it lodged in the drywall by the stairs for good measure.
SO GO AHEAD AND ENJOY
a morsel of love from one of the more stranger departments of our Baroque Post-Internet Mystery League.
PLEEZ
Allow the vernacular of our sensual endeavors, peppered with added dimension, play clever cat and canary games in this cradle / coal mine of the inter-web.
(I hope you find some light on your search along the way, nonetheless.)
Straight-up Rhetorically unposed, but speculatively en amour'd with rewriting the book on intellectual inquiry:
What is a magazine?
What exactly is a dream?
What exactly is a joke?
"Bare it."
"Don't just look at it. Eat it."
(last two left on a lark, on its swing, near a branch.)
ANYHOO
we're overall enthralled in purposefully languishing in all fiery tongues the naked eye doth perversely recall, and from the nude mind do we find solace and embrace in caresses of clever and kind souls.
we're overall enthralled in purposefully languishing in all fiery tongues the naked eye doth perversely recall, and from the nude mind do we find solace and embrace in caresses of clever and kind souls.
love,
PLUS
A QUICK NOTE.
BB is off to make her best in life; on her own, and we congratulate her for the aspiration to skin the face off the world and wear it like a mask.
She's taking a break before she's back to break all our faces in a row with that ole' sledge hammer in her paws, sez SHE.
Her efforts in the "articles" below are at best, fabulously nebulous and meekly vague, like a Beethoven sonata played by fudge-dipped chihuahuas - a subtle melody gnawed on by wild rats with ruby rouge eyes.
Notwithstanding, The Youth was an utterly eternal blessing - until the animals started to shudder in her company with the eventual precipitating reports of neighbors panicking in her presence taking preference over her usual weekly duties, in essence.
After all, her resume described The Faun as "a young women emerging from the carnage of a beechcraft bonanza crash-landed in the crusty cornfields of calamities' caress". She'd state this aloud every so often as well, always coming out in a windy lustful drawl, moaning out like some ancient fuming Japanese Devil (although mostly unbeknownst to most That Kind Light doth shone def Onibaba, tenderly 'neath her snuff milky smoke murky ostrich egg off-white oyster-sized pink pill-box-hat exterior, and by that; when a young pillar of fire spoke: oh by G why N - it's BB's deep awesome truths)!
She left with arms outstretched - hands making double-dosed peace signs...
FROM THE DESK OF BB :
"My name is BB and I approved this message!"
Well, the message is love, and the candidate is sympathetic to harsh student loans.
Before cleaning out her desk we found a little note to DD in a tin with a confederate flag scratched off its top.
The note read:
"(illegible) ...didn't douse a dank doobage deed, smoking poorly burning pre-roll before the SFMOMA.
The wages of sin being cinders for any fellah making fly on the by and by, instead of eh'vry day like Nate Dogg, per se.
The professionals party all the time, sez never them that live nay-say."
AND THEN SHE WAS GONE.
We love her and wish her the best on whatever massacre she's planning. We are Charlie Hebdo, in some obscene sense, and that could really boost numbers with some prime-time publicity, as long as she just sorta wings the boss during her spree.
See you in the funny papers (ours, preferably).
P.S. HINT HINT - GAMES FOR MAY 2016 is gonna be a quiet one. It'll still be totally totally "madness flipped".
(if not the sort alluding to the fabulously dementia-null, then mayhaps fabster rebuttlin' quarrels of straight shootin' self-denial).
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