March of the Penguins

A Friday night of culture. Jazz Alley, some lady who sounds like Billie Holiday, don’t know her name. She was awesome though. KB is a big fan and she was excited to see her. On the way we walked through my old neighborhood and she squeezed my arm extra tight when we passed a group of crackheads who always sit in front of an empty storefront. At the club we were back in civilization with all the well-dressed jazz fans. This isn’t the jazz of the past with hip cats in suits and fedoras, smoking the marijuana cigarettes. Rather, it looked like mostly older folks with good jobs. Microsoft/Boeing types. Not stylish but not sloppy and cheap. The show was good and I had decided to knock a couple back. I don’t drink much these days but I felt like it was a martini night, Sinatra-style. Why martinis cost $9.50 I have no idea but I like a glass of vodka or gin with nothing else in it, not even Vermouth. Its the most booze one can order in one glass so that’s my drink. Service was horrible and my first round had olives in it which I distinctly asked not to have because they just take up room reserved for booze. He got the second round right and I sipped the icy vodka and watched the drunk girl at a nearby table being a pest to everyone around her. Then the lady at the table next to ours gets up and trips for some reason, drunk or high heeled, and grabs our table sending over half of that delicious glass of vodka all over the table and on my lap. Then she grabs her shoe that fell off and ran away embarrassed. Never came back. Her date asked if our drinks spilled on us, and KB said they did, but he failed to order another round. So after the show I was unable to stumble and trip like all the ladies around us because I was still sober, in spite of a nice bar bill. 

Am I complaining too much? I’m not finished yet. Let Mr. Sunshine creep to the mic… like a phantom. (That’s from a song for those of you who missed the 90s). That lady never came back so I comforted myself with the thought of her being taken away in a meat wagon with a sprained ankle. Walking home on First Ave. we got caught up with all the club kids. Usually they’re all dressed up with the fellas fresh from the barber shop and the ladies fly from the beauty salon but tonight they were all hammered and using the sailor talk and spitting on the sidewalk. In front of us were a pack of gangbangers with the baggy pants. Because the crotch of the pants were at the knees they were all walking like penguins. These tough guys got all dolled up in their dope dungarees and Starter caps, and rolled out on First Ave. ready to impress. What they didn’t know, and I assume still don’t know, is that when they walk using only the bottom half of their legs they have to waddle. When they’re in a group and they’re all waddling they look like those penguins in that movie. Stupid. 

So there it is. Old man Badders, Mr. Sunshine, has purged his venom for tonight. I wish we fellas still dressed like Dean Martin and when our drunk dates get up from the table we offer them an arm to lean on. Out on the street we show good manners and walk with a dignified gait. Simple.

Awesome artist

I like this artist. Her name is Margaret Kilgallen. She would have been my age but she died in 2001. Breast cancer. She was a fan of  hand painted signs she’d see around the Mission district in San Fran. You can check her out on youtube or art21. I like what she has to say about seeing the human hand in her work. Computers and a lot of painting styles try to cover up our artistic shortcomings but she embraced them. I like that.

Retired paintings

Here are some old paintings that I had to take off the stretchers because they were too big to be moving around. Apparently you can’t just roll up a huge painting because the paint cracks apart and falls off. Now the world will have to live without these garage door-sized, (sort of) self portraits.

I have no idea what I’m doing but nobody knows I’m doing it

So now I’m a blogger. What a rare and special thing this is. Finally you’ll be able to see and hear about things another person thinks are cool. Let’s start with some bad photos of new paintings I’m working on. I’m not a fan of paintings that need to be explained but maybe you want to know why I’m painting things that wouldn’t look good above your couch. These are paintings of things that are red, white, and blue, and include iconic, recognizable images. I’m already using too many syllables so I’ll just upload the paintings now. Basically I’m interested in the colors and white spaces that people use to get our attention – people like advertisers and makers of logos and flags. Maybe if I figure out the perfect formula I can manipulate the minds of the masses and convince them I’m the next big thing. I suggest you buy now. Just Do It.