I FEEL Compelled TO WRITE TO YOU,

Blog to you, whatever the case may be, to hopefully bring to your attention, that a certain fraud has been enacted upon me, against me, or you, us, whomever. Like a lost scene from Orson Wells seventies film essay ‘F is for Fake’, I feel I’ve been drawn into an elaborate deceit by a man I assumed to be a good friend.
Allow me explain. In 1977 or early 78, I don’t recall exactly, Jan Galligan (the appointed so called leader of Workspace) and I headed to Manhattan, (setting out from Albany) in his yellow (was it a Ram) van on one of our, by then, regular weekend art junkets. On this occasion, according to verifiable sources for I don’t actually recall this myself, we dragged along friend/musician/composer Jim Sande (sorry Jim) and planned to sleep on the floor, as was the usual, of the writer/photographer Robert Sietsma’s east 14th St. tenement apartment (between C and D near the old ConEd power station and just a few doors from the best bialy shop west of Bialystok).

Vérités et Mensonges

But forgive me, for I digress. A symptom most likely of my distress over this whole matter. You see I do take these things seriously. Now as I recall, or don’t recall really, perhaps you could check w/Jim Sande about this (sorry Jim), we managed to miss our rendevous w/the afore mentioned Mr. Sietsma and somehow ended up seated in the front row of a midtown rep house matinee screening of the afore mentioned ‘F is for Fake’. Wells tribute to the MONDO film genre complete w/a Euro-mod score by Michel Legrand and the grainy appearance of the newly popular snuff films that wallpapered the cheaper 42nd St. marquees that year, shed the spotlight on a number of scandals regarding art forgery and involving the exploits of Elmyr de Hory, Clifford Irving, and Picasso.

www.ufo.se/ufofiles/english/issue_3/penth.htm

Yes, I ramble anew, for we were drunk as skunks via the fifth of Korbel I carried in my overcoat and screaming commentary along w/Orson’s jump cut dialog. (Jim, Did you leave the theater? Did we finally get 86'd by the ushers? Were you even there?) Wells himself, always the master charlatan, directs his beautifully exotic lover/accomplice Oja Kodar throughout multiple scenes, naked or otherwise, in a manor more indicative of Bob Guccione (soft porn publisher and master charlatan in his own right). At this point, I’m sure you’re wondering how w/brandied brain and mid-life memories blackouts, I might recall any of this. Silly I know, but, truth is, the wonders of technology brought this film and all its glory and neatly annotated w/the baggage of Galligan and I (and maybe Sande) sealed between bytes into my home just last night. But how could I have failed, at the time, to see that this esoteric bit of Wells chicanery had become Galligan’s operating manual for the spaceship J.A.N.. Sure, I knew of the Kenosha connection but thought no more of it than his connection to Al Molinaro. All that business about magic should have tipped me off. Has Galligan become my (our) Clifford Irving?

Another Blog on the Fire

The point is that everything you see or read here is a fabrication, NO, a LIE. Anything attributed to me is false J.C. SEZ does not exist. I’ve never owned a blackberry nor have I ever taken out advertising in the New York Times. Yes I was once involved w/an organization called Workspace but all other claims or representations are an extreme misrepresentation, which I hope you will take as a warning that everything you read or see coming from this man, his current gallery exhibit, his blogs, advertisements, websites, the sum total of his life’s work is a fraud. Don’t say I didn’t give you a head’s up. Venture further at your own risk..
Sincerely
JC Garrett
Ps. What you’ve read just now may have already been subject to his dark manipulations.

Subject: fad small talk

From: Margie Mayer hhg@tland.lv
To: YOU
Subject: fad small talk
Date: Fri, 20 Oct 2006 11:17:32 +0200
Attachments: reasonableness.gif,Size: 13460 bytes.
==================

JC GARRETT SEZ:
Beware of emails like the one above.
That "reasonableness.gif" is NOT reasonable. It's a
time bomb, ready to unleash its payload on your computer
when you try to open and view it.

Anyhow, WELCOME to the latest edition of WORKSPACEdOUT
your blog for art, culture, music, photos, video,
and other forms of web-mediated multi-media.

In this issue you will find: RICHARD EDSON writing about
his early days in NYC with the fledgling rock band SONIC YOUTH.
BOB BUCKEYE and the concluding chapter of his saga "At Columbia..."
STEVE FISHER, reporting from Prague, via his Blackberry, PETER
SAUL's latest painting, reflections on MARCEL DUCHAMP, PdIDDY,
THE PartyProHost - reporting on nightlife in Albany, NY, the
new Austin of the East. And MUCH MUCH more.

Come early, and come often - we're always open!!
If you've come to us by way of our New York Times ads, welcome,.
If you're here by way of hype-diss.com - "Danke!" If you're
here because of Gallery Driver - the Art Blog Aggregator,
GREAT, nice to have you stopping by. All roads lead to
WORKSPACEdOUT, so tell your friends and drop us a comment.

Yours in art,

JC Garrett
Rodeo, CA

The BUCK stops WHERE? Part.04

The concluding chapter of a recent story by Bob Buckeye of Middlebury, VT.


Buckeye links:
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3544/is_200203/ai_n8361544
http://lakewoodobserver.com/home.php?which=columns&col=14



At Columbia, a sea of expectant faces, the country of the young.
by Robert Buckeye


It was not in a bar. The bar was later. Sarah was 22, just graduated from college, waiting for law school to begin in the fall. It was a coffee shop. Excuse me, Dylan said. Can I borrow your salt and pepper? There's none at my table. Two days later he said, it's not the salt and pepper. It's you. May I sit down? You're Sarah, right?

That summer everything seemed a risk. She would hold a new dress up in front of her in the mirror, and ask, is that me? Is that how I want to look? She would not be thinking of anything when she heard a line from a song and thought it had to do with her. She would meet someone new and worry about getting involved. There was law school in the fall, her future to think of, life to plan. She held back. In college she chained herself to her future, and before then had been the daughter her parents wanted.

As it turned out, nothing stood in her way that summer. You had salt and pepper on your table she said to Dylan the first time they went out. You did not want me to think you were arrogant. No, he answered. I did not want you to think I took you for granted. No, she told him. You gave yourself an excuse, if you needed one. He laughed.

When the waitress asked if they wanted another beer at the bar they had gone to, he saw her hesitate and said, you know, I'm tired of two-drink girls. I saw too many of them in college. They were afraid to live. Do you think they would stay up and talk all night? Drive to the ocean to see the sun rise over water?

The next time she saw Dylan he took her out in his black TR-3 on a deserted country road east of Providence. It was a clear, moonlit night, and the countryside was pale silver, like no other silver she had seen.

At 70 miles per hour, the wind blew through her hair.
At 80 miles per hour, he put his hand against hers on her thigh.
At 90, she smiled, pleased.
She brushed hair off her forehead, ran a finger down his cheek when they reached 100.
At 110 miles per hour, she did not care what lay ahead.

The first time Dylan put his hand against my cheek I knew how it would feel, as if he had touched me before. I can't explain it. I already knew the hard, calloused bump on the skin of his forefinger from a shard of glass that had not been removed after a childhood accident. I rubbed my cheek against his finger.


Last week in the supermarket she ran into Nancy Kolb who asked about Dylan. Faculty liked him. She would not be surprised if the college gave him an administrative assignment. God help me, Sarah answered. He's not cut out for administration. Not like your husband. Dylan would tie himself in knots. Bill takes to administration like a duck to water.

For a moment, Nancy tested a melon to see how ripe it was. Her forehead was creased, drawn, and the pallor of her skin was pale, almost white. Bill's not the man I married, she said, without looking at Sarah. Sarah did not know what to say and after a moment said, good to see you, got to get this on the table tonight, and wheeled her cart to the frozen foods. Will she say that? she asked putting groceries in the trunk of the car. Or had she already?


They did have that third beer. They did talk all night. They did drive to the ocean. The sun was pale orange in a lavender sky streaked with black slashes. Waves broke softly over her bare feet. She found shells, a starfish. It was a beginning. The man she had been waiting for had come in the door. She had broken out for him. They had settled down. Law school reined her in. Phd work anchored Dylan. They did what they were supposed to do.

[END]

Serving Time with Sonic Youth : Part 001

Serving Time with Sonic Youth
by Richard Edson

There were fresh faces everywhere, alive, young and full of ideas and dreams. We wanted to fuck it up, do something new, do something old in a brand new way, and at decibels that scorched your eardrums. We were coming out of punk, new wave, but smarter...

Every night we were doing our musical thing with so much energy, so much liveliness, and so much intelligence. There was music everywhere, in the clubs, the spaces; it was all over the city. It wouldn't stop, it couldn't stop. It was an explosion of music and culture. If you were up for it you let yourself feel the heat and the blast and let the pieces fall where they may.

There was a performance space -- A's --because Arlene Schloss ran it. It was a big loft on Broom Street (where Arlene actually lived). She'd have shows there and all-night parties with bands and one-offs and comedians and word-poets and performance artists and whoever else was around who wanted to be part of the mix and part of the show. It was free and open and the quality of the acts varied, to say the least. There was a courtyard out back to hang out, smoke cigarettes and herb, and mix and match.

It was at A's that I saw a band called The Coachmen. What distinguished them to me was that they had the tallest front line of any band I ever saw. Thurston Moore was one of their two guitar players, and he's tall but he was the shortest dude in the band. Phoebe Legere also played at A's with her band. She was this gorgeous, waspy, upper- class blonde who'd dress up in outlandish outfits and flash her snatch at the audience. I guess it was avant-garde, but it was always good for a laugh and a look-see.


I lived upstairs from A's in one of the other lofts with a crazy French cat named Charlie Dubriel. Arlene heard me messing around on a bass with a drum machine, and she convinced me to put together a band called THE BUMBLEBEES. Even though I considered myself a drummer, I was freshly arrived in NYC and I was without a drum set. I had appropriated my brother's thrift store bass guitar from Boston, and had bought a Roland Dr. Rhythm drum machine. I was working out songs and grooves based upon beats and bass lines and, hearing them, Arlene insisted that we could use those for a band that she was going to call THE BUMBLEBEES. Arlene had marginal musical talent and I was looking for real musicians to play with, but she had a crazy way with words and was friendly and persistent. I finally gave in as I wasn’t doing anything else musically at the time, but I insisted I'd be in charge of the tempos, the keys, the changes, everything. She surprised me by agreeing.


She knew a few people who were game to be in our band. There was Florian the Austrian who kind of played guitar and he at least could follow what I was doing. Then there was Robert, a super nice guy, who'd noodle around on another guitar. He's now living in Los Angeles doing publicity for obscure, independent films. I suppose he was living out the fantasy of being in a band. I was on bass and rhythm machine. Finally, there was Arlene on the microphone doing her crazy thing with words and vocal sounds. We worked up a mini-set of six or seven songs and then we played (conveniently enough) at one of the party nights at A’s.


We did a song based on the William Blake poem: Tiger Tiger Burning Bright, In The Forests Of The Night. While we played these two chicks came out and removed all their clothes and painted themselves with black and yellow stripes to make them look, I suppose, like tigers. I thought it was corny but they were cute and I didn't mind watching them take off their clothes. One was a Chinese/Jewish girl who was Florian the Austrian's girlfriend. Her name was Judith Wong and she was a dancer who would later become my girlfriend after she broke up with Florian. She lived in a tenement on the Lower East Side. Her bed was in a little nook next to a window looking out into the courtyard. One hot, sticky, New York summer night we were drifting off to sleep and I heard someone on the window ledge. I looked up and saw an intruder climbing through the window. I got up to stop him and we started wrestling and fighting. The next thing I knew Judith was slapping me in the face and yelling, "What's the matter? What's the matter?" I realized it was all a nightmare. Once I calmed down I knew Judith and I would never last and it was true, we didn't. I wonder what ever happened to her.


The other girl who took off her clothes and painted herself like a tiger was a performance artist. She was a good friend of Arlene's and, after hearing us do the Tiger Tiger song, she had the inspiration to do the stripping and painting thing. I don't remember her name, but she was a sweet, cute and upbeat girl, and she walked with a limp. She had a progressive disease that made one of her legs shorter than the other and, strangely enough, it was going to keep getting shorter and shorter. We never talked about it but I couldn't help wondering about her shortening leg. Would it keep getting shorter until it just withered away? I never found out.


The high point of The Bumblebees came when we did a public access cable TV show (this was in 1981). It was our third and final gig. The studio was small, drafty and cold. There were one or two cheap little video cameras, and a hairy pot-smoking, beer-drinking pretentious host. The whole thing seemed sordid and depressing, and I felt sorry for the girls for having to take off their clothes in such a cold and drafty place. They didn't seem to mind, though. But that was it for me. I just didn't see much future for the Bumblebees.


At the time I wanted to play things experimental and heavy and funky and grooving and jazzy and improvisational and tight. I was looking for like-minded people to bring these things together. This was when James White and the Blacks, the Lounge Lizards with John Lurie, Material with Bill Laswell were doing their funky, jazzy, beat-driven, semi-improvised thing in Lower Manhattan, so I knew there were people interested in this kind of thing, I just didn't know who they were and where I was going to meet them. The first order of business was to get a drum kit, and a place to play it. I found a nice, vintage set and bought it. Fortuitously, I ran into a bass player named Perkins Barnes (who would later become the first bass player in my other band, Konk). He had a rehearsal studio in the basement of a tenement on Second Avenue between Fourth and Fifth Streets. It was damp and moldy with a tiny frosted window that you couldn't see out of. It was next to a big, black, hulking boiler and we paid fifty dollars apiece for its use. I put my drums in there and practiced my butt off. It was a tiny dungeon of a place, but it was warm and righteous.

[to be continued]

"The wig afford she is mine," I replied,

John Perrault: Can I dare to urge you to be even more personal?

Marcel Duchamp: I hate being personal, but since I have long admired your avuncular, haphazard approach to art criticism, I will do my best.

JP: This is a dangerous question. Why did you marry Lydie Sarazin-Levassor? I have been reading about that in Calvin Tomkins' biography of you. I can understand your relationship with Mary Reynolds, and then your marriage to Teenie, but Lydia, whom you married in 1927, seemed totally unsuitable. She was overweight, uninterested in art, and not even very rich.

MD: Although it would have been very pleasant if she had been as rich as I first thought, I married her because she was indifferent to art. I now claim the marriage as an art work, a Happening, a Performance, very much ahead of its time. After all my masterpiece is called The Bride Stripped Bare by Bachelors, Even. Marriage extended that theme - only in reverse.

JP: My next personal question is about money. We know you kept your expenses to a minimum. But isn't it true that you became a private art dealer?

MD: There were all these Brancusi sculptures floating around and this and that. One has to make a living.

JP: Is there Dada now?

MD: The Dada we tried to create has not yet come into existence, probably cannot come into existence.

JP: Have you seen any new art that you like?

MD: I don't get around much any more.

JP: May I recommend an exhibition?

MD: Certainly. I am always interested in what other artists are doing

©1996 John Perreault All Rights Reversed

[drawing: by Man Ray, Mort des heures [Death of Hours], 1936]


Subject: One of two Peter Saul exhibitions now
Date: Sun, 15 Oct 2006 21:07:10 -0400

PETER SAUL
Nolan/Eckman Gallery
560 Broadway, at Prince Street
SoHo
Through Oct. 26

Saul moved to Paris in the mid-1950's. For a while he lived in a
hotel ''with an extremely angry woman,'' as he puts it, and supported
himself on $20 bills his mother periodically mailed to him. He painted. By
the early 60's, he was painting the pictures here. Alan Frumkin, the
dealer, saw a few of them, offered Mr. Saul a show, and things started to
turn around for him, not that everybody grasped what he was up to.

Mr. Saul remembers the weird reaction to his work back then. People were so caught up with the idea that painting had to be abstract that they couldn't see what was in the paintings. ''They told me, 'Peter, it doesn't matter whether it's Batman or a tree or a circle.' '' he said. All that mattered was how he pushed the paint around.

Michael Kimmelman @ NYTimes 10-13-06

Peter Saul "Business Woman" 1990

Generated Favorites Manage Profile Newsletter Newsgroups

kenosha54 (7:46:33 PM): did any curators give yourself a haandjob this weekend
xxxspace (7:46:38 PM): lol no !!
xxxspace (7:46:40 PM): im not repped right now
xxxspace (7:46:57 PM): my last dealer and i broke up a few weeks agi
kenosha54 (7:47:11 PM): are you
kenosha54 (7:47:11 PM): good so your getting horny
xxxspace (7:47:29 PM): lol...a bit
kenosha54 (7:48:00 PM): did you spank it this weekend
xxxspace (7:48:04 PM): no
xxxspace (7:48:16 PM): too tired and too busy
kenosha54 (7:48:33 PM): wow...
kenosha54 (7:48:34 PM): i'm never to busy haha
xxxspace (7:48:51 PM): haha
kenosha54 (7:50:02 PM): or tired..helps me sleep
xxxspace (7:50:15 PM): thats true
Xxxxspace (7:50:36 PM): havent been having a problem with sleep though.. i just walk in the door and collapse on my studio floor well at least this weekend
kenosha54 (7:50:56 PM): i'm sure
xxxspace (7:50:57 PM): i dont do it very often normally
kenosha54 (7:51:11 PM): why not
kenosha54 (7:51:22 PM): at your age seems like daily
xxxspace (7:51:57 PM): not me
xxxspace (7:52:01 PM): im not a horndog
xxxspace (7:52:07 PM): maybe 2 - 3 times a week
kenosha54 (7:52:20 PM): thats a good number
kenosha54 (7:52:27 PM): in the studio
xxxspace (7:52:36 PM): actually usually i dont do it in the studio
xxxspace (7:52:42 PM): cause i blog in the morning
xxxspace (7:52:47 PM): quickly
kenosha54 (7:52:50 PM): in bed
xxxspace (7:52:59 PM): i get up at 530 and out by 610
xxxspace (7:53:03 PM): eh ya
kenosha54 (7:53:24 PM): on your back
xxxspace (7:53:30 PM): no face down
kenosha54 (7:53:32 PM): love details
xxxspace (7:53:34 PM): lol
xxxspace (7:53:36 PM): i see that
xxxspace (7:53:37 PM): lol
kenosha54 (7:53:39 PM): really
kenosha54 (7:53:54 PM): you really do it face down
xxxspace (7:54:03 PM): ya
kenosha54 (7:54:13 PM): kneeling
xxxspace (7:54:31 PM): dont use my hand...i use the pc itself
kenosha54 (7:54:31 PM): where do you upload it
xxxspace (7:54:36 PM): blog
kenosha54 (7:54:43 PM): really
kenosha54 (7:55:02 PM): completely naked?
xxxspace (7:55:12 PM): well ya
kenosha54 (7:55:21 PM): very nice
xxxspace (7:55:24 PM): lol
kenosha54 (7:55:51 PM): cute butt bouncing in the air
xxxspace (7:56:00 PM): haha
xxxspace (7:56:05 PM): well ive never watched myslef
xxxspace (7:56:08 PM): but ya i guess
kenosha54 (7:56:18 PM): i am sure not
kenosha54 (7:56:22 PM): hmmm
kenosha54 (7:56:30 PM): great visual
kenosha54 (7:56:39 PM): i may try that
xxxspace (7:56:43 PM): it works
kenosha54 (7:56:51 PM): hmm
kenosha54 (7:56:57 PM): sound inetersting
kenosha54 (7:59:48 PM): is your little guy limp...or growing
xxxspace (7:59:54 PM): eh growing
kenosha54 (8:00:00 PM): hmm
kenosha54 (8:00:12 PM): so you got a stiff one now
xxxspace (8:00:19 PM): not that fast
xxxspace (8:00:20 PM): hey !!!

The BUCK stops WHERE? Part.03

A recent story by Bob Buckeye of Middlebury, VT.


Buckeye links:
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3544/is_200203/ai_n8361544
http://lakewoodobserver.com/home.php?which=columns&col=14

At Columbia, a sea of expectant faces, the country of the young.
Part 3
by Robert Buckeye

***
--I'm going for a run.

These days he had to. Dylan could no more explain it to himself, let alone someone else. He put his hands against the side of the house and stretched out hamstrings and calves. His left calf was tight. Sometimes when he lay on the couch to read the Times after dinner it cramped. If anyone asked

Let it go, Sarah said. We can't do anything unless it follows some routine you've come up with, why, no one understands, let alone you, but we have to follow it anyway. Don't ask, you say. Can't we do anything but take the back road to town? The highway takes you there, and it's quicker.

He bent over, touched his toes and held the stretch for a count of ten. Every morning the paper had something disturbing to report. Every night the television brought it up to date. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Every generation must think that. He twisted his torso to the right, then back to the left, stretching the muscles of his chest. When his grandfather first arrived in New York he thought there would be gold on the streets

You get what you deserve, but no one said it was payback. These last few weeks his chest was always tight. He was drinking too much coffee. He rotated his neck in a circle, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. His mother never could handle stress. She worried everything to death, never let it go, even when it was gone, and, later in life, had to take nitroglycerin for angina.

He never asked Gayle why Jake left, and she never said anything. She had a photograph of him on the end table next to her bed, and one day it was no longer there. The man in the photograph was a stranger. This summer Dylan was obsessed by why he left, but it did not seem to have to do with Jake.

You think I enjoy this? he wanted to yell to the three lean, fit cyclists in brightly-colored jerseys who went by. He clasped his hands above his head and stretched them, lengthening the muscles of the back and shoulders. He loves Sarah. She's attractive. A good woman. Why does he feel apologetic when he runs a hand down her back?

He remembers the blonde teller at the bank yesterday who had a turned-up nose, pale blue eyes, a sweet smile. She was young, so young. The muscles of his quadriceps stretched, taut. It felt good. He was in better shape than he thought.

The BUCK stops WHERE? Part.02

A recent story by Bob Buckeye of Middlebury, VT.

Buckeye links:

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3544/is_200203/ai_n8361544

http://lakewoodobserver.com/home.php?which=columns&col=14





At Columbia, a sea of expectant faces, the country of the young.
Part .02
by Robert Buckeye


--Gayle, right? he asked. I remember you. You were always with Jake. I can't believe it. I remember how he looked at me, Kim, as if he had seen my photo in a magazine, and, there I was, in front of him.

He had a pot-belly, his hair was combed forward to cover a receding hairline. His face was blotched and his eyes sunken in his head. He wore what looked like a J. C. Penney's white shirt, creased khakis, a paisley tie. I put those guys down in the Sixties. Gayle laughed.

--I'm not the woman I was then either. I was just a girl. It was the Sixties. I remember my mother say late in her life I don't look in mirrors anymore. I know if I do, she would add, I won't like what I see.


No one saw her face the day Jake left. You can't go with me, he said. I'll drag you down, and I don't want to do that. You can't make that decision for me, Jake. Only I can. For a moment he touched her cheek. I know, he said. I can't, but I am. She watched him as he went down Houston to the subway in that slouched walk of his until she could no longer see him.

I never thought it was over, and even after I could no longer see him, I could not believe it was.


--Jake had a broad Jewish nose, Kim, chestnut brown eyes, long, dark charcoal hair. I saw him in a bar. There was something about how he sat and talked to the bartender. You could tell he liked people and people liked him. He was not like other men I had met. I told the waitress to get him another of what he was drinking and when he turned towards me

For a moment she looked over Kim's shoulder. Down the street the old man who always wore a plaid jacket and walked stiffly like a penguin picked through a garbage can for returnable bottles. I can't explain it, she continued. No man looked at me that way before. Her laugh was thin, resigned. I know. Everyone says that.


Except the one she cannot talk about. The one her father's brother. The one an agent in Hollywood. The Sunday he stopped for a visit while he was in town he must have answered questions about the movie business, laughed about what they thought about it, listened to what her parents said about their lives.

How deep-set his eyes were in his head. How he looked at me.

When he pulled back the sheets of the bed in the motel the next day, she could not say anything. It was already too late. The first time I saw you, he said. I've seen movie stars. Beautiful women. I don't know what it is. We shouldn't be doing this, she told him. I know, he said.

I did not care. I wanted it.

He hesitated, awkward, and she went up to him and put her hand against his cheek. She cried afterward. She was fourteen.

The face I see in the mirror now is the one I saw that day, the eyes larger now, brooding, lips a tight band, a frown lining my forehead.

Busy on FaceSpace : Praxis - 004

Reply To: praxis
To: galligan
Subject: Re: MISS YOU Date:
Wed, 11 Oct 2006 16:55:45 +0000
[filed by Blackberry, from Prague]

Jan,
Sorry to have been oso ut of touch, especially during your introspective. Am riding a trolley as I write, headed back to my office after an audition downtown for the role of a hospital manager in a low-budget slashes film called Psych9 which will be shot here soon.

That's the only kind of western film being made here there days. The last one was Hostel. The next one after this? Surprise! Hostel 2. I wasn't in the first one, so perhaps I can be eviscerated in the second.

Hope your show is going well.
It seems great from what I'm reading.

Cheers
Jim the Hospital Manager in Hell

===========
from IMDB.com
Plot Summary for Hostel (2005) 3 backpackers are in Amsterdam where they get locked out of their youth hostel. They are invited into a man's house where he tells them of a hostel somewhere in eastern Europe where the women are all incredibly hot and have a taste for American men. When they get there, everything is too good to be true - the hostel is "to die for"
Summary written by CROESKE

Paxton, Josh and Oli are backpacking across Europe when they are told about a hostel in Slovakia. Once they hear that this hostel is infested with beautiful European woman who only want tourists, they quickly get on a train to the wonderful promise land. As soon as they get there, they start having the time of their lives. Soon after they arrive, they slowly start to realize that this hostel is hiding a terrible and dark secret.
Summary written by jaydasnay88

Two American backpackers and a friend from Iceland embark on a crazy adventure touring Europe. They start in Amsterdam, and are lured to a hostel somewhere in Bratislava (Slovakia) where they're told they will find beautiful women. The 3 friends didn't know what they were in for........
Summary written by Next Level

While backpacking through Europe, college students Paxton (Jay Hernandez) and Josh (Derek Richardson) seek the ultimate vacation through sex, drugs and unforgettable experiences. When a friendly stranger informs the two of a hostel in Bratislava that offers the most beautiful and promiscuous women in all of Europe, Paxton and Derek trek with their new Icelandic friend Oli (Eythor Gudjonsson) to find the hostel that sounds too good to be true. When arriving to Bratislava, the trio found that the hostel was everything and more of what they expected. The events that follow are sure to deliver the unforgettable vacation that the two were looking for. Mystery, suspense and fear direct this film to its bloody ending.
Summary written by Brian@FilmSchoolRejects.com

Cast Jay Hernandez .... Paxton Derek Richardson .... Josh Eythor Gudjonsson .... Oli Barbara Nedeljakova .... Natalya Jan Vlasák .... The Dutch Businessman Jana Kaderabkova .... Svetlana Jennifer Lim .... Kana Keiko Seiko .... Yuki Lubomir Bukovy .... Alex Jana Havlickova .... Vala Rick Hoffman .... The American Client Petr Janis .... The German Surgeon Takashi Miike .... Miike Takashi Patrik Zigo .... Bubble Gum Gang Leader Milda Jedi Havlas .... Desk Clerk Jedi Zina Blahusova .... Girl Katerina Cervenkova .... Girl Veronika Petrova .... Girl Kristina Kosunova .... Girl Karel Hrosek .... Girl Mugi Lhagvadorj .... Girl Jana Semradova .... Girl Hana Dibelkova .... Girl Alena Chrastinova .... Girl Klara Smetanova .... Girl Petra Slavikova .... Girl Katrina Henesova .... Girl Hana Vitvarova .... Girl Mark Bakunas .... Rock God Eli Roth .... American Stoner (uncredited)
Directed by Eli Roth Writing credits (WGA) Eli Roth (written by)

WORKSPACEdOUT&ABOUT - 003

DEMATERIALIZE NOW!

leached from the archive: http://www.dematerialized.com/noartrecentrantspage.html

The BUCK stops WHERE? Part.01

A recent story by Bob Buckeye of Middlebury, VT.

Buckeye links:

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb3544/is_200203/ai_n8361544

http://lakewoodobserver.com/home.php?which=columns&col=14



At Columbia, a sea of expectant faces, the country of the young.
by Robert Buckeye

This hour contained all our hours. Boston in 1775, the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, John Brown at Martin’s Ferry, Haymarket, Lawrence 1912, Debs running for President from prison, the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, Birmingham, the Port Huron Statement, the marches on Washington, always the marches on Washington, still the marches on Washington.

We put an ear to the tracks. We saw the future.

The train came around the bend and there was no mistaking the engineer.
At every crossing, its whistle warned everyone to stand back. It was coming through.
It has not ceased to come through.

If you move your hand, their eyes follow. If you sit at their table, you break their bread.
If you say something
Those spit out, broken down, given up, come back inside.

Jake, Gayle said, I need you. I need to escape my past. When my uncle ran his hand slowly down my back. Slow. He was so slow. I wanted him to hurry. I wanted it so bad. I was fourteen. I see him pull back the sheets. Feel his lips against mine. His hand separates my legs. You need to help me, Jake. I can’t live frozen in that moment.
I left.
Put it down.
Fact.
If you stare at your hand long enough, it will stare back.

***.

PDiddyPost 1.010

Dear Jan:

Was out on the town last night, down at Red Square where the place was mobbed, as usual. Saw this new band from Burlington called CHUCH. Reminded me alot of my old buddy Chuck Brown from DC, mixed with Chuck Berry.

Here's a sampling....

Chuck Berry in Dire Straits
"No Money Down for Nothin'"

As I was motivatin' back in town
Saw a Cadillac sign sayin':"Money for Nothin' and Chicks for FREE!"
So I eased on my brakes and I pulled in the drive
Gunned my motor twice then I walked inside
Dealer came to me said, "Money for nothin' and chicks for free..."
Just tell me what you want and then sign that line
I'll have it brought down to you in a hour's time.

"Money for Nothin' and Chicks for FREE?!"

I'm gonna get me a car and I'll be headed on down the road
Then I won't have to worry about this broken - down, ragged Ford
"Well Mister, See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup?"
"Yeah buddy"
That's his own hair That little faggot got his own jet airplane!"
I want a full Murphy bed in my back seat
I want short - wave radio, I want TV and a phone
I shoulda learned to play the guitar
I shoulda learned to play them drums
Yeah I'm gonna get that car
And I'm gonna head on down the road
Man we could have some fun
And he's up there, what's that? Hawaiian noises?

Yeah, then I won't have to worry
About that broken - down, ragged Ford
Bangin' on bongos like a chimpanzee
That ain't workin'! That's the way you do it!

I want railroad air horns and a military spot
And I want a five - year g'rantee on everything I got
We gotta install microwave ovens, custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators.
We gotta move these colour TV's, Lord

I want ten - dollar deductible
I want twenty dollar notes
I want thirty thousand liability
That's all she wrote


=======
Posted by Blackberry 2:35AM 10-09-06
PDiddy the PartyProHost

Red Planet in Human Drives Hardcore sex says Shortbus

Hollywood & Vineland

Xxxspace (8:00:32 PM): so you have a fetich
kenosha54 (8:00:32 PM): hey what
Xxxspace (8:00:40 PM): fetish**
kenosha54 (8:00:43 PM): like
kenosha54 (8:00:53 PM): i like blogs
kenosha54 (8:01:04 PM): whats yours
Xxxspace (8:01:09 PM): its kinda weird
Xxxspace (8:01:14 PM): lol
kenosha54 (8:01:21 PM): i am hard as a rock..so tell me when your reaches rock
Xxxspace (8:01:23 PM): i have an ad fetish
kenosha54 (8:01:27 PM): well tell me
kenosha54 (8:01:32 PM): ad
Xxxspace (8:01:44 PM): ya like...advertising
kenosha54 (8:01:49 PM): ok..so what happens
kenosha54 (8:01:58 PM): how does that turn you in
Xxxspace (8:02:02 PM): i dont know
Xxxspace (8:02:04 PM): it just does
Xxxspace (8:02:08 PM): ive never had one
Xxxspace (8:02:16 PM): but people that have them turn me on
Xxxspace (8:02:27 PM): and if i had one it would probably turn me on
Xxxspace (8:02:29 PM): beats me
Xxxspace (8:02:32 PM): its kinda weird
Xxxspace (8:02:50 PM): but along with that i like the whole nyt look....thats
kenosha54 (8:03:02 PM): ha thats wild
Xxxspace (8:03:14 PM): ya but now im hard
kenosha54 (8:03:32 PM): me 2
kenosha54 (8:03:42 PM): ad got you going
kenosha54 (8:03:47 PM): what you wearing
Xxxspace (8:04:04 PM): snowman suit
Xxxspace (8:04:09 PM): noshirt and noshorts
kenosha54 (8:04:17 PM): um so big bludges
Xxxspace (8:04:35 PM): ya
kenosha54 (8:04:45 PM): um
kenosha54 (8:04:58 PM): love to slip that snowman off of you
Xxxspace (8:05:08 PM): haha
kenosha54 (8:05:53 PM): and gram the one eyed snake
kenosha54 (8:06:13 PM): grab
Xxxspace (8:06:53 PM): not tonight...dont get to excited
kenosha54 (8:07:12 PM): well your ad is hot
Xxxspace (8:07:45 PM): that is true
kenosha54 (8:08:03 PM): and a little horny
Xxxspace (8:08:11 PM): and also tru
kenosha54 (8:08:31 PM): get a ruler and measure it for me
Xxxspace (8:08:38 PM): ive already told you that
kenosha54 (8:08:47 PM): tell me again
Xxxspace (8:08:49 PM): 2 1/2" and 1 1/2"
kenosha54 (8:09:04 PM): ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
kenosha54 (8:09:08 PM): beautiful
Xxxspace (8:09:38 PM): lol
kenosha54 (8:09:44 PM): thats a great ad size
Xxxspace (8:10:00 PM): thank you
kenosha54 (8:10:22 PM): ad still hot
Xxxspace (8:10:28 PM): ya
kenosha54 (8:10:40 PM): take it out
Xxxspace (8:10:54 PM): brb...my mom is yelling
kenosha54 (81106 PM): ok

Sleeping in Duchamp's Shadow

It's true, the living quarters at Gulag 11 Central were very trying during that winter campaign, even for us native born sons. Which may explain why many of us finally decamped for warmer climes.
JC Garrett
Rodeo, Ca.





Adjusted readymade magazine cover: JC Garrett, 2005

Loss or Cola Lowers Density of Effects Linger Brain.

“You all have proven without a doubt that you are not only courageous but wonderful people. I salute you and I thank you, and I hope you will join me, too, in saluting everyone that has made this a resounding, phenomenal learning experience and success. "

kenosha54 (7:25:14 PM): hey !!
Auto response from xxxspace(7:25:14 PM): scrounging for
food...brb
kenosha54 (7:25:25 PM): ok
kenosha54 (7:25:35 PM): kep scrounging
xxxspace (7:31:51 PM): boo
kenosha54 (7:32:13 PM): bo dude
xxxspace (7:32:17 PM): lol
xxxspace (7:32:26 PM): whered ya go this afternoon
kenosha54 (7:33:39 PM): i am in albany...had to catch a plane
xxxspace (7:33:47 PM): oh well thats fun
kenosha54 (7:34:04 PM): indeed
xxxspace (7:34:14 PM): what are you doing in albany
kenosha54 (7:34:21 PM): now in the gallery
xxxspace (7:34:39 PM): well ..like why did you go there
kenosha54 (7:35:02 PM): for the show
xxxspace (7:35:29 PM): have you officialy announced yt
kenosha54 (7:35:45 PM): not yet
xxxspace (7:36:06 PM): cool cool...
kenosha54 (7:37:27 PM): how my favorite young stud doing
xxxspace (7:37:46 PM): tired and sore
xxxspace (7:37:52 PM): i didnt no waltzing could make you
sore
kenosha54 (7:38:04 PM): from what
xxxspace (7:38:34 PM): what do you mean from what
xxxspace (7:38:42 PM): from waltzing...im sore from
waltzing
kenosha54 (7:39:32 PM): tahts good
kenosha54 (7:39:32 PM): you need a massage kenosha54 signed off at
7:39:37 PM. kenosha54 signed on at 7:40:35 PM.
xxxspace (7:40:44 PM): got kicked off?
kenosha54 (7:41:24 PM): must have
xxxspace (7:41:57 PM): ugh tomorrow i have the first day
of oktoberfest practice
kenosha54 (7:42:27 PM): love to watch that
kenosha54 (7:42:33 PM): those great legs running in lederhosen
xxxspace(7:42:38 PM): haha...they arent great
xxxspace (7:42:45 PM): thats why we have beer
xxxspace (7:42:56 PM): 2 days running....3 days drinking
xxxspace (7:43:11 PM): every week
xxxspace (7:43:14 PM): until the end of march
kenosha54 (7:43:27 PM): well dont ruin my mental picture
kenosha54 (7:43:54 PM): nice
kenosha54 (7:43:54 PM): youll be way hot then
xxxspace (7:44:01 PM): haha...hopefully
kenosha54 (7:44:22 PM): better be
kenosha54 (7:46:01 PM): well I better let you go do oyur thing
xxxspace (7:46:07 PM): oh ok
xxxspace (7:46:11 PM): have fun being the werkspace leeder
xxxspace (7:46:17 PM): or however you spell it
xxxspace (7:46:18 PM): lol
xxxspace (7:46:25 PM): ill see ya in a couple of weeks

[to be continued...]

Q. Did you hear the joke they're not telling to a##h*les?

A:


Saying thank you is the worst part. Seems we have a lot to say. What is the role you are acting out? How much DO you act? What do you expect from us? Do we have to act dumb to please? It's so much easier to talk to you this way. We could be lying. Would you know? How much further can we go? What do YOU think? What can you say? Would you tell us if you knew? Could you do this better than us? Would it matter? Are you disappointed? Bored? Would you be comfortable in our shoes? Do you even know what you like? Could you be a critic? How about your friends? Do they think like you? Is this what you thought you'd see? Are you glad it's over? Would you like to see it again?

Weird and Bizarre Things

"It's bizarro"
Definition: quite bizarre
Example: Teenaged behavior can only be described as bizarro.
Usage: nonformal
From: http://www.dictiionary.com/

Roxanne Storms: Organizer of Discard Avant Garb, now in it's seventh year.

About the Show
excerpt from Metroland
10.17.2002

What can a bridal gown made of bubble wrap inspire? Answer: Discard Avant Garb, the fashion show featuring designs from local artists made entirely of recycled materials. Now in its third year, Discard Avant Garb features 22 artists this year, including 10 new ones. Also new this year is the inclusion of male artists. The show is the brainchild of organizers Val P. Funk, Helen Martin, Roxanne Storms and Molly Suwara. The first Discard Avant Garb event raised money for a domestic violence shelter. This year's show took place at the Power Company with local poet Mary Panza as emcee, and music by MotherJudge and Thee Ummmm.


From: Roxanne Storms

To: galligan
Subject: RE: TU article
Date: Mon, 2 Oct 2006 20:54:18 -0400

Jan, I just read the article on the WORKSPACE show.
I loved the article, particuarily the part suggesting that
Albany has a healthy avant garde scene, which it does.
If you want it, you can find it. I'm really excited to be included
in WORKSPACEdOUT. Thanks to you I have been exposed to new,
weird and bizarre things and ways of looking at them, and the opportunity
to make some art.

thanks Gan!

Roxanne

Out and About with Citizen Kane and XXX-Space

From: galligan
To: Kane
Subject: Out & About
Date: Mon, 2 Oct 2006 07:32:05 -0400
Attachments:

Tim: GEE and I have been having a good time since we dropped you on Lark St. after our excursion to the Tang museum - and dinner at the Circus in Saratoga. Don Byron was great, especially the Q&A after the show. Last night we went with PDiddy the PartyProHost to Tower of Power at the EGG. Drinks later at Capriccio where we reminisced about the good old days of jazz, blues and hillbilly music. Looks like Del McCoury is next, but GEE will be back in Rodeo by then.

Jan

Photo caption: Kane and GEE at the Circus in Saratoga.

"SuperB!" says GG

Jan:

Couldn't figure out exactly what
I should do so I am sending images
of some of my paintings....

the show looks superb!
GG

The Bloody Lady of Cachtice(Gasp!) : PRaxis - 003

From:
PRAxis
To: Jan
Subject: Gaspar
Date: Tue, 27 Jun 2006 20:31:37 +0200
Attachments:

Jan,

Latest from the film front. On Saturday, I was driven to the village of Velke Losiny in northern Moravia (a 3-1/2 hour trip) where I stayed in a lovely inn and then the next morning at 6:30 a.m. went to the base camp of my newest Czech film project filming in the 18th century chateau outside the village. Spent an incredibly hot day in a wool jacket and legwarmers (see photo). On the various sets inside the chateau it was cooler, but we spent mu ch time waiting around outside sweating. The first scene we shot was a conference of the Hungarian nobility, discussing what could be done about the murders being committed by Countess Elizabeth Bathory and her accomplices.

My favorite line was when one of the nobles noted, "As a member of the nobility, she does have the right to kill her subjects." I felt like I was in the Oval Office with Rumsfeld, Cheney and Wolfowitz. I was pleased to discover that my character had now been given a name (Gaspar), and the director felt bad that I had nothing to say in the scene gave me a "line": "NO!" (which I leap to my feet and exclaim when one of the nobles wonders whether they shouldn't just let her get away with the murders).

I did enjoy another chance to work with K Roden, the most internationally famous Czech actor working today (Rasputin in "Hellboy" and the go-to actor for portraying Eastern European bad guys in western films these days). It's ironic that he plays villains because he's such a sweet guy.

Cheers,

Steve