Friday, March 21, 2008
ISSUE RELEASE PARTY!!!!!
If you got a chance mark your calendars for the THANKYOU issue one release party at MARS BAR on April Fools Day. April 1st, SW corner of 2nd Avenue and 1st Street. 9pm.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
HOT OFF THE PRESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT. This is all the news that's fit to print. I made a little magazine. Super limited edition, forty pictures, collaboration with the one and only SANESMITH, color cover and back, black and white inside. I'm giving a head start to kids that want to order the old fashion way. Please send a $12.00 check or money order (within America) $14.00 check or money order (Overseas) and address it to: THANK YOU P.O. BOX 4135 SUNNYSIDE, NEW YORK 11104........ MAKE SURE you give your correct address. Eventually I will set up the paypal for those lazy credit card kids. Make sure all checks are made out to THANK YOU. Laterrrrrrrrr.
My printer, on Jamaica Avenue, adding some final edging.
My printer, on Jamaica Avenue, adding some final edging.
JERRY'S KIDS.
Monday, March 17, 2008
FANCIFULL EAR DRUMMAGE.
DEAD ON ARRIVAL
Waiting for a negative process from a throw away camera and stumbling upon this. You gotta just grab something and gamble. This movie could have been junk, but then it turned out to be the best movie I have seen in a really, really, long time. Especially the live version of Generation X singing, "Kiss Me Deadly." Check it, there is no way you could be disappointed. You kind of suck a little bit if you don't have a VHS.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
THE LEGEND OF THE BEAST.
The Beast got in a fight with three jocks and fended them off in front of a Chinese Restaurant. Then the cops came and everyone said he was crazy. The cops snuck up to him being all nice then peppersprayed him and took him into Bellevue. Along the way he got a couple extra pops from the cops for using derogatory language.
Those glassy eyes got a hose down of pepper spray.
Up to some usual shenanigans, The Beast thought he was an extra in Westside Story.
Then he turned into a monkey.
Those glassy eyes got a hose down of pepper spray.
Up to some usual shenanigans, The Beast thought he was an extra in Westside Story.
Then he turned into a monkey.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
SHAWN MORTENSEN
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
STEALTH SHOT
A lot of people on the L train have gear that makes me sick to my stomach. This girl was dressed up like a jester, with one panty ho leg black and the other white, with matching gloves and the bag to boot. Then her boyfriend had on all black with three white stripes on his samba's. Meticulous dating gear strategies.
Friday, March 7, 2008
ALBIN & THE COSTA RICAN CHIPMONKEY'S.
What can be said about Apple Pie?
He let me borrow his keys a couple weeks ago so I could act like I lived in Manhattan. I'd go over to his place to get some writing done in the solitude of the Chinatown night with nosey neighbors lurking and asking questions. I told them I was his brother. But I didn't really get any writing done. I listened to Classical music on the radio with my feet kicked up and drank some of his Johnny Walker Red and acted like an old man Manhattanite with big dreams, yet getting very little actual work done.
This weekend Apple Pie completely disappeared and turned his phone off. I got a bit worried, but mostly annoyed because my skateboard was in his apartment and we had one nice day to get some sweat out of my dirty winter pores. I realized I still had his key, went over to his apartment and had a moment when I walked in where I envisioned the worst; Apple Pie, in his room, cold, not getting up.
Little did I know that he was drinking with a friend late Friday night and his friend offered him an all-expenses, round trip ticket to Costa Rica and they stayed at a four star hotel. An epic journey and he went with about ten bucks.
So, I met up with him last night and he's just combing his hair without a care in the world with red-tanned arms from the sun showing me pictures of him and his friend golfing and go-carting with monkey's in the tree's living the posh life and it all seemed surreal to me.
He let me borrow his keys a couple weeks ago so I could act like I lived in Manhattan. I'd go over to his place to get some writing done in the solitude of the Chinatown night with nosey neighbors lurking and asking questions. I told them I was his brother. But I didn't really get any writing done. I listened to Classical music on the radio with my feet kicked up and drank some of his Johnny Walker Red and acted like an old man Manhattanite with big dreams, yet getting very little actual work done.
This weekend Apple Pie completely disappeared and turned his phone off. I got a bit worried, but mostly annoyed because my skateboard was in his apartment and we had one nice day to get some sweat out of my dirty winter pores. I realized I still had his key, went over to his apartment and had a moment when I walked in where I envisioned the worst; Apple Pie, in his room, cold, not getting up.
Little did I know that he was drinking with a friend late Friday night and his friend offered him an all-expenses, round trip ticket to Costa Rica and they stayed at a four star hotel. An epic journey and he went with about ten bucks.
So, I met up with him last night and he's just combing his hair without a care in the world with red-tanned arms from the sun showing me pictures of him and his friend golfing and go-carting with monkey's in the tree's living the posh life and it all seemed surreal to me.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
DENIAL: A REFUSAL TO COMPLY WITH A REQUEST.
Last December I wrote a short story, about 5000 words in two hours, polished it up, reread it, laughed a little bit over the childishness of the whole thing and then with steel balls sent it on over to the New Yorker and quickly forgot about it. Today I got my story back, with a kind little note.
"We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you forgiving us the opportunity to consider it.
The Editors"
I should have probably known the New Yorker wouldn't use a story, or even look at it if it was titled, "A Bonus Burger For the Kid."
But just hearing back from them gives me hope. I feel strange using the word "hope" now, Obama killed it a little bit.
"We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you forgiving us the opportunity to consider it.
The Editors"
I should have probably known the New Yorker wouldn't use a story, or even look at it if it was titled, "A Bonus Burger For the Kid."
But just hearing back from them gives me hope. I feel strange using the word "hope" now, Obama killed it a little bit.
Monday, March 3, 2008
AN IRISH JIG
This guy thought just because he was Irish he could slip around in the jig-circle and be the star of the show...
Until a bunch of non-irish kids from the Bronx came and stole the show! These kids were more Irish than Malachy McCourt and his depressing writer brother. Give it up and in your best Irish brogue scream the word "savage."
Until a bunch of non-irish kids from the Bronx came and stole the show! These kids were more Irish than Malachy McCourt and his depressing writer brother. Give it up and in your best Irish brogue scream the word "savage."
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