Its appropriate because it is a haunting song with references to a dystopian future (somewhat like my Alley images) via Orson Welles narrating his classic 1938 radio broadcast of War of the Worlds. And it is coincidental because its Halloween, and the song is called…  boo.

Here’s a link to a video of it, although, as with many music videos,  its probably best to just listen, and ignore the video part, which really takes away from this beautiful song. Here’s an idea… I think the song makes a good soundtrack for the Alley slideshow.

Part of the package is that I have bad dreams related to this. I had one recently that was unusual because of its humorous ending:

The foolish decision is made to launch a first strike. The nuclear codes are entered and an electrical current carrying the launch command is sent to the missiles. In my dream, I see this current leaving the pristine government office and running along street cables at night. The current, carrying this doomsday command, is now running along cables through desolate, abandoned city streets, still late at night. It reaches its destination: a boarded up building at a vacant street corner, and comes to a sputtering halt. The missiles can’t be launched because some go-between business, required to get the missiles up, has gone bankrupt under our faltering economy.

Strange and beautiful clouds near San Quentin penitentiary, last Friday

And wow… I didn’t get a single alley shot. Saturday night I was fired up – ready to dive into Portland’s darker, grittier corners looking for diamonds in the rough. I drove and walked around with Pam for 4 hours through all the main run-down neighborhoods. And I know there were many great images sitting quietly, waiting to be found - I just didn’t find one. Its frustrating, knowing they are around you, hidden within the night’s outlines, and not being able to see them… Finally I ran out of steam and called it a night. Sunday night I was ready to go again but the friends we were staying with, Charles and Drew, had frosty beers waiting to be opened and I just couldn’t say no… So, Portland… til we meet again…

Some of the shots from our drive back.

Mount Shasta:

A wee bird that found a hard corn chip and started dunking it in water to soften it up

Times Square, NYC (both pictures):

NBC in Detroit (Channel 4),  interviewed me today.  It was a good, long interview with visuals of many of my images, which was great because artists need all the exposure they can get!!

I fly to Des Moines tomorrow at midnight (with an armful of artwork) to get my van and drive to Chicago for the Magnificent Mile show. I have many orders to ship out, many pieces to prepare, new images I want to test-print and finish. I’ve also made a brochure illustrating the alleys which I’ll be sending to museums and galleries worldwide, as well as to everyone on my mailing list. (If you aren’t on it, send me an email with your snail mail address) I’m also preparing for 2 gallery shows in August. One at Stanford University’s Art Spaces (fifteen 32×40’s !); the other at San Joaquin Valley College Gallery in Stockton, CA.

Driving back through the desert on a moonless night was mind-blowing. I had to stop on a dark side road so I could get out of my van and stare up. I’ve never seen the Milky Way so bright and beautiful. I could stare at the stars for hours. The book that whacked my head the hardest was the late Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. I read it in my early 20’s and it put the universe, and my reality, into a deep and profound perspective.

And now for some bitching….I lost many of the pictures I took yesterday because my stupid-ass digital camera is a piece of crap. I was fuming for hours, obsessing over their loss, and trying to remember what they looked like. I shouldn’t really care, because the camera is a low-quality thing that makes lousy 8×10’s. So the pictures I take on my trips are just for fun and are ultimately throw aways. (Although my blog has given them an outlet which is great)

But damn is it annoying! I had several great Rocky Mountain shots that I went out of my way to get, plus an odd picture for my friend Ernesto who collects unusual sign photos for his blog. There’s a road in Colorado called No Name, and it has an exit off highway 70.

Here’s a tip for you. I’ve driven across the country several times. If you plan on doing this, avoid Hwy 80. The 70 offers spectacular views of the Colorado Rockies, and the Utah bluffs

Most of my Colorado shots are lost, but I did get some shots in Utah. Now I have to take a nap………………

Three years ago, I moved in with Pam, who didn’t watch TV. I was just fine with that, and have been happily TV free since then. But here I am, sitting in the waiting room at St Joseph’s hospital in Ann Arbor, MI (my friend Mary Ellen had to make an emergency visit… she’ll be fine). There’s a big TV blasting one of the all-time lamest shows: Wheel of Fortune.  I have my laptop, hoping to get stuff done, but this horrible show keeps drawing me in like a crackhead.

I’d like to buy a vowel… Is there a vowel? is there a vowel?? there are THREE vowels… yay!! (to wild cheering and applause)

Somebody, please help me…

This is my brain after watching too many TV commercials (shot in San Francisco, 2007)

I had to add this… I dozed off in the waiting room and had this dream:

A contestant in a TV game show is trying to squeeze his head through a wall of bubble wrap, while the names of other contestants roll down. As each name passes, he shouts variations of, “Screw him, I’ll beat him!!” There is wild cheering and applause.

Part of my fascination with ruins and decay and dark foreboding places is my fear and obsession with a post-apocalyptic world - which I’ve had since my early teens. I connect with a scene if it has an aching hollowness; if it conjures up a sadness for what we do, and for things to come; the depiction of a possible grim future; a scene where people no longer exist, except in random bits of evidence. Its a bleak future created by little boys with power, throwing stones in the shape of ICBM’s.

But then I can’t accept this, and I have to turn the scene inside out, glorifying what we have, and making monuments from these desolate places. In the end I celebrate life and I throw rainbows at the scene, and this makes me happy. Its an odd form of propulsion.

I’ve discussed other aspects of all this in two previous posts, appropriately named The Apocalypse, and The Apocalypse, part 2

Here’s a very non-apocalyptic scene. “Friends” (1985, Cape Cod)

I just did the 57th Street art show in Chicago and will do the Old Town show next week, which is also in Chicago. In between I’m flying back home to California. The normal way to plan this is to leave my van at the airport parking lot, instead of driving the four hours back to Ann Arbor, my home in the east. But I don’t think I’ve planned this in a normal way, so after the show I get on the 94 eastbound towards Ann Arbor. Eighty miles later I call my wife, Pam, and tell her I should have flown out of Chicago and not Ann Arbor. “You are flying out of Chicago.” “WHAT?? AAAARRRGGGHHH!” I turn around and drive the eighty miles back to Chicago to catch my flight.

Here are some more sad examples of why I’m the Incredible Shrinking-Memory Man.

- I rarely remember the name of my favorite beer. I’m constantly asking my wife what it is before ordering a beer somewhere. If they don’t have it, I’ll ask her if I like any of the beers on the menu. “You don’t like this one, this one you think has a funny after taste, this one you like.” (btw, its Newcastle)

-I had my Sirius satellite radio stolen out of my van in Chicago during a recent Steal-Xavier’s-stuff rampage (2 break-ins in 3 days). I went to eBay and bought one. Then forgetting I’d already ordered one, I bought a second… then this is where I leave everyone in the dust. Forgetting once again that I’ve placed an order for a satellite radio, I bought a THIRD one!!  Anyone want to buy a satellite radio?

-If I’m in a store browsing, I have to be careful. Just before exiting the store, I’ve learned to slow down and ask myself: “Is there any merchandise in my hands?” No. Good. I can leave without getting arrested.

There is another problem with having a bad memory. Here’s a short list of treasured things I’ve lost, left behind somewhere, misplaced… who the hell knows…

- all my paintings and charcoal sketches from my teens. I still have many smaller drawings which were kept in a different place.

-a few years ago: a box full of all my personal pictures. Hundreds of them - including four big albums. Pictures of me and my friends and family – school pictures dating back to kindergarten, some pictures of my parents in their youth, all my old friends… lost.

-all my trophies and medals from playing hockey and baseball as a kid. The two that I really miss: 1. a trophy for best goaltender of the year, 2. a bronze medal when my team came in third at the Quebec Provincial hockey championships.

Oh I could go on and on but it hurts to think about it. That part of my brain works.

On the bright side… We don’t carry our souls in little boxes.

Looking for stuff I lost (1999, Toronto). I bet some was under here – I should have looked.