These work far better than my old improvisational methods: 1) breaking the neck off using a car bumper, or b) using a pencil or other object and hammering the cork down into the bottle. Image from Uproot.
---o0o---
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Opening a wine bottle with no corkscrew
Pablo Fanque, Beverage Editor
These work far better than my old improvisational methods: 1) breaking the neck off using a car bumper, or b) using a pencil or other object and hammering the cork down into the bottle. Image from Uproot.
These work far better than my old improvisational methods: 1) breaking the neck off using a car bumper, or b) using a pencil or other object and hammering the cork down into the bottle. Image from Uproot.
Poem: The Clock
By Jack Brummet
-1-
The fast hand sloughs seconds
Onto the clock dial, tugging
Hours and minutes along
As time burnishes our masks.
-2-
A paring of grey moonshell
Wheels over our shoulders,
Waltzing a sea surge
Across the ocean floor.
-3-
Under a red sun, night retracts its stars.
Starfish lounge on rocks,
The sun in Japan sinks
In water at sight's end,
Flares of light appear
In the opposing hemisphere,
And earth surrenders its heat,
Trading degrees with the shifting winds.
---o0o---
Onto the clock dial, tugging
Hours and minutes along
As time burnishes our masks.
-2-
A paring of grey moonshell
Wheels over our shoulders,
Waltzing a sea surge
Across the ocean floor.
-3-
Under a red sun, night retracts its stars.
Starfish lounge on rocks,
The sun in Japan sinks
In water at sight's end,
Flares of light appear
In the opposing hemisphere,
And earth surrenders its heat,
Trading degrees with the shifting winds.
---o0o---
Poem: The Painting
By Jack Brummet
He is tired of the dark sun.
He wants to lie down and rest.
No news comes from a far country.
The real estate around him —
A confabulation of blue and red stone —
Chills in an un-harbored sea.
The black sun was pushed, fell, or jumped,
To shine back upon itself.
He knows the sun will never set.
He cannot open his mouth to scream.
The oars will never move.
The island of color
Will always be eight inches away
And the boat
Will always be sinking.
The tattered sails hang in the wind.
The next day refuses to begin.
He clutches that blue banjo
As his ship tilts toward heaven.
---o0o---
Started 1997, finished 2013
The figure you brushed in,
Stuck
under static skies,
Wants off the canvas.
He will not be your Man With Blue Banjo anymore.
He wants to be what he will be,
Not sailing scumbled seas
Under impasto thunderheads.
Wants off the canvas.
He will not be your Man With Blue Banjo anymore.
He wants to be what he will be,
Not sailing scumbled seas
Under impasto thunderheads.
He is tired of the dark sun.
He wants to lie down and rest.
No news comes from a far country.
The real estate around him —
A confabulation of blue and red stone —
Chills in an un-harbored sea.
The black sun was pushed, fell, or jumped,
To shine back upon itself.
He knows the sun will never set.
He cannot open his mouth to scream.
The oars will never move.
The island of color
Will always be eight inches away
And the boat
Will always be sinking.
The tattered sails hang in the wind.
The next day refuses to begin.
He clutches that blue banjo
As his ship tilts toward heaven.
---o0o---
Monday, December 16, 2013
Drawings: Faces No. 576, 577,578, 579, and 580
By Jack Brummet
[Pencil and Sharpie on wooden box]
[Pencil and Sharpie on wooden box]
---o0o---
The IRT Subway, circa 1978
By Jack Brummet, NYC Metro Ed.
When we lived in NYC (1977-1982), this is what our local subway (the west side IRT, Lines 1, 2, and 3) typically looked like, although most often you couldn't see through the windows due to extensive tagging. . .
[photo marked 1978, provenance unknown]
.
When we lived in NYC (1977-1982), this is what our local subway (the west side IRT, Lines 1, 2, and 3) typically looked like, although most often you couldn't see through the windows due to extensive tagging. . .
[photo marked 1978, provenance unknown]
.
---o0o---
Sunday, December 15, 2013
I declare I have moon dust: the customs form for Apollo 11's return to earth
By Jack Brummet, Extraterrestrial Excursions Ed.
Like the rest of us with more terrestrial destinations, Apollo 11 returned from the Moon, and had to go through customs and immigration. And fill out the form.
Like the rest of us with more terrestrial destinations, Apollo 11 returned from the Moon, and had to go through customs and immigration. And fill out the form.
---o0o---
Poem: Dodgeball
By Jack Brummet
We play dodgeball,
But can’t see the ball.
We bob and weave
Through unseen hazards and shoals
And almost always feel less safe
Than we actually are.
---o0o---
We play dodgeball,
But can’t see the ball.
We bob and weave
Through unseen hazards and shoals
And almost always feel less safe
Than we actually are.
---o0o---
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Poem: Home Like A Salmon
By Jack Brummet
Crossing real estate lines
That mean nothing to him,
Coyote traverses the pale fog
Driven in from the sea.
He has a loan of time
To walk through his old salal tangled home.
Sneaking through nettles and Oregon grape,
He carries his battered canoe
Along magnolia darkened clay
Back where he grew from whelp to pup.
Down whitewater roiling over boulders
He feathers the current with his paddle,
Turning in the current like a leaf.
The spent river slinks into the sea.
Pipers spoon their bills in the sand for clams
And robins claw at earthworms.
A diving hawk sends smaller birds
Tumbling into hysterical flight.
His bones feel fragile as obsidian
As he watches the green Kalopanish stop
And they all come to the end:
The river, the creek, and God's old friend.
That mean nothing to him,
Coyote traverses the pale fog
Driven in from the sea.
He has a loan of time
To walk through his old salal tangled home.
Sneaking through nettles and Oregon grape,
He carries his battered canoe
Along magnolia darkened clay
Back where he grew from whelp to pup.
Down whitewater roiling over boulders
He feathers the current with his paddle,
Turning in the current like a leaf.
The spent river slinks into the sea.
Pipers spoon their bills in the sand for clams
And robins claw at earthworms.
A diving hawk sends smaller birds
Tumbling into hysterical flight.
His bones feel fragile as obsidian
As he watches the green Kalopanish stop
And they all come to the end:
The river, the creek, and God's old friend.
---o0o---
Friday, December 13, 2013
The last public execution in the United States (circa 1936)
By Mona Goldwater, Social Mores Ed.
This is a photograph of the last public execution held in the United States ( so far), circa 1936.
This is a photograph of the last public execution held in the United States ( so far), circa 1936.
---o0o---
Frank Rudolph Paul's Life On Other Planets
By Jack Brummet, Alien Lore Ed.
Frank Rudolph Paul (1884 – 1963) was a science fiction pulp magazine illustrator. Paul was influential in defining cover art and interior illustrations in the science fiction pulps of the 1920s.
His work is dramatic, with gigantic machines, robots, aliens, and spaceships). His work is characterized by its bright colors, and his "limited ability to draw human faces, especially females." His architectural training is clearly evident buildings and space stations. . .
Frank Rudolph Paul (1884 – 1963) was a science fiction pulp magazine illustrator. Paul was influential in defining cover art and interior illustrations in the science fiction pulps of the 1920s.
His work is dramatic, with gigantic machines, robots, aliens, and spaceships). His work is characterized by its bright colors, and his "limited ability to draw human faces, especially females." His architectural training is clearly evident buildings and space stations. . .
---o0o---
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Presidents with Presidents.
By Pablo Fanque, National Affairs Ed.
& Mona Goldwater, Global News Ed.
ATIT loves The Presidents; some, sure, more than others. We like the photos, and particularly multi-Presidents shots. Here are some good shots of three Presidents, three first ladies, and one likely/potential new Prez at the Nelson Mandela funeral in South Africa. We also include the now notorious image of President Obama taking an iPhone selfie with the Prime Ministers of Denmark and England. . .
These images come from White House photographer Pete Souza.
Jack told us today that "the further George Bush recedes in the mirror" the more he likes him. He has written a couple of controversial posts about he affection for the retired President, with people sniping about him slipping into a hexegenerian, right bent/redneck space. He said "who cares about the politics? He had me once all the paintings came out. I love this guy!"
"I've written him twice now, offering to sponsor a gallery show, do an interview strictly focused on his art, and display better, high def photographs of his work rather than the fuzzy ones we all published (because there was nothing else). It was like....Dude....you gotta get this stuff out there. People want to see it. Maybe buy it. Let me know. Mr. President. And give my love to your dad and mom."
Jack is a sick biscuit, but these photos (maybe not the editorial comment) are worth seeing. Especially Dubyah showing pictures of his paintings to Hillary and Michelle.
The following two images are from http://instagram.com/georgewbush (George W. Bush's Instagram site):
& Mona Goldwater, Global News Ed.
These images come from White House photographer Pete Souza.
Jack told us today that "the further George Bush recedes in the mirror" the more he likes him. He has written a couple of controversial posts about he affection for the retired President, with people sniping about him slipping into a hexegenerian, right bent/redneck space. He said "who cares about the politics? He had me once all the paintings came out. I love this guy!"
"I've written him twice now, offering to sponsor a gallery show, do an interview strictly focused on his art, and display better, high def photographs of his work rather than the fuzzy ones we all published (because there was nothing else). It was like....Dude....you gotta get this stuff out there. People want to see it. Maybe buy it. Let me know. Mr. President. And give my love to your dad and mom."
Jack is a sick biscuit, but these photos (maybe not the editorial comment) are worth seeing. Especially Dubyah showing pictures of his paintings to Hillary and Michelle.
The following two images are from http://instagram.com/georgewbush (George W. Bush's Instagram site):
---o0o---
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Twisted Santa Photographs
By Mona Goldwater, Holiday Ed.
Santa surprise in Seattle's Belltown
Boris Karloff playing Santa
Santa and Mrs. Claus
Santa's Playgirl layout
---o0o---
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