got art?

Posted on March 20, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

The always charming Annie posted a piece of original art that’s hanging on her wall and wondered who else hung original art. (Children’s art doesn’t count. Hanging that is obligatory.) Here are a few pieces in my home. None of them have a stylistic relationship. It’s a hodgepodge.

I received this oil on canvas from Artisté Florenza as a birthday present. This was an Asian food store near my apartment where I lived in Brooklyn. It was called, I kid you not, the FU KING FOOD SHOP on Atlantic Avenue. You can’t make this stuff up. The store next to it is the fictitious Mr. Mark’s Cleaners (that’s me) and the signs in the window read Happy Birthday Mark. The address is 28. It was my 28th birthday and that was a long, long time ago. That’s my shadow darkening the lower left corner, not the painting.

I bought this for myself in Union Square, NYC. It’s Japanese gouache and ink mounted on silk. Mrs. wife isn’t that crazy about it but she lets me hang it because, as you well know, marriage is a give-and-take.

My artist friend Jeff Suntala gave this to us as a wedding gift. It’s a charcoal sketch from one of his classes. The colors are more vibrant than what appears here but I was too lazy to take it off the wall to photograph in better lighting. Sorry, Jeff.

This is a triptych that I took of 7-Year Old Daughter when she was a baby pulling herself up on our coffee table.

i love the NEW YORK POST

Posted on March 19, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

How do you like them apples?

For sheer venom and shock, you can’t beat the UK tabloid headlines. The U.S. rags can’t hold a candle to the them. But once in a while, our New York Post can deliver a real haymaker.

The above delicious example from yesterday’s paper was in response to the bonuses paid to AIG executives with taxpayer money. The entire populous is up in arms. Bless the New York Post for putting our feelings into one pithy sentence.

more search phrase hijinx

Posted on March 18, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I had to delete one of my entries from January. I posted a rant about the Clique Girls—a 3-girl singing group marketed to the pre-teen set. I felt there was an inappropriate amount of sexuality used to pimp the group. The lead singer is only 12 years old and in the print promos she is always posed provocatively with a come-hither look.

The title of my post was:

“child p*rn courtesy of interscope records”

Since then, I’ve been getting hits from all over the plant by people using “child p*rn” as a search phrase. It made me feel dirty so I took the post down. What the hell is wrong with humanity? How did something like this work its way into the gene pool?

spirited evening

Posted on March 16, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I’ve seen many good plays but occasionally you get that rare night when every actor is firing on all cylinders and the material is strong and it’s being performed in a proper old theater.

CB I saw Nöel Coward’s Blithe Spirit at the Shubert Theater. The dialog was fast and clever and it was flying out of the mouths of some of the most accomplished actors in town. The show is in its infancy, just having opened a few days ago, and some lines of dialog were stepped on and dropped but it was a fun evening, regardless.

As good as the play is, that’s how bad the ad campaign is. Take a look at this ugly illustration. It makes me not want to see the play.

British theatrical treasure Angela Lansbury played a crazy old medium and Rupert Everett was the spirit-tormented husband. Everett was the big surprise. We thought he was going to be the weak link in the chain but he was terrific.

I like Nöel Coward’s England. His is the England where the sun never set on the Empire and every problem was solved with another round of dry martins. Money was never an issue. P.G. Woodhouse is like that. So is Woody Allen. Money isn’t part of the plot. It’s just there in abundance.

The Shubert is one of New York’s classic original theaters. It was was built in 1913. In the 1930s you could have seen Fred Astaire in Gay Divorce or Katherine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story. In the 40s you could have seen Paul Robeson, Jose Ferrer and Uta Hagen in a legendary production of Othello. There’s lot of history on them boards.

cell phone jammer: the backlash begins

Posted on March 15, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Someone from San Diego landed on my blog using the following search phrase:

How to get past a cell phone scrambler

Oh, is that so? Is it a war you’re looking for? You want a piece of my jammer? Who are you? Some smarty-pants pencil-pushing desk jockey from Verizon?

I’ll lay odds that if your tech guys invent a way to override my cell phone jammer, my tech guys (whom I’ve never met. They’re someplace in Hong Kong.) will invent a device to override your cell phone jammer override device. Pretty soon my bag will be weighed down with electronic espionage and counter-espionage gadgets.

I don’t mean to get all George W. Bush on you but bring it on, junior. I found out firsthand that when I respectfully ask someone to lower their voice, all I get is a dirty look and a suggestion that I go fuck myself. I didn’t want to get all illegal-Chinese-electronics on your ass but my hand was forced. I will fight for my right to nap on a quiet train.

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Over the weekend I was listening to Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black. I hadn’t heard it in quite a while and I forgot how great it is. It’s a shame she’s such a train wreck because, ladies and gentlemen, that album is the real deal. It’s compelling and listenable from beginning to end. Nowadays, I only ever hear of her when she’s being picked on by the British tabloids. I hope like hell she can pull her shit together one of these days because I’d love to hear more from her. Poor girl.

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I have a vicious bout of the old ennui this afternoon. Maybe it’s the relentless gray skies. Perhaps it’s too much Amy Winehouse. Hope it passes real soon.