Logothete

[catasters]

[mudwerks]

Tom Hanks

American postcard by Fotofolio, NY, NY, no HR69. Photo: Herb Ritts. Caption: Tom Hanks, Hollywood, 1988. From the book 'Notorious'.

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Kimono skateboard

[julie-bored-and-slutty]

This is so cool❤️❤️❤️

[reality-detective]

Designed 100 years ago 🤔

[htwwolf2]

Woooow

[ltwilliammowett]

Peace - Burial at Sea, by Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775–1851)

[ltwilliammowett]

Details from “Morning Departure: Sir Edward Pellew’s HMS Arethusa leads the Western Frigate Squadron out of Falmouth Bay, April 1794”, by Maarten Platje, 2024

[gameraboy2]

Let Him Go Hang by Bud Clifton Ace Books, 1961 Cover art uncredited

[gameraboy2]

Atari Age, May/June 1982

[diana-andraste]

Burning of Anna Suter and Agata Huber in 1580

Hunted, tormented, murdered The victims of the witch hunt in the early modern Europe are still countless today – current research assumes that up to 60,000 people were charged with witchcraft and subsequently executed. The territory of Zurich was not spared from delusion: between 1487 and 1701, eighty women and five men fell victim to persecution.

from Johann Jakob Wick's Wickiana

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[logothete]

John D's Morning Ritual

He only talked to himself in the morning. These conversations took place in front of the mirror as he refreshed the comb over. Back to front, back to front, with a jaunty swirl. John D never got over the other children making fun of him for his large flat head and thinning hair when he was 12. He looked so serious like a little revolutionary Vladimir who wanted to preach about the miracle of compound interest. The children made fun of him for that too. He was smart enough to stay away from creepy Alger who was always trying to get the coal boys alone. Creepy Alger fooled the adults with his soapbox speeches about pulling yourself to prosperity by your boot heels. But the coal boys and jockeys knew to stay away. John D thanked his large flat head with its wisps of iron gray hair that tingled when stranger dangers came around with their pasted on smiles. His grey hair stood on end when calamitous family members showed up demanding respect as if it it was not earned but an obligation you never signed up.

John D never spoke to himself about the times he fought the other children for sewer coal and the excess hair from the morgue. Sometimes he completely forgot about the times he rushed to the spinning lathe operators with the long strands shaved from drowning victims trying to beat the opium eaters and dipsomaniacs to the eyelash buyer. John D could forget all that like it never happened even though he turned down all investments in spinning lathe factories for some strange reason.

This five minutes was the only time he spoke to himself. He didn't even know he did it. The one time his wife mentioned it just like a good Presbyterian should he got angry with her for the first and only time and accused her of making things up. She never mentioned it again and eventually did her coiffure in the other master bathroom.

In the last 30 seconds, putting in the final swirl, which rose up, up, like the horns of the brass bull guarding the exchange John D said the words he started to say at the end of that horrible day when he woke up finding his hair had fallen out showing he had a flat topped head with the whole thing shaped like a disorderly triangle irregular on the left. That day his class mates noticed him for the first time and made fun of him and the gray which had been red the day before. He still had not cried when he got home to fall asleep in the corner with his lucky piece of coal. Just before he fell asleep; in the trance state nobody know about he would whisper : "I'll show em. I'll show em. for making fun of me for my large flat head. When I have millions of dollars they will be sorry. They'll be sorry. So there." Then he would dream of girders upholding contracts in the air so thick with coal smoke you needed to light a bundle of T-bills to find the way.

[logothete]

Incantation

When I'm sitting down with my back hidden from everyone

in my low rise jeans,

in my blue thong, my red thong

I feel sexy

the hard wood against the small of my back,

like a caress of the tips of the hairs

just above the curve

I want smile.

This only happens in public when strangers talk over

the coffee sounds

Long ago, at least that's what it feels like:

I would lay in bed.

Staring at the ceiling

feeling the moment wherever it took me.

Letting my fingers slope down the curve of my stomach to the belly button

to feel pleasure in the body just taut enough to drum

unlike now,

when all I have is the low ride jeans,

my red thing, my blue thong

feeling sensual

with my back away from the world

so I smile for myself

just before looking out the window

for Saturday's noon sun

[logothete]

Ways of Seeing

When I started painting I started seeing 3D shapes only as light and dark areas captured within lines. I would see a tree, a person's face, a plant; as specific mix of primaries colors with no color in between.

I see my photos as degrees of imperfection hues in a large series of pixels with whites and blacks in the wrong places with reds, and particularly yellows being too much. Eventually I get it closer to being right the first time.

I used to get lost staring at trees. Not so much now. What is a tree but a small part of a graph. So much of life is about being in one place needing to find a path somewhere else then another place from where things stand.

Now I see most things we deal with as search problems finding the best of possible paths. out of all the paths. just like when I would paint, or photograph, just getting what I have right now closer to some other place just by going through motions that take the painting, the photo, the code somewhere else over and over till its' close enough to what it can never really be.

[logothete]

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bad wheel

[logothete]

outside the mambo house

[logothete]

Palm of Onistsha