tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35441512012-01-20T23:20:04.440-08:00"We're not the jet set, we're the old Chevrolet set" -George JonesLarryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comBlogger1721100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-65944072199908149972011-10-24T13:55:00.000-07:002011-10-24T19:07:44.858-07:00

Ten years ago in the future is supposed to be a better tomorrow. But it somehow feels the same... Like when Sifu was yellow but not green. And launched many an orb skyward, way over eighty-six inches tall. Or the time as a grasshopper who escaped, incognito, from past transgressions in violation of the laws of gravity. So that invisible nations licking their wounds rose up to avenge the myriad

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-818175199671451242011-06-17T12:22:00.000-07:002011-06-17T13:49:57.342-07:00

Three stainless steel towers stored sideways in memory of sweeter times...When a mountain brewed by the sun and naked of fructose refreshes nevertheless which explains the condensation underneath the plastic rim. And outside, green leafy vines intertwine the saggy vinyl clothesline hung to approximate a football field upside down. Your sunburnt back is peeling off fuzzy winter melons.Yet jasmine

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-22087432981222579452010-09-15T04:10:00.000-07:002010-09-15T04:35:17.441-07:00

To recount a decade fixated by the numbers in concert with fancies of time lost in space can be marked, if not often punctuated, by an affliction to that which is currently of sporting event. But sepia tones do brown around the edges as nostalgia weeps the weepy tear. And you ask why and receive a penance beyond reproach through a Congressional hearing under perjury...So what, pray tell, is in a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-45372467825246781072010-03-20T12:57:00.000-07:002010-03-23T03:07:44.163-07:00

Once upon a biased time, the intolerant world Anida Yoeu Ali lived in revolved around performance poetry. Or poetry performed by a young but powerful Asian American female voice. Of brash words, rightly so, that when spoken cajole, accuse, incite or inspire, revere, love, to say the least or rather the most really about a plethora of social and political woes. And there she was, a portrait of a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-66146981608187563862010-03-14T21:29:00.000-07:002010-03-15T20:43:46.639-07:00

Glance quickly at a Laura Kina painting and what comes to mind at first is Hello Kitty goes to Bollywood in Pearl Harbor by a Coca Cola sign. Or surely Pop gone haywire as the resultant byproduct the artist creates deftly fuses these loaded icons into a NeoPop Orientalism or less ironical Post Japonisme of East morphing West and vice versa not just Americanized but transnationalized. Yet to label

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-88010600870401068262009-08-01T18:07:00.000-07:002009-08-02T00:32:43.079-07:00

Rudi Gernreich dressed completely in white tiptoes upside down in a tenuous circular fashion. One after another, former pupils in pristinely bleached retrofitted outfits follow his footsteps onto the empty horizon, each individually vocalizing the same tune that grows louder synchronously. Indeed (and contrary to scientific evidence), their collective voices do project well in far space, a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-67480422680361191652009-02-21T12:04:00.000-08:002009-02-21T12:29:48.567-08:00

An hour passes by and the tree somewhere in Brooklyn grows older. Such coincidence can only be divine wind, a perfect storm that swirls gusty orange cones in flashing orange lights. Nothing moves, everything freezes, only brazen thoughts discourteously converge. In but not on edge, the violatile fuse so out of context just fails to light. The telltale hiss of trailing sparks never materialize as

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-51366901916166958412008-06-05T20:14:00.000-07:002008-06-06T20:10:31.435-07:00

Over a billion served or twin humps, double arches and no flat feet that Ruth Asawa weaves endlessly. Besides, her milk cartons empty out pure unnutritious white rice. So are tubers more starchy? she asks.His bloated little stomach vomits out watermelon in reply.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-85531644101710017422008-05-12T19:43:00.000-07:002008-05-12T20:30:57.242-07:00

The champagne backdrop shimmers a translucent grayness from which subtle washes build up imaginary mountains on either side. Huge accordioned screens separate the people from the stage before them as the lights, the thundering skies, flicker. A tin bird weaves the navigated course blindfolded. It is a one-dimensional trick but the audience claps anyway. Their village just elongated off the frame

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-83435360189192014152008-02-07T18:29:00.000-08:002008-05-12T23:30:43.616-07:00

"Blue skies... nothing but blue skies makes my brown eyes blue!" So it goes somewhat uninterrupted, almost consecutive like Pete Rose chasing Joe DiMaggio. Except Dom and the other forgotten Marx brother thins the water weaker than hemoglobin. Abroad six weeks is after all more than the doctor ordered even if the boy fell sick enough to require Benadryl. Funny how an ear infection sedated the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-25132381139713626462007-10-31T22:19:00.000-07:002008-05-12T20:34:11.783-07:00

A diagonal line circumnavigates the sphere and cuts through, ninja precise. No ordinary ginzu knife needed just clear plastic bags to contain the remnants.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-89776089108964260832007-05-21T23:41:00.000-07:002007-06-19T21:58:30.529-07:00

Morning again, a double bargain as wheels touch land calmly. The beige odalisque so tightly bunned but redly aproned clasp their hands and bow in unison as pockets jangle loudly of pilfered cutlery dull to the touch. One of them cries accidently over spilt red wine that to her utter surprise fails to leave a blood stain. Magically it simply disappears as does the entire crew searching for the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-83613671941463337912007-03-27T13:58:00.000-07:002007-03-27T14:01:30.741-07:00

As the weather warms up and thoughts turn green because of those magical words, "Pitchers and catchers", being spouted indiscriminately, the annual task that is the concomitant art exhibit for the upcoming Asian American Showcase (usually in April) invariably falls upon my lap with a flat thud. But the well from which fresh, new ideas-once so full, clear and crisp---now runs dry, and so it is

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1163322020098359392006-11-12T00:18:00.000-08:002006-12-07T20:28:22.916-08:00

A paper napkin doodle dandy tapdances a jig around Jimmy Cagney atop a manila folder. Over there he unfolds a xeroxed blueprint in the sultry summer afternoon sun, his baseball cap melting. One by one, kinfolk follow his steps blindly, each touching a sequence of primary colored dots in procession. And so Master Po asks Grasshopper (the young Kwai Chang Caine) to ponder the true meaning of

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1160462130761437402006-10-09T23:35:00.000-07:002006-10-09T23:35:30.776-07:00

The numerology luckily divined equals twenty-five strokes, each lap a full length shy of two feet by three and a half inches. After nine centimeters of thirty hours and sixteen minutes, the mathematician recalculated and ultimately deferred the word problem to a handwriting expert to work out another solution. Instead he called long distance seeking spiritual validation.Outside, an odd couple

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1156136960272372792006-08-20T20:32:00.000-07:002006-08-20T22:09:20.330-07:00

Somewhere out west three consecutive dots followed by three rapid dashes followed again by three rhythmic dots dissipate over the Nebraskan sky, unheard.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1155419573981904272006-08-12T12:21:00.000-07:002006-08-12T14:52:54.036-07:00

The four blue walls remain undisturbed as it were and all is still. Only in a momentary lapse of concentration did the olive velour cocktail loveseat greatly escape. Swiftly, the Gestapo called out the German shepherd to hunt down the lost stray and both concluded the matter over a barrel of homemade moonshine without even so much as a Yankee Doodle Dandy. Now it guards the unprotected corner

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1148162436281140122006-05-20T14:04:00.000-07:002006-05-22T21:49:39.880-07:00

An origami ziggurat lilts forward, its hollow spine a ribbed pagoda of trapezoid flaps as if built by Simon Rodia. Towers upon leaning towers of waxed two-ply cardboard bleached white darken the brown gravy within. Underneath, the thermal heating lamp stutters an order to go.The mother of chef Ming Tsai breathes heavily, flipping spatula and ladle together in clattering harmony. Her dish, a lunch

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1143473368699378422006-03-27T07:14:00.000-08:002006-03-27T12:49:07.606-08:00

Walk on a flying carpet of nails suspended thirty feet in the air gingerly.Below stubby oak stumps whittled away span upward, a city of angels. Or tall, narrow columns interspersed. Fake wood grain, plastic veneer cover medium density fiberboard arranged in tribute to Tatlin. No leaning tower of Pisa or Babel instead atop each faux bamboo pole is perched athletic shoewear spray-painted gold or

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1142537797080465922006-03-16T10:04:00.000-08:002006-03-16T11:36:37.126-08:00

Three separate moments, a simultaneous jumble of far-flung joss sticks, about thirty seconds apart run parallel in marathon time. Who knew things could misalign so perfectly? Yet not surprisingly, the bizarro neighbors straight from an unfinished manuscript are aghast nonetheless.She pauses and swallows, every meal a Poseidon adventure. Water rushes in, washing away the coral reef, turns and

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1140068579093421762006-02-15T20:33:00.000-08:002006-02-16T00:29:47.623-08:00

Across the silk-covered room, the fairy tale begins swiftly, a flowing iridescent current. A failed thought pauses in distraction and then floats harmlessly by. Somehow before it fades, an Asian police officer wearing a green gray uniform urges a speedy retreat from the scene of the crime yet to happen. An unavoidable anticipation pervades and hangs thicker than fog as I follow. The trap is being

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1139946963218988942006-02-14T11:19:00.000-08:002006-02-14T11:56:03.256-08:00

Incessant caterwauling squeakily reverberates over the partition so much so that it fazes the normally plastic Yao Ming leaning in mid-dribble, shoulder lowered into the beige receiver, clearing room for a running hook. One hundred t-bone steaks dancing a waltz with one hundred bacon strips along the wall, watch in silence. Behind the leaden wall sit two aliens of the nookie persuasion, jabbering

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1139860400865623802006-02-13T11:42:00.000-08:002006-02-13T14:25:32.726-08:00

Wonder ugly and hop a leaf. A ponytailed girl with fish lips, puckering wood-grained graffiti is left hoisting a tangled ball of orange extension cords. Noguchi using Japanese paper instead, smirks. Are the cut-ups really enough to arouse guffaws? Hopefully under a pseudonym, Chow Yun Fat displaces the neon cool of the John Woo ilk. And the hapa haoles surface en masse, driven from their

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1137089791670181022006-01-12T09:23:00.000-08:002006-01-13T09:43:31.976-08:00

He draws a charcoal line, wavery in the misty rain as the doppelganger reflects a weird shadow from underneath a tree limb overhanging a grassy plot. Naturally it dissolves, washed away by a torrent of tears. But no one is near to hear you ask, "So who will come and wipe clean the memory?"Waxen, the prone figure rests comfortably, undisturbed by the surrounding begonias and lavish carnation

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1135237036355689602005-12-21T22:53:00.000-08:002005-12-21T23:42:47.296-08:00

Up the middle lies the remains of two horned and bloated goats. Visitors march by in disbelief, asking to themselves, "How did this happen? And who is to blame?"On the far wall, dimly lit by flickering candles is the gospel, finally.LARRY LEELed the league in least runs scored upon assisted in small part due to his ability to induce batters to "hit his pitch" but mainly to his All-Star middle

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1133851155123770462005-12-05T21:01:00.000-08:002005-12-05T22:42:34.540-08:00

"Tinker to Evers to Chance." Or just as worthy, Earney to Miller to Bauling to May,Our quadruple-powered vacuum, sucking in all debris,Cleaning dusty pathways, forever linked,who upon summons take a bow,ALYSON EARNEYDefensive mainstay at third base, Alyson guarded the line and prevented grounders from becoming extra-base hits. She formed part of an "Iron Curtain" on the left side of the diamond

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1133500221979418872005-12-01T20:24:00.000-08:002005-12-01T21:22:28.450-08:00

A partition blocks the entrance into the sacred place, a memory palace long forgotten. On the opposite side is a vitrine housing a dusty satin athletic jacket whose reflective gleam shines off the bronzed bas-reliefs and glossy text covering all the walls within. Frozen in time, such a personal moment transcends historicism beyond legend yet fights together to immortalize loss and commemorate

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1132781279961183402005-11-23T13:26:00.000-08:002005-11-23T13:27:59.970-08:00

R&M Trucking, leading by three runs with two outs and the bases empty in the bottom of the seventh and final inning of the title game for the 1995 Chicago Park District Margate Park Co-Rec Monday Night Softball Championship; lose by the score of 7 to 6 to the reigning champions and perennial powerhouse Simon’s Tavern formerly K-Dugouts when a hard liner is deflected into short leftfield allowing

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1132723370240088692005-11-22T20:15:00.000-08:002005-12-21T23:46:05.870-08:00

Cloisonned gold interlaced, wraps around his neck just below the larynx, a dangerous knotted scarf that Von Ryan twists violently as steady, even pressure strangles each Nazi guard, all seated abreast like ducks on the pond. It is red dawn and his successors, streamlined mainstream knockoffs effusing angst, are boys lost. Frankenstein whose bellowing voice disrupts the radar screen full of

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1132038946370834982005-11-14T22:14:00.000-08:002005-11-14T23:19:13.413-08:00

Endless miles of plastic highways swerve underground deeply into encrusted tunnels, an arterial labyrinth to be navigated by a microscopic submarine armed with laser beams. The theater of operations is antiseptically sterile as white jumpsuited technicians wearing safety yellow hardhats sidestep one another checking the numerous lighted gadgetry beeping irregularly. Uniformed men peer from behind

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1130969166227368532005-11-02T10:30:00.000-08:002005-11-03T11:59:41.030-08:00

Blinds drawn, a silver puff of opium smoke obscures intermittent white noise from broken static emitted by a massive equipment shutdown. The minions so scrubbed-faced do scramble, an ad hoc exodus that violates celestial hierarchy. Ghosts of disarmed MIGs do fly by as a matter of encounter versus displacement. Unbeknownst to him, though, Tony Randall materializes speaking in tongues, his long

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1130435337359209132005-10-27T09:16:00.000-07:002005-10-27T12:07:46.946-07:00

circa 1969In a sea of red and white dotted along the periphery, vertigo loses surrealism. The resultant encompassing fisheye view, panoramic in Cinemascope, of the diamonded greenery below, though joyous, distorts all contiguous space/time continuum, elongating heretofore husky torsos. Beauty fully realized as cognitive concept beyond normal parameters, inexorably slides head first, a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1130342640309744172005-10-26T09:02:00.000-07:002005-10-26T09:06:30.140-07:00

The dynamics of geographical orientation often form uneasy allegiances between natural enemies because which way the wind blows determines obtuse tracjectories launched from solid sphere impacting against oblong cylinder. This process reflects the superficiality that is the madding crowd at the proverbial fork-in-the-road, the penultimate flip-of-the-coin. Go deep or run shallow; stay true or fly

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1130182786756984862005-10-24T11:03:00.000-07:002005-10-24T16:46:32.620-07:00

Oversized shurikens, each a lovely shade of baby pastel twinkle, embedded as if thrown along the perimeter of where ceiling meets wall. Around their orbit hang miniature Alexander Calderish mobiles in itself another self-contained universe ad infinitum.The constellations then form haphazard patterns all over Jackson Pollock armwrestling Elsworth Kelly that appear quite dangerously razor sharp.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1129311525992886542005-10-14T07:35:00.000-07:002005-10-14T10:38:46.036-07:00

Streamlined tubular chair in black leather handsomely upholstered over hidden birchwood ergonomically hogtied in suspension adjacent an upturned vintage vinyl barstool frozen by not-so-hidden puppet strings. Each knot the perfect bowtie, looped so its tapered legs thrust awkwardly in pain, lower back twisted, upper torso bent over. Hemp cords bruise the matte finish as bound limbs in limbo risk

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1119381845238592602005-06-21T11:46:00.000-07:002005-11-09T07:24:03.800-08:00

As simple as disposing trash, an automatic act, almost like riding an upside-down bicycle attached to an upright stool repeated regularly recompenses a good salary. One day of waiting albeit sated from junk food equals two weeks of pay. That was the happy meal offered by Ray Kroc and an inebriated Ronald McDonald. Under the golden arches a food stylist dawdles away the afternoon light tweezering

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1118954869022700492005-06-16T11:55:00.000-07:002005-06-16T13:47:49.076-07:00

Crenellated bittermelon hardened to a straightedged rectangle, each furrow a striated plane from a bird's eye view lands ever so softly on the abstracted tarmac. Architecturally related, intersticed strip malls of triple-hued firm tofu stand at ease, lounging around a five-city-block radius, arousing the ire of female passersby indignant of the nonstop catcalls in salute. At the end of the street

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1118179524138125832005-06-07T14:07:00.000-07:002005-06-07T14:25:24.143-07:00

Disassembled Ming replica footstool in seven pieces form a Chinese puzzle of three faux cloisonne vases huddled inside the decorative fireplace hearth of ecru brick. A cluster of bright satin embroidered pin cushions connect its mushroom tops like famous Siamese twins Chang and Eng plus one pair of baby China doll slippers atop Remembrance of Things Past.Greasy porcelain Kung Fu master in White

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1117725351134337482005-06-02T07:51:00.000-07:002005-06-02T10:41:33.183-07:00

Top for long distance, the center for intermediate looking, and the bottom for reading equals no peripheral vision because of how the sides blur. Now to adjust, the whole head moves. Vision unlike its counterpart and namesake Simon Williams, he who is a red-faced, yellow-caped, green-skinned android capable of passing through solid form, deteriorates like a scarlet witch as parts continue to

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1117575876108643042005-05-31T14:03:00.000-07:002005-06-02T10:42:11.996-07:00

Galvanized pipes threaded by teflon elbows or steel tee joints and rubberized, so as to better resist inclement weather transform into the perfect storm that drowns Dirk Diggler. Embedded, the concrete anchor of arachnid legs balances a fragile fulcrum precariously haunched upwards. Little school children who fall from lack of coordination or upper body strength during their recess scuff up their

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1117031354022877362005-05-25T07:28:00.000-07:002005-10-14T10:44:24.230-07:00

Simple egg glaze, shiny on top, dome-backed like a fat turtlewithout its shell concealing swine innards sometimes sausage, sometimes hamalways pig cha sui baoswhat makes the world go roundbarbequed and pulled gentlysweet manna of pork Grab one piping hot near its centerand like Moseslovingly part its Red Sea to the Promised Landwhich entreats glands and salivates drool steam rising mouth

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1116680907723992192005-05-21T06:05:00.000-07:002005-05-21T06:08:27.726-07:00

Last night Henry Giroux pronounced his disgust during break for Eyes Wide Shut, Stanley Kubrick’s last film. He thought the movie to be about the privileged “white” male and misogynistic among other criticisms that failed to address anything of interest for him. He also felt betrayed by the Jonathan Rosenbaum review of the film that affirmed his curiosity to see the movie. These ideas of his

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1116559450502848442005-05-19T19:54:00.000-07:002005-05-22T09:18:24.240-07:00

A Mies Van Der Rohe block, tall as any unadorned skyscraper but obviously painted yellow stands connected to its little brother, the low-to-ground squat horizontal rectilinear cube. Like Big Bird on Sesame Street chirps, "one of these things don't belong; one of these things is not like the others..." So who decides which one is the natural question. Maybe Linda Montana tied up to the great Sam

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1116390284047019802005-05-17T21:20:00.000-07:002005-05-17T21:24:44.053-07:00

As published in the recent issue of ArtAsiaPacific...It is no coincidence that Indian artist Jitish Kallat chose religious fanaticism as the subject of his latest work aptly, playfully and collectively entitled “The Lie of the Land” at Walsh Gallery in Chicago. Given these uncertain times, this ambitious installation featuring seven paintings, six works on paper and a fifteen-foot long text-based

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1110868319434633422005-03-14T22:28:00.000-08:002005-05-22T09:22:08.086-07:00

So without further adieu and in its glorious unedited entirety, a very proud uncle proudly presents:The Love That Seeks Revenge When a family member dies, relatives of he or she mourn the loss of them. Some families bury them in a cemetery. Some families have the body cremated. Even some families write their name in an obituary. But, the Sarayashis differ from each aspect of mourning of a family

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1109705722517452432005-03-01T11:30:00.000-08:002005-03-01T11:37:07.576-08:00

"Rupture" sight unseen:Bladder-related, water-laden and exceedingly colonic, this filmpositively urinates a stream-of-broken-consciousness heretoforeunmatched except for expansive Flubber as our protagonist suddenlydiscovers the true meaning of…Now that is the type of movie worth its weight in gold.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1109027478800247582005-02-21T14:46:00.000-08:002005-02-21T15:13:25.560-08:00

To be so scarce for so long usually indicates foul play. Kind of like walking innocuously along the pier, minding your own business when suddenly swoosh! A big white canvas bag is thrown over your head, engulfing your body as a rope wraps tightly around your arms and waist, squeezing out the very air you breathe as everything fades to black. And when the cobwebs finally clear, you awake later

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1104425197479734132004-12-30T07:50:00.000-08:002004-12-30T08:48:20.733-08:00

The hiatus prompts a very useful dream. Suddenly the ground shoots up and new walls thrust toward the raftered ceiling. Or the open field, a wide expanse converging past either horizon line, ruptures as if from plate techtonics though not organically and fissured in a broken or shattered fashion but orderly and geometrical like neatly stacked Lego blocks. The terrain becomes a preNintendo video

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1101410351649856532004-11-25T11:11:00.000-08:002004-11-25T11:19:11.653-08:00

The platform made of medium density fiberboard sits about six inches above the floor and acts as a shallow pool from which the rusted legs of three steel office chairs submerge into. A foot deep wall about four feet high stands directly behind, attached to the base of its adjoining structure, forming a reverse L-shape. On the opposite side is a twenty gallon aquarium perched atop a narrow

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1100921485223094312004-11-19T18:51:00.000-08:002004-11-19T19:31:25.223-08:00

Wait and see because the cat and mouse suddenly decided to observe the proprieties. So who outlasts whom squeezes the breath out in a gasp. The first one to flinch loses usually but the deck is stacked with many aces up the proverbial sleeves. March off ten paces on his mark, turn and shoot. So much for that theory as strategy. But somehow the ball bounces away freely on the other side of the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1100300333274172812004-11-12T10:55:00.000-08:002004-11-12T14:58:53.273-08:00

Black then red then blue then green then yellow then orange then white represents but one order of many viable systems of belief whereas an antiNeoplasticist world by contrast or bias opts for a palette of white to yellow to orange to green to purple to blue to brown to black instead. But Maurice Chevral advocates the optical rather than sociopolitical effects of hue that becomes basic color

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1097910121337985912004-10-15T23:23:00.000-07:002004-10-16T00:06:52.926-07:00

Nothing, and I mean nothing, beats free because the sound of gratis is akin to "cha-ching!" So to be connected in such a place only compels random thoughts about the place in general. A somewhat tough proposition given the red-eye timing of arrival, complimentary shuttle and mad dash to the bar for a rather disappointing interpretation of something foolproof like a rib-eye steak sandwich. Still,

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1097213522808381682004-10-07T21:26:00.000-07:002004-10-07T22:32:02.810-07:00

Originally the plan called for flimsy rice paper to lead a path to Enlightment. But treading softly enough so as to not rip its surface betrayed heavy feet borne of a carnivorous diet and an unsteady step. So the alternative is to find a shortcut instead. Rather than suffer the pain of arduous and lengthy apprenticeship (who can really invest the time anymore?) to master said feat, newer

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1093715498042806922004-08-28T10:33:00.000-07:002004-08-28T10:51:38.043-07:00

Squeal like a pig (Insert telltale banjo twang) prolonged and loud so as to last a whole week enough to really damage the vocal chords. Finally the kinfolk arrived atop their pickup truck after chancing upon some black gold albeit disparately and immediately fell prey to the Drysdale curse. The dollar only stretches so far above the Mason-Dixon Line. So imagine the sticker shock of being in

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1092234432612454232004-08-11T05:08:00.000-07:002004-08-17T09:08:42.703-07:00

It was an overcast sky that chilly Saturday morning in Ping Tom Park named for the man who made a fortune selling the ubiquitously white and rhomboid take-out carton as folkloric as chop suey and moo goo gai pan. Crowds wandered in early and often, expectant to see the dotting of the eye but as usual became subjected to cretin officials waxing unpoetically about sponsors and other unrelated

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-109190790033408852004-08-07T11:57:00.000-07:002004-08-07T12:45:00.333-07:00

And barely kissed the remaining nine-ball along the outside rail. Slowly it rolled into the far pocket but not before the blue-light special ended a mere stroke after midnight. The coliseum, full of hoarse and bedraggled spectators, erupted at the sound of its plop. And suddenly the warrior appeared in full regalia amidst the dense smoke, his shiny mane wrapped around his neck longer than even

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1089663224191044872004-07-12T12:27:00.000-07:002004-07-12T13:13:44.193-07:00

That deluxe apartment in the sky now does smell of burnt beans because she who gave birth to yet another popular cultural icon Lenny Kravitz gives new meaning to the phrase, "What you talkin' bout, (Tom) Willis?" And Flo who left for 227, quite the far cry from Karen Valentine being bossed around by that Zorba of lesser Greeks, Michael Constantine back in Room 222, comforts George. So make room

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1088719719327894132004-07-01T14:34:00.000-07:002004-07-01T15:13:03.126-07:00

Last summer it poured around this time and appropriately as if preordained, an off-remark said in total jest completely backfired. In a soaked crowd, the words first wafted overheard before sinking below flesh. The emperor surrounded by his senators fell. Unfortunately, the knife shone red in my hand. And just as quickly the connection severed quite unexpectedly. Who knew the repercussions would

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1086968624870450372004-06-11T08:11:00.000-07:002004-06-11T08:43:44.870-07:00

The world disconnects and the said revolution permits an ambulatory freedom heretofore unheard of. The joy felt upon hearing the doorbell ring and seeing the man in brown (wearing shorts no less) bearing the instrument of my liberty. Twirl the hands clockwise like a tornado and behold the future, Pompie. Lee Marvin, bless his soul, passed by like Mariko Mori surfing a stream of radio waves. And

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1085808904502603832004-05-28T20:48:00.000-07:002004-05-28T23:04:14.716-07:00

Societal detritus amassed as collectible nostalgia, too sentimental to relinquish and therefore more precious than common junk. That is the premise from which to converge. Two separate paths, two distinct styles representing a palpable sense of aesthetic that must be dovetailed in order to co-exist. Larger metaphysical mores dictate such redesign, inflict a moral obligation beyond the connective

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1085676854373718792004-05-27T09:04:00.000-07:002004-05-27T22:16:41.236-07:00

Tuesday afternoon before the Pepsi half-price night rendezvous to see Schoenweiss versus the Gambler, two veteran lollipop lefthanded curveballers, threatens to be washed out. But then the missing sun reappears and just like old times in a snap of a finger, the scenery changes almost instantaneously from drab gray to lush green. So why not squeeze in nine holes to properly acknowledge the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1085079815308091412004-05-20T10:54:00.000-07:002004-05-27T22:17:22.160-07:00

It returns. The greatest slump of all time continues. But not from a lack of trying. What beguiles is that things started off very swimmingly. First a ghost from distant past revealed themself to be a guardian angel in disguise pointing the way, shining the proverbial light. A name I heretofore only read about shook my hand. Then before you can say "abracadabra", the secret door opened.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1083336493944765262004-04-30T07:25:00.000-07:002004-05-27T21:11:16.136-07:00

And just like that, it ends. Only a cascading and snaking trail of fallen dominoes remains, her evidence of being here three weeks after arriving eight hours late. The time itself competed with other coinciding events preplanned well in advance so what eventually happened involved more hopscotching than is usually normal. But as is the case when cultures clash and egos fray, basic communication

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1080926245202704082004-04-02T08:39:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:15:45.896-07:00

Yesterday was as good a day as any to be born. Just ask an officially seventy-four year old paper son. He managed to wingding double celebrations by way of flippancy for nary six score. But the crisis so to speak passed for the expectant parents-to-be. Both deemed the cursed day marked by its lack of gravity inappropriate for the grand entry of their scion. And this from those who would curse an

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1079703386736813662004-03-19T05:09:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:17:08.453-07:00

And so it goes, the madness continues...at least one more chance to bleed blue. Is the monkey in this year of the monkey ironically and finally off their back? Can it be laid to rest peacefully? Will the pain after so many years subside? Bring on the leeches before I faint. My Linda Blairesque head swivels aghast dreaming the redemption, that day when the pit churning deep in my stomach acids

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1079453947105954382004-03-16T07:46:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:19:38.710-07:00

Her name is like a weeping willow, a black sumi-e brush drawing of a lovely tree with flowing branches. Not so long ago, she cried every night for her mother to return. But no one came. The two strangers plunked her down between a stuffed rag doll, three bronze taels strung together by red yarn and the year you were born to choose a future. In the oak-paneled room, incense burned as the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1079318926374662092004-03-14T18:21:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:21:20.006-07:00

The last time she slept over, all hell broke loose. Then teeth gnashed, egoes rankled and a pretty nasty pillow fight ensued. Not quite the maelstrom of white zigzagging feathers abruptly slashed through midair by the centrifrugal force of whirring eight-point cotton on reddened flesh but enough pounds per square inch applied rapid fire to barrage any target to smithereens. Natural enemies, the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1078719529226610452004-03-07T19:44:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:22:48.483-07:00

Twenty four ninety-degree angles gridlock to obscure gelid eyes intent on gentler curves. But who cares if no one remembers Hector Guimard. Yesterday a drip of red ink on watery paper shot down his femural artery, undulating past many white blood corpuscles as he looked into shards of mirrored mosaic. Across the boulevard, east meets west. Raw silk made from celadon worms mask the worn-out

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1078202608892440362004-03-01T20:40:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:18:31.786-07:00

Back in the last century during one of the graduations for the School at the Medinah Temple when staff then was "volunteered" to assist with the proceedings, my role/job/task was to police the backstage area and direct traffic as new graduates who received their diplomas walked offstage. Of course, one of the speakers receiving an honorary degree that day was her YOKOness and believe me, she put

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1077653594465519782004-02-24T11:36:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:26:11.246-07:00

Under her varnished pavillion, she is frozen, forever gazing westward. A wooden robot made of filligreed ramen lattice interlocked in feudal fashion to turn back the atomic clock stands watch. Ancient rusted cogs chugging incrementally forward, slowly rotate the axis of a platformed pagoda only two stories tall. The noise it makes deafens. But still the monks gather, praying to the sleek slabs

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076914326276641602004-02-15T20:02:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:26:52.810-07:00

The game of any game is after all simply a game. The glory of the individual whose skill or talent or perseverance or courage in concert with or competition against other such combatants reinforce the character of man under pressure. Or that is what the traditional Modernists, those who revere the purity of the contest, the status quo, would have you believe. But playing to win no longer holds

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076630862691166912004-02-12T14:23:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:28:09.656-07:00

The cottage industry that is red roses, red lingerie, red hearts and chocolate, chocolate, chocolate always manages to dry-heave deep pangs of regret, of missed opportunity, of the special one that got away. So young, so stupid, so inexperienced back then as to not pool any and maybe even borrowed resources to start up what should have been "Cads and Heels," a convenience store for dysfunctional

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076437523927356542004-02-10T10:08:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:12:26.040-07:00

"Pitchers and catchers, this Saturday." So what more needs to be said except the national pastime redux.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076432052738065292004-02-10T08:38:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:15:40.926-07:00

Why not a small gesture? Since or perhaps because it fell apart from being unglued, paint the disjointed sections of discarded and possibly fake Ming stool a rainbow of pretty colors. Then reassemble it but (or not) into chinoiserie version of Bauhaus or more correctly Rietveld chair. Now comes basic color theory of which ones will work dynamically.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076396248187266412004-02-09T21:57:00.000-08:002004-05-27T21:36:56.380-07:00

Knock on wood because the trey no longer veers right or left but actually swishes through. The lost range prompted a retooled jumper that actually elevates off the floor. The tried-and-true knock-kneed Bob McAdoo over-the-head rainbow failed on more than one occasion from the top of the key. Or no longer money in the bank as some would say. Besides it telegraphed the shot being so deliberate a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1076084565486612842004-02-06T07:17:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:22:48.066-07:00

Out of sight, out of mind, lost in space, up to no good and dreamweaving like crazy. And for what purpose except simply to primp. Gary Wright stuck in neutral because cyberspace addicts. But worse than that is the blankness of white backgrounds to recreate old and tired looks. The terror of visually communicating an attitude, a definable aesthetic. So how much of what is said about spatial

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1074701669427671122004-01-21T07:31:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:28:00.246-07:00

Every winter, see Pappy fall. And not the momentarily-losing-your-balance-before-slipping-on-your-ass falling down, the kind where your embarrassed face blushs red, betrayed by the laws of gravity but momentous, gorgeous flights of fancy, legs kicked forward, arms flailing, what aerodynamic engineers refer to as sheer horizontal. The type that Looney Tunes animators masturbate about. Previous

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1074623236438884672004-01-20T09:59:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:30:02.140-07:00

A noble act based on friendship relies on patience and sometimes, good timing with even better luck. How else do you explain disembarking into fifty degree weather from single-digit temperatures without the slightest clue? Naturally this is what happens just as soon as I leave town. It seemed a foregone conclusion that both my classes cancelled but oddly enough (or maybe not), wheels began

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1074042522500824432004-01-13T16:31:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:20:53.393-07:00

Another sad, snowy day by which to measure terms of closure. It became in its mourning a tally of sorts, to see who in such circumstances simply shows up. No doubt, someone kept count. Eyes stared and heads swiveled about, all noting those in attendance and those conspicuously not. And of course among that select company the most glaring absence betrayed a lack of manners. Their impropriety as

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1073370586850841222004-01-05T22:11:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:51:22.120-07:00

Monday Night Basketball or Survey of Art, Part Three (From Impressionism to Contemporary)...which shall it be? So nothing like being on pins and needles awaiting whether next week will be the last evening of shooting hoops until the end of the spring term (which might be a crying shame considering that the nephew gave me a brand new Nike indoor/outdoor basketball for Christmas). Therefore to

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1072801644803486472003-12-30T07:53:00.000-08:002004-06-02T20:39:31.140-07:00

Try as hard as you may to walk the straight and narrow, life is full of minor annoyances. And like clockwork, it happens unsuspectedly. If you will, free-associate a rotating, swirling bolo flying out of nowhere that hogties your ankles from which, before any instinct can react, cartoon physics apply, yanking the rug from under causing your mug to be smashed flat against the pavement. Case in

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1072301969009823372003-12-24T13:10:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:49:39.496-07:00

Time to remember S.H.A.D.O. Or Supreme Headquarters, Alien Detection Organization, the good guys of "UFO", a long-forgotten Gerry Anderson vehicle from the early seventies that used to air eight o'clock Sunday nights on Channel Nine right before bedtime. Naturally I begged Mom the extra hour just to see Commander Straker and his ultra-secret (super-technological) forces based in a hidden defense

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1071784545467810202003-12-18T13:19:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:39:03.156-07:00

Five-eight-eight-two-three-hundred, Empire... The automated telephone system plus the proliferation of interactive web sites online really equals easy living. Those who thought jumping into your car to drive somewhere quickly ought to know that complete lazy-ass convenience of planting your butt comfortably typing or dialing some numbers away. Why find an excuse to stay home anymore? Real-life "

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1070492681655970332003-12-03T14:25:00.000-08:002004-05-27T22:45:01.466-07:00

God knows (and He does) I love a hot dog. I can seriously eat one for each meal if left to my own devices. And this from someone who cooked Oscar Meyer weiners for breakfast between the ages of eight to eleven until a classmate perished the thought. Back then, the mush of pig parts and entrails wrapped in casing that functioned as my convoluted pre-adolescent logic basically lumped the

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1069866307990850852003-11-26T07:58:00.000-08:002004-06-02T20:40:47.150-07:00

The inevitable happened and who can blame her, really. Year after year listening to the former Trader Vic's barbeque chef critique the "tookey" prepared annually by his son as being "too dry" or the smashed, not mashed potatoes not being smooth and creamy enough like it used to be prepared in the Army by him for an entire battalion. And the weak culinary excuse of "it's supposed to be that way"

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1069740401589550072003-11-24T21:39:00.000-08:002004-06-02T20:38:26.656-07:00

Sad to say, but Charlotte continued a recent trend to imbibe heavily. Ordinarily, a cold soft drink of the Coke family suffices to quench my thirst but somehow the temptation of a per diem on the road justifies the frill of liquor. Sitting at the sushi bar downing Kirin after Sapporo to chase warm sake tastes so much better washing down expense account sashimi. Of course, this is succeded by a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1069435475803452322003-11-21T08:02:00.000-08:002004-06-02T20:37:41.960-07:00

Time does fly. The devil monkey child himself turns twelve today. And for someone composed of genetic material predisposed to Sumo proportions, his lack of food intake-which is not to be confused with his appetite as the boy loves his sweets- beguiles the whole family especially considering that his former linebacker dad Willie is often mistaken for Bolo (think Asian muscle man/karate killer

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1067155153872299422003-10-26T00:22:00.000-07:002004-06-02T20:42:58.263-07:00

Finally, love conquers all... Especially at the business end of a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun. But as usual the only redeemable part about this overseas Hatfield between McCoy feud facsimile might be the sweet music playing when the guilty parties mouth, "I do." Somehow the inmates running the asylum left the door open to the room housing the victrola where the only songs left were: 1)

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1065152450686965942003-10-02T20:03:00.000-07:002004-05-27T21:45:41.553-07:00

Thin planks cleft in half, splintered and serrated edges reconstructing a karate chop. Jujitsu flip the whole bundle around the broken joints without any wood glue. It builds character and external form from the hip, bent forward with eyes trained on the target. Losing sight prompts a sneer and the punitive whack upside the head. So how thick is the color yellow? Contrary to popular belief,

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1063380992493136642003-09-12T08:18:00.000-07:002004-06-02T20:44:17.796-07:00

Our world, that wonderful talking box, continues to crumble. First the Tunnel King permanently "slipped on a bar of soap" and magnificently subtracted yet another integer from that magic number of seven. On the road to Zanzibar that is to be expected. Because even centenarians eventually wear out their welcome onstage awshucksing the crowd, waving the flag while one-lining prewritten material.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1062618769651454732003-09-03T12:52:00.000-07:002004-05-27T21:39:33.963-07:00

On Highway 301 South, Edisto Drive, one mile out of Orangeburg just past the rosed gardens, he pointed ahead to the oncoming bend in the road, at the fruit stand owned by Jewel and her oldest son Monte Philips now that her husband Monroe passed. The corrugated structure still looked makeshift despite all these years, a silver revival tent around which a fairly modernized refrigeration system kept

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1061826622706508872003-08-25T08:50:00.000-07:002004-05-27T21:31:51.943-07:00

Too much caffiene from endless cups of joe and way too many packs of Marlboros over the years ate away at his scrawny musculature, shrivelling an already skinny man even skinnier. The effect is positively skeletal. His legendary vanity a mere shell of what once was, when as family jokes go decades ago, a younger Miu Wa caught him in front of the mirror meticulously blow-drying and primping his

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1061739523400636612003-08-24T08:38:00.000-07:002004-06-02T20:45:31.366-07:00

Off Jeffries Boulevard the faded, peeling sign looked unhurried as twin rows of empty lightbulb sockets rimming around the rickshaw font letters sat lazily still, completely out of time. Not long ago an attempt to repaint it produced the circus effect of badly outlined lipstick. Its worn bareness stood out against the electronic debonair of its city-slick cousins like a neglected child left home

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1061594840045659342003-08-22T16:27:00.000-07:002004-05-27T21:30:54.406-07:00

Or so it seems racing like a bullet down endless asphalt highway, pitch-black save for flourescent dashes whose hypnotic Morse Code spell is only broken by the staccato mechanical snores of the devil monkey children, outstretched and crucified as if painted by Gericault; their alternate wheezes, snorts and neighs an odd urban Cagian orchestra incongruent to the Grand Ole Opry playing on the front

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1060964653281647792003-08-15T09:24:00.000-07:002004-06-02T20:46:39.123-07:00

Go, Speed Racer, go. The last time was so long ago, leaving Dodge high on the saddle, Passport set on high and blackhawked Belfour in the crease flopping around on-the-air. That cannonball run mimicked all the previous ones except now add on Trixie, Pops, Spritle and even Chim Chim. The whole kit and keboodle. Only poor Sparky gets left behind. Back then, the Mach Five cum Protege blazed a

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1060191884392355632003-08-06T10:44:00.000-07:002004-06-02T20:51:38.383-07:00

So it made me laugh. The sheer chutzpah of Dirty Dozen on Ice forced a tear of irony. Rugged G.I. Joe murderer's row cons effeminately figure-eighting background routines while slitting Nazi throat really asphyxiates the funny bone. My stomach hurt to see classic old school being Disneyfied as kitschy hogwash because such clever postmodernism is pure genius. Besides how can anyone weaned on

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1060116213023830662003-08-05T13:43:00.000-07:002004-05-27T22:58:07.960-07:00

Snatching the pebble in itself represents a continuation of Analects. Include another part to complete the tryptych that features trial by fire or tattooing via scarification. Then the tao of things learned from cultural tourism, gentrified as David Carradine softshoeing combat choreography, completes the tautology. Thus achieving masterhood, the new series and the next logical step, reenacts

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1058975127695457132003-07-23T08:45:00.000-07:002005-05-25T08:24:53.376-07:00

Finally no more winding up the damn propeller every week. Time which skyrocketed itself into a dizzying orbit ran out of gas so that the laws of Newtonian physics can apply enough gravity for reentry. Just a few eyes left to dot and then the madness of the next stage of the next race beckons. But not awhile at least. Besides with a few monkey wrenches in the works behind the scenes, who knows

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-1057447806279062562003-07-05T16:30:00.000-07:002005-05-25T10:37:34.103-07:00

The man probably arrived early yesterday. The angels in tribute folded back the satin sheets and heaven cooed in ecstasy.So take off your brassierre, my dear, my darling I...can't get enough of your love, babe, never, never, ever let you go, and make your toenails curl.Love remains unlimited.

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3544151.post-105737247269608272003-07-04T19:34:00.000-07:002005-05-25T09:13:01.040-07:00

Again things hold true to form, even as the new replaces the old. The faces may change but certain patterns still persist rarely deviating from the cliches. No matter what and predictably typical of very bad ensemble acting, the broadly-painted cast consists of the usual suspects as usual. A three-hour tour that began a fortnight ago except this latest sequel strands the skipper and Gilligan "

Larryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11392325782356772771noreply@blogger.com