You Live Where?

When I first moved to Los Angeles I had a small breakdown. Laying face-down on a bed in the San Fernando Valley, walls painted a specific shade of green that always made it feel like I was drowning in a giant bowl of guacamole, I cried just a bit for the Northwest. To be more specific, I was laying face down crying just a bit for the Northwest in Sun Valley, California.. a desolate, lonesome place located between the northern reaches of Burbank and the southern crawl of Pacoima. Cradled in the armpit of I-5 and the 170. Sun Valley is most famous for having the highest concentration of wrecking yards west of the Mississippi. There's an asphalt factory too.


Vulcan Materials! Thank you, magic google image-search oracle.

Things changed. I found the red line train to downtown -- beautiful, crumbling, fucked up and strange downtown Los Angeles (populated with the most alarming army of drug addicts I'd ever encountered, night-of-the-living-dead-style). Spent a lot of time there. Pershing Square stop, three block walk (sometimes in combat mode - arms across chest, no eye contact) to Spring St, up to the 11th floor of the old bank building. Paint paint paint, run over to the magical Central Library, free day at MOCA, weird coffee/poetry place in the alley, discount electronics everywhere. My mom got most excited about the stores that sold 'pimp suits' when she visited.


And MY FRIENDS! Legions of quality folks, doing interesting things, and really going for it. Sam, for instance! Living out in Pomona with one of my favorite people, the subversive and talented Tara Tavi (lady of the chinese hammer dulcimer). Luckily, a lot of these friends take time to visit Kamilche, and Sam will be here soon on his book tour. I read on his blog that he missed out on some casino time recently. We can change that. See you soon Sam, and I promise not to door-ding your car this time!

ed. note: much gratitude to Dave Stone for making the move possible. I ended up loving the Valley in so many ways.

Mindmeld

I've been dreaming about painting hyenas lately. Prehistoric dogs in general. African Wild Dogs, dingos.. solitary pack animals. And so it kind-of blew my mind yesterday when Slim asked me, without knowledge of these dreams, to paint him one of these wildehonds. For the tattoo. Bonkers. The unified field was apparently in full effect! Specific imagery being lobbed back and forth between us without permission, or speech. I love this.


Yesterday's jam. Organic Vermillion/Pthalo Turquoise/Ivory Black/Titanium White. Cadmium Yellow Deep in there somewhere too.


Working on ths coyote exercise, which has morphed, I think, into a red fox. Not sure yet. But I do always paint the eyes first, that way its as if I'm working as part of a team. If that makes sense.

To the studio!

Lunch Summit

Running out the door for a meeting of the minds. Vietnamese food, an old friend, and ink plans. Its freaking me out!


This is Slim. Or Matthew. I still call him Slim. This is Slim smoking in the old-old-old (original?) Kill Rock Stars office on 4th Ave in Olympia. 1995? Can't remember. I was taking a lot of photos at the time. I was 19.

Slim doesn't smoke anymore, hasn't for years. HOWEVER HE WOULD LIKE TO GET A TATTOO OF SOMETHING I PAINT. What a nut!

The good news is, his taste so far in permanent skin stuff is pretty rad. He has a tattoo of each one of these:

1. a bowl of fruit
2. a vacuum cleaner
3. a chair

and soon.. what? a hyena? empress crowned crane?? a statue of St. Benedict? I can do these things. But I can't envision someone else re-drawing/inking something I painted.. meta world. What will get lost/appear in the translation? Will file a report soon!

Explosion of Life

I was just going to start typing about being a luddite when I realized the sweet sweet irony of it all. Computers, and whatnot. I have a dumbphone, I don't carry a laptop, but I do get sucked into The Abyss every morning while drinking coffee, as I am right now. But! Field trip today.. about to pack up and head west.


Black blob.


Quick sketch. Carnivores of Central America.


Coyote head, made of tape. See?


Drafting table = junk receptacle. No actual work has been made upon its surface.


Back Tomorrow! Also, I'm working on this experiment in redundancy.

Matter/Energy

I break things. All the time. Constantly. Not big, expensive things like amps and computers. Small, inconsequential items. I wear them out fast, or shatter them with a small touch. Socks, toothbrushes, all manner of glassware and kitchen items. Sunglasses, guitar strings, shoelaces, and the back right shoulder of my old blue jacket (blown out over and over again at the seam, stitched back together a hundred times). But I walk fairly quietly through the world; never slamming doors or throwing fits. I don't even yell, really. Unless I'm calling a dog back home, or singing (?) something sweaty and out of tune into a microphone. JT has a theory that I have no control whatsoever over my Qi/Ch'i/Lifeforce. That I need to get into aikido, stat. Steven Seagal is very good at aikido, or so I've been told. But its not really my bag.


So what to do? Sometimes I open a door only to end up staring at my hand in disbelief. There's the knob, laying dumbly in my palm. Did anyone see me do that? Hope not. Put it back together, and wait patiently to break something else. Your butter dish, the handle of a dustpan, the knee of my jeans. All mangled quite gently and without malice. Shadoobie, shattered.

You're No Good

Ohrwurm.
I have a great song stuck in my head, but its making me nuts. Rather, the guitar riff and a snippet of vocals, but on looplooploop. Terry Riley style. I'm not gonna say what it is, in hopes of deleting it from my auditory cortex. Or are you supposed to announce the Name of The Demon as you cast it out? Dunno. Never went to church.


As a kid my abstraction of the christian Easter story was something like 'Jesus died? I think? And then hid in a cave. And then all of his friends came and waited by the cave door, and then he came out of the cave and was alive again for a bit? Candy.' Its still pretty much the same. I suppose I should read up on it. Heathen!



Back to the earworm. I've been experimenting with switching the channel to Fugazi's 'Waiting Room' whenever the original tune appears (and that would be CONSTANTLY). I didn't consciously choose this substitution, I swear! I had read that you're supposed to swap out the invading tune to something unbelievably catchy ... and so 'my time/like water down a drain' poured into my synapses from some deep recess. I mean, that song is a national treasure! Any of the 13 Songs, really. And that clip of Ian M. talking about iced tea makes me laugh every time.

Looplooplooplooploop.

Morning Page

Awake. My front yard:


Paradise. Saltwater, big leaf maples. And the hummingbirds are back, working on the huckleberry flowers. Dock is going in soon. Small sailboat? The imminent return of the Mr. and Mrs. Osprey! Tiki torches on the deck, waiting for visitors. Jumping the gun, silly.. its April. Every year, I get psyched out by one of these days and am sure the doom rain/great grey blanket has left us. Ha! But I'm gonna indulge and pretend for a bit.. ahhhhhhhhhhhh. <---- (guttural tone of me + sunshine happiness). I tried singing 'Almost Paradise' to Ringo the cat this morning and he cut me off with a yowl. The usual!

Wicked insomnia last night, a rarity for me. Usually I can't turn off the dream machine. Tiger Head Friend stares at me from directly across the bed, but he's not the most comforting sleep-inducer.


Now: Coffee coffee coffee. Art supplies? Drive to Tacoma, maybe. Or walk the beach here at home. The tyranny of choice! Kamilche life.

ed. note: need to change profile pic from 'baby albino mouse with chemical burn' to current status of whatever it is i look like these days. ?

Egg Moon/Pink Moon

About 9 months ago i re-entered the world of having an extremely part-time jobby-job after.. wait, really? 7 years of self-employment?? Thank you Reading is Sexy enigma, how weird. How weird to make something in 5 minutes that pays the bills. Thank you copy machines. Thank you brain for walking through a shopping mall, having a freakout, and heading to Kinkos; thank you hands for cutting and pasting; thank you Aaron and Pat for thinking i was onto something. Thank you strange teenage television show for costuming your character in my little tshirt design, thank you search engines and people who watch TV, thank you universe. Where was I?


I live in the boonies, I spend copious amounts of my time by myself either painting or walking in the woods or talking to dogs and cats. Or typing to no one, and that's fine. I'm pretty sure that's living the dream, or coming close to it. On the flipside is my heavy desire for human connection, which is oddly paired with self-imposed isolation. A classic combination.. peanut butter and jelly, coffee and smokes, cats and baseboard heaters. SO. call put into a good friend/bar owner = 8 hours of official 'work' a week! Social time. I can get you deliciously tipsy in many different ways.


Full moons tend to be disastrous for alcoholic consumption in public places. Last night i got a wee taste of the nearly full 'Egg Moon, Pink Moon, or Fish Moon' (according to the Farmer's Almanac) insanity. 80 bajillion mojitos, dudes, its like 40 degrees out. What's wrong with good old whiskey? And I'm going to do the dreaded full-full moon shift tonight. Say a prayer to the cosmos for me, may i be free from crazies and barfers and turn-the-stereo-downers.

I CAN PUT ON MY PANTS!

Something amazing happened to me this week. Have you ever had debilitating chronic pain? A tooth infection (yeeouch), back probs, existential malaise?? I recently went for a bummer ride down Shoulder Impingement lane. Tendonitis in both rotator cuffs, almost unbearable in my left one. Aging? Muddling? Hunching? Whatever the cause, I was spending a lot of time feeling like this:


Ice packs, ibuprofen, a gaggle of supplements, lots of sitting around (you cannot believe how hard it is to activate the turn signal when you have this condition.. totally bizarre. driving became some sort of comedy act), inability to PUT ON PANTS without shuddering (shoulders, as it turns out, are very very important. i suppose i never knew). And you know what the cure was? I guess? I mean, its straight out of opposite-land:


ROCK SHOWS. three this past week. i just... huh. i dunno. wellness punx unite! and put on pants.

Tech Tips + Water Safety

dear world,
what is Tumblr? i mean, i look at my friends' 'pages' sometimes, some of which look snazzy, some of which confuse the shit out of me. so i guess my question is: do i make the switch? is 'blogging' something that's gone the way of cds and friendster? and yes, haha-- not that i even do it (update the bloggity blogg) very often anymore. but still, this is a burning question i need to throw out to my 5 regular readers. ADVISE ME! advise me?
vic 20, i knew you well.


in news: Bangs just played shows w/ Hot Snakes: such brilliance from those 4-5 men. i'm not sure how to describe the experience.. transcendent, and bruise-inducing. makes me a little teary in some sort of way.. not nostalgia, just the kind of deep feelings associated with music that is at all times moving/inspired/violent and beautiful. so thanks Hot Snakes!


in paint world: i've been asked to paint a.. wait for it.. SURFBOARD? wild. for some fancy gallery show in San Francisco where well-heeled (flippered?) people go to buy expensive painted surfboards to decorate their cabanas. i feel like an ultimate poseur, being terrified of the water and all. a landlubber virgo who got caught in a riptide in maui, zonked out on staring at the insane underwater technicolor fish world, and nearly found my grave at the bottom of the ocean. thank you random sea kayaker for the assist. i never got your name.