Criptic Critic Conscience and Known for it

Monday, January 18, 2010

A lot of waiting around in NY, people on platforms.
















Ever been
insulted
and have
instantly understood
that point of view

the pissed off
could have been you
could have said it yourself
if roles were reversed
But they never
will be,
They're Black

moma (museum of modern art)
The pyramids are
packed again
Seems like there's
no let off in
the dry seasons
Everyones carrying photocameras
to look through at the
Les Demosiles or Starry night
My theory with camera
simulated
looking, reading,
represents
time deducted
from a future that is
super valued.
Where a spend of
that futures future
gives us a present
thrill

Highway in Wisconsin 2010
Trucks, mcdonald signs still,
flags 3 stories wide

absolutely everyone doing 20 miles
over the speed limit,
cop sitting on the road side

lights on, another pulled
one over, the billion others
speed the fuck on.

Polarized light off the bonnets
and curves of the metal
around me, trees like painted

tar brushes, dipped in tobacco
ash suck in the light
between blue snows glare

and
huge and insignificant as another
marble sarcophagus lid with
a smear of black algae

visiting
looking at Americans
Wealth, I've never
seen success look so
Hollow,

American way of life
Rotten, the
norm is exploitation

no other standard
value of
success

all of it
feels like a giant
waste of time, everyone

fishing in a polluted river.
Where you buy Bait from
the factory polluting
the it, (worms
were all dug up long ago).

The empty spaces, with
4 lease signs, vague
promise now a bottomless threat.

sharing planet earth
elevator
you don't look
I don't look
Just convenient
way to travel.
Though no where to
look.

Friday, January 15, 2010

PPOW White Fungus LAUNCH REVIEW

It was packed, Chelsea already peppered with openings was gently introduced last night by White fungus Gang, to an unpretentious crew whose delivered experience you love to hate while reviewing every second of the moments fame; to go back and suck all the marow from its bones.

High Lights, David Watson, sonic brilliance is too easy, this is a mountain of torrents, a flooded valley of bite sized bits melt in your mind moments of precious delerium, one man Bag pipe, another guy doing something I couldn't see... any way Single tonal blasts that ripple and unfold through the gallery like Fucking Vikings taking the shore.

Tao Wells, mad last bash of thing, came in and Insulted us all with a 'Hey fuck up!" litterally yelling at people to either shut up or "get the hell out of the gallery". We were then left with this J.c Penny guy sitting on the floor of a divided by gender room, waiting tenaciously pensive with pen and paper, to finally break the tension with a shirtless dance gesture.

Six acts in one night is a tiring bore, but not last night, the acts came and tumbled by like finely tuned cards, fluffy donimos leaving the final act, the curtain crusher. Cambell Kneal, Our Love Will Destroy the World, just that. Just that come on give us a juicy metaphor, take a cathedral set it on fired, mike up the pipes of the 2 thousand old organ, hear the bursts in equisite detail while sitting in the pews. yeah it was loud, violent. all over your ear drums played as they say they are, Brain Drums. Thank You White Fungus. I am 20 pounds lighter or heavier.