Happy Halloween

This is the storefront window of Half-Moon Outfitters, an outdoor equipment store in Savannah, Georgia. The coffin is one of those cargo storage things you mount on top of the car. I guess he must have been a sporty type of guy.

Roadtrip day 2: North Carolina

I drove from D.C. to North Carolina to visit my friend Jessica who lives in Durham. Here she is with her boyfriend Aaron, who was nice enough to let me crash on his couch for a few nights while the three of us hung out together.

The following night the three of us went to a haunted corn maze as chaperones with a synagogue youth group that Jessica mentors.



These are some of the twenty or so kids we had to keep an eye on. I didn't think it would be that scary, but I screamed plenty of times. For 14 acres, Freddys and Jasons kept jumping out of the corn and screaming at us. The Chainsaw Massacre guy was the best. It was a really good time, well worth ten bucks.





The next day we went to the North Carolina State Fair. Being kind of a city slicker, I was amazed at the size of the pumpkins, the biggest being 618 pounds . . .



. . . and I was kind of flabberghasted by the size of the pig.



I was also shocked to find out how much these livestock sell for.



This Babe above went for $8,500! And the turkey below? $6,500! WTF? Gobble gobble.



The sweetest thing I saw would be a tie between this little kid and his cow he so proudly showed in the junior competition . . .



. . . and this little baby goat. Look at that face! Cuuuuuuuuuute.

Southbound roadtrip, day one

Last week, I left Baltimore's lovely Inner Harbor for a southbound road trip to Lauderdale where the boat will be wintering. I drove the van while the rest of the crew drove the boat. In Virginia I saw this sign on the freeway. What exactly this means I don't know but I find the premise awesome. I hate those Type A/coked out nutjobs who weave from lane to lane.



My first stop was in Arlington, Virginia to visit my doctor friend Patrick. At his office, I was greeted by his two dogs. Who gets to bring their dog to work (besides Burton employees)? And to a hospital, no less. Lucky, lucky him.



Look how gorgeous his mellow hound babies are. These handsome boys were only twenty-five bucks each, courtesy of a shelter. They're Husky/Golden/Lab crosses. Who needs purebreds when lovebugs like them need a good home?

One of Patrick's patients gave him this print of doctor fees from the 1800s. Click on the image to actually read what the doctor charged -- fun stuff. It's amazing how cheap everything was. The prices reflect cents, not dollars!



I then headed east across the Potomac to D.C. to visit a long lost friend whom I hadn't seen for seven years. Carol got her M.A. in Fine Arts and now holds a swanky position at the Smithsonian. After lunch, I made her pose with me in front of Casa Blanca like a tourist. She was mortified and prayed none of her co-workers would stroll by to witness this.



Back during grad school I set her up with a guy friend from my Tae Kwon Do class, and they hit it off, got married, and now have two kids! I love matchmaking.

Heading out of downtown and looking for 95 South, I got stuck in rush hour traffic. Up next to me pulled a bus with quite the ad campaign for the Washington ballet. I was aghast as I did a double take, and then laughed my ass off as I grabbed for the camera to capture this too much muchness.

Did Republicans screw with my absentee ballot?

On last Friday's Real Time with Bill Maher, guest Tim Robbins warned viewers that Republicans like to fuck with many voters' access to the polls. They've done it in the past, and they will probably do it again this time. Starting at :52 seconds, he explains it clearly.

I registered to vote as a Democrat in Suffolk County in early September. According to Wikipedia, Suffolk County has long been a Republican bastion in New York. I immediately requested an absentee ballot, since I'd be in Florida during the Presidential elections. It never arrived. So I went online, printed out another absentee ballot request form, and yet again mailed it -- two or three weeks ago. I still haven't received it.

Just now, I called the Suffolk County Board of Elections and asked where the hell my ballot is. The guy claims it was sent out "yesterday." He claims they were a "couple days behind" in mailing them out because they had to process 40,000 absentee ballot requests. Two or three weeks behind is not a couple of days behind, and I told him that. I was pissed.

I asked, "What if it doesn't arrive in time for me to mail it back to you?" (my ballot has to be postmarked by Monday). He said he didn't know! I said, "Well, give me to someone who does," and I got transferred a bunch of times. The end answer was that I'm screwed.

After not taking no for an answer, I was finally told that if I don't receive my ballot by Friday, they could FedEx it so I'd have it by Monday. This was not an easy feat to get a definitive "Yes we will help you vote by any means necessary." I made sure to get the guy's name and his direct phone line, just in case.

The committee which reformed the voting laws during the Bush era (the two big supporters of which are now serving time in prison) made the smallest, most insignificant details grounds for not allowing voters to cast their ballots. If you registered to vote as "Bill," but your license says "William," you're out of luck. And they often require that you need a valid driver's license. What if you don't have a license? Maher brought up a good point that one out of five African Americans don't have a license.

This is an excerpt from a 2001 essay Robbins wrote for The Nation:

Aside from the obvious voter fraud in Florida, a brief spotlight was focused on the racist practices that have accompanied elections for years. Whether it's the roadblocks outside polling places in African-American voting districts or the disappearance of African-American names from voting registers, the ineffective and antiquated voting machines in low-income voting districts or the exposure of the Supreme Court as a partisan political institution, the picture is the same. Powerful people in the American ruling class fear democracy.

If you've experienced what happened to me, or any seemingly shady bullshit when it comes to voting, I suggest you follow Tim Robbins advice, which is to DOCUMENT VIA VIDEOTAPE any voter fraud you witness on Tuesday, and upload the video onto YouTube. Obama supposedly has it in the bag by ten points, but don't forgo voting. The Republicans stopped at nothing to steal the election from Gore, and they'll do it again if necessary. Be careful. Vote.

Porthole view

This week's view from my bathroom, or in proper nautical terminology, the head, faces north to Baltimore Aquarium across the Inner Harbor. I'm kind of digging it.

"Black Icarus" by Andrew Logan

This is yet another amazing sculpture at the American Visionary Art Museum. "Black Icarus" was unveiled here in 2006, created by Andrew Logan. The life-sized body is bronze, and the wings are comprised not of wax like those of our Greek hero with the disobedient streak, but are made of stained glass and a mosaic of mirrors. Icarus dangles above the curving central staircase so you can see him from all three floors.

I honestly didn't realize that taking photos inside the museum isn't allowed, so I was glad I shot these before the security guard told me I was Breaking The Rules.

Douglas Zaruba's Dream Gate cabinet

Back at the American Visionary Art Museum, this was written on the wall next to a sculpture I liked. To read the whole bio, click on the above photo to enlarge.

Douglas Zaruba (1949 - )

[snip]

Gifted psychically, young Zaruba was able to "fly around the neighborhood at night to locate my toys" and then would go retrieve them in the morning in backyards precisely where he had seen them." I then learned that wasn't normal and to keep those gifts to myself."

At forty, Zaruba hit a deer while riding his motorcyle at night. His body was thrown into a ravine. Declared dead for six hours, he "woke up" inside a yellow plastic body bag. From that moment on, all of his dormant psychic gifts re-emerged, but this time accompanied by a profound peace and insight into the nature of time and connection.

Ten years later he was mugged and stabbed while setting up a street fair and again defied a physician's prediciton of death.

. . . he continues his exploration of time and realities. Douglas Zaruba builds and uses his Dream Gate cabinets to aid in his own and others' use of time travel. "Art is the language we use to speak to The Mystery."

Zaruba's Dream Gate cabinet

Okay, I was hooked. Zaruba's bizarre biography and the premise for his cabinet is just too cool. Kind of Alice-in-Wonderland meets the legend of Atlantis. I'd love to pick the artist's brain to learn more about it. What the hell is going on here? What does it all mean?

Unfortunately, there is no more information on these Dream Gate cabinets, and everything about Zaruba on the Internet has to do with his jewelry making. I wish the pics were better, but it was hard to shoot the interior's depth of field while in "macro" setting. It's quite the magical little idea.


When I clicked to enlarge this, I could see my reflection while shooting the photo in the little crystal ball, which is about an inch in diameter. Reminds me of shooting the egg sculpture outside the museum.

American Visionary Arts Museum: Mirror Egg

There is so much cool art at the American Visionary Arts Museum (AVAM) in Baltimore that I am going to start with the outside Sculpture Plaza. This piece is a six-foot tall glass and mirror mosaic egg.

Akimbo

(pic courtesy of Akimbo's MySpace)

Having been deprived of decent live music while the boat was in the Hamptons, I was glad to find options options and more options here in Baltimore. I chose a dive club called The Talking Head because the Vivian Girls were playing there last night, and Vice had recommended them in their latest issue. So off I went, me myself and I.

There were a bunch of opening bands, and this trio called Akimbo blew me away. Or maybe it was the force emanating out of their Marshall stacks. Holy shit they were good, and loud. Really loud. I think they are the loudest band I've ever seen in a club. They played their new album, "Jersey Shores." Great stuff. Heads were bobbing and banging.

I talked to Nat the drummer outside after their set when the whole place emptied out as people took a smoke break. He was a really nice guy, very appreciative of the props, and told me they're from Seattle and are on tour right now as they make their way to the annual CMJ music festival next weekend at the Knitting Factory, which they've centered their tour around. Their website describes their sound as "hungrily devouring the corpses of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and The Who; dissecting the still quivering bodies of Black Flag and The Jesus Lizard; infusing the essence of the still beating heart of The Melvins. . ." There's a great review of them here.

I suggest checking them out if you can. Their MySpace site is here with the schedule and a bunch of songs. Akimbo's official website is here.

KA-POW! BATMOBAMA and ROBIDEN Print

This is a Giclee print by Columbus artist Paul Richmond. There are only 12 left of the limited 200 series. It's so good. Here's the Etsy site to buy it.

Edgar Allen Poe's grave

"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect."

~ Edgar Allen Poe, from"Eleonora"

I arrived in Baltimore today, where the boat is docked for the next ten days. The first thing I did was hop on my bike and check out Poe's grave. Last week marked the 159th anniversary of his death. There's a lot of mystery surrounding Poe's death, and it's possible that he had a brain tumor. This new premise by a Harvard scholar who wrote a novel called The Poe Shadow seems plausible.



Poe is buried at the Westminster Hall Burying Ground, which surrounds Westminster Hall, a converted Gothic Presbyterian Church.



The grave, church, and cemetery are now owned by the University of Maryland's Law School. I was impressed by the info displayed at the site.





Poe is one of my favorite writers and I planned on writing my Master's thesis on how his addiction to laudanum affected his writing. My premise was that his heavy use of this liquid form of opium -- which causes hyperesthesia, or an abnormal increase in sensitivity to stimuli of the senses--explains the plethora of references to minute sensory details in his work.

"Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?" (The Tell Tale Heart).

My idea was met with enthusiasm and encouragement by a Harvard Ph.D. who was also an MLA scholar, so I thought it would get the green light for sure. But when I presented my argument to the department head, she shot down the idea because I wasn't an M.D. and therefore had no authority to be arguing about medical conditions. What a disappointing response. If I were an M.D., why the hell would I be writing a thesis in Literature in my spare time? Perhaps one day I will write the damn essay anyhow.

Back to the grave. Here's his cousin-slash-wife, who is buried at the grave too. First cousins? Thirteen years old? Perhaps for crazy alcoholic writers, anything goes.

5 Corner: A little bit of Germany in Queens

There aren't a lot of bars where the jukebox is comprised primarily of tuba-driven drinking songs praising beer, but the bar closest to my sister's place in College Point is an anomoly, to say the least. Her neighborhood used to be predominantly German, and this place has been around since 1940. We strolled into "5 Corner" (I guess they don't do plurals in Germany?) for dinner one night and it was just one big ol' blog topic.

The exterior is supposed to remind you of a chalet.

The interior is quite . . . eclectic. I liked the working fireplace and the cuckoo clock in the main dining room. And I have to admit, it's not often you see a taxidermy mount of an actual reindeer (Santa, don't look!) complete with giant Swiss cowbell. And we rung it, it works.

This scene is in the bar, which is full of dark wood and Germanishy decor, and of course, much more taxidermy including a giant boar's head mounted over the jukebox. How appetizing! Fresh kill, anyone? How about some Wiener Schnitzel then? We had Bratwurst and potato pancakes. The food was great here.



Amy had never drunk Jägermeister, which I couldn't believe. So we ordered up some shots and she was hooked. To say I was surprised is an understatement when she exclaimed, "This is delicious!" I blogged extensively on Jäger once before, so I'll spare you the diatribe again. Next she'll be ordering Surfers on Acid.

Surfers on Acid
In a Boston tumbler, shake over ice:
1 part Jäger
1 part Malibu coconut rum
1 part pineapple juice

Pour into a chilled double shot glass, serve straight up.

Shopping with the Queen of Fashion

What's the longest time you've ever spent in one store? I set a personal record last week when I went shopping at TJ Maxx. Their store here in the Hamptons is loaded with great stuff, more so than the one in Manhattan, so it's easy to stay a long time. My friend Craig and I actually shopped for four hours.

I love shopping with Craig. He used to be the creative director at J. Crew, so he has impeccable taste and a great eye. At one point I found him in the men's belt section. When most people shop for belts, they look at a couple at a time. Gay men who work in fashion, however, take like forty-five at a time. I was so amused I whipped out the camera. Then I kind of got into modeling the ridiculous Ed Hardy ones. DEFENDER! DESTROY! Who would buy these?



When Craig moved on to ties, I got bored and went on my merry way.

Another Entourage from Queens

Vince, E, Drama, and Turtle aren't the only Entourage from Queens. I met this posse last week in College Point while taking a picture of their cool Halloween house. They were hilarious, totally extroverted. The little one who was five or maybe six years old was posing using gang signs -- until his older brother (the one in white) whapped him and told him to "be nice." Too funny. The oldest one (in black) offered to take my sister Amy's and my picture sitting on his front steps. He even started directing us like it was a photo shoot, instructing us to "show some love," and "put your arms around each other."