Waldo Negated 2

Waldo is the narrator of my work in progress Waldo Smith Negates - a surrealist murder mystery, sort of life and hard times in New York. Right through the Lower East Side sounds like high society, and I can't afford it see: http://artforum.com/
At left is what happened when I give up- I paint race cars ( a bugatti as it happens); but Part 2 of Waldo, the novel is in the works.

New York sounds very haughty, though one old friend in a brief conversation said all the loonies were still on the street. Still a big city. Dinner Parties during a war - I don't know but I wasn't invited anyway.

Waldo couldn't make i t

actually, first section of my novella WALDO SMITH NEGATED is done in rough draft,so, a poetic interlude

Basement aloft to math of the world radiation of soul and desire.Apparently, a dream world, a set of images that go with it but, no tvhere, just the obscure object of someone else pick pocket bookand city. Vegas. La; black ribbon unfolded and some white car thatbright, when it was basic (and always out of business ),new york, poetry and art. Those were the dies; nice tight aesthete, nomoney in it, but always in Communion with the greats as she pours anotherdrink for miss x and, even we knew it would be pretty bad (pretty bad,as they say) little gift as, swear, used car mania and hookers andhookers and hookers (I was crazy; paranoia and sin)
and, we really don't rate; sending mine always asthough to catch in the air as their agenda demands so much
(really, we sit here bored to death) and now the new loop (you, mail: getFriends, become a crumpled paper bag) so the obscure (here withoutobject of desire) some insult, now, you are
(and run though game and cell phone and pc)
you must be too
(she did as well to confuse, while I draw)
miss x; oh that one, little wink; lining the guys up but,
not a pro,fine sin in your sick eye,
come back latter; hang with the guys; so now I am (postfiction; vortex of, no north, not rerun with consuler’s goods heading northand west and south, almost remainders: no used car, no used car)insult him as miss x whould, is probably how I knew her in the firstplace.

Michale Carter

I met Michale a few times but, what's to say: Colt 45 malt liquor in his hand and lots of malt liquor jokes; he did do REDTAPE, which I read through as remainders, we sat on the street trying to sell them and other odds and sods, this after their prime; while surfing found that they are all now, and all archived , part of the NYU library collection; I tried submitting but he wouldn't let me...I was significant enough: that's me at left...

http://www.nyu.edu/library/bobst/research/fales/exhibits/downtown/ev/evzines/documents/redtape.html

Contributors have included Peter Cherches, Constance DeJong, Ron Kolm, Richard Hambledon, Patrick McGrath, Miguel Pinero, and David Wojnarowicz. Shown is the last issue. The cover depicts the funeral of David Wojnarowicz. The Redtape Archive is a part of the Downtown Collection.

Waldo Smith Negated part 24.4

sometime and so narrowly geniuses in milliseconds that could only caused me discomfort or, to be polite, milliseconds being the theme. Apparently I had lied, she and Wayne had done this before, lure everyone in and then, wammo, bar slut, bar slut as theater, they forced one that one utterance I didn't care about. Oh well. Plus there were emissions. like they wre combustible, and, ungratefully, the old concept that is (ungrateful I'm sure) towards some seduction, a succulence that at once revealed a lure that, in retrospect, I couldn't not resist . Always prepared. The profits apparently were larger than I usually guessed at so I missed the value of the car (not really mine, I knew that) and the money, and the money came from a job I wouldn't have had otherwise, though still a stupid job, temp, temp temp, like...they were clever. I like fast cars, I just, apparently, didn't pay full attention as some anti-shylock took hold of the the shadow of the car god as in their world there was always only one. In the mean time, which is really some nether world of contemplation which slides with the value of the whole thing (like, I could still actually win), the theme was still car and the image not a tattoo on the arm, which wouldn't be completely inappropriate, but a tv set set to channel 13 all night long, which was something I did sometimes.

Two or three things I know about her

A famous Godard film; Paris during a construction boom; ditto The American Friend by Wim Wenders. The new New Museum of contemporary Art Will be south of Houston on the west side, a notorious rats nest. I presume the just swept the whole place clean after WTC. Actually, late seventies, early eighties, there were still Hippies and lsd and one day, the all left. Waldo Smith negated ( a rough draft, first part: http://notbugatti.8m.com/ is before that, but there were weird building fires and the lot; first street is now an apartment block (it was a lot, some used cars) and the New Museum asks for submissions on CDs, no more slides (sounds good to me...)

more, more or less

worth noting - looks nice: morte LES news (so rare)

Ho do you like my rotisserie duchamp.

ALso, beware, maine site now: http://www.newflippertexts.com

links to my recent work, marsbar memorial page very interesting links to si (situationist international) Jaques Lacan, and so on.

Still quite sparce actualy (everything knee jerk goes here.

http://www.newmuseum.org/now_new_initiatives.php

death to bohemia

new york report from an old friend:

i can confirm that mars bar is still there forsome reason. it looks especially lonely among the giant glassbuildings going up all around it. i doubt the new tenants will standfor such a thing. or, you never know, they may go for it. or, morelikely, they will "fix" it - the saddest of all. anyway, it's theretoday & so is vayzac on tomkins square & so is the egg-cream shop & sois odessa (though "fixed"). the artists are not all gone but mostlythey are - minimally to washington heights or brooklyn but i thinkmostly no where near here any more. maybe i should get a tv too, atleast for a while.

within punk:waldosmith negated-my novel

Heating upandat left,fornogood reason,myducati250 which willrun for about minutes

Maybe it was obsession with disaster movies as tough god checked in conflict with a guest equal to pretty cellophane, more repellent than bleak signs, never torched. replicated in some double back wing persona so horrible that it could be lost time considered infinite as apparently she thought she would run out eventualy. Dead before it was solved. They had never thought it out further, she was her who her who was her who was her who was somehow perfect and I was sure she was a bitch but then I wasn't pretty enough, plus I was someone's son so I just watched while they enjoyed what ever it was they enjoyed, I perceived everything as a perversity at that point. and really, I just couldn't find it, hiding only for stray hints, the wing of the bigger machine they constructed to enjoy this ill thought immortality.

not not punk

congressional hearingstday;girl in a camaro at left

What was art in the ninties.....

Was it somehow pre-negated; there never was a clear "star" in the nineties; movies perhaps (pulp fiction) and technology taking precedence. Basquiat and others dead; there never was one to pose impossible questions or grab the eye of the Media with the abtucness or Pollack or Andy. Maybe, there was no art?
WALSO SMITH 23

Wayne and Babet were at the end of the bar working on something; each had a little Dutch boy cap on so they looked like he famous Fiarucci decal from back when punk was high fashion. I said so but they weren’t impressed; I got a drink from Eleanor. The wall was covered with a menagerie of art – open call. Some one took bent rusty nails seriously; a later body bursing in red on canvas. Discarded architectural drawing with a giant Pollack like scrawl over them a neo-renaissance s&m drawing in primary colors that I knew was Bobbie’s, the drummer’s work. Finally a little cartoon 2 year old in diapers standing year old in a frame of golden repeating arrows. “That one your’s Wayne.” “Uh-hu” he said with disinterest:” I call it birth of knowledge.” He’d sort of moved some other art out of the way. And, without missing a beat:”Babet and her room mate are having a party” he slid over an invitation: a heart with a devils tail and a king’s crown.” “Where is it?” “A loft on Stanton street…gonna have a show of Bobbie's art.” “Uh-hu” she said. “oh.”

RAINSTORM TODAY

Searching now (as I have before) for some other concept (and label) for art; post-punk, n/punk, n/art. Post expressionist? Post pop; post pop impressionist:

WALDO SMITH NEGATED #22

22

I really did stay at home all week drinking coffee, shuffling around, avoiding things, but finally took the train down after work. Got off at Fourteenth Street. I think I liked the escalators, like a giant toy. Escalators up, and then walked south, always girls all over the place, outside cars with dents, on the corner 3 hell’s angels in colors kibitzing, one of at been at that show. Closing in on First Street, punks and old bohemians emerged, and then finally the bar. Quick sneer as I had my used grey jacket I wore to work on. Regular guy, that was the look, rather than leather for biker, My painting. A lattice work of yellows with red was still up, it was a problem; I like Picasso a lot and it showed. It was a nice painting.

Gunmen Kills 21 in Virginia

almost an andy moment; someone at the artforum message boards was acused of making anti-art, like, anti-mater. Mine was: Punk, n/punk, punk, post punk, art, n'art..and so on

Today,

WALDO SMITH NEGATED #21

21Flickering ambition draining down again; longing office towers. I never did understand the ambition of midtown, my failure really, I knew that. Presentation and hope, I hadn’t gone to business school, I just didn’t understand. There was the time the woman I was then living with snubbed my utterly at a dinner party in so-ho. Children’s books, she was becoming successful and I was not; still aren’t. I always siphon down to fruitcakes like Wayne. I’d take it cold and send out slides and manuscript and then sit at home counting rejection slips, and then go back to showing where ever, plastering with wheat past fairly discreetly drawing and poems or utterances. Then the Private Investigators persona came closer to hand as I dealt with loonies. Failure; manuscript returned, slides returned, thus showing my paintings on skid row, close enough. Popular on the weeks ends and suddenly, during the week, there was Wayne.

art, no art, art, war, more war, election

no poetry today

punk, not punk, post punk, punk, not punk, punk

punk, not punk (cool, not cool) punk, post punk. Post punk is everywhere (new york times, national public radio, for music) is there a title for art ?(punk, not punk, junky, dead junky, punk, post punk.

found the copy pf my second novel (not punk; ex punk; pre-punk) books on deman at lulu.com soon (as an experiment; found it hidden on my dieing mac; have tpo figure it all out):

http://www.newflippertexts.com/bob.html

part 20WALDO SMITH NEGATED; waldo tried to be intelectual punk; literary punk:

20
Something worse than paranoia fallowed me around all week. Discard of the transom of naivety. I’d ignore his very being except some voice in me told me he was a pro, a building to demolish, let something catch fire, buildings torn down, that was Wayne. Clear the neighborhood; have a car accident; have a taxi run someone down for the insurance? That was Wayne. so I sat at home for a while bored, dead, and finally went down to see if my painting was still on the wall.

PUNK versus postmodernism: WALDO #19

19
Searching for ennui, an old crime; searching for bordum. I found myself thinking about death; Wayne and his dead body. Great guy. Band and a big building and a dead body and now he said a loft, but not in so-ho, west side, below Delancy. Really nice neighborhood, or nice if you want to get stabbed at midnight leaving a party. Might even find some more dead bodies. The perfect memory to trail after you like a ploom of cigarette smoke as you made your way through the day job all week wondering, why am I doing this. I regularly, one or twice a year, made the great gesture, new resume and slides; send the novel out, and then I’d drift down to ground zero, new friends like Wayne out to drag everyone down. Shadow of negligence.

There was no punk

There is no avant gard, there is no avant gard, there is no avant gard, there is no avant gard, there is no avant gard

Waldo Smith negated at:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/postbukowski/

post punk at: (with a very nice painting on it's fron page: posp-pop-impressionism):

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/postpunk/?yguid=37922894

COMING SOON: post-punk versus negated punk

and, tired of XXX-expressionism, I propose post-pop-impressionism (ie: does neo negate; is punk really music etc , Johny thinders link below.

literal negations versus literary negations

A literary negation is to conceptualise with passages missing or, in "avant gard" work suddenly deleting some convention of the novel and why (modern life moving so quickly, etc; negating introduction; tanks negating eddie or andy; logic negating; charachter negating possibilities. Yesterday I looked up and old name Michael Dean who has self published a couple of novels (http://kittyfeet.com/) pretty useful guy with a hole do-it-yourself industry thus the plug; also recommends http://ww.lulu.com/ for the self publisher.

He is firmly in the post punk hall of fame (have to write and ask if he perceives himself as post punk or not; he has been in bands)

ok, literal, found these from the http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/pleasekillme1/
which, sort of an old timers clubs, all the old punks and, one link:
http://johnnyt13.tripod.com/id9.html
I am a big Johny Thunders fan; actually assumed he had died much earlier.
quite lurid. negation in both senses; negated the self the aethete would clame...

Finally, my own literary negation for the day:

WALDO SMITH NEGATED a surrealist murder mystery

18

His cohort Jacques who he said played the guitar interjected: ”Don’t do that!” “I woke up Sunday with a dead body next to me man, check it out – he was dead, some old guy. I passed out after the party in one of the old studios and…when I woke…there was a dead body there.
It was a long, narrow bar, and still a good ten feet down to where Wayne was standing. ”Call the cops?” Shook his head no. “Still there?” Oh, I told someone.” “That’s a great relief.” I finished off my beer. ”I’m gonna leave now, anything else new?” “I think we got a loft, Babet here and a friend…gonna be great.” ”Keep me posted.” “Me too” his friend Jacques said- I’m out a here- he does this all the time!” ”Didn’t kill him for a drink did you?” “I told somebody…”

Racing ahead

I felt guilty initially over today's picture choices, but I've been racing ahead since. I saw the announcement for their movies being shown in the times; I've been waiting to see those movies of andy's for years and, never happens. I'm not in new york; also tried thinking about any possible political innuendos so...voila. Since then, a bunch WALDO SMITH NEGATED writing and I was looking for information on book on demand and just realised, sitting the window sill, the novel my Michale Dean, which isn't that bad, and looked him up again on the web here:
actually bought his novel and thought it was ok:
http://www.kittyfeet.com/
and...hmm..some other .com, but, I plan on bookondemanding my silly novella when finished so his link lulu.com seemed useful..order...1 book...my kind of deal.

WALDO SMITH NEGATED PART 17

17 There was sort of this shrug from Wayne as they left. It was true. I found myself staring down the bar, all the old wood filthy with chisel marks, initials and silver magic marker tags, frayed bumper stickers from one band or another. Babet was staring at me with that smile of hers, like a skeleton smiling. "I got my bike, I can't drink too much." It was dark old bar, only repainted when we wanted to do a show and have it look decent, then it would be all white for a while but the cigarette smoke discolored it that quickly to brown again; regularly holes in the sheet rock. It was a miracle they didn't serve absinthe. Babet shook her head some more while Wayne started creeping over, like he had to stop every few steps. "Man, check it out.."

PS

See, this is what happened; just...music, music as big business; babes. Punk's, been dead for years. Some...exotic heavy metal took it's place. Actually, even Basquiat never made it, just some side dish to fashion; some false egalitarianism. I did this painting; actually sort of good but, no one wants to see it; no one is interested in the laceration involved.

Right now, I always recommend:

http://www.artforum.com/

and then consider the political repercusions what with the war dragging on.....

ps: make over (part 2 of Waldo SMith Nigated in rough draft form)

http://www.newflippertexts.com

now, absolutly not punk

There is no punk now, more classics; had some notes, some horrible picture of my beloved marsbar picked out (so many thing to so many people, dive, skid row, heavy metal, punk palace, or, my favorite, old Bohemia) but found myself making notes from a GG Allin cd. Actually, Let it Bleed is a great song and I do recall that shot of GG maybe a block from the marsbar in leather mc jacket, boots and jock strap and, he is too much. PUNK has been dead that long; nervana and grunge and now, just classics (and failed paintings). So, I took my daily glance at artforum to work from there (that's what it for after all. Magazine isn't available here in the town (long bus ride for artforum) and, it's very formal these days, but I suggest http://artforum.com/news/#news13020 for whats happening and DORIS SALCEDO, who will be showing at the at the tate. Didn't notice any painting, these are elaborite gurila vedeo instlations...

Thats DORIS SALCEDO at left...I dunno...politicts of war right now and it seems very exclusive..

I am alone in the world.

from WALDO SMITH NEGATED part 15

2

15.
Creeping moment of subterfuge, and my mind a failing image, or, unloved. Escaped muses, all those people crowded on the building, all, I presume, waiting for some event, but not I, or perhaps I searched for disappoint instead of mere surprise. Someone had done a number on that guest list. I’m sure the band played for hours with Wayne, amongst others, glad to offer up a scene. And it was that quiet now on my street and I had to wait till Monday to find the out come, body off the roof or band signed to a big contract; stumbling through work, still days of hangover, and then that damn bike. “Buy a bike” some girl had said: ”Yea, get a bike” the other girl chirped in, so I had, and then I never saw them again, or close enough, but when I got home, any night, there it was so I had to make myself ride it, not that I was afraid actually, actually I loved riding it, listening to it, and leaning into corners, but I almost felt like they and others were waiting for me o get it, leather jacket and all. Failure. And I was pretty careful, but Monday night was warm enough so out it came. Racing through danger, left turns across traffic and trucks and crazy taxis. I made it again, so just a beer , thank you, what a wimp, and Wayne was down at the far end of the bar with some cohort and wine glass full of something else, and some guy in the middle, pretty sure I’d seen him around the neighborhood but not in the bar and then I remembered he was the guy with the Ducati and some girl, model type,would be on the back in shorts and both of them would have those little half helmets, and that was the accident to have.
Wayne was just watching them, he knew who there were; he had someone less dramatic looking with him. I just thought they talked too loud.

NO PUNK TODAY part 2

No punk today, no little bohemia; no drunken reverie, communion, or waifish barmaids. All the greats gone, and then some (GG ALLEN or Kurt, perhaps the official end.) No barmaids squabbling over notoriety instead of fame in some looser. No GAS STATION, no cbgb (I got thrown out for inaptness or just crazy at the end.) No poetic laceration, no new art movement or next expressionism. Movie's shuffling aside and technocrats and apartment towers. Vice president in tribeca, and so-ho always so-ho, tight. No punk today. No more lower east side for the inpecuiouse. No more romantic painters van gough or jackson or modigliani, much less basquiat. All over.

NO PUNK TODAY (officialy post-punk

No punk today; we had snow, passing cars, shopping, big truck with big plows, but no punk. Will the lacerations of the passed maintain resonance, are new pains in store for us? No noblising truths. No some surrealism or temptation to expressionism (as I walk through the snow I think, that's it: portraits of deranged business men; investment bankers screeming into telephones in mid town or some new high rise in lower manhatten. In the times it was Kele Okereke playing the Lowe's, 175th street, Washington Hieghts as "post-punk" concert, some spot Rev Ike gives sermons and Iggy Pop will play letter this year and, apparently, there is not on house (concert) in the lower east side vista. Post punk is here, maybe even as a term.
No punk today.

WALDO SMITH NEGATED part 14

14
Sunday was hung over and dead. Manhattan with midtown closed. Vacant almost; it hapens. Surreal. I painted, that’s what Sunday’s were for me. I remember leaning on the window ledge while the radio played too load. Rock and roll. Jersey garage bands. New York Rock and Roll. This beautiful girl, Spanish, was pushing a stroller full of lace up the street; her skirt was fringed with lace, and a noticeably short, older women, grasped her arm. I watched them slowly walk up , cross Amsterdam, and then on towards Broadway. The street was otherwise vacant; even open parking places.
I I went back to painting.

otherwise at:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/postbukowski/

PRE - PUNK

Some rhetoric from an old timer, the three RISD students who hid Velvet underground records in providence rhode island (where I'm from) Actually, RISD had (has) race riot up at their museums (not that they'll accept my e-mails) The big dramatc moment was the shot of Andy in the Saturday Review (which was a respectable magazine) in his leather mc jacket entire the infamous "factory": ta-da. A focal point for weirdos everywhere, not to be rude but Andy, strictly speaking, was apparently pretty weird and appealed to losers or odd balls. Next up was the early seventies, Elton John on the radio , then at about 2 am on college station Lou with Rock and Roll animal. I providence we heard about Edie Sedgwick latter.

Where did PUNK go; where does PUNK go (thats' Edie in the time

It's cold out today. Have me scarf on. No car, so I'm walking, about the only one. All the cars passing seem surreal. I don't really know anyone with a car; all those years in new york, basically, to day would be a lovely day to sit at the bar (MARSBAR for us, second avenue and first street) but I don't drink any more. Always my memory of the lower east side, empty and bleak, desolate as they say, during week days. A lot of people I knew left around or by 89 or so and for some reason I stayed, hoping for some break through, showing my paintings where I could. Retrospectively, the music hangs in great:
http://www.amazon.com/New-York-Rocker-Generation-1974-1981/dp/1560259442


and this one (I've read this one:

http://www.amazon.com/Please-Kill-Me-Uncensored-History/dp/0140266909

and this active yahoo club:
http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/pleasekillme1/

but there was, or was an attraction, vis-vee literature and art.
actually, I was about to complain and sliped over to the moma site: http://moma.org/ and, Fasbinder in restoration and "comic abstraction", (Jeff Wall...threatens me..) and then, here waiyting for the library, that pathtioc andy moment, eddie sedgwick in the time, miovie retrospective..always miss those; you wonder...mainstreem punk; institutionalised punk; punk nostalgia Edie was like instant nostalgia. http://www.warholstars.org/indfoto/iedie.html Just like that. Here, Neil Simon down the street, and fancy cars parked. "god loves me" is the titles; I didn't go.I think I'm fixated on them. Big cars. We'll get to cars latter as I grew up around cars, race cars and, I don't own a car.

SATURDAY NIGHT FUN (delayed) + WAR ART

So, my mac still sick, sometimes I rent computer time from the "Gaming room " (I call it) or lan center. Apparently, that is the big excitement in town, ignoring some sports bars, part of why I don't drink anymore. Everyone there is cyber training for the war, apparently ( they also offering paint-balling at an out of town location. I am the only punk there (and too old at that). So, punk was music, but is was also art, deriving as it does from Andy Warhol and the Velvet Underground. Punk did impressionism, bunk did DADA, PUNK does Surrealism and expressionism, PUNK did Jackson; Punk did Andy as Andy did Andy, and, finally, PUNK did PUNK.
I'm to only punk there (and this Saturday it was too full all night long, no room for my to punk.)
Punk also did books, Balzak and his Mister Votron, Zola and his NANA, Joyce and his word games, Celine and his three little dots and caught like a rat. PUNK did marx and Sartre and through Malcolm discovered the Situationist International: http://www.bopsecrets.org/
Here I am, the punk here (photos latter) till them, I did some war art.