Bee At the Beach

So I decided to get collagen guys... Just a little to help my boobs out and some to finish off my lips since I was kinda lacking in those two areas anyways... whatcha think?

 My New Look!

The Daily Lhama

Copper Etching

Fotos

I've started to post my art, even though its old stuff, eventually I will get the new stuff in digital format!!!

I want to ride my Motobecane, I want to ride...

                                                                                        Click on ^picture to hear and download good, good tunes.

Pretty Pretty Pretty Things

1. When hearing across the void from a lost loved one, this is what I hear... listen.

2. <---- This god of a man, Dick Tracy.

3. Anais Nin captured it, the epitome of my art:

"The personal, if it is deep enough, becomes universal, mythical, symbolic."

What Does the Polka Dot Door and Acupuncture Have in Common?

Why the host! Yes sir~ee, the man that made that whole show come alive, Dennis, yes he, Dennis, is my acquaintance. What do I feel about having a child star as a friendly acquaintance? Well, I feel pretty special. Pretty darn special indeed. How did we meet you eagerly inquire (I see you now, perched at the edge of your computer seats, barely containing your glee as all those forgotten memories of that beloved show flood your mind). Well where else but while we both received some free acupuncture. There I lay on my mat, when lo and behold that man who held such a special place in my childhood, walked back into my life.

Actually, to be fair, I had spied on him a couple days before this while pretending to ‘get a coffee’. A group of staff were huddled in a circle, not unlike gossiping school girls, whispering excitedly. I joined their huddle and they pointed him out heading across the street to the lunchroom. Suddenly I was thirsty.

One of the sweet benefits of being a close intimate with the host is this: You can ask him all those questions you’ve never quite figured out. Such as: Who was Polkaroo anyways? He’s told me the answer, now that whole crazy maze of confusion has been solved. Why did Dennis never get to see Polkaroo? Now I know. Now I know.

And the best part is, now that Dennis has reentered my life. I keep seeing him! Why I ran into him the other day while strolling up Commercial Drive pretending to be my seven week old nieces mother… again (this wasn’t going to well as her mother was strolling right beside me). Dennis was waiting for the bus so we stopped and exchanged pleasantries, I was pretty proud I was keeping my cool so well; meanwhile I could tell my sister was unawares. He caught the bus, we walked on. I turned to my sister and revealed his identity. There is nothing quite like meeting an old childhood hero. It would be like meeting Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, or one of the puppets from Fraggle Rock. Oh the glee, you should have seen the look on her face.

He has that affect on people.

Cris Burden and His Crazy Antics

He is the awesome. Why? Because he's legit man, legit. Maybe someday I too will get to sleep in a gallery, mind you I'm not sure I'm into choosing to be bedridden for any amount over 3 days, much less the double digits Cris achieved... well, endured... He's the shit, real legit. If you want to see what I'm talking about (his awesome shitness that is), click on the picture above (The one of him being shot as a performance piece). Crazy. Before you watch the video, 2 words: National Television... In it's debut this was sandwiched between two perfectly normal commercials.

More Drunken Rendevous With the Elderly

My trip back East, the neighborhood I live in, my joyous job at the shelter; all this and still I just haven't quite gotten my fill of interacting with inebriated old people. Why just the other day, a friend of mine Ali and I decided to bike up Main Street after a day at the beach and a tasty, tasty Vietnamese meal. As dessert we were in search of cheap drinks, so we went to the Royal Canadian Legion. ... ... I think we were the only people in there under 60.

Here's how it went:

We arrive and the prospect of having actual members of the opposite sex within their choice drinking establishment excited the fellows So much, they brought our bikes in for us. We thanked them kindly and sat down, pulling out our notebooks and pens... Our plans were to journal and sketch- but its hard to string a sentence together when your focus is so taken by what is being said to you. These kindly gentleman came over to introduce themselves, leaning a hand on our chairs, similar to the way high school boys mack on girls at lockers. This, however, was not a gesture of interest on the gents parts, rather I feel that they would have been incapable of staying upright without this steadying support. So we listened intently, not that the conversation was scintillating, rather our attentions were so captivated in our efforts to decipher some semblance of sense out of these slurred monologues. After a time I insisted I wanted to write and draw, but Ali played along a little more. I sat back and watched the following scene.

Being a good soul, she acquiesced their requests to sketch them, though for a 25 cent fee as at 1.90 a beer each, we still couldn't quite cover a third one to share. So there was Ali, an art school student out of the kindness of her heart drawing pictures of drunken lonely old men at the Legion on a Tuesday night. Both of us with the calm assurance that her good deed would elicit a thankful response. However, being an art school student, this would be no hurried sketch. Rather a process of creation that required a time investment and immobility on the sitees part... this didn't go over so well. However Ali bravely forged ahead, ignoring the protestations and whinery. And eventually, upon completion, unvealing her creation... The response was a little less than grateful. Both of us were shocked at the pure disdain her images evoked. It was suggested she find a new profession, one that didn't make innocent old men appear to be serial killers.

The moral of the story is this : We had no more problems with needing beer for the rest of the night. The pure disdain Ali's sketches brought, also brought a certain level of pity for us poor art students, who would clearly never be able to get out of our financial ruts because we probably wouldn't make it in life.

Pina Bausch Cafe Muller

Sure why not, Shore to Shore

While out East I enjoyed a drunken pig roast, nightly imbibed a fresh glass of scotch with my great aunts (who, yes are about 70 +) , was a few minutes shy of missing a ferry because- you guessed it- me and my aunts and uncles were drinking at the bar. There is a general theme back home, I enjoyed it heartily.

Having just returned from a jaunt to the rock (yeeas me baoy, to Newfoundland, some der, som der me dear... yeeas me ducky) I settled into North Vancouver until the lady who'd subletted my place left. I was nannying for the week so I stayed in the little autistic boys room while he had sleep overs with his daddy, thus I was awaken by a tiny naked boy softly singing to himself as he got changed early every morning. Quite the change from the previous week.

Now I'm back in my apartment. Missing having sleep overs with my Grandma and the raw beauty of our Eastern shoreline, but thoroughly enjoying the events in my homey little DT Eastside neighborhood. It is very strange the places I see myself in.

Oh and check out http://artforum.com/video/id=22840&mode=large&page_id=0