No More Cannibals

I did the outro for Rob Viktum’s free album called “Progress: an audio tribute to the Cambodian people” almost a year ago. Someone put it up on youtube so I thought I’d share it.

You can get the whole album for FREE here: http://www.rappersiknow.com/index.php/2007/08/22/rob-viktum-progress-an-audio-tribute-to-the-cambodian-people/

Sat morning.
“So you don’t want to go out tonight?” sister
“No, I don’t want to hang out with kids.” me
“They’re not kids…they’re sea lions.” sister

Saturday.
Stop Varenne for Rodin museum.
See admission charge, then explore the Latin Quarter and Luxembourg garden park.

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I go back inside the museum, to spend more time where I very first started.
Sitting here in the Cour Marly everything seen comes down daunting. Daunting.
The click of a pen or laugh seem equally significant to any work of art. Puts my thoughts to the artist’s responsibility of edifying those in his day who do not create for expression sake themselves. Do I believe in this responsibility?

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The Venus de Milo stands getting her picture taken every day. Always the same pose, the only changes to do with photographer and equipment. The proportions beautifully realized, from some angles her head looks too small, if someone were to sculpt a beautiful young woman’s face today would it turn out similar? Could I scourge Greece searching for moving replication? My arms around her long torso we would dance isle to isle. Forgetting language before not speaking a word. Features, proportions, and missing limbs aside, the slope of her breast is perfect. Then I turned and saw an old lady sitting back against wall on bench. I was on Venus right hand, the old lady behind. And her hair was quite literally the cotton-candy purple I never thought I’d’ see in real life. Despite that I see/notice women and little potential women with more beauty than the statue in front of me.
Many lessons.
Every instance – one in particular speaks Spanish.

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Almost irresistible urge to draw a mustache on a Van Dyck nun…luckily resistible. Wonder briefly at the fine, wonder briefly that the one body will attract many. I came into a small room full of golden frames only inches of purple slate wall visible and sat on a place by the window, wanted to lean against the wall and have someone opposite me in the five foot space to face to converse with. It was an empty room when I came in and empty when I left.

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One of the first paintings I see, pay attention to, is a triptych from 1464 with a very brown skinned Christ in the centre.
Turned the corner to see the famous nipple pinch, of 1594 and in person it is stunning. The pink folds of the drapery the detail of the small areolas.

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Arriving at the Louise Bourgeois exhibit at the modern I suddenly get goose bumps. It was at the very top.
wrong leg, bad father.
On a print: “it is not so much where my motivation comes from but rather how it manages to survive.” 2007.
“Hanging and floating are states of ambivalence and doubt.”

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Early morning at the Café I get another double, then plain croissants – learning to say “sept” it’s ce-mented in my head. In our hotel room we have nutella to accompany them.
The train: the false plan for the day….
Switch – no switch – 3 all the way to Pere Lachaise. Which is the cemetery.

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what the hell is the SWP thinking? A candidate that wouldn’t be able to be President anyway? i don’t get it.

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