ok, you know the usual, i don’t sleep. here’s the next photo-book i made, put out by glaciers of nice in los angeles, photos from a non-xiu xiu tour i was making out on:


also – the 4th picture disc in my series is coming out soon. check that same link for more info. you know that series? xiu did one. jamie did one. flying buddha did one.

my mom told me i have a non-traditional life style b/c i don’t have a 9-5 job that gives me health insurance.

i wanted to tell her:

well, how traditional is the concept of work?
and, if we can call that traditional, wouldn’t being a vagabond, a vagrant, a roamer – wouldn’t that have a longer more vibrant history and tradition than work? people were doing that before agriculture.
how does tradition work, anyway?
i guess it’s just a set of rules within a certain circumstance that justifies the existence of that certain circumstance. fuck it.
wait, i am not saying i am a vagabond, i only made a point to counter work – if i were to say something, i guess it’d be: fuck it, the idea of work sickens me, DON’T DO IT, just sell photo-books through paypal! (i need a job in NY)

xiu xiu polaroid ANP article

ANP Article

Yo People,

so, no more shirts for sale for now b/c i’m moving… and i need to sell stuff that i’m not taking w/ me… i got a stack of the ANP issue w/ the 6 page spread of xiu xiu polaroids. And I got a stack of xiu xiu picture discs that is sold out on Brendan Fowler’s label. ANd the Picture-disc of Jamie’s 12 year old pre-xiu xiu songs that he found on a tape.

check this page.

a way in the world

it was hard to hold onto that romantic way of looking. i never had to do that as a child:pretend i was looking at the aboriginal island. no teacher or or anyone else had suggested that as an imaginative exercise. it was something i had fond myself trying to do, on visits, many years after i had gone away. and now, to leave the point, to travel back along the country roads, the overgrown cocoa estates with their weather grey-black cocoa dying houses, the villages with their little wooden or concrete houses in the dirt yards, to the crowded towns beside the highway, was to be taken back to a version of the colony i had known as a child. it was to be taken back to the old ways of feeling, where no moment of beginning, no past, seemed possible…