Balloons as a base

3 Responses to “Blue sun”

1. 1 xinem
   Apr 26th, 2007 at 754

   i’ll paint the blue sun for you.

   i’ll paint the sun blue for you?

2. 2 Hugo Claudin
   Apr 26th, 2007 at 806

   Blue Nebula

   I dont remember how we thought of Nebula, I wanted something floaty and I wanted a constellation, like the stars at Schulers. I was obsessed with the beats because they were nobodies. It was some guys that talked funny and drank coffee and they wrote their stories into a legend. I have a friend, she writes dirty stories on livejournal and some of them are true and some are confessions ans some are mixes with bizarre things she dreams up. I am now in the stories. She is a really good writer and seems wise beyond her years. Today she confessed to a lot of stupid things and somebody commented that she is very smart, she answered she was smarter because she did a lot of stupid things.. I was vindicated, I am because I did a lot of stupid things.
   Yes I google my name and found your invite. You ask me my obsessions and I have been obsessing for a long time really. It all started with the World Book Encyclopedia. It was tomes from the fifties and that was my internet. That was my window, my portal and I learned of El Greco and
   the thief artist Caravaggio. All the naked angels and their little wee wees.
   The nakedness the dirty Greeks having a ball with the little ones. How could it be? Was there no decency in art, was it the licence I needed?..
   I was an altar boy in my church and priest was an american that looked like Tom Jones (the singer) and when I kneeled his thing was this far from my face I got hard and had no idea why and when I looked up his Adams apple was the size of a pyramid.
   When I was growing up my father’s american friends would stop by and bitch about the mexicans, how they were this and that and always late with everything, and when my mothers mexican friends came over they would talk about the gringos, those cheap bastards and how many times can they fuck us over and over again? I lived this double agent life for the last forty years. So I decided I was not going to be any which one. But then took more to the underdog.
   When I was at Kendall the faculty was suing the administration and so my education was piddled waiting for the teachers and so I would spend lots of time in the library and I found two things that kept me interested one was a madman named Francis Bacon and the other was Leon Golub who had the balls to look at US foreign policy and he did a series about tourture, in Latin America and Africa and the Middle East all sponsored by you and me and the good folks at CIA. Then I found Applebroog and people that could not paint like me.
   I went to mexico four year ago now and I got sick at my sisters house and I asked for a magazine and she brought me a Vogue bless her heart and there was an article about Clemente and had a nice studio and a beautiful wife. And in my fever I thought I can do that.. and then I did and now I want to take it all in a roll it in a tortilla and make a nice burrito out of it all but I am tired. Yes I still play the music and do a burlesque and I am writing another play and they tell me if spread myself to thin…
   more like the school of tapas art …
   I host shows with musicians I admire and I dont know what to do with the art I already made because it only makes sense to mexican-americans in their early forties.

   and so i obsess and i nag and i bitch and i pine and i yearn.
   and i cant find what i am looking for. like my keys.
   where is juliet williams?

3. 3 severnspoon
   Apr 26th, 2007 at 072

   I’m sitting here in my little office, surrounded by all the things of my life, like a nicely padded nest. The more perfectly it surrounds me, the more I get sure of something just out of reach.

   I watched a movie where Derek Jacobi plays Frances Bacon. I think he directed it too. Man, what a miserable, cruel guy. I can see what is appealing in him as an artist. There is something so stark and irrepressibly ugly that he stands in front of you. Atrocities. Yet he feels like Peter Greenaway with a sort of innocence that stares unblinkingly at its own vision. I admire that.

   I think my own vision is dark. I’ve decided I have no talent for following politics. I am too empathetic to pass judgement. I can be quite decisive these days though. I don’t know what this means. I suppose I can understand politics at the interpersonal level and that is what I am interested in most. I want to interact with people through words.

   I am increasingly fond of broken things. I like ruins. I like old books not new ones. I have two desks in my room that I keep for the drawers. I have many drawers full of a great deal of words. I don’t know why. I’d like to know why I do this.

   I know why I do certain things. I do them with great abandon and surety. Other things that are simple for everyone else, I am paralyzed by. I cannot do them. I cannot do the phone. Perhaps Schulers broke me of it, but I cannot communicate with confidence over the phone. It is too fallible. It doesn’t transmit all that I speak. This is too problematic for me. Give me less or more, but please not this.

   I don’t sleep well most nights. I am learning to deal with this with an eye pad or whatever they’re called. A thing that covers my eyes. For some reason, the oblivion of blindness is quite relaxing. I have too many concerns, too many responsibilities. I do a lot as a sort of subterfuge that is never a lie. Never a lie, but never a true full expression.

   A true full expression is what I want, but it also makes me feel crazy out of control. I haven’t had a dream that I can recall in a long time. I think I sort out my life very actively in my sleep so that I can sleep while I am awake. Somehow this works for me.

   Or it doesn’t. Sometimes I crash into the wall and cannot bear to lift my head from my chest. It is exhaustion though, not depression. I was depressed once a couple weeks ago. Then I wrote something and felt better. Somehow this works for me.

   I don’t know what I am looking for. I am looking quite actively though and I like whatever I find. So that’s good, I suppose. I can’t really complain.

   Hugo, I think you are brave and honest. I think if you say someone’s name three times, they magically appear. Juliet Williams.

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