Chen Man

1 04 2013

Her photographs are strong, very colourful, and inventive. Almost as if she were leading China herself into the 21st century.

Her images were arresting and fantastical, and they instantly garnered attention, as did the artist herself. At the time, she was only 23 and still in school, but she represented the next generation, who no longer felt constrained by many of the limitations their nation imposed.  (http://www.fashionmagazine.com)

Chen Man1 Chen Man2 Chen Man3 Chen Man4 Chen Man5





Clowns

1 04 2013

I used to like clowns. Until I saw an episode of Seinfeld. Followed by a bio of John Wayne Gacy.

clown clown2

Damantigui's Blog

“I too hate clowns. When I was a baby I had two pictures over my crib of these clown like critters with sombreros on. (Don’t ask me where my mother found them!) It is my earliest memory, lying in my crib and seeing these eyes staring at me, following me. When I got a little older, apparently I broke the glass in frame and my mother walked in, freaked out that I was covered in blood. I guess I’d finally had it and wanted to do the nastys in.
The thing that REALLY annoys me about clowns or other “entertainers” that delight in tormenting children is the reaction of adults to this. They laugh and push the poor frightened child towards this menace. No one seems to give a damn that the poor kid is completely freaked out! I see this all the time and I remember experiencing this as…

View original post 690 more words





My Hair Is On Fire

1 04 2013

Shot like a man out of a cannon. My mother almost died giving me birth. Head was too big. Doctors’ thought I might need braces on my neck. Crawled through the first centuries of life. When I was twenty my hair was down my back. Orange and dusty. I felt like a god. Beautiful and outrageously vain. Standing in the Kipling Station. I could have stood there forever. When I stepped on the train I was 40 and everything picked up speed. The last decade has been like a long weekend. My eyes are watering. And my hair is on fire.

smallBeachbums smallBeached Mermaid smallBehind the green door smallDuchess

 

 

 

My Hair Is On Fire. A new book of poetry and other nonsense from David Halliday

CONFESSION OF A NEWLY DIVORCED WOMAN

 At the bottom of the stairs. I used to wait for you. To come down. Head first.

You’re a joy. When you’re fixing the garbage disposal and your fingers are dripping. With sarcasm.

At the wedding your mother wept. Outside in the parking lot. You’re not supposed to get married at 3 o’clock. In the morning.

You say I can take heart ache. Who doesn’t want to find their husband jerking off over the dishes.

This isn’t a marriage. Its an arrangement. The twins aren’t yours. They were adopted. Lets sign the papers. And send them back. UPS will guarantee almost anything.

I had more sex when I was single. Your breath was bad. But not your confidence. I was wrong and now I have to pay my indulgences. Still. I look out the window and hope I see you walking this way.