Sticky summer bummers.

The months are stacking up like a pile of well read books - stories and events running into each other. The summer is a sudden thing for me; no more winter blues - just sweaty blah. Nostalgia smells strong in this hot-breath air. And the warm air draws people out of hot-box apartments and into the bars, the streets. It has always felt electric and slightly sinister.




*

Walking home from the pub last night - a friend and I went into a recently abandoned apartment building. We were reeling from last call and red-faced from walking all over. It was an older brick building - structurally sound. There are so many abandoned properties that are livable in Muncie - left due to taxes, the recession, etc. The inside was lit with a yellow bulb. The wood trim around the heavy, locked doors, was carved in ornate patterns. The stair railing was wrought iron. It felt solid and cool in my hand.


*

I got the strongest sense of deja vu while standing there. It was a sudden, intense feeling of familiar loss. The walls seemed to be swollen with heat and moisture and the air was redolent with old plaster. It reminded me of the crumbling family home I had to sell for taxes around July or August - 2002. That was such a hot, sticky, somber affair. The walls were caving in in the kitchen - bursting with rainwater and mold. The roof was falling in. There was no a/c and the toilet was broken. It had become a very sad, empty place. I finally had to leave. My mom stayed on until the last possible day. We frantically cleaned it out - sweating over boxes and utter defeat.





*

And I think I just glanced back in my memory - my brain lubed up with beers. I was back at that house - my whole consciousness. Recently on a trip through Anderson I made Jim let me get out of the car and peer in the windows of my old house. It had a sign that declares it unfit for inhabitants. Inside someone had set up a degenerate bachelor pad: a dirty couch, a toaster oven, and bags of clothes were in a corner. It was not my house and I didn't really care. But I have that with me all the time. These things we go through become slight lines on our palms; they are stacked up inside of us and give us precedent for what comes next. To literally make a connection with the past like that was both jarring and strangely natural.





I now present you with a summer mix of melancholy music. It is dangerously woven together with some of the saddest, beautiful songs I have. Mixes like these are coping mechanisms - they are aides in the very important need to grieve occasionally. I don't promote staying in and listening to sad bastard music all the time. But when I do - this is what I jam. I hope you enjoy it.


Sticky skin, salty tears: A melancholy Summer mix

1. M83 - You, Appearing (3:39)
2. Vivian Girls - Before I Start To Cry (2:23)
3. A-SQUARE (OF COURSE) - Somehow (2:50)
4. The Modern Lovers - Hospital (5:31)
5. The Smiths - Asleep (4:09)
6. Mogwai - I Know Who You Are But What Am I? (5:17)
7. Pink Reason - Motherf*cker (3:18)
8. Guided by Voices - Drinker's Peace (1:51)
9. The Smashing Pumpkins - Blank Page (4:51)
10. The Jesus and Mary Chain - Something's Wrong (4:01)
11. Television Personalities - All My Dreams Are Dead (3:00)
12. Fucked Up - Golden Seal (3:35)
13. Elliott Smith - The Biggest Lie (2:39)
14. Guided by Voices - Learning to Hunt (2:24)
15. Neil Young - Oh, Lonesome Me (3:50)
16. Violent Femmes - Something's Wrong (2:22)
17. Magik Markers - Bad Dream/Hartford's Beat Suite (4:13)
18. Elliott Smith - Waltz #1 (3:22)
19. GG Allin - When I Die (3:53)
20. Band of Horses - The Funeral (5:22)
21. Alessandro Moreschi - Track 1 (2:51)
22. Sonic Youth - mama you've been on my mind (2:30)

Here is a way to listen online w/out a download:

Fumbling for the trigger.

Inspiration ebbs and flows. I will go through weeks and not be able to pick up a brush or pen or pair of scissors. And then there are the times when you can't tear me out of my studio, not even to go down to Savages Ale House. I can't decide when it's on or off; inspiration is a fickle thing.

I look for muses - things or people I can't get out of my head. Friendship crushes make for pretty good muses. As do funny children, neighborhood bums, and stray cats. My boyfriend is good to me creative wise. He gives me honest opinions on everything - music, drawings, paintings, life-choices-as-art. I always return the favors.


Things I do to find inspiration:

-Read and re-read books I own that seem to make me think critically. I have this one book, The Theory Toolbox, that a college English professor used in his Literary Theory 101 class. I always keep it around.

-I add lots of contacts on Flickr and peruse their latest uploads periodically. I also join groups that have content I like. Be discerning with your tastes and this can be a great tool. Go adding every person willy-nilly, and you'll end up with a slide show of people's kids, drunken fracases, and weddings. Yick.

-Go out and have a time. It can be a good time or bad time or straight up frightening. Artists of any kind need to have experience doing all kinds of shit. David Choe does this best. Try to soak up new people, places, smells, sights, sounds - and keep a journal. Duh.

-Imitate. Of course this doesn't mean copy. Pay homage to an artist or thing that inspires you by making the imagery, technique, smell, whatever - yours. Recently I've been trying to draw film stills from random sci-fi movies. I didn't set up the scenes or costume the actors or write the story - but I admire them and like to try and get them on paper.

-Have creative people around you. They don't all have to be artists in your medium or even artists at all. Most of my friends are musicians - as am I. Even those who don't profess any certain creative outlet are people I find inspiring, intriguing, attractive, etc. I also encourage friends who have moved away to keep putting up pics of what they're working on. I love that.

-Music. Music is a huge part of my creative process. I incorporate music and songs in my stuff a lot. Last.fm, Pandora, Garagepunk.com, realpunkradio.com, NPR concert archives....siiiiiiigh I love them all. I also like going to various music-sharity blogs and downloading a few rad albums and just listen to them, beginning to end.

-Take off your bra. Leave your shoes on - don't be a hippie. But a bra will suffocate any inspiration with each breath.

-If you're into the whole pastoral thing - go out in the woods or something. That isn't my cup of coffee but I get it.

-Make your space for what you do. I slowly cover the walls of any workspace with various things that make me happy to look at. Also any kind of reference stuff that you may need to look at a lot. I keep a color wheel and various pictures of skeletons hanging up in front of me and need to look at them frequently.



I wish I followed these guidelines as easily as it is to write them down. I decided lately to try and incorporate visual art into what I reeeeally enjoy doing - which is making mix cds (next best thing to deejaying). I made a bunch of fold-up cd cases w/ all this stationary cardstock I had sitting around forever. I'm messing around w/ making each one a different themed art piece w/ a corresponding CD and cool shit inside. Here are the starts of a couple:






And here are a couple of other things I've been pleased with lately. Not exactly gallery-ready stuff - but fun for me!






To end up this post - here is a mix I recently put together for two special ladies in my life who always seem to enjoy a good DJJNELL disc. It fits in well with the impending fall weather. Download or listen right here on the page. Track list at the bottom, dude.


Download Taargus Taargus Sept 2010 Mix

The fries are salty with the tears of regret and the snot of stupidity.

Partied out in 99'.



That's right. Those little fried sticks of death are salted with crying eyes. Maybe not all of them - but at least a few batches.




It's the dogged days of the working stiff. If my 15-year-old-self heard me complaining - I'd probably punch myself in the 'natch. In another reality I am 15 - hauling rancid kitchen trash from the Waffle House kitchen to the dumpster - sneaking a quick smoke. I probably just finished a 9 hour shift as a horrible short-order cook. My pal Rik is waiting for me in the parking lot and later I'll ride home with him - listening to Cannibal Corpse and trying to score a case of beer off an old drunk we both know. We'll go drink warm beer in my room and pee out the back window. Tomorrow I'll walk to work and do some variation of today.

In another reality.

In my real today - I worked a bullshit shift at a mind-numbing telephone answering service job. Then I watched several hours of Law and Order: SVU, pantless. The day ended with cathartic, sweaty band practice and beers. Cooked a cheap steak, ate it, pants back off, and worked on a mix cd.

I could stay up late and work on painting another satanic goat's head. Or I could end a decent day on the upturn, retire to the a/c frigid bedroom, and fall asleep with a book. Hell, I can do anything I want. Shitty job or not - it is summer, this is America, and I want to drink and spray paint and roller skate and play guitar and totally kill it. And I will!

Tomorrow. Probably. After work.

Flea market fun, bat blunders, and hot dog delights

After work today Jim and I had to rush out of the house. We spotted a bat. Jim stood outside, openly bummed that such a little monster could botch up such a pretty day.



















So I enlisted the neighbor kid to help get it out. Paid him $5 bucks and got this little guy on a stick. He's okay - just pissed.


















After that it was onto the flea market. This is my sanctuary and my favorite Saturday destination.














You can enjoy biscuits, gravy, and cigarettes outside.

















Lots of pretties.

















This is Steve. He sold me Tommyknockers on VHS for a buck.

Tiny Little Severe

It is a fine evening. The windows are open wide. It is warm out with a dreary purple haze bringing down the sun. After tying one on pretty tight last night - it feels good to sit like a bump on a scrote, drinking Mt. Dew and smoking smokes. I am working on a drawing in a book that I want to send back and forth with my talented, yet far away friend, Josh. I have been so focused lately on producing stuff that people will like seeing hung up - I feel like I've forgotten how to just have fun drawing.



Having a lot of your good friends move far away is tough - but we're really lucky to be able to keep up with each other on the internetz. Luckily most of mine keep me up-to-date on their major happenings. Josh was slow to post a lot of stuff because he said it made him feel like he was just trying to get attention. But I love seeing what people are doing with their time. It is just that much radder when they are using their time to make kick-ass art. Josh has a Facebook for his projects - Tiny Little Severe Press I wish Josh were here right now but he seems to have found some joy in Connecticut. That makes me happy. Here is some stuff he's been churning out:
































I did have the pleasure of sharing some artzncraftz time with my gal pal Sara Fuller. She drove here from Indy on a whim . We drew pictures and painted and cut stencils into the redick-hours of the night and into the morning - only stopping to eat pizza and pee pee. Even though I didn't get a lot cranked out - we both had a blast.








And as I blog this very moment - I'm listening to www.realpunkradio.comand thoroughly enjoying listening to a live Dj play decent music. Live radio is a good way to keep me focused on stuff when I'm by myself so I listen to this station a lot. You should too.

Mother #1

In honor of (and to healthily cope with)Mother's day week - I'm going to do a post-a-day til Mother's day. I have an entire closet crammed with family photos (7 large totes) and am planning on starting to incorporate them into art of some sort; I want to use them as inspiration rather than a burden on space. I'm starting here.

Teresa Lynn Summers

Jan.31 1949 - June 9 2007






You were a real doll. And you knew it.
I remember you in so many ways
and this is one of my favorites.










I can't imagine how many times
he gave you that look.
Grandpa frozen proudly
in an snapshot.














You came from her exactly.
I come from you
exactly.
And so many times
this was us.

A dump of pics to inspire: images stuck in my head like terrible radio music.