This is the last painting I’ll be doing in 2009! Everyone have a safe and Happy New Year!

“Patchy Heart”
acrylic and thread on canvas
2″x2.75″
$35

This Christmas, for the first time in 35 years, we never put up the Christmas tree. It’s not that we didn’t have one – we had three, in fact. So what happened? Did I bring down the jinx of Scrooge on my happy home? So far so good – but the holidays aren’t over yet.

Last spring at our UU congregation’s auction, I bid on a fixed-price Christmas brunch complete with a Christmas tree of my choice, fresh cut at the farm of a fellow Unitarian. Fast forward to early December, when my husband decided to rip out and reinsulate the ceiling in the sunroom where we’ve always put the tree. I begged him to postpone the renovation till after New Year’s, but to no avail – he was hell bent on increasing the R value and saving on oil this winter.

This morning the temperature stands at five degrees, and the wind chill is well below zero. Is the sunroom ceiling finished? Not even close. Standing below the exposed roof beams, I can feel the frigid draft. The white spruce tree from our friend’s farm lies forlorn on the front lawn, never having made it through the front door. By now, some efficient neighbors have already stripped and thrown out their trees, so I’m hoping that if we move this one closer to the street, it will be picked up and fed through the town chipper with no one the wiser.

 Anyway, I didn’t get to choose that tree after all. I signed up to usher at a “Sinatra Christmas” big band show at The Egg, thinking I could easily go there after leaving the brunch, but it turned out picking the tree involved a half-mile hike up a snowy road, then felling a 30 foot tree with a chain saw and cutting off the top to yield a tree of the desired size. Our host took a well-deserved brunch break just when I was all set to pick the tree, so my husband drove me home to change into my black and white ushering garb, then drove back to select and help fell the tree. We’ve fought about Christmas tree size for decades – I’ve always wanted them bigger, and I’ve always been there to make the ultimate judgment call – but I had to trust his judgment.

He did the best he could, but it’s hard to pick a Christmas tree when the part you want is 30 feet in the air. The white spruce he brought home was on the scroungy side. Worse, it was pricklier by far than the balsam or Frazier fir we usually get. True, it had dozens of cute little pine cones, but they fell off instantly at the slightest touch, and we knew the ornaments would be highly vulnerable to falling construction debris. So as Christmas came and went, the tree lay naked and neglected in the yard.

But we did enjoy two other Christmas trees. Several years ago I planted a Wichita Blue juniper in front of the house. It’s been very happy there, and it’s now over 12 feet tall, with the slender silhouette of a Van Gogh cypress. This year I festooned it with green, teal and blue lights, and it looks very elegant, though not as raucously festive as our neighbors’ multicolored cascades of lights and inflatable Santas. The most wonderful tree, though, was the one our daughter put up in her new home in Woodstock. It’s full, fragrant, and loaded with lights and ornaments, including some we passed on to her from trees we decorated when she was a child. Watching our granddaughters play with Loki, their gray tabby kitten, beneath that tree on Christmas day, we knew we were truly blessed.

Is this the beginning of a slippery slope? Are we getting too old for Christmas trees? Certainly not. I fully intend to get one next year and for many years to come. They probably won’t come from our friend’s farm, though. Instead we’ll return to one of the nearby garden centers, where I can inhale the tree’s aroma, feel the needles to make sure it’s fresh and not too prickly, spin it around and check for symmetry. And next year’s tree can be taller than ever – the sunroom will be loftier now that we’ve ripped out the old dropped ceiling with its dirty white paneling.

Moral of the story? It’s OK to break with holiday traditions now and then – the sky won’t fall. Just don’t make a habit of it. How about you? Did you break any holiday traditions this year? And how did that make you feel?

“From far away/the city looks like a great big chandelier/but when you get near/the light begins to separate/and you see a different landscape …”

Jinx Lennon is one of those characters who is certainly bigger, better, more complicated and far more interesting than any adjectives one can use would suggest.  Punk Poet, Preacher, Singer-Songwriter, Soul Man, Voice of Protest — sure.  Whatever.  Jinx Lennon is unique, and like all unique individuals — whether they be artists, carpenters, saints or sociopaths — he eludes final judgement and definite description.

I was lucky enough to have moved to Ireland in August of 2003, and even luckier to have lived there until March of this year.  I say lucky because had I not come to integrate into Irish society, I wouldn’t have picked up on Jinx’s message, understood the context (or the accent) of his work, or really had the opportunity to witness one of the last and brightest bastions of punk in full operation.

Jinx Lennon is from Dundalk, he’ll have you know.  Location is important with Jinx.  His songs are not so much snapshots of real life; they’re more like bites ripped right out of life’s tender flanks.  Jinx engages you with his songs.  Much in the same way that a foreigner engaging with you intensely may take some getting used to, like a friend or new love or a great work of art, it takes some commitment on your part to reap the full benefit.  You’ve got to have your eyes and ears and mind open, your mouth shut, and your dancing shoes on.

Jinx Lennon takes chunks of life and melts them into poems, distills them down to their essences.  Life is dirt and grime, love and peace, hate and war, sex and oppression, politics and skullduggery; life is flowers growing on top of a landfill, a dove pecking at Saturday night’s vomit, love in the time of capitalism, climate change and extraordinary renditions.  “Know Your Station Gouger Nation!” the title of his second album urges us.  What station is that?

Your station is Ireland in ribbons, bruised and bloodied by a million greedy hands grabbing at the goodies, ripping the sweets out of children’s hands: be it hospitals, education, Ireland’s consitutional mandate to neutrality, or the lifeblood of the country itself, sucked into the sewers of mind, the swamps of Catholicism, the bog of Progress and Development.  Your station is coming in on the frequency of conformity; everybody is listening to the sound of their own dissolution, the shattering of their society into millions of atoms, each alone, dissociated, dislocated, without a language, a patchwork and contradictory identity, an identity confined to possession and location.  Ireland is the train station in the middle of nowhere, trying to get somewhere –  if only the train would come!  Ireland is the upwardly-mobile beast of the borrowed dollar.  Ireland in ribbons, bruised and abused, long-suffering, enduring, knowing right from wrong but casting her lot with the highest bidder.

Jinx Lennon has never been more relevant than he is today.  The banking system suffered a seizure, and we’re told it almost toppled — on top of us, of course.  Ireland hangs together by her ribbons, and Jinx is her poet.  Jinx Lennon is the most modern of all poets: nobody is on top of it like Jinx.  The poet bears the banner, the beacon; the heart in his hand is Ireland’s heart.  We’d be wise to follow our hearts.  That failing, follow the poet who holds it in his capable hands.

www.jinxlennon.com, www.myspace.com/httpwwwmyspacecomjinxlennon

Ben Kritikos
27 December ‘09

Starr and I walked into the supermarket today with limited cash. So I told her that when I start earning, I’ll let her and Ezzie buy whatever they want to, no restrictions.

It’s so hard to pick a something to drink when you’re thirsty. Especially when you’re thirsty for that one unique thing, but you don’t even know what it is, and it’s just driving you crazy to look at a fifty different options in front of you in one of those huge supermarket refrigerators.

And that’s not all.

The same happens with chips too.

“Pa, I want to drink something.”
“So? Drink something.”
“Umm, I’m sick of coke and all that. I want to have something new.” “Cranberry juice?”
“Waah, where is it?”
“I’ll get you some.”
“Alright, I’ll make myself a cosmpolitan. Get me sprite too.” (Very faintly..”And some Vodka.”)
“Yeah, alright. Umm… No.”

And even after you pick something, you’re still not satiated. And that makes it all the more worse. So like I wanna go to Delhi, ummm.. now?! Maybe if I start running, I’ll reach by the 28th and that would be awesome.

Just my luck.

See, I told you I’m a schizo.

x EdgyShark x

What, you still didn’t get it?

Darkness, a foreboding emptiness that filled the sky every night, covering the city in a horrible veil of loneliness.

Victor sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, trying desperately to catch his breath. It was the same thing every night. With night came terror. With the darkness, came the memories that he just didn’t want to remember anymore.

Victor drew in a shuddering breath, trying desperately to clear his mind. But the images were so vivid; it was like watching a movie. A never ending loop of the night he had died inside. He’d always thought it was worse than being just plain old dead. He always felt that night turned him into a monster. A man who killed, for reasons he couldn’t understand; a man without a conscience, maybe even without a soul.

He stood sharply and began to pace around, his eyes glued to the floor, not wanting to see the darkness outside that had consumed the entire city. His apartment wasn’t very big. It was one room that held both his bed and his stove. His bathroom was off to the left, which only had a toilet, and a standing shower. So, there weren’t very many places to hide from the inky blackness. He hurried to the large paned window, and drew the curtains closed. It was a cold comfort. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was still there, lingering, waiting to claim him.

Victor took another deep breath, his mind settling on the fact that he’d have to distract himself. He sat back on the bed and snatched a manila envelop off the floor. On the tab, in thick penned letters was a name, Jinxanne McGovern. He flipped it open and spread its contents out before him. There were a few hospital documents, a birth certificate, and some photos. Even in the black and white candid pictures, the woman’s eyes were haunting. She was beautiful, but something about her seemed deadly in a way that Victor had never seen. There was a raw, animalistic quality to the way she carried herself. It was either sexy or scary as hell, he hadn’t yet decided. Victor opened the hospital report. It was dated back about 6 years.

Name: McGovern, Jinxanne

Symptoms: Patient complains of neck pain. Physician noticed two small bite marks and took the necessary actions and containment precautions.

Notes: Patient fled, through 6th story window, no body was recovered.

The report was brief, but it proved how unlike the others she really was. The fact that she had escaped the grips of Eternity Inc. was remarkable.

“Stupid girl,” Victor chuckled at one of the black and white photos, “you should have just laid low.”

But, she didn’t. She did the exact opposite. She turned around and started taking out members of Eternity Inc. They were by all means expendable, but it was enough to get her noticed. That’s when he called Victor. Victor had done jobs for him before and he trusted Victor’s skill. In a back alley a few blocks from his apartment, a man dressed all in black handed him the folder, and the cash. Victor had been trailing her ever since; waiting for his opportunity, waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger.

He thought that he had finally found it there in the empty church yard. ‘What a waste?’ he thought to himself. But he couldn’t help it, those eyes. They’d burned him with the memories of that night so long ago; they’d struck him right in his core. But next time he wouldn’t be caught so off guard. He would expect the warm voice that halted him, and the green eyes that hypnotized him. Next time he wouldn’t be so careless…

Victor tucked all of the information back into the folder and tucked it under his mattress. He glanced over at the clock, it was just about midnight. He lay back in his bed, closing his eyes, trying desperately to forget about the darkness right outside his window.

***

Vinny quickened his pace until he was full on running. His heart pounded in his ears as he raced down the alleyway. His lungs burned as he tried to catch his breath. Everything around him was black; he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face. He raced on blindly though, because whatever was in front of him wasn’t nearly as bad as what was behind him.

“Oh Vinny, just stop this,” the woman’s voice echoed from behind him.

“If you just settle down and tell me what I wanna know, I’ll make this much easier on you baby,” she cooed.

But Vinny knew better then that. He had heard the stories. They called her Lady Unlucky, and when she found you well, you might as well kiss your ass good bye. She had already taken out three of his closest friends, and now she’d come for him.

“Hey honey, look out for that wall,” she laughed. The words confused him, and then he felt it, like a punch in the face. He hit the back wall of the dead end alley. Her laugh echoed loud in his ringing ears. His head throbbed, and he could feel a little trickle of blood running down the side of his face. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t, it was too painful.

“Oh honey, don’t hurt yourself now. Just relax; I’ll come down to you,” she said. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her next to him. She pressed a cold hand to his pounding head.

“Easy now baby, just breathe,” She whispered into his ear. A bit of her hair brushed against his face.

“What the fuck do you want?” Vinny spat into the darkness

“Hey now, is that any way to speak to a lady?” she growled, pressing his head into the concrete. The pain was excruciating. he could feel the loose pebbles and broken glass embedding themselves in the soft skin of his cheek. He clenched his teeth and tried to fight the force of her hand bending the bones in his face. He knew if he didn’t co-operate he was going to find himself dead in a pool of his own brains.

“Alright, alright… whatever you wanna know, I’ll tell ya just.. aahhh!.. Stop it!” he shouted.

“That’s more like it,” she said, easing the pressure.

“You’re a smart man, Vinny. Now tell me love, what are they doing with the vampires? If you tell me, I may let you out of this alley alive. If not, well, I’m going to pop your head like a pimple. got it?”

‘It couldn’t be any clearer,’ Vinny thought to himself. But, if he told her what he knew, then Eternity Inc. would surely kill him. He seemed damned either way.

“I haven’t got all night Vinny. Time to start talking,” she purred. She put a little more pressure on his head

“Alright, fuck!” he screamed.

“The vampires, they aren’t killing them, like everyone thinks,” he said between his teeth.

“Then what, pray tell, are they doing with them?” she said softly.

“They are rounding them up, taking them to the lab. What happens after that, I’m not authorized to know.”

“Swear to God, Vinny. If you’re lying to me, I will kill everyone who ever meant a god damned thing to you!” she said angrily. She took her hand back quickly.

“Listen here Vinny, today is your lucky day. I’m going to let you live, but you tell him whoever the fuck he is that I’m on to him and that he can’t stop me.”

“If I do that he’ll fucking torture and kill me, you bitch!” Vinny snapped. Fear and panic filled his heart. This was a fate worse then death. You didn’t betray him.

“If I find out you didn’t deliver my little message, I will find you, I will turn you, and then we will see what he does with you. Do I make myself clear, Vinny baby? You have two days.”

And with that, she was gone. Vinny stood, his head swimming as he headed for the mouth of the alley. He stumbled forward, all the while wishing she had just killed him then and there…

This week we have been dealing with a neurotic dog. One of the boys let our lab, Jinx out to the bathroom Sunday evening. Well, boys being boys when Tom and I were headed off to bed, we realized that Jinx was missing. She was still outside, on the porch. We let her in, she went to bed and so did we, nothing unusual there. The next morning though, she wouldn’t go out. I mean no way this dog wasn’t budging. All 82 pounds of her was refusing to go anywhere near the door. We have an electric collar for her, so no leash is needed to let her out to the yard, but Monday morning it required getting out the leash and dragging and pushing her to get her out the door. This progressed through all of Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and so on. She won’t go out unless one of us is with her and I mean, not standing on the porch while she goes about her business, but literally with her, every step of the way through the yard. Now mind you, this would not be a problem any other time of the year, but this week, temperatures here have hovered around zero and with the wind chill have been well below. Not a good week for a dog to need you to accompany her to attend to her bodily functions. Best we can figure is that something scared the begeebers out of her. A neighbor said that Sunday night she heard coyotes like mad howling right around the same time, we didn’t hear it, but maybe Jinx outside at the time, did. Maybe it was a bear, although we think that unlikely since they should know that they should be hibernating. Whatever it was she needs a human security blanket to go outside and the five of us are it.

And for those of you wondering, the neurotic behavior started well after this photograph was taken during the summer, so sorry but the hat has not caused the problem. Good try though.

Here are some of my latest paintings. Enjoy!

“Stitched Heart”
acrylic and thread on canvas
2″x2.75″
$35

“Mega-Bee”
acrylic on canvas
3″x3″
$35

“Space Bee”
acrylic on stained wood
4″x4″
ON HOLD

*watermarks are not on the originals

Titans (Volume 2) #20
Written by Mike Johnson
Art by Sergio Arino

Donna Troy goes solo in another spectacular single issue Titans tale. I have to say that Johnson could write a Donna Troy ongoing – he gets her and really makes me like her. I always loved her but I mean hear she seems so much more real. I love that she is going out and starting her life over again. She has been a full time hero for far too long. Miami will be a nice choice for her I think. The guy that Donna likes is a blonde named Tom – come on that is confusing and makes me think of Nemesis right away. Couldn’t we have a non-Wonder Woman like romantic interest for Donna? Oh and I sure hope she doesn’t keep the glasses look for her secret identity. I am pretty sure during the Wolfman/Perez days she didn’t even have a secret identity.

Word Of The Day

omnipotent [ORIGIN: Latin, PART OF SPEECH: Adjective, DEFINITION: almighty or infinite in power, as God]

SONG OF THE DAY: Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve

We have to do a DRAMA journal now. Yay. Add that to my diary and my current blogging, and I’m practically going to repeat myself three times every day. :|

Caitlin jinxed me today, so I spent two whole periods without talking. Instead, I made flash cards with phrases (hello, thank you, what Yaning) to use and managed to actually make myself understood (pretty much). Caitlin and I were silence buddies, too, ’cause Edil jinxed her… Etc. Etc.

Nice walk home.

IT SNOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. The Ring

This weekend was pretty good. I shoved all work aside, and just rested my brain cells while having absolutely no regrets for doing the same either.

The break that we took during theatre today was something really nice. Just doing your thing while listening to The Doors and Floyd in a nice big hall with nothing to worry about is something I’ve been waiting to do for a long time.

And I can borrow Avisek’s amazing cd collection, yay! Also, he’s inspired me to make one of my own with the best music, so even though I’m not really a cd person, I’m going to make myself one. Then get my own laptop within a month, and play my music. And then maybe get my own car in a couple of years and listen to the music there on long drives. Yes Zim, I will drive

After that, the big bang would be when I have my own apartment so that I can just play my music all the time. Morrison, Floyd, Beatles, Porcupine Tree and the likes. Phaaaaaaaaack, I’m SO excited, I can hardly wait!

Also, I’m loving my role for the play. A schizophrenic Bourgeoisie brat, haha!

Jinx picked me up, and we went to a number of places. Thought we might as well abuse our car powers since we had a hot car, a chauffeur and no one to interfere

First stop Pepper Tree. Then Mama Mia we tried the Irish coffee cake and a strawberry cheesecake over some really emotional talk that made us both cry so we decided to laugh a little instead by changing the subject to hairstyles or something trivial like that.

After taking our cappuccinos we decided to move to the Cream and Fudge Factory where we met with one of her chink friends. Very cute. xD

I finally decided that this city has a lack of good waffles, hot men, and great clothes.

Shopping for Jinxie’s parents was next on the agenda after which we walked some bazillion blocks to get to Kookie Jar for a nice truffle cake.

Like a dog without a bone and an actor on the run, riders on the storm. x

EdgyShark x

This Saturday, December 5th, The Hive is having a $200 or less group art show. I will be showing my “Eyeball Heart”.

December 5th, this Saturday 8PM-12:30AM

$8 at door/ $5 for those dressed in Black and Yellow costume

Show runs December 5th-26th

Featured Artist 1: Brian Robertson
Featured Artist 2: Ching Ching Cheng
Tall Wall Artist: Mike Bilz
Small Wall Artist: Mia
Installation Artist: Christopher Umana and Ichae Ackso

December 2009 “Price Less” $200 and under group show

Price…Less Artists:
Jinx / David Gough / Melissa Moss / Brian Smith / Brandon Sopinsky / Brendan Sharkey / Charles Swenson / Edward Frausto / Nick Wildermuth / Kayla Sanders / Miss Withers / Nicole Bruckman / Kio Griffith / Henry Cram / Christopher Hall / Carrick Gerety / Laura Diamond / Darron Nefcy / Gyorgy Bp. Szabo/ Jolene Lai / Jeehye Kim / Pixie / Marianne Williams / Holly Wood / Naomi Nowak / Celene / Randy Horton / Aimee Kuester / Jason Hadley / Pukac / Cynthia Rogers / Lolita Gunslinger / Nicole Linde / Celene Petrulak / Cate Rangal / Celeneart / and many more….

GRAND RELEASE of The Hive’s KING BEE TOY!!!

Custom painted toys by:
Mikolaj Wyszynski, Nicole Bruckman, Ping Ping, Alan Deforest, Bethany Pratt, Monica Martinez, Jessica Ward, Apricot Mantle, Eric Hamm, Thomas Lynch, Melody Duenas, Sean Stepanoff, Lauren Gardiner, Ken Dougherty, Nathan Cartwright, Erick Rodriguez, Macsorro Antonina, Gribnikova, and more!!!

Hive Gallery
729 S. Spring St.
Los Angeles, CA.

It was a nice little session at Jokers last Saturday. Brian and Carter from JFA were there skating hard. Danny from Factory13 was ripping and Jake skated like he lived there or something.

I tried out a “follow cam” like the video guys do, let me know what you think. Leave a comment.

Brian Brannon

Marty “Jinx” Jimenez

Jake Reuter

Jake Reuter, with my follow cam: