Posts Tagged ‘green


acid gr[qu]een (you have a funny way of showing it)

acid queen–tina turner (aside: saw tina when she was making her comeback tour “private dancer” in chicago at the park west theater on armitage in 198_. had a table in the front row with a group of friends, got showered with sweat from her and her sax player who was also smokin’ hot. best ever concert.)

acid green is one of those colors that i find particularly inspiring. it just kicks you in the ass and screams, “get the hell out there and do something!”

ran into a bridge railing riding my bike one sunny afternoon in moorhead, minnesota, after a kegger in a park down by the red river during my sophomore year at good ole msu. there may have been other contributing factors to my accident. didn’t hurt myself, but the front wheel of my bike was bent to shit. (lots of swearing in this post, but acid — green, queen, or otherwise — does that to a person.)


sir gawain, the green knight, and other dreams of the dead

they were smiling at me, so close i thought i could reach out and touch them. their love emanating from their smiles in visible waves of air (a distortion of my psyche); i ached for it to be true, although i knew that it was only a dream and that they were long gone from my life and this reality. i like it when they come to visit, but i always wonder what they want when they do. what can it mean when they seem so alive, but i know that they are dead?

sir gawain and his pursuit of the green knight came to my consciousness without warning or prompting, they were just there last night at around 9:17 pm pst. it wasn’t an unpleasant visit, even though it has been more than 4_ years (yes, that is a 4 in front of that underscore, it is there because memory is like that) since i had met them. all things camelot were the rage, we were all reading t.h. white’s “the once and future king.” why i do not know. i liked gawain, his honor, his fears, his duplicity, and his redemption. its alliterative verse underscoring (in a john williams movie score kind-of-way) the valor and the grandeur of the court of arthur. did my thoughts of gawain prompt the visit this morning, just before waking, of my smiling, lovely friends? i do not know, but today i believe i will let them accompany me, their love my knight-in-shining-armor.

p.s. my interview at artist career training is up.


curatorial curiosity

things that go together.  things that don’t.  things that are emotional.  things that are rational.  things that when put together create a dialogue with each other.  do they speak to  you?  things that are positioned high up on the wall (or in your life).  things that belong on the bottom.  location, location, location. things that need a room to breath in, things that need each other close by because they are the reason for one another.  things that are negative (a hole in a henry moore sculpture).  things that are positive (rococo).  things that bring you joy (beauty, love, the color green).  things that make your heart break (beauty, death, absence, the cello.) things that sing. things that orate.  things that laugh. things that whisper. things that scream.  things that touch you (wool, wood, would — the conditional.) things that make you run away.  things that invite you to sit on the front porch and enjoy a glass of lemonade.  things that make you remember. things that you wish you could forget.  things that come and things that go. this thing. that thing. your thing. my thing. our thing. their thing. today. tomorrow. forever. never. this thing is my thing.


summer ale (and other mishaps)

happenstance.  chance. 6 mb. summer ale.

flipped from one branch to the other.  shrug your shoulders. green blue green blue green.

tone poems.  so ‘6os.  hippies and indian cotton.  madras without the plaid.  saturated.

what the fuck.  (sorry, it should be wtf.)  or not.  caring, compassionate, concerned, bullshit.  magenta.  brick red.

a mixture of feminine and masculine.  gender denier.  muscle.  sin.  sinew. syncopated.  and on and on and on.

my hand in yours.  flesh touching flesh.  the spark, a thorn, a sip of summer ale and the fog rolls in.


the movement of air experienced by trees




the life & times of two bath towels

hilary & jackie (that’s hilary on the left, you can tell by the way she wears her washcloth) have been hanging around our green “rain forest” marble bathroom (they prefer the term, toilette, mais oui, as they have certain standards to maintain) for a little over five years now.  their entrance into our lives is not that unusual for a pair of 100% spun cotton bath towels; we had our ‘colors’ (we took a marble tile with us to bed, bath & beyond) & over the course of a half hour discussed the various merits of matchy-matchy (thank you, nina garcia!) or whether we should choose a contrasting palette (we settled for somewhere in-between.)

it wasn’t an easy decision, but hilary (the more outgoing of the two sisters) put forth a compelling case (i would have used the qualifier, very, but i am trying not to shade this testimony, rather i am reporting the facts as they have been relayed to me.)  she carefully, but with a certain flourish that was hard to ignore, explained the relative benefits of their pile; how they had been woven, what looms had been used & how they had carefully been folded to expose their best features here on this shelf at this very moment in time in laguna ______, ca.

of course, there is the whiff of third-world underpaid, overworked, child-labor-ish hovering over their ‘made in india’ label (they are categorized ‘grand-patrician’ which harkens back to the raj, don’t you agree?)  however, we chose to ignore those implications (after all, what are we to do when so much of our everyday household goods are made for pennies in countries not our own?  price does have its price, no?)

but the stories they tell of their use :  there’s the mother-in-law (as if that were true, the in-law part) who carefully re-folds them into thirds, not wanting to disturb the ‘look’ in the bathroom (even though when she visits, there is a bit of a tornado going on en suite) & the occasional overnight guests who “ooh” & “aah” over the facilities with its roman tub & atrium window open to the canyon below (not to worry about ‘over exposure’, there is a discreet privacy fence & people of a certain height may enjoy the view as they lather their hair or stand under the rain shower enjoying the sluice of warm water cascading down their otter-sleek bodies.)

no one in the household ever uses them & more often than not, they reside on their towel bar, folded, untouched & washed only before company arrives; they are to the denizens nothing more than decoration as bath sheets are the norm otherwise.  but, there are times when they receive much scrutiny & their wales & ribs & color give rise to all sorts of fantasies, as if they were being ‘read’ like smoke or tea leaves or entrails.    & someone, speaking in tongues & rich with the muse coursing through them, stops & for a moment contemplates their homely existence.



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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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