Two birds and two quartets

Today I met with Ruby Santiago – tattoo artist at Two Birds Tattoo.

I gimped my way into their store on my crutches for the first of our design meetings. One of the reasons for my choosing Ruby to do the work for me was her commitment to collaborate on the work to be done and her emphasis on the design process. She is lovely and was very helpful asking me to selectively narrow down my art styles in order to give her a good idea of the kind of thing I’m looking for.

I work well with words and sound but struggle with design, so I’m going to be sending her lists of words, artworks, pictures and music as resources she can utilize as she creates her first draft for me. I want this to be something meaningful to us both and something we’re really excited about, so I’m expecting the process to be quite long – which suits me fine and Ruby is good with this.

I will include all the images and materials I send to Ruby in this blog along with all of the drafted artwork she comes up with, so you can follow our progress. Ive left her with a lot of scope as she needs to own the work as much as I do, its a matter of trust and faith and clear communication – its a partnership.

My brief so far –

The names of my loved ones incorporated into an abstract work to be placed on my chest. The design, the artwork itself, is paramount – the names are to be incorporated in such a way that they are the framework of the design or integrated into the design itself… and the artwork must be such that I can add names to it in the future.

Colorful. Emotive.

Key word- Love (pure and strong- familial, platonic and romantic) Perhaps defined by color or feeling?

Names to be included
– Rod, Doreen, Gavin, Baxter, JDavid, Jacob, Shoshana, Jordan, Jenova, Fi, Luke, Amelia – Family
Jess, Katrina, Deb, Bec – Romantic
Pete, Paul, Dave, Anthony, Lee, Carita, Br. Charles – Platonic

Random associated words – use one, a few or all at your discretion – whatever connects with you

Ocean, journey, bursting, release, light, sun, strength, laughter, fabric, unity, textured, translucent, morning, resolve, portal, inner, movement, boundless, inspire, awaken, flow, fireworks, fruit, emerging, tender, flame, beauty, sky, up, lift, sweet, eyes, push, open, join, connect

I’m seeking a feeling more than a literal image – this is really paying homage to those who I love and is illustrative (in an abstract style) of how they have contributed to my life. It is gratitude, it is a celebration of who they are/were.

Rubys work for Lalo - the work that made my mind up

Music – The Satellite 4 – 03 Dustbunny from the CD “Call your Girl” l

– The Kronos Quartet with Astor Piazzolla – “Loving” from the CD “Five Sensational tangos”

Pat Metheny Group- And then I Knew

Lastly – make it yours.

So thats the brief – I’ll keep you informed of progress,

Simon

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Theres no stopping me now

Everything is about attitude. Everything.

Ten years six months ago I ruptured my right achilles tendon; two days ago I ruptured my left – it aint fun and this one is going to be obscenely expensive. So far the bill has come to around $500. I have an appointment with an orthopedic specialist tomorrow – another $150 and two days hence with a sports physio – another $150 …and if they recommend an MRI (which is almost certain) somewhere between $1500 and $3500 more. Then, maybe surgery – which the other needed, although this one isn’t as bad (at least I can still move my foot) that’ll add another… wait for it…. $…. wait for it…. somewhere between $30,000 and $50,000. Then, if American physicians/surgeons follow the excellent example of their Australian colleagues, I would need a further six months on crutches and six months physio – I’m not even imagining that cost, because – guess what? It ain’t happening.
Total oulay in Australia $0 , total outlay in the US (conservative estimate) $60,000. No chance mate!

The irony is not lost on me . CAPTION CONTEST - Simon's achilles heel is ......

I’m still happy enough and if I have to be a gimpy bloke – so be it. I’m not going to die. God help those in the US who are given that choice ie no choice. Watch Sicko – I’m living it!

Anyhow, this is just another bump in the road, plenty of great things have recently happened.. I feel good in myself, so things could be a LOT worse.

I’m thinking of renaming the blog ” Big ticker with dodgy pins” Whatdya reckon?

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Life on the Playa

The last time I…

Rode a bicycle – 28 years ago.

Erected a tent – 32 years ago.

Was rolled around in a giant ball-shaped cage – 34 years ago. (Yes there was one – believe it or not – at Camp Tallebudgera – I was about ten years old).

Went roller disco-ing – 34 years ago.

Rode a bicycle through a “white-out” dust storm where I couldn’t see the front wheel of my bike – never. That one lasted about an hour I’d guess, but they occurred frequently throughout the week both day and night.

Climbed the outside of a three storey art sculpture – completely mindless – never. God knows how I made it – but the view was awesome and the self satisfaction was priceless.

Dived headlong onto a quickly moving giant caterpillar art car – never.

Made espresso for paying customers – 12 years ago.

Made espresso for paying customers who were variously dressed in lingerie, body painted, spandex, topless, bottomless, dressed in marching band uniforms or like WW2 air aces, in leather or in nothing at all – never.

Made espresso for paying customers when my two helpers were tripping on ‘shrooms and couldn’t get their shit together – never.

Stood so close to one of many machines that shot propane balls of flame at least twenty feet long, that it seared my stubble – never.

Played dodge-ball with a group of twenty-somethings, in the process discovering that I am a large, slow-moving, soft target – never, but boy did we laugh!

Watched five – 3 and 4 storey buildings – The Metropolis City Art Installation, burnt to the ground by multi-coloured flame (some of the flame was green and cascaded down the side of a building – spectacular!) – never. Incidentally Metropolis city was built, and eventually destroyed, unfunded by a group of wild Aussies, Kiwis and Irishmen – bet they had some interesting “discussions”!

Saw flame twirlers (and twirling flamers) , jugglers, stilt walkers, sword swallowers, yoga classes, musicians, poets, dancers, aerialists, bondage shows, marching bands, French maid drill teams, uni-cyclists on three different stages in the one venue – never. There were also costumed characters but I couldn’t differentiate them from the crowd.

Hitched a ride in colossal moving houses, flamingos, steamships, butterflies, dragons, rhinos and domes – never.

Inscribed the names of loved ones as a last goodbye on a temple that was as moving and held as much sense of reverence as any church, synagogue or mosque I had ever been in. A temple which was burned on the last day of BM 2010 – never.

Watched some guy dressed in what looked like a space suit get surrounded in spectacular lightning-like high frequency electrical current produced by an enormous and extremely loud Tesla coil – never.

Raced after a water truck to stand under the spouting water so I could wash off the desert dust that had coated my body – never.

Lay on the top of an RV in an alcoholic and naturally grown drug induced haze to gaze at a sky illuminated by millions of clearly visible stars unmasked by light or pollution and talk about life with people I had met only a few days prior – well… I’ve done similar, probably about 15 years ago most recently.

Sent a postcard to my boys from an officially registered US Post Office (Black Rock City) that is only open one week a year – never.

Attended a concert – Bliss Dance – featuring a woman inside the 40 foot sculpture that had been built after her likeness – wonderful – never.

Had sex with a woman I’d met only an hour prior – total pre-sex conversation …. a total of about ten sentences… both of us coated in dust rolling around in a 4-person tent on a partially inflated air-mattress – well… again, this used to happen semi-regularly (sans dust, tent and air-mattress) about 18 – 23 years ago. God, they were the days!

Undeniably confirmed for myself that I’m not seeking sex but companionship, partnership and intimacy – known for ages, just needed a reminder. Not over Jess – not sure if I will be.

Danced, pranced and skipped (without any children present) – about 23 years ago.

Watched “Metropolis” in a purpose-built 20 seater theatre in a far corner of the desert – last saw Metropolis about 10 years ago – in a desert? Never.

Watched a sixty foot effigy of a man burn amongst soaring fireworks and massive fireball explosions – never.

Experienced many, many art installations, some interactive some not, scattered over a 2 mile square area – so many ideas, shapes, sizes, colours, materials and concepts, it was hard to take it all in – never.

Was a member of a cashless, “gifting” society (except for coffee and ice; very sensible, very civilized) – never.

Ate a tequila and blood-orange sno-cone made from shaved ice produced from a hand cranked machine – never.

Sang karaoke complete with impromptu back-up singers and dancers whilst slurping on a vodka martini, dressed only in boxers, a cowboy hat and blue fur-pimped sneakers – never.

Saw pole-dancing in at least 10 different clubs/bars/establishments/camps by both sexes – in one day – never.

Swung in a giant bungee-ed seat suspended beneath a giant neon-illuminated pyramid – never.

Stood in line at a hookah bar only to be turned down at the door (as they had run out of their daily allocation of tobacco and alcohol) – the huge security guard didn’t have the heart to tell the guys lined up behind us – so I had to do it – he seemed remorseful and embarrassed. That’s never happened to me before.

Used a porta potty that played “Happy Birthday to You” – never.

Danced at raves with about 5000 other people at venues complete with lasers, giant screens, flame throwers, swing sets, their own Tesla coil, hammocks and climbing structures – never. P.S. There were about 4 or 5 such “clubs” that I saw in BRC. The clubs I went to were Nexus camp and Root society.

Was given such a variety of gifts – necklaces, CDs, hugs, hand painted cards, fridge magnets and address books; meals, stickers, grass, mementos, massages, mistings, lsd, tarot readings and drinks – never. Although hugs from bare breasted twenty-something, perfect- bodied, hard-nippled women with forty-something, paunchy, sex-deprived straight men should not be listed as a gift so much as cited as some kind of modern-day version of a medieval torture.

Was power washed by foam standing in an enclosed booth with several other people – never.

Discussed the merits of a drive-by shooting range with an original “burner” – never.

Walked for 3 miles, alone, out into the desert past many art installations, past a glorious temple and a giant 60 foot man doomed to immolation, to sit quietly and look back at a glowing city of 50,000 people, in a place that has no electricity, sewerage or running water, to cry with joy and hope, to cry over lost loves and people everywhere and the fate, dreams and wishes I have for my children – never.

After acclimatizing on my first day in Black Rock City – none of the above seemed especially remarkable.

Special thanks to my travelling companions from the Dragon Wagon.

Dragon Pilot – a 67 year old retired US Army pilot, our intrepid leader who has a penchant for pink mini-skirts, multicoloured tights and an alluring form-fitting hot pink top.

Hondo – a 67 year old retired Delta Airlines worker who also specializes in hand massages – he’s figured out the game.

Chow – a 53 year old civic engineer and artist – also known to his friends as FOS – short for Full Of Shit – said in an entirely loving way.

CrAcKeR – a 40 year old personal trainer and iron-woman who found her new boy – an architect, who lives six blocks from her real residence, on the playa this year.

Mousse – a 35 year old Canadian software engineer – is that right dude? – Mousse is very, very wild when stoned.

Dr. Harsh-Mellow – a 53 year old Doctor/Neurology specialist, all-round good-guy and pervert .

QT Pie – a 21 year old student from The Netherlands who hopefully discovered love -she re-routed her travel plans to be with her new playa found Californian boyfriend.

Moonshine – a 25 year old designer/photographer also from The Netherlands who virtually upon arrival became Manager at the photographic department of the Media Centre on the playa – never to be seen again.

Thanks also to my many new friends Chantal, Jym, Luis, Louise and all the crew from Fidget Feet AKA Sucking Diesel Camp, the coffee crew at Centre Camp where I volunteered, Coffeebean, Josh and Vanessa – my tripping pals. To George the tiki-bar Aussie burner who gave me tips par excellence about “how to get rooted more often on the playa” and lastly but by no means least, to the beautiful Kory who couldn’t find the Dragon Wagon at 7:50 and G again to save her life – don’t worry darlin’, half the time neither could I.

This is a really good video compilation of the event

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Confessions of a should-be drug user

About 5 years ago I was diagnosed with ADD and prescribed the drug adderall. My parents were visiting at the time and described my transformation as miraculous. Through her tears my mother confessed since I was about 16, she and my dad knew there was “something wrong” with me, but they didn’t know what to do about it. Unbeknownst to me, I have a very short attention span and my internal frustrations are manifested in bouts of extreme irritability, short -temperedness(?) and occasionally, outright anger. I am unaware of these tendencies that have afflicted friends and family alike when my condition is untreated. My mum describes the difference as night and day.

What previously prevented me from taking adderall wasn’t so much an unwillingness to do so; I (falsely) rationalized that taking my medication was a luxury I couldn’t afford – while this remains true, it is a practical demonstration of my lack of understanding of the severity of the problem. The truth is my medication is a luxury I can’t afford to do without.

Some quick stats- I am one of over 50 million Americans/American residents who are uninsured. The cost of a doctor’s visit is at least $95 – for prescription refills – which I have to do each month or two, as Adderall is a restricted drug. The fee can be considerably more for longer or specialist consultations. The adderall itself costs $45 (a subsidized generic). An average prescription cost in The US ranges between $100 – $500 . A personal example: if I still had asthma, which somehow I seem to have kicked here in the US – Thank God!, it would cost me $380 a month for the inhaler. An American DIES every 24 minutes because they aren’t insured.

I digress, I need to take this drug; not taking it has cost me friendships, relationships and jobs. This is not a burden I bear alone, it affects all who come in contact with me. Yesterday I saw the doctor for the first time in over a year. Today is my first day medicated again, and for the very first time I can say, I can tell the difference, I feel happy and focused and content.

To those who have stood by me through these horrible periods, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, to all of you and to those who couldn’t bear my temperamental mood swings, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How impossible your life must have been with me. I vow to you all that I will continue this very necessary regimen – for the sake of us all.

So long as I can remain off the streets.

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Melancholy 2

In the very back of my garage, a place I haven’t been for nearly eighteen months, stands a tiny, very pretty, pink bicycle. I had no idea it was there and I can’t recall (to my horror) whether it was given to me for my youngest Reason’s use or whether its been left here by accident. It’s way too small for David now and judging from a sideways glance of a seemingly tall, undoubtedly beautiful, young lady, it’s way, way too small for her use now.

My garage isn’t that pesky place that needs tidying up, a storage space for the seldom used tool (what’s a tool?) or the lawnmower (what’s a lawnmower?) or those old clothes that you just can’t throw away. It’s my can’t-face-the-memories place. A place of books, brochures, artwork and hand-knitted scarves, of pottery teacups, cards and love letters and boxes and boxes of yesterday.

One day they’ll bring a smile to my face, but right now – you guessed it – it brings a sense of sadness, what-could-have-been and melancholy. In years gone by I would have discarded these things – but now I know better.

I hope it won’t be another eighteen months before I visit here again.

BM

Off to the Playa on Saturday morning with Dragon Pilot, CrAcKeR, Q-T Pie, Chow, Hondo, Dr. Mellow, Nichon and Mousse. It is tradition in Black Rock City that you give yourself a “playa name” by which you will be known for the week – I have dubbed myself Footloose, the name of my first Theatre Company, an apt name considering my present situation – there’s nothing like a bit of self promotion!

I’ve bought two throw away cameras to document the event and will also be keeping a journal (If I can see straight enough to write in it).

Back on the 7th – cheery pip.

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