A few years ago I was really down with kites.
My favorite kind is the Gayla center keel kind that looks like a little hang glider, they work best.
Wait, 2 kite stories.
So first, a long time ago, I was down by the beach in long island, and I flew my kite so high that it was no longer visible. Then I pulled in some of the line, and tied some tinfoil, a paper cup, a plastic bottle, and other assorted bits of trash on the line and let it out again.
Pretty soon I had a nice little cluster of admirers, (genuine adults) asking how I was able to fly that garbage on a string. I fessed up way sooner than I should have.
Ok, so a few years ago, I'm down in the lower 9, flying my kite on masons twine, which is incredibly strong and relatively light. I'm on the levee, and the kite is way out over the river, it is awesome!
But then an enormous freighter rounds the bend, and my line is slumped way out over the middle of the river.
I'm about to cause an international incident! I'm winding as fast as I can! No way!
I'm trying to break the line, but it's mason twine!
If I don't do something quick, the captain is going to get a nasty string burn across his belly, and my clunky home-made metal string winder is going to go clanking up the side of the ship, and get tangled in the radar antennae. Very bad things will happen soon.
I found a rusty scrap of metal in the dirt, and furiously sawed at my twine. The twine frayed, and finally popped, the end snaked through the water off into the distance.
It passed harmlessly through the super structure of the ship, and everything was coool. ahhh!
Then I noticed that instead of fluttering chaotically end over end like a leaf in the wind, my kite was still flying steadily, under the weight of the string. I sat, and watched as my kite flew higher and further, and became smaller and smaller. It took 20 minutes before it was out of sight.
It was nice out so I stayed where I was...
After a while I saw a speck in the sky. It got bigger... It was my kite, coming back again, mysteriously coming closer and closer, getting bigger and bigger.
A tugboat towed my kite up the industrial canal, I was jogging along the bank, 20 feet away from it when they finally realized they were pulling a kite, and hauled it in.
"Can I have my kite back?"
The deck hand was trying to figure out how to throw me my kite, but it never happened.
It's hard to throw a kite.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Smoke Jumpers!
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| the protagonist |
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the other protagonist burnit!
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| YIPPEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! |
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tits!
No! not really! I love my dog! |
Friday, November 26, 2010
Lunches with Farrington episode 5
Join me, as I embark on an impromptu luncheon with my pal Chad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCkD-Is39VQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCkD-Is39VQ
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
F you, F.D... no! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!
Like Sarah said in her comment, I am great at liberating stuck cats. But I can be a little egotistical, especially when I'm competing with the fire dept.
To reiterate what she said, 2 cats jammed between a transformer box and an abandoned school building.
I made a noose on the end of a steel pole and went cat-fishing! Thwang! And the cat went flying off into the night.
The second cat was a lot tougher, and required a sledgehammer and a grinder, and the fire dept was there, but I wanted to be cooler than them...
Actually I don't remember that much. I was a little traumatized from the fireman getting mad at me for having a smart mouth. And then I asked if he would still put out my house, if it were to catch fire.
He said he would, but it was still a little tense.
The next day I accidentally set my house on fire, and it was about to really go up in flames, fire dept style.
Luckily I got it out myself, but yeah, don't piss off the fire dept.
To reiterate what she said, 2 cats jammed between a transformer box and an abandoned school building.
I made a noose on the end of a steel pole and went cat-fishing! Thwang! And the cat went flying off into the night.
The second cat was a lot tougher, and required a sledgehammer and a grinder, and the fire dept was there, but I wanted to be cooler than them...
Actually I don't remember that much. I was a little traumatized from the fireman getting mad at me for having a smart mouth. And then I asked if he would still put out my house, if it were to catch fire.
He said he would, but it was still a little tense.
The next day I accidentally set my house on fire, and it was about to really go up in flames, fire dept style.
Luckily I got it out myself, but yeah, don't piss off the fire dept.
I wax negative about the arts.
My blog is for entertaining myself and anyone with similar sensibilities, and I don't want to make it porous with shitty subjects. So I will post this link to someone else's blog post about Terrence Sanders.
http://bundleofsage.blogspot.com/2010/01/pathetic-at-best.html
And then there's this. http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1618254470/the-duffel-bag-boy/comments Then later I will delete this whole thing, because my blog isn't supposed to be a bitchfest.
Actually it's all on you guys, cause it's still not to late too just go watch re-runs of
"Lunches with Farrington" instead of reading all this.
Yeah, it's about Terrence Sanders, who's work I showed back when I had an art gallery.
He gave me massive amounts of anxiety, and bragged about making all the art overnight.
The entire show consisted of a trip to Kinkos, and a bunch of cheezy plexiglass box frames.
The show was called "Behind the facade", but after the show was over, he changed the name to "Darfur", so that he could have a show called, "Behind the facade". I guess it's green to recycle.
So then Terrence published a magazine... Art Voices. In my opinion, Terrence is a bad person.
The thing about the arts, is that it is a haven for the best and worst kinds of people, because there isn't the same immediacy to it's economy. People pour their heart and soul into the arts, as a labor of love...
Usually a labor of love for the arts, but sometimes it's a labor of love for their own bloated egos.
You get these narcissistic weirdos, who are able to dig out a niche for themselves, because the arts doesn't have the same standards of judgement as other industries and occupations. The arts is a lot more forgiving to people who have bs to contribute, rather than expertise and competence, because unfortunately, in our society not enough people contribute to the arts.
On the other hand, what is right with the arts is boundless.
http://bundleofsage.blogspot.com/2010/01/pathetic-at-best.html
And then there's this. http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1618254470/the-duffel-bag-boy/comments Then later I will delete this whole thing, because my blog isn't supposed to be a bitchfest.
Actually it's all on you guys, cause it's still not to late too just go watch re-runs of
"Lunches with Farrington" instead of reading all this.
Yeah, it's about Terrence Sanders, who's work I showed back when I had an art gallery.
He gave me massive amounts of anxiety, and bragged about making all the art overnight.
The entire show consisted of a trip to Kinkos, and a bunch of cheezy plexiglass box frames.
The show was called "Behind the facade", but after the show was over, he changed the name to "Darfur", so that he could have a show called, "Behind the facade". I guess it's green to recycle.
So then Terrence published a magazine... Art Voices. In my opinion, Terrence is a bad person.
The thing about the arts, is that it is a haven for the best and worst kinds of people, because there isn't the same immediacy to it's economy. People pour their heart and soul into the arts, as a labor of love...
Usually a labor of love for the arts, but sometimes it's a labor of love for their own bloated egos.
You get these narcissistic weirdos, who are able to dig out a niche for themselves, because the arts doesn't have the same standards of judgement as other industries and occupations. The arts is a lot more forgiving to people who have bs to contribute, rather than expertise and competence, because unfortunately, in our society not enough people contribute to the arts.
On the other hand, what is right with the arts is boundless.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
My little teenage son!
No, my love child didn't show up on my doorstep. I'm talking about Brody the cat.
For me, animal names tend to evolve, and lately I've taken to calling Brody, "my teenage son", because
I love him so much, even though he's always cursing me out and running away from me.
He didn't used to be like that, but somewhere along the way, our relationship changed.
He used to be so affectionate when he was younger, and when we played fetch, he could never get enough.
It's not that he hates me now, it's just that everything has to be on his terms.
If I'm sitting with my feet up, he'll jump up and lay on my legs forever. But if I try to pet him, he growls and runs away.
But still, I love my teenage son, and he holds a place in my heart that none of the other cats can.
When I met my wife, she already had 3 cats, and you know how it can be when a man takes a woman's cats on as his own...
I really get along with Rick, and there's nothing wrong with the other 2, though I feel there's a rift... Different cultures, different values... I have nothing disparaging to say.
One day, shortly after Katrina, I went into a house that had been abandoned for many years.
The kitchen wall was squeeking!
"Hang on I'm coming for you little guy!" And I busted through the sheetrock and liberated the tiniest kitten I ever saw. He was so small I carried him home in my shirt pocket.
You raise them from nothing and then they grow up and break your heart... But still, I love my teenage son!
For me, animal names tend to evolve, and lately I've taken to calling Brody, "my teenage son", because
I love him so much, even though he's always cursing me out and running away from me.
He didn't used to be like that, but somewhere along the way, our relationship changed.
He used to be so affectionate when he was younger, and when we played fetch, he could never get enough.
It's not that he hates me now, it's just that everything has to be on his terms.
If I'm sitting with my feet up, he'll jump up and lay on my legs forever. But if I try to pet him, he growls and runs away.
But still, I love my teenage son, and he holds a place in my heart that none of the other cats can.
When I met my wife, she already had 3 cats, and you know how it can be when a man takes a woman's cats on as his own...
I really get along with Rick, and there's nothing wrong with the other 2, though I feel there's a rift... Different cultures, different values... I have nothing disparaging to say.
One day, shortly after Katrina, I went into a house that had been abandoned for many years.
The kitchen wall was squeeking!
"Hang on I'm coming for you little guy!" And I busted through the sheetrock and liberated the tiniest kitten I ever saw. He was so small I carried him home in my shirt pocket.
You raise them from nothing and then they grow up and break your heart... But still, I love my teenage son!
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| Brody, Brody! Look at me when I talk to you...Don't you flaunt me! |
Lunches with Farrington episode 4
Pete the grip from the Gina video, and also a long time pal from the Unitarian church.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpaCyExg0mk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpaCyExg0mk
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Lunches with Farrington episode 3
Touching on some heavy stuff here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_luHeKJFcUc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_luHeKJFcUc
drawathon
I stopped by the Green Project to see how the drawathon was going down, and this is what I saw!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJFlqCgjlh0
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJFlqCgjlh0
Saturday, November 20, 2010
First sculpture animation experiment
So I'm thinking that maybe my more figurative work needs to become components of a larger project.
I'm curious about what people think of this type of animation, is it too jerky, and how important is it to have a solid story. The reason this is 10 frames per second is that I made it with the i movie slide show feature, and the shortest duration per picture is 1/10th of a second. I'm kind of glad to work in parameters like that because I'm too impatient for the standard 30 frames per second.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpz0zHOVytY
I'm curious about what people think of this type of animation, is it too jerky, and how important is it to have a solid story. The reason this is 10 frames per second is that I made it with the i movie slide show feature, and the shortest duration per picture is 1/10th of a second. I'm kind of glad to work in parameters like that because I'm too impatient for the standard 30 frames per second.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpz0zHOVytY
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
It's the future, why is my wrist empty?
"WTF? We're in the 21st century, where's my helicopter and my jet-pack?"
These are pretty cliched lamentations, as far as the disappointments of living in the future.
Personal helicopters and jet-packs are obviously fantasies of the 50s.
Did anyone really expect that one day we'd all beat the gridlock in our own personal flying apparatus? The sky would be one big tangle of assholes, and the insurance premiums would be too expensive.
A more legitimate complaint about this "future" that we are living in, is the conspicuous lack of any futuristic wrist watches, or really, a lack of wrist watches of any kind at all.
We were on our way with the advent of the calculator watch of the 80s, and the inspiration of seeing David Hasselhoff calling up his Pontiac Firebird domestic partner on his special watch... "KITT, I NEED YOU! to pick up a container of milk on the way home".
For centuries, the watch has been the quintessential tech accessory, only to be shunted aside by the Johnny come lately cell phone? In the 21st century, now that we have the technology to to jam everything into a handy dandy wrist watch, we instead choose to jam it into a telephone that we are forever dredging from the depths of our pockets?
Sure, even with modern technology as miniaturized as it is, it would have to be a bigger than average wristwatch... But big watches are nothing new, check these artifacts from a time when the watch was king.
Shakespeare once said, "A Watch by any other name, (like "cellphone") would smell just as sweet.)
These are pretty cliched lamentations, as far as the disappointments of living in the future.
Personal helicopters and jet-packs are obviously fantasies of the 50s.
Did anyone really expect that one day we'd all beat the gridlock in our own personal flying apparatus? The sky would be one big tangle of assholes, and the insurance premiums would be too expensive.
A more legitimate complaint about this "future" that we are living in, is the conspicuous lack of any futuristic wrist watches, or really, a lack of wrist watches of any kind at all.
We were on our way with the advent of the calculator watch of the 80s, and the inspiration of seeing David Hasselhoff calling up his Pontiac Firebird domestic partner on his special watch... "KITT, I NEED YOU! to pick up a container of milk on the way home".
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| 2% |
For centuries, the watch has been the quintessential tech accessory, only to be shunted aside by the Johnny come lately cell phone? In the 21st century, now that we have the technology to to jam everything into a handy dandy wrist watch, we instead choose to jam it into a telephone that we are forever dredging from the depths of our pockets?
Sure, even with modern technology as miniaturized as it is, it would have to be a bigger than average wristwatch... But big watches are nothing new, check these artifacts from a time when the watch was king.
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| This model has multiple functions. |
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| A wrist computer! |
But Shakespeare was from the pocket watch generation, so of course he would say that.
I was raised with the expectation that my futuristic technology, should it actually be developed within my lifetime, would be available in wristwatch form. Frankly, a rose by any other name WOULD smell just as sweet, if it were strapped to my wrist.
Dr Cat-vorkian
I was visiting my friend Ann and her cat Taxicab this evening.
She has the sleep apnea, so she sleeps all hooked up to this crazy machine with a long ribbed hose that forces air into her nostrils though a weird thing she has strapped to her face all night.
So this morning Ann woke with a jolt, to find that her cat had pinched off her air supply with his paw!
She has the sleep apnea, so she sleeps all hooked up to this crazy machine with a long ribbed hose that forces air into her nostrils though a weird thing she has strapped to her face all night.
So this morning Ann woke with a jolt, to find that her cat had pinched off her air supply with his paw!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Lunches with Farrington episode 1
Here is the premier episode of "Lunches with Farrington". It's a reality show, in which I have lunch with different people I know.
It is my hope that though the medium of video, those of you who have never eaten with me, can glimpse the joys of this wondrous experience.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELM0Gvqxhso
It is my hope that though the medium of video, those of you who have never eaten with me, can glimpse the joys of this wondrous experience.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELM0Gvqxhso
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Tuff luck
Back in the day, When I was getting around New Orleans by bike only, well, you know how it can be with flat tires.
I had a pal who was living rent free above a metal shop, I'd been visiting one night, and it had gotten late, so instead of riding home, I climbed into a big box of styrofoam packing peanuts.
Before I went to sleep, I thought to myself, how tired of patching flat tires I was, and how wonderful it would be if I had a couple of "Mr Tuffy" flat guards to put in my tires.
I awoke the next morning, rustled around in the peanuts, felt something long and snaky, and pulled out a Mr Tuffy. I put it in my back tire and only got flats in front from then on.
You can't have everything.
I had a pal who was living rent free above a metal shop, I'd been visiting one night, and it had gotten late, so instead of riding home, I climbed into a big box of styrofoam packing peanuts.
Before I went to sleep, I thought to myself, how tired of patching flat tires I was, and how wonderful it would be if I had a couple of "Mr Tuffy" flat guards to put in my tires.
I awoke the next morning, rustled around in the peanuts, felt something long and snaky, and pulled out a Mr Tuffy. I put it in my back tire and only got flats in front from then on.
You can't have everything.
Sorry, all out of henways
Emily, you are a true believer...
This is my uncle's favorite joke, and even though he's been in our family for 20 years, there is always someone who doesn't remember and says "what's a henway?" The first time he said it to me, I just said "What?" which doesn't set up the joke very well. I like your story a lot.
~Emily
This is my uncle's favorite joke, and even though he's been in our family for 20 years, there is always someone who doesn't remember and says "what's a henway?" The first time he said it to me, I just said "What?" which doesn't set up the joke very well. I like your story a lot.
~Emily
Do you like cereal?
Well not me, I almost got killed by a cereal killer about 10 years ago.
The effects of pivotal life experiences, are usually determined by whether or not they physically take place.
Getting murdered is an especially binary life experience.
Luckily I didn't get murdered, but I recently came to a much fuller understanding of how close I may have come, when My friend Adam the hermit described the process of soothing my potential murderer, after I yelled at him to get out of my house. Apparently he had a knife, and that's how I was going to get it. It's possible that I owe my life to marijuana, comfortable chairs, and gentle conversation.
So thank you Adam the hermit, for saving me from Chris the murderer.
Oh, and up yours Adam the Hermit, for bringing a murderer into my house!
So here's the story in a nutshell, before I got the proverbial icing on the cake, 10 years afterwards.
Adam the hermit was renting an apt in the downstairs of my house. He goes to NY to visit his family, and meets Chris the murderer on the bus trip back to New Orleans. Adam the hermit makes friends with Chris the murderer, and brings him home. Before you know it, Adam the hermit, Chris the murderer, Gina the girlfriend, and myself are one big happy family!
Chris the murderer even helped out around the house! I put him to work painting! He fell off the ladder and splashed paint on the neighbors house! Oh... He fell of the ladder and splashed paint on the house on the other side! No big whoop! That one was blighted! He splashed paint inside my window! No big deal! He cleaned it up by smearing it around with the curtains!
What a good guy! I'm not saying he was the perfect house guest, he left the stove burner on. (Drafty house is a safe house) And he left the front door wide open with the key in it for hours.
Actually he did get on my nerves, and eventually I totally lost it, and told him to leave.
He said "He really liked my art", and that he might see me later when I wasn't mad.
(So there's another celebrity endorsement... sort of, if an appearance on Americas Most Wanted qualifies as celebrity)
By the time I came back, he was gone, and shortly after that, my neighbor said she saw him on
Americas Most Wanted.
It had been a pretty gruesome story, buddies hanging out, killed one, chucked him in a creek, ambushed a family, executed them with a shotgun, stole their car, wrecked it right off, then they split up.
We called the FBI to tell them that he'd left the house recently, but they didn't seem concerned.
We were on our way out the door to buy a Walmart shotgun, when the FBI called back to say he'd been apprehended in the French Quarter.
The effects of pivotal life experiences, are usually determined by whether or not they physically take place.
Getting murdered is an especially binary life experience.
Luckily I didn't get murdered, but I recently came to a much fuller understanding of how close I may have come, when My friend Adam the hermit described the process of soothing my potential murderer, after I yelled at him to get out of my house. Apparently he had a knife, and that's how I was going to get it. It's possible that I owe my life to marijuana, comfortable chairs, and gentle conversation.
So thank you Adam the hermit, for saving me from Chris the murderer.
Oh, and up yours Adam the Hermit, for bringing a murderer into my house!
So here's the story in a nutshell, before I got the proverbial icing on the cake, 10 years afterwards.
Adam the hermit was renting an apt in the downstairs of my house. He goes to NY to visit his family, and meets Chris the murderer on the bus trip back to New Orleans. Adam the hermit makes friends with Chris the murderer, and brings him home. Before you know it, Adam the hermit, Chris the murderer, Gina the girlfriend, and myself are one big happy family!
Chris the murderer even helped out around the house! I put him to work painting! He fell off the ladder and splashed paint on the neighbors house! Oh... He fell of the ladder and splashed paint on the house on the other side! No big whoop! That one was blighted! He splashed paint inside my window! No big deal! He cleaned it up by smearing it around with the curtains!
What a good guy! I'm not saying he was the perfect house guest, he left the stove burner on. (Drafty house is a safe house) And he left the front door wide open with the key in it for hours.
Actually he did get on my nerves, and eventually I totally lost it, and told him to leave.
He said "He really liked my art", and that he might see me later when I wasn't mad.
(So there's another celebrity endorsement... sort of, if an appearance on Americas Most Wanted qualifies as celebrity)
By the time I came back, he was gone, and shortly after that, my neighbor said she saw him on
Americas Most Wanted.
It had been a pretty gruesome story, buddies hanging out, killed one, chucked him in a creek, ambushed a family, executed them with a shotgun, stole their car, wrecked it right off, then they split up.
We called the FBI to tell them that he'd left the house recently, but they didn't seem concerned.
We were on our way out the door to buy a Walmart shotgun, when the FBI called back to say he'd been apprehended in the French Quarter.
Questionable celebrity endorsements...
Yeah, so I might as well say it, Pastor Ted Haggard thinks I'm cool also.
I can't prove it, because somehow our email correspondence got deleted, so You'll just have to take my word for it. Ted Haggard admires my theological prowess, and has extended an open invitation to prayer.
I'd read a New Yorker magazine article about his mega-church in Boulder, how he was Bushes go-to guy from the religious right, and I was fascinated.
So I emailed him about the possibility of the religious right endorsing an impoverished presidential candidate in the next election. (What with the whole biblical camel and eye of a needle conundrum)
Anyhow, back and fourth back and fourth, until Ted said I was a genius but didn't have the time to continue our email biblical discussions, but that I was welcome in his church, any time.
This was before he got really famous for banging the gay meth-whore.
I can't prove it, because somehow our email correspondence got deleted, so You'll just have to take my word for it. Ted Haggard admires my theological prowess, and has extended an open invitation to prayer.
I'd read a New Yorker magazine article about his mega-church in Boulder, how he was Bushes go-to guy from the religious right, and I was fascinated.
So I emailed him about the possibility of the religious right endorsing an impoverished presidential candidate in the next election. (What with the whole biblical camel and eye of a needle conundrum)
Anyhow, back and fourth back and fourth, until Ted said I was a genius but didn't have the time to continue our email biblical discussions, but that I was welcome in his church, any time.
This was before he got really famous for banging the gay meth-whore.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Late night internet crush...
Don't get me wrong, I love my wife...
But she was working the night shift...
Gulp! The pictures I found on the internet, they stirred something in me... Primal, from my formative years. This is what happens when I slip into the throes of some kind of late night buxom beauty, nitro-burning funny car puppy love.
And another celebrity endorsement! ;-)
(The message below is taken directly from my email, so the bottom one is first.
http://www. junglepam.com/photos.html
To:
-----Original Message-----
From: adammetal3@yahoo.com
To: junglepam1@aol.com
Sent: Tue, 6 Feb 2007 3:53 AM
Subject: great pictures
But she was working the night shift...
Gulp! The pictures I found on the internet, they stirred something in me... Primal, from my formative years. This is what happens when I slip into the throes of some kind of late night buxom beauty, nitro-burning funny car puppy love.
And another celebrity endorsement! ;-)
(The message below is taken directly from my email, so the bottom one is first.
http://www. junglepam.com/photos.html
To:
adammetal3@yahoo.com
Good evening Adam;
I like your houses. They look like a mischievous sprite resides within.
Once upon a time...we had Rupp go-karts to give away. Before they made it out the door we would run them around the house. With a couple percentnitro. Back fired like crazy.
Such fun...
jp
-----Original Message-----
From: adammetal3@yahoo.com
To: junglepam1@aol.com
Sent: Tue, 6 Feb 2007 3:53 AM
Subject: great pictures
Hi Jungle Pam. I'm 35. I've never been to a drag race, just whatever motorsports the county fair counld conjure, in upstate NY. I'd heard of Jungle Jim, and I think I'd heard of you, but I became acutely aware, when I ran accross the great pictures you put on the internet. There's something really sincere and nostalgic about them.
Your story about being picked up at 18, in your home town... It's like a drag racing fairy tale! And It's so poetic that you live back in you home town now! So you sort of captured my imagination.
I live in New Orleans with my wife Amy, and we have an art gallery with our pal Scott, I'm a metal sculptor and a painter. farringtonsmithgallery.com is the gallery website.
I used to only make scuptures of cars, but the funny thing is that the art crowd doesn't care about cars, and the car crowd won't blow their parts budget on art. I made a sculpture of a 40 ford doing such a burnout that the luggage got sucked out of the trunk from the g force. Lately I've been making boats and houses. A lot of my stuff cranks, flapping wings and stuff. I like contraptions.
On a tangent, I got a minibike, the old style death trap, and boy does it take off quick, now that I've installed a 5.5 hp and a torque concerter. I never had one growing up, so I think I have arrested developement. I'm glad I can get my adult speed thrills on grass at 25 mph. Anyway, thanks for putting those pictures on the internet.
Adam Farrington
Your story about being picked up at 18, in your home town... It's like a drag racing fairy tale! And It's so poetic that you live back in you home town now! So you sort of captured my imagination.
I live in New Orleans with my wife Amy, and we have an art gallery with our pal Scott, I'm a metal sculptor and a painter. farringtonsmithgallery.com is the gallery website.
I used to only make scuptures of cars, but the funny thing is that the art crowd doesn't care about cars, and the car crowd won't blow their parts budget on art. I made a sculpture of a 40 ford doing such a burnout that the luggage got sucked out of the trunk from the g force. Lately I've been making boats and houses. A lot of my stuff cranks, flapping wings and stuff. I like contraptions.
On a tangent, I got a minibike, the old style death trap, and boy does it take off quick, now that I've installed a 5.5 hp and a torque concerter. I never had one growing up, so I think I have arrested developement. I'm glad I can get my adult speed thrills on grass at 25 mph. Anyway, thanks for putting those pictures on the internet.
Adam Farrington
Reconciliation at last!
Of course I admire Slim Goodbody... But Slim Goodbody thinks I'm noble!
THAT, is a celebrity endorsement!
(this is taken directly from my email, so the bottom message is first)
THAT, is a celebrity endorsement!
(this is taken directly from my email, so the bottom message is first)
From: To: "'Adam Farrington'" <adammetal3@yahoo.com> Thanks Adam: Forgiveness is a noble virtue. Slim From: Adam Farrington [mailto:adammetal3@yahoo.com] Sent: Friday, April 24, 2009 5:42 PM To: info@slimgoodbody.com Subject: Seacliff school in the 70s
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I'm just sayin'
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The bad influence.
It turns out that I bear absolutely no responsibility for the experiences I related in my blog post,
Almost dead from hippees.
"Have I told you how much I like your blog?
I have a funny story for you about when you went to Mexico. You called me up when we were in college, and you said "I hate it here! I want to go somewhere else." And I said "I just got back from Mexico, and it was really cheap and I liked it. You should go there!" So I guess you did. Anyway, your mother bumped into mine in the Grand Union, and my mother asked yours "How is Adam"? And your mom said "Some idiot gave him the ridiculous idea of going to Mexico!" Fortunately, I don't think my mom knew I had told you to go to Mexico.
~Emily"
Almost dead from hippees.
"Have I told you how much I like your blog?
I have a funny story for you about when you went to Mexico. You called me up when we were in college, and you said "I hate it here! I want to go somewhere else." And I said "I just got back from Mexico, and it was really cheap and I liked it. You should go there!" So I guess you did. Anyway, your mother bumped into mine in the Grand Union, and my mother asked yours "How is Adam"? And your mom said "Some idiot gave him the ridiculous idea of going to Mexico!" Fortunately, I don't think my mom knew I had told you to go to Mexico.
~Emily"
Kollaboration Korner (the henway)
Dear reader, I am calling upon you in my time of need, and also to bring you an offer of notoriety.
The subject of my query is the henway joke.
A long long time ago my mother and I were riding with a local farmer in his truck, and he casually suggested that we should get a "henway".
Well we were pretty embarrassed about not knowing what a henway was, so instead of saying,
"what's a henway?" we beat around the bush, and hemmed and hawed, "uh, yeah, a henway, it never occurred to us that we might should get one of those, except that it's not entirely clear to us what a henway actually is....blah blah blah..." It was a pretty rough, non-transition to, "about 5 lb, a hen weighs about 5 lb."
Anyway, I'm curious if not wanting to give away one's ignorance of henways is typical behavior, so anyone who wants to email me an account of then telling someone the henway joke, it would be a boon to amateur sociology. adammetal3@yahoo.com
The subject of my query is the henway joke.
A long long time ago my mother and I were riding with a local farmer in his truck, and he casually suggested that we should get a "henway".
Well we were pretty embarrassed about not knowing what a henway was, so instead of saying,
"what's a henway?" we beat around the bush, and hemmed and hawed, "uh, yeah, a henway, it never occurred to us that we might should get one of those, except that it's not entirely clear to us what a henway actually is....blah blah blah..." It was a pretty rough, non-transition to, "about 5 lb, a hen weighs about 5 lb."
Anyway, I'm curious if not wanting to give away one's ignorance of henways is typical behavior, so anyone who wants to email me an account of then telling someone the henway joke, it would be a boon to amateur sociology. adammetal3@yahoo.com
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Mexican standoff
My wife's getting new glasses, and it made me think of the time I got new glasses, and got dissed.
Not a lot to tell at first, run of the mill experience, eye test, picking out frames, then I had to go kill a little time before coming back for my glasses.
So I pick up the glasses, and as I was waiting in line to pay for them, I noticed a sign on the counter that said that they would give you $5 if they forgot to give you a receipt.
I paid, they didn't give me a receipt, and I was quivering with excitement as I headed for the door!
I opened the door, stepped over the threshold and onto the sidewalk, and the door swung shut behind me! Cha-Ching! Score!
I turned around, swaggered back though the door, strode up to the counter, picked up the sign, and said, "you have to pay me $5 because you didn't give me a receipt!"
The girl at the counter explained that She didn't owe me $5 because the only reason she hadn't given me one was because she had forgotten to.
I said that it didn't say that on the sign.
So she put the sign away.
I said "I want my $5."
The shop girl held her ground, a Family of Midgets glowered at me, and a scruffy Marlboro-looking man said a bunch of derogatory stuff about me under his breath. Everyone was against me, and all I wanted was the measly $5 that this goofy little sign had butted into my life to offer me. A seething hatred hung heavily in the air...
"I want my $5... You had a sign that said I could have $5 if you didn't give me my receipt, and you did not give me my receipt..."
It was a Mexican standoff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(except none of us were Mexican)
"Ok!" she snapped at me, and printed up a receipt, with $5 discounted from the total...
I took the receipt and triumphantly strode out the door!
Then..."doh!"
so I go back in...
"Uh, yeah, so you didn't actually GIVE me the $5..."
Shop girl, Marlboro Man and a family of Midgets boring holes through me with their eyes...
I left.
Not a lot to tell at first, run of the mill experience, eye test, picking out frames, then I had to go kill a little time before coming back for my glasses.
So I pick up the glasses, and as I was waiting in line to pay for them, I noticed a sign on the counter that said that they would give you $5 if they forgot to give you a receipt.
I paid, they didn't give me a receipt, and I was quivering with excitement as I headed for the door!
I opened the door, stepped over the threshold and onto the sidewalk, and the door swung shut behind me! Cha-Ching! Score!
I turned around, swaggered back though the door, strode up to the counter, picked up the sign, and said, "you have to pay me $5 because you didn't give me a receipt!"
The girl at the counter explained that She didn't owe me $5 because the only reason she hadn't given me one was because she had forgotten to.
I said that it didn't say that on the sign.
So she put the sign away.
I said "I want my $5."
The shop girl held her ground, a Family of Midgets glowered at me, and a scruffy Marlboro-looking man said a bunch of derogatory stuff about me under his breath. Everyone was against me, and all I wanted was the measly $5 that this goofy little sign had butted into my life to offer me. A seething hatred hung heavily in the air...
"I want my $5... You had a sign that said I could have $5 if you didn't give me my receipt, and you did not give me my receipt..."
It was a Mexican standoff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(except none of us were Mexican)
"Ok!" she snapped at me, and printed up a receipt, with $5 discounted from the total...
I took the receipt and triumphantly strode out the door!
Then..."doh!"
so I go back in...
"Uh, yeah, so you didn't actually GIVE me the $5..."
Shop girl, Marlboro Man and a family of Midgets boring holes through me with their eyes...
I left.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Scouting the talents of the Lower 9
There's a place, technically it is "in New Orleans". But really it's the L9.
Way down yonder, in a land few have reason to venture... Sealed away behind the industrial canal, the L9 is frozen in time and space...
The L9 is to New Orleans, as New Orleans is to the continental 50...
What goes on down there? Like tales of Shangri-La it is shrouded in Mystery, I felt drawn to make my journey as cultural ambassador. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK1WaYt0DUc
Way down yonder, in a land few have reason to venture... Sealed away behind the industrial canal, the L9 is frozen in time and space...
The L9 is to New Orleans, as New Orleans is to the continental 50...
What goes on down there? Like tales of Shangri-La it is shrouded in Mystery, I felt drawn to make my journey as cultural ambassador. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK1WaYt0DUc
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