the text and images below are posted from beijing, berlin, hong kong, new york, sado island and zürich. there are a few of us, and this is the space in between.

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Posted by 丫 | reply »

a monument to stubbornness

or what else is -this- ? all of -this- ? a perverse kind of loyalty. a “then-ness” carried on into now… a gift. not gifted. gifted to you all here, in vein of mister aarsman (photography against actual gifting):

Posted by a | reply »

we start talking to no one in particular, a no one without properties

what a lovely name for a street.” feeling. still. yes. no. nostalgia. for something that will never be. alas. so we walk. we walk. with the need for dreams to commit suicide. sometimes. “c’est la chose la plus horrible à faire“. or is it. again and again. and an afternoon in the sun. tracing and retracing and walking anew. circles perhaps. fly. yes. fly again. it’s good to be in a place without lists and rows. construct to reconstruct or an economics as a doing. in the city. it would be nice to see what we cannot see. “precisely to fill the emptiness with emptiness, and thus to share it.” you do with it what you will. never a prescription for life. and yes we are left ‘inconcluded’. always. upon arriving home a message overheard from the new york subway through to london: “everyone knows. that love. belongs in the microwave. for two minutes.” 哈! thank you maria.

Posted by a | reply »

$2 solidarity, right here (key ring included)


new york misses you already.

Posted by joe | reply »

alone and drinking under the moon

Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.

– Li Po (701-762)

Yvette And Doreen are taking a seminar on Li Po at the Poughkeepsie Center for the Eastern Arts.

Yvette: How interesting.
Doreen: How delightful.
Yvette: The moon, a man talking to the moon… you gotta come up with that…
Doreen: Yes ha… quite unexpected.
Yvette: …Turn off your cell-phone, Doreen.
Doreen: It’s on vibrate.
Yvette: I know Doreen, but I can still hear it. It’s not nice for the other people.
Doreen: …
Yvette: (to student B to her left) We’re sorry, it’s just her… cell phone. (To Doreen) You see?
Doreen: If I didn’t know you, I’d think you can’t stand me.
Yvette: Shhh, it was your idea to come here so be quiet please, let me learn.

Doreen starts sobbing and takes out a huge vibrator from her purse. She stands up and starts waving it on the air. The whole class is staring at her.

Doreen: So now you can see… it wasn’t my cell phone, no, it was this. How depressing am I? How desperate?

Instructor: Excuse me miss, but I actually think that you are the only person here who really understood what Li Po was trying to say. It’s exactly that acknowledgement that we are alone even when we are surrounded by people. That false sense that our despair is shared by the people who seem to care the most. Bravo, miss…?

Yvette: Doreen, she’s Doreen and I’m her best friend Yvette.

Doreen stares at Yvette and sees in her eyes the truth of a lifelong friendship. Yvette puts her arms around Doreen. While Doreen is trying to put her vibrator back in her purse, it falls on the head of Student D, who’s sitting right in front of her. A moment of nervousness is followed by a relaxed and shared laugh in the whole class.

Posted by lucio | more »

the city as film


Posted by joe | more »

too quick


summer ’09

Posted by joe | more »



The weekends were less exciting to him than were the weekdays.  On Saturdays and Sundays, a hollow feeling washed over him and he struggled to make it through those days.  Time was spent with the T.V. filling his musty wood-paneled apartment with welcoming sounds, going to the Men’s Club and sitting there alone while the rest of the men were with their families, and going through the weekend paper, methodically.  At night he would warm up some old pasta from the night before and check/recheck his lotto tickets while still allowing that T.V. to add some dialogue into the apartment.

Weekdays however, were different.  He had a routine that he really enjoyed and with this being Monday, he had five amusing days in front of him.  Getting out of his apartment and heading over to the Club was his first priority.  At around 8am, the first wave of straphangers would make their way to the subway and this was the first of two highlights of his day.  Born and raised in this neighborhood and having left only once, for the war, he had seen the dramatic change to the neighborhood occur right before him.  Today’s commuters were composed of twenty and thirty somethings who had little regard for tradition.  They seemed to be slightly unconscious to their immediate surroundings…which he found curious.  What were they constantly entertaining that made them seemingly exist outside of the present?  Life seemed a little overwhelming to the younger generation he thought.  Their distracted faces, the way they dressed, the young couples, this all kept him in a stupor until about 10:30am when the parade subsided.

Midday was mostly spent at the Club eating lunch, going over neighborhood gossip, watching t.v., and playing either pinochle or breaking out the cribbage board.  Recently though, he felt the need to slip home and try to grab a few hours sleep.  Nights had turned into restless endeavours and at his age, sleep was a necessity.

However, once 5:30pm came around, his favorite morning routine started its second act.  He tried his hardest to read their faces, seeing if he could decipher those expressions to come up with certain conclusions about their day.  He thought about all the meanings of the word “communication”.  He was never mistaken as a poet and this form of interaction suited him just fine.  Eventually, the procession from the subway to the various apartments came to a slow trickle.

On this night, as the dark clouds started their march over the neighborhood, and everybody made their way home for dinner, he thought it would be a good idea to head to the deli and pick up a few Lucky 5 scratch-offs for the long night ahead of him.

Posted by joe | reply »