What I Got

There are times when one must draw ink from other wells.  Lucky Mustang, I have countless sources of inspiration and motivation at my very door step.  Today I honor a fraction of those cats that keep me stimulated when my reservations run dry.  Sadly this will be the outing of me.  You will all now know that I am far from the shining light in this strand.  I am honored just to live amongst this tribe of chiefs.

Starting with my humble household, Hyphytown!

The indomitable Annie Weinart creator of Annieland…..http://www.etsy.com/shop/annieland

Talk nerdy ta meh!

Custom costumes for dance and overall Jo Folley.

I have never seen anyone look bad in one of these.  You better bring a snorkel cause your gonna be balls deep in star dust!

‘Cuz sometimes a normal size hat is just too, well, normal.  Which leads us to her partner in art and shenanigans….

Sage Cattabriga-Alosa: Skier, Artist, and Professional Monkey Wrangler

Pixel Manipulation….

Unfortunately he needs a day job.

And when they told him that he couldn’t have gold chains as ski poles, that man done proved ’em wrong.  Way wrong.


The newest addition to our homestead Naomi Simpkins! I wish you could capture the way this woman lives her life with a photo.  You can’t.  Getting things done is her business and folks, business is boomin!

She makah da bustle

She makah da adornments

She makah da pretty face.
What a house!  Our landlord should be paying us rent.

And if I need more, I got more.

I got your tunes….Bryan Barisone


I got your high art…..Ashley Montague


I got your luxury accessories….Ashley Doty creator of Owlita


I got your death defying beauty…. Gemma and Stephanie at Nightflight Aerial Studio


Yep, I got you.


The word on everyone’s lips this past weekend was rapture.  We (and by we I mean the bustling township of Notcrazyville) waited for that sweet moment when we could join voices and sing out, “ITOLDYOUSO!”  But here’s the thing.  It didn’t really feel that great.  All I could think about was all of these people sitting on their stoops in the Sunday best clutching a suitcase, waiting.  It is the worst kind of stand up.  You wait and wait, the sun is going down, he’s late.  He will be here.  He promised. He invited you, not the other way around.  Is he testing you?  Did he find someone better to go with?  I guess self loathing and flagellation are the cornerstone of Christianity, so it makes sense that these people seek this kind of mind fuck.   Good ole doomsayers and their trusty flock.  Life in the flesh isn’t really that bad people, sheesh!  Why is there this subsect of society that is constantly waiting for our demise?  Why do they need a end point to this wacky journey?  Part of me wanted something to happen, anything, so that they would get what they wanted.

I will be the first to admit that there are countless levels to our world and the dimensions around us.  I know that I will get there when I am ready and that when I do it will be beautiful.  Still, I refuse to crap on this world so as to earn a spot in the next.  The old adage, to each his own, is the only thing worth saying at this point.  I wish the best for those folks and when they shoot up to the sun I hope that they are prepared for the heat.  Go up/down/sideways to where ever your Elysium may be and let us lead foot pagans keep hoeing our row.  The fantastic mystery of this life is not the one found in mouth of men.  It is the quiet song in our blood and the root that connects us to each other.  I’m cool with that.

All your worry
Has proved such an
Find a better
— Hafiz

Yours, Mine, Someone Elses

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a parent lately.  I am ten plus years older than my parents were when I sprang fully grown from their collective head.  Having lived a bit of life and raised a few animals I can confidently state that I still don’t have the skill set to cultivate a mini Josi.  I forgot to feed my dog yesterday* and my plant collection consists of succulents and one tenacious Jade.  Truth is, how does any one do it?  A dewy, squishy, uber fragile shell-less turtle is in your care.  How in gods name do you keep it out of prison?  Or alive?  Or dressed well?  And when it tells you that it hates your fricken guts…..what then?  Because every kid says that at some point.  And you better believe that they mean it.  (Fleeting, sure, but always brutal.)  I suppose that whoever makes a play for parenthood must also be quite the gambler.  Me?  I likes it safe.  To all those parents out there trying to make sense of what your youngster/gangster is up to……..


It is usually around this time of year that I stand at the gate of my closet and stare, mutter, cuss, stare some more, and ultimately end up in stretch pants and a tunic.  The sun is out (albeit tentatively) and its too tepid to pile on the winter wear. But, but, but the body is far from ready for prying eyes.  And even if the body was willing, the wardrobe is far from able.  I need inspiration!  What is next?  How will I cloth this frame of mine?  And on a paupers budget no less.

I have been very much underwhelmed with the trending apparel movements and I can’t seem to get a bead on what is next for me/us/whomever.  The romance of the bohem and the silhouettes of the seventies are calling me quietly, though from what dark corner I am not sure.  I would love to see some under saturated pop colors with touches of the frou frou.  Maybe some heritage prints on short hemmed, barely there summer frocks…..Any how, I am not sure.  On one of my cyber perusals I found this label called Ellery that perked me up a touch.  Imma share some of it with you.

For pete’s sake!  Look at those!

It is femme but kind of rough.  I likey.

Again, its called Ellery.  Keep an eye on it. http://www.elleryland.com/

*To those who are outraged by my forgetful dog feeding snafu,  I suspect that the contents of my lunch sack are in his belly as we speak.

Mind Bottled: Part Deux-The Closet

Why did I go to design school?  Why do I run, crunch, and struggle through push ups? Why do I rubber neck my way through life?  Why I spend a kings ransom on festivals and tom foolery?  One word.  Iloveclothing.  Piles of clothing mark the places on my bedroom floor where I decided that I needed to wear shorts instead of leggings or some other such item.  It looks like a small army disintegrated into thin air leaving only their clothing.  My getting ready process is a aria of color and frustration that crescendos with an ecstatic launch into the living room where I twirl and pout into the full length.   A great love indeed.

Without further ado, the final five in my list of things I am loving right now.  Come out of the closet my dear ones……

6) The Dapper Man Piece.  I am insanely inspired by the dandy style, that cocked hat, that early bespoke tailoring.  It says I give a hoot but I still came to party.  Day-em!

7) Throwback silhouettes.  Hearkening back to a time when naughtiness was suggested and implied, not forced.  I have been seeing some yummy bell bottoms making their way back into the periphery and I am pleased.  Very pleased.


8 ) Something wicked this way comes.  Gareth Pugh.  Strange and wonderful things that make me feel.

9) Homesteadin’ with Hils and Kate.  Grab you a young grizzly Adam, a jug of xx hooch, a poplin circle skirt, and get your hind parts down to the barn for some do-see-do’n.

10) Kate Moss.  Every stitch that adorns her body is glorious.  I am sure that when she finally kicks over from all that blow and bulimia she will be remembered as more that just a model. She comes the closest to being my fashion mecca, I kneel down and pray in her direction every day at noon.

There you have it.  I hope you enjoyed.  Tomorrow night is the Portland Prom and if my first prom was any indication of how this one will go, well, let us hope for the best.


Ooohhhh, bonus….


Morning Pages

It is always implied that to be have one’s “breath taken away”, by a sight or experience, is a sudden condition.  But I disagree.  Some shocking and beautiful things seize you slowly.  Thrilling at first, this lack of breath, your heart speeding up to meet the demands.  The body responds then, with fear.  Then terror.  And as the truth holds tight to your lungs, surrender.  With time there is peace.  Acceptance.  And most importantly, clarity.  You become accustomed to it, this water breathing.   You are no longer afraid, you are contemplative and awake.  I love this feeling.  It is like having the whole circus to yourself.

For some this is an eye blink experience. It is gone as it came.   Not for me.  It is drawn out and taunt.  It is as if my whole life has been a breath taking expedition that I process through a pin hole.  Occasionally I will wake up still shaken by the days before, clutching my chest with awe and sometimes dread.   It has occurred to me that the act of living is extremely similar to the act of dying.   We see the light, it frightens us, we hide, we peek, then we look right at it.  It looks back at us like stone.  We don’t change it by seeing it but it sure does change us.  Maybe we get to practice facing death all throughout our lives so that the real deal is as tranquil as it is intended.

Oh, well.  Any how.  On a side note I am reading this neat book called “Finding Water” by Julia Cameron.  It is the third book in a series about the artist’s way.  Naturally I haven’t read the first two books, that would just make it too streamlined.  So far it is extremely interesting and filled with erudite tid bits on perseverance in the face of a creative dead-end.  It encourages the reader to start each day by writing three pages of free hand ballyhoo.  Whatever comes to mind.  The author calls these “morning pages”.  (If I was my dad I would make a joke here……)  The above paragraphs came from yesterdays pages.  My hand gets tired and I start repeating myself but I find it a little liberating.  Writing/art/design is all about work.  You spit out ten things and one of those will be interesting.  The gratifying thing about writing a bunch of free form stuff that no one will be reading is that you get out the demons and the proselytizing shit.  We all have trite crap in our heads, it is just time that I learn how to keep it in there.  Far, far away from my lips.   Sometimes the ego can convince you that people want to hear your vaguely thought out baseless gripes.  I feel pretty sure that the world wants exactly the opposite.

Speaking of breathtaking……whoa……….

Mind Bottled: Part One

I love lists.  Sometimes I make one just to remind myself to make one.  Of course, like all card carrying procrastinators, I get to thing one and then it’s SQUIRREL!  And off I go.  That doesn’t’ change the fact that to make a list makes me feel all buttoned up and organized.  I have been wanting to do some reviewing for y0u and since I am about a year behind on the new new I will just hit you with my list of…….



1) The Abyss- the James Cameron flick made in ’89

After I got used to the suffocating feeling I had from the constant under water scenage I was able to get on board with the story. I am confident that most of you have seen this so I will spare the footnotes.  It was formulaic only in the most entertaining of ways and in its innocence it spoke to the most basic of truths.  We are taking a giant shat on mother earth and we should probably knock it off.  If the movie had been made now I reckon that the underwater lifebeings would have went through with the washing away of humanity.  Would you blame ’em?

2) The concerts I went to this last month: Mos Def and Devil Makes Three.

Easy like Sunday evening.  A consummate pro at life.

There is nothing as powerful as being at a show with a thousand people that know all of the words.  Goose bumps the entire time.  All despite the wet blanket beside me that looked like she would rather be at home watching dancing with the stars or the bachelor.  I wanted to shove a banjo down her throat.  Instead I just sang all the words in her ear and danced like my boots were on fire.

3) Soft Core Porn Disguised As Earnest Cinema (i.e Spartacus/Trueblood/The Tudors, etc.)


You won’t believe me but I promise you that this show is surprisingly fleshed out and compelling.  There is nothing wrong with dipping my history lessons in a little sugar, is there?  A friend once asked me what I saw in t.v like this and the only answer I had at the time was an echo of my dad, “because I said so!”  The bigger truth is that I like titillation, loosely drawn historical themes and drama, together.  I can glide between genres of music with some semblance of ease so why not with celluloid?  I have sat through enough indie swill to earn the right to oogle some roman flesh.

4) National Geographic

Our world is blessed to have this stunning and diligent documentation of all the wonders in it.  I am always inspired and bettered by what I find in its glossy pages.  Hopefully the aliens find NG instead of People when they come to check us out.  I send out a giant thank you to everyone that has been involved in this institution.  May we venture to be interesting enough to keep you superstars busy.

I found this amazing tumblr account that is operated by a fella that scans all his NG’s for our viewing pleasure.  Peep it for some eye and brain food.  http://onyxearth.tumblr.com/

5) Nostalgia. Perhaps I am underwhelmed with the new or maybe as I age (like a fine cheese) I find comfort in the familiar.  Who knows.  Maybe its old De La tracks, high school reunions, or a dab of Obsession for Men on my pillow. Whatever it may be, I likes it old school.

Oh hells yeah!

To let it all go.  Me, SoCo, and my girls.

I used to write him a letter a week when I was eleven.  Lost Boys is still in constant rotation.  I wish that someone had had the sense to encase him in amber before he hit 17.

Alright then.  Stay tuned for Part Deux.

Love Allways,


Obligatory Post On Osama Bin Loggin

“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”  (Bastardized MLK Jr. quote, potent none the less.)

The absence of trust in the powers that be make it impossible for me to hoist up a flag and declare justice done.  I know that we need to feel that the glorious dead have been avenged.  It is the most human of reactions, revenge.  There will be those that feel justice has been dealt and those whose wounds refuse to be healed.  Me?  I didn’t loose any one in the terrorist act or the subsequent military response.  I did however watch as my country turned on Afghanistan like a rabid dog and then, when that yielded no results, set it sights on Iraq.  My people, with no viable place left to burn, went inward, singling out foreigners on American soil and “non patriots” with peace on their lips.  This reactionary tactic bears the earmark of a desperate soul with no ability to funnel pain through a mature avenue.  We can volley opinions back and forth but nothing will change the truth.  Our government elect has, on our behalf, committed far more brutal acts in the name of justice.  How many of us will “they” need to kill on the journey for some justice of their own?  It is a slippery slope folks and in case you didn’t notice, we are gaining speed.  It is such a strange thing to use the death of one man as the balm for so many broken hearts.  Not only will this not bring anyone back, it will surely cause more carnage.  It is this kind of sub human rationale that will insure our demise.  I am so tired of being associated with greed, nepotism, lies, and double standards.  Can we please elevate the trait of integrity back into politics?  And while we are at it, how bout some humanity, too?  Oh, and now that we killed the ONE person we have been looking for ten years can we please send the fucking troops home?  Now? Christ.