HAPPY NEW YEARS! Now get back to work!

I am always happy when it is time for New Year's eve. I am always sick and tired of
the one that is just about to pass. Ready to move on. Start over. A clean slate. Every year I make all kinds of ambitious promises. I am going to run a marathon. This is the year that I finally lose some weight. I want to finally make my first million dollars this year. This year my career will finally take off like a rocket ship and I am finally going to get somewhere.This is the year that I will finally fulfill my life long dreams...
You would think that I would have learned my lesson by now and not put so much pressure on myself to accomplish anything new just because the date has changed on the calender.
Well...I guess I am a very slow learner because I right now am finding myself heading down the same old path again. 2009 will be mine!

Hey, the way I see it, what would be the point of just setting realistic and obtainable goals anyway, when I am just going to wind up disappointed if that is all that I m going to end up getting. Here is to setting the bar unbelievably high, and accomplishing something or another!

Have a great New Year.
I think that for most of us we're not really going to hate seeing this past year finally come to an end.

Love Daivd

FACEBOOK rules

Facebook is a really strange thing. Or is that place? I can't figure that out either.
There are some things that I just love about it, like looking up people like Bianca Jagger and trying to hook up with her friends. I mean, I haven't had that kind of a chance at social advancement since they closed down Studio 54.
But then the other day I managed to invite everyone who is on my email list to join and become a member with me which was a completely embarrassing mistake. I felt totally stupid and humiliated when that message went out. But here is something strange that happened to me just a day or so later. I got invited to be a Facebook pal by some guy who never responds to my emails and invitations for things like studio visits, ever. So what should I have thought? That he was as stupid as I am and just sent me an invite by mistake? Or he was sending me an invite to see if I would respond and maybe find out what kind of a jerk that I am? Maybe I was over thinking this whole thing, so I responded that I was happy to be his friend. I don't think he is suddenly going to start behaving like a real human being anytime soon just because I was being polite. But I thought I would at least try to act civilized anyway, even if it won't get me anywhere except for now being associated with this clown when someone starts checking in to see who I am really friends with.
DK

Chrismas Break DOwn

Today Christmas went from normal and routine to strange and funny.
As usual on Christmas Eve/ Day, we spent the night at my in-laws. We all woke up this morning and were driven downstairs by my son. He tore though his gifts and was busily playing with them. We had some breakfast but were waiting around from my wife's cousins to show up with their kids to have Christmas dinner and spend the afternoon together. That is when the day took a turn. We got a call that they had had some sort of car trouble with there van and were sitting in an Applebee's parking lot on Sunrise Highway. They had a flat and couldn't get the spare off the back of the van. So me and my father-in-law got into his truck and drove out there. I suggested we bring a whole bunch of tools, but my father-in-law trumped me as he really does know something about cars and took just One socket wrench with One fitting and One pry bar and a can of WD-40. He was an expert even though we had no idea what the trouble was going to be...
Anyway we got out there almost immediately someone broke one of the bolts and we all knew what the solution was. We had to just break off the other bolt that held the tire on there. And so my wife's cousin and my father-in-law and me all started taking turns smashing the bolt with hammers and pry-bars trying to get the rusty bolt
to snap.
Then my cousin's kid got out of the van and he took his turn suggesting how to get this done and had his turn swinging the hammer.
My father-in-law took off with his niece and brought back more tools and all the men kept standing in each others' way, each one of us wanting to be THE ONE to get the damn bolt to snap. Never mind if there was a better solution...It seemed to become more important that each of us get to be the hero of the moment than any of us working together.
We finally figured out how to get the entire tire rack off the back of the van and drove it back to my in-laws' house. Another cousin had shown up by then and more arguments and pushing out of the way occurred until I finally found a grinder and started trying to cut the bolts. My wife and my mother-in-law both came out and started telling me to use safety goggles and I just ignored them as I saw my chance at being the one to get this finished. Anyway- I lost control of the project and it all went round and round a few more times and finally I can not remember who finally cut through the bolt and freed the tire but that is purely because of selective memory
as I learned just how important it is for a bunch of men to be the leader and savior on a project. It doesn't even matter if you have absolutely no idea what you are doing, what is important is being the one to fix the problem.Meanwhile all of the women in the family all went upstairs to my in-laws bed and lay there relaxing and talking and taking naps and I began to realize that it really is kind of tragic here in our family that none of this generation that I am part of could see to it to bring any grand daughters into this family. Sooner or later it becomes more and more obvious that that is what we are going to be missing.

DK

January2/2009

I am having an exhibition at
Pierogi 2000

177 N9th Street, Brooklyn (just off the Bedford L stop)
that will open on Friday January 2, 2009
7-9 pm.

SNAKE OIL
recent
Drawings and Sculptures
by David Kramer

Link: http://pierogi2000.com/flatfile/kramerd.html

I hope that you all can make it!
It will be a fun way to start off the new year...
DK

installation shot

installed for eyewash@artwalking
LIQUOR STORE window Tarnjanowski Liquors,
Bedford Ave, Brooklyn. 2008

NYTimes.com

Hi.
I have another installment in the NYTimes.com opinion section in a series that they
are calling Proof.
here's a link:
http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/12/21/buybacks/

I hope you will take a look. Thanks and I hope you have a great holiday!

All the best,
David

YuleLOG

I am not going to bore anyone with the shopworn talk of what Jews do on Christmas. We've all heard the stories of us going out for Chinese food. Or of us as high school kids doing doughnuts
around the empty parking lots of shopping malls, and how sad and lonely it was for us as we have to suffer through horrible TV programing that included choruses and Yule Logs instead of shows that could make the evening pass more quickly. I will not go down that path here.And even though I have been invited in to share in the Christmas miracle with my wife and her family, I still feel like an outsider. But I will say that as much as I have become an adjunct member of a Christmas celebration at my in-laws home and have gotten to witness the shear joy in my son's and my nephew's faces as they tear through the gift wrap, I have managed to carve out a new Christmas tradition in the role of spoil sport. My identity crisis has not prevented me from fully embracing the Christmas spirit. I may have been jaded and ruined by my upbringing as far as Christmas goes but I am proud and happy about that part of my heritage.
SO
In our family we have adopted a tradition that I have pioneered and feel has provided me with a fantastic cheap laugh that has made the holiday totally bearable. NO it is not starting to drink as soon as I wake up...although that would not have been a bad idea.
Sometime along the way I started to tell my son the true tradition of Santa Claus was that he, the Jolly One, is always on the lookout for the good kids, so that he can give them their proper Xmas gifts: Sharp Pencils, New Socks, Paper for their note books for school...Things that good kids would love to find under the Ole Christmas Tree. My son finds this to be total bull. He's not stupid... Then I tell him that the really terrible kids gets Santa's underpants.

I know it is stupid but like I said, I was raised to feel alienated by Christmas.
And all the Christmas Carols and yuletide in the world doesn't seem to have the right kind of effect on me to change things.
DK


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAunpaO6XE0
Check this out for more Giant Underpants Jokes...DK

MACY'S The Past 3 years...still looking for 2004 -5

Something to Believe In.

Here is another funny story about my kid...then I promise that I will stop.
My son is about 8 years old and he still believes in Santa Claus. I do not know where he gets this from as we are Jews and really do spend too much time celebrating Christmas. Sure, there is a tree out at his grandmother's house, that much is true. But once when my son asked me where people came from, as in the origin of life, I tried to give him the whole creation spin because I thought it would make an easier story to tell, and he literally shot me down. "What about the monkeys dad?" Obviously we had spent way too much time over at the Museum of Natural History here in NYC, and not enough going to synagogue.

Anyway, my son totally believes in Santa and every year he writes him letters and goes up to Macy's and gives it to him. One time he asked Santa for a robot. A robot! I didn't really take this stuff too seriously, but then one day after that I picked him up from school and he was walking ahead of me with a friend. His friend told my son that "That wasn't the real Santa over at Macy's!" The real one was up at the North Pole or something like that. My son was frozen in disbelief and then he started crying.
It was heart breaking. So I got my son home and dropped him off with his mom, and I ran out and looked all over town for a robot until I luckily stuck my head into a Radio Shack and bought one. It was like a hundred bucks but it was totally worth it.

Hey, I don't really give a shit about Santa Claus. But the way I see it, my son has a whole life time of disappointment to look forward to. Unfortunately that comes with the territory. But I still had it within my power to put all that pain off, at least for a Christmas or two.
DK

OFFintoTHEsunset

Here is a painting...
Untitled (Off Into The Sunset...)2008 OIL ON CANVAS + Light Fixture approx 65" x 50"
Full of optimism and satire all at the same moment...

SpecialLoveFeelings

I had this totally funny conversation with my son today.
Let me preface the story by saying that my son is not always very good at accepting change. If we so much as throw away a pillow case, because it is threadbare, he can at times cry and beg for it to come back...That said, when I got sick over the summer and my liver was giving me trouble, my son was pretty freaked out. He was afraid that I might die. He had reason to be worried as I had never been so sick in either of our lifetimes. Obviously he never complained when I had to give up lots of things for the health of my liver. I quit smoking once and for all, and drinking coffee. I stopped eating meat and of course all the alcohol. My son never objected to this of course, but he also barely acknowledged this too.

Today I bought my kid a hot dog on the street. He told me that he loved meat so much and if it weren't for all the animals that had to get killed, he would eat meat all the time. Meat, he said, was one of his favorite things in the world. Then he said he wished that I would start eating meat again. And drinking coffee. He said he really missed the old me that used to be so much fun and funny when I was drinking coffee.
He said I was always good to be around when I had some coffee.
So I asked him if he missed anything else. Beer, he said. He actually said he missed my beer drinking and missed when I used to drink beer all the time and be really fat...Apparently I was a lot of fun for him back then, too.

Well listen. I know better than all that and I am taking my son's comments for exactly what they are worth. I am not running out to get a pack a cigarettes anytime soon to see if there is any magic left there too. But it did give me a remarkable moment of satisfaction and solace. I mean since I've stopped drinking I keep on telling myself that I was a pretty good drunk. It helps me to romanticize these things as I try to move on. I was just really happy to hear that my son can romanticize this part of my old life too. It really means a lot to me to not to have to look back all the time and regret. I keep on telling myself that even my bad ideas and actions seemed like good ones, at least at the time that I thought of them. Now I get to move forward pretty gracefully, at least as far as he is concerned.
DK

DRINKINGdownTHEmedicine

I don't mean to look a gift house in the mouth,but I have had some serious issues since I was lucky enough to get to contribute to the NYTimes.com.
I mean, sure it has been really great to go from having an average of like 40 people read my blog to something like 8 or 9 hundred for a couple of days, but I still wonder if this was all worth it. First of all, I am used to blogging by now, and that is what I was told that I would be doing over there. You know, you write something down and keep going until the idea bares fruit and then you push the PUBLISH BUTTON, and boom! You are done. At NYTimes, they actually edit what I wrote. They have people who come back and ask questions. They want facts, or for me to elaborate. The sad truth is I hardly even proof read once before I click...
I tend to think that what I do as a writer is supposed to be fun or spontaneous. But OK. It is a newspaper. There is a certain amount of news that they expect. So I can live with that.
But then there were the comments. Boy I thought I had much thicker skin than I obviously do because I was really taken a back by what I got. I mean from the cabal of AA memebers who either wanted me to join a meeting or just assumed that I go, to the people who actually belittle my efforts as an artist and my stupidity for writing that there is no difference between a shrink and a psychic (DUH! That was Fun-ny you moron) to the positive folks who thanked me for saving their lives that day...Whoa. I am not really ready for all of this. And look, I know that I send out my blog and push the little button and it feels good. I already admitted that. But I don't rip people up and then push SEND. Have a little self editing and empathy for christ's sake. I mean the Times demands that I use an editor, why not ask others to do a little homework, too.

ANyway- I am done complaining here. I just needed to vent and I am sorry for taking advantage of anyone who has actually read all of this. It was cathartic. And I am really trying to be humorous and entertaining. Whether I write about alcohol or anything, that is what I am trying to do. I am just trying to find something to hang onto, to find that glimmer of hope or joy; to keep life feeling a little bit romantic. That is all. I wish people didn't take stuff so seriously.
Just wait until they see the next installment for the NYTimes...If I don't watch out, there is going to a candlelight vigil outside my window held by the AA local. I mean, I really liked drinking. It was fun. I guess I was lucky enough not to cause any real harm before I moved on. That's just the way I feel.
DK

HolidaySpirits

I was invited to a couple of holiday parties this weekend, and managed to go to them without getting completely fucked up, which had been normal operating procedure for holiday parties every year before. I don't really miss the drinking but all I can say is that I seem to nervously down seltzer a these things like I am filling a swimming pool. I can say now, that in the old days I would probably drink just as much beer and Scotch, at least. And now that I am aware of how much quantity that I am putting away, I am kind of surprised that the Beer Industry isn't looking for a bailout package from Washington, too.
My wife got invited to a party thrown by a gay couple who where both men named Mitch, and I went along for the ride, so to speak...It was a fun party that slowly built up into a regular tea-dance that became so crowded by the time that we left that I almost got sweated on by the two shirtless guys wearing leather storm trouper outfits topped off with Santa hats. I was thinking about the shirtless storm trouper guys and how there always seems to be at least someone dressed in this attire, walking around my neighborhood, Chelsea, every night of the week. We live in Chelsea, and this had been the standard outfit since probably before I was even born 40 some-odd years ago.

I was reminded of a story...We moved into Chelsea back in the early 1990's and the neighborhood was certainly different back then as my wife and I felt like we stood out in a heavily gay neighborhood. This was long before the Buy Buy Baby moved in and Breeders like us felt safe to walk the streets. I used to joke with my wife back then that I was going to slip on my spandex shorts and go roller-blading shirtless with a Walkman strapped to my ass, and the image gave both of us a side splitting laugh at this image of me.
Anyway- my wife had this friend of hers from high school who is a Union Electrician. He grew up on Long Island and still, to this day, lives in the town were he grew up. He used to have to come to my neighborhood every so often, as for some reason the Electrican's Union held there monthly meetings in the Fashion High School across the street. I was talking to him one day out on Long Island and describing to him how my neighborhood was great, and by-the-way, overwhelmingly gay.
He said he had never noticed. But then this light bulb went off...
"Ohhhh. I just used to think that it was strange how some many of the men walking around seemed unusually fit!" He kept on trying to figure out were the really good gym was.
DK

SELDOMheardWORDSofPRAISE

That's "a no-one" to you...
DK

Addicted to love

I love drinking beer. It makes me smarter, funnier, sexier, and I think I am actually even better in bed.
Well, I think that the very first part of the last sentence is true. At least it used to be. These days, not so much.
I haven't even tried to drink in quite some time, and I don't miss it. I also gave up on coffee, which made me a better writer and more awake. And I am not eating meat anymore. Which used to make me really strong. And I think, also better in bed.
Drugs...Those are gone too.
But the thing that I gave up that I miss the most is smoking. God! How I loved to smoke. Smoking really was the gift
from the gods that once made me feel whole. I was never lonely or long on any kind of writer's block or depression when a half full pack of cigarettes was within reach. I loved the smell of cigarettes and the way that they made me fell warm when it was freezing outside. I loved the way that they put the finishing touches on a great meal or were the perfect length to pause and look and wait before going back to business on whatever thing I was doing, thus making that whatever thing that I was doing seem important. Sometimes, these days, I find myself looking up and staring at that space near the ceiling and thinking a sigh, and then I notice, my fingers... The two fingers are pointing out there with the thumb close behind, grasping for the missing cigarette like a phantom limb.
I was talking to a friend about cigarettes the other day. He had quit for over a month recently, but found that he just felt sad all the time and had to go back to his first love. I couldn't blame him and in fact I was jealous. I would have, in the past, almost automatically , upon hanging up the phone, put on my shoes and a jacket and gone out into the cold night for a pack of cigarettes in another part of my life, and joined him in spirit. But no. I can't do that anymore. To me, cigarettes at the thing that will bring down this house of cards that I have built. I mean, I am not a weak person, I am just someone who likes to finish what I started. Once I open that can of worms, well it won't be long before I am adding on the coffee. Then the chocolates. Steak won't be far behind, followed by anything made of pork that I can get down in Chinatown. And sure, bourbon goes great with cigarettes as I remember....and then finally beer and drugs and I will be back were I started killing myself with all the things that I love.
Not a bad way to go, I would argue. But I am not ready for the early exit. At least if I can help it.
DK

http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/12/10/self-inflicted-prophecy/

http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/12/10/self-inflicted-prophecy/

Please check it out.
Thanks.
DK

Everyman Detective

Years ago I was flying to LA. It was an early morning flight and I was traveling with my wife and young son.
It was the first week of September 2001 and I remember going out to Newark Airport to get the first flight of the day and cruising through security because all of the guards there seemed half asleep. I remember joking with my wife that if you ever wanted to try to smuggle drugs, all you needed was a baby. We walked through the metal detectors, pushing our sleeping son in his stroller. They waved us right through, waving the magic wand over the stroller..."Keep Moving." Anyway, I am not saying that I was ahead of the curve by any standards. I handled any of these insights with about as much attention to detail as the Bush Administration was doing at that exact same moment.
Ignoring the possible dangers, who cares....we were off for a vacation. But one week to the day on the same exact flight, we all know what happened.
This week when I was dealing with all of this crap with my identity theft, a bunch of really strange things happened that make me wonder about this too. I was "lucky" enough to be aware that someone was trying to use my account at the exact moment that it was happening.I happened to stumble upon the messages from Paypal of transactions, before they were deleted by whom ever it was that was making them.
I phoned Paypal and eventually got someone to listen to me. But what ever they said they did, the next day I had more problems... I finally got through again and after yelling and screaming they finally, finally spoke to someone who was a supervisor and he "froze " my account.
I had the same problem with my bank. I called them immediately and thought everything was cool. I went to the branch the next morning and closed my account and the branch manager also made a call to make sure that the calls against my account weren't paid. I went back yesterday-Tuesday- and the manager and I looked at the computer, and the bank was about to pay the demands for money. They were about to pay those clowns in Saudi Arabia who were ripping me off and had I showed up just a bit later (after 10am), they would have paid them. Well, let's just say it wouldn't have been MY money at this point, but luckily we put a stop to that too. Once again I sense that people whose job it is to be protecting the assets of this great nation are asleep at the wheel. While some crackpots in the Middle East are doing something awful.
I called the Federal Trade Commission about this and was on hold until I sincerely thought about giving up. When I finally spoke to someone and got a familiar lazy response. They did nothing.

My point is this...I had caught this stuff going on right while it was happening and if it weren't for my own vigilance, forget it. Those clowns would have been counting my money before anyone here was even awake enough to do anything. Luckily for me I have way too much time on my hands to be poking around in my own business. I did get certain amount of satisfaction for helping to uncover a crime while it was happening. I felt a certain rush as I was playing detective doing the end-arounds to save my pathetic savings. I was so pleased with myself as I was humming the James Bond theme while I was creating brand new secret PIN numbers for all of my my accounts- using the names old cats that I have owned over the years so I wouldn't forget... Do-do-DO-DO Do.Do.. While typing Whitey or Freckles onto my key board. I'm a regular Inspector Clouseau over here, fighting terror in my own special way. DK

NEWS BULLETIN!!... Well,for tomorrow's news...

I have never been very good at waiting. i remember once when I was a kid, my dad told me he was going to buy my mom a handbag for Hannukka. I got up and left the room and walked right into the kitchen and told my mom. I was so excited I could not wait to share the news.
So much for surprises. I remember after just a couple of weeks of dating my wife I asked her to marry me. She was living in Hawaii at the time , working there, and we had been writing letters to one another. (THis was before Al Gore invented the internet) We knew each other for maybe four months' worth of letters, but we had been in the same place at the same time for two weeks.
Enough to know enough about someone that you're going to spend the rest of your life with? I wrote her this letter that said, "I would like to Marry you." She called me up and asked me what this was all about! Was I serious? I told her I was "curious" as to what that would be like. Anyway, she said yes...
So I have a terrible time keeping secrets or holding onto information until it is fully ripened and ready for consumption. But I can now report with a certain amount of certainty that I will in fact be blogging for the NYTimes.com starting tomorrow in the opinion section. They have invited a bunch of so-called experts on drinking to mull over the topic during the holiday season.
And there is already a little picture of me there with a bio.
So, Please have a look and if you are so inclined and near a pint, raise it up and have a drink for me. Now. Fast.
David K

I Can Live With The Choices That I have Made , Because I Don't Have Any CHoice About It.

OutOfTheWoods

I am exhausted. I have spent the last 24 hours straight, trying to salvage my identity.
Some clowns from Saudi Arabia have been trying to clean out my Paypal account. And if I didn't know any better, I swear Paypal was trying to help them. Last night I was checking my email and when I opened the in-box there were like 4-5 transaction notifications from them. I was shocked. I had not used that account in months! Anyway, I called them up and it takes some real vigilance to speak to a real fucking human being over there. In the time that I waited to talk to some guy another 2-3 notifications of transactions came on the screen. Then, suddenly all of them just disappeared from my inbox. Poof! When I finally spoke to some guy he told me there were records of these transactions but we talked about changing my password and taking my credit card off of my account. I went to sleep finally after dialing a half a dozen other 1-800 numbers and listening to more than any one's fair share of Muzak, I thought I had finally gotten things resolved...
But in the middle of the night I get up and I couldn't even believe it, there are like 8-9 notifications of new transactions and Paypal is closed for the evening. It turns out they have customer service people that need to sleep. Their customer service is CLOSED after 8 pm CST.
I was going crazy. SO in the morning I get up and I can't even open my account. Someone has changed all the personal info and my PIN number. When I finally get through to Paypal I find out that these people have accessed my personal bank account and I am up Shits Creek.

I have spent the last 14 hours running around canceling credit cards and bank account and calling the FTC and finally getting together with the NYPD. Although the cop I first talked to told me that it was my fault for banking on line..I did get to speak with the detectives. They seemed very interested with the whole Saudi connection. We found them by Googling. And this guy named Bilbiie Razvan who was to receive my money was of some concern of them too. I also got some excellent advice on SPywear blocker from a guy sitting in a jail cell next to the Detective's desk...I was told he wasn't in for anything serious.
Anyway- the best part was that I went back home and got to spend more hours on the phone with Paypal trying to figure out how my security continued to be breached even after I had issued a complaint. And when I asked for a number for the detectives to call to speak to someone in security, I was put on hold twice and finally sent along to a supervisor who promised me that I would not be paying for any of these withdrawals. We will see but I am totally fried.
I am still hoping all the Saudi's don't see a dime of my money. Particularly after my wife said that she fully expected that my stolen money would eventually be the funds needed to blow her up personally on the subway.I think this was said more out of outrage than trying to make me feel guilty, but I already have enough trouble with my self-esteem.
But one thing I did find out about myself- I may have issues with my self -esteem, but you fuck with my identity and watch out. I am one persistent motherfucker. I think I have got this thing finally under control.
DK

UNTITLED

From the drawing...
Years ago I remember a friend of mine called me up, he had a business proposition for me. He said there was a building available in his neighborhood, and he thought it would
be a totally excellent location for a bar. It had been a swimming pool supply place and we both agreed that you wouldn't have to do a thing to it. Just get some beer and liquor and some ice, and open the doors and have a ready made bar, all set to go. Anyway, I said "No thanks." I couldn't do it. I knew that I wanted to be an artist and that I already tended to spend too much time in bars. I didn't need a job that would insure that I was out every night drinking, I already had one. So someone else took over the place and almost immediately it became a wildly successful fixture of the neighborhood, filled with good looking people spending lots of money every night of the week. Meanwhile, I continued to struggle with my career and kept on drinking on my own terms, which has lead to mediocre results and troubles with alcohol anyway....But I want to know one thing,; How come I continue to make decisions that I know are in my own best interest, and I still don't get rewarded and wind up in trouble. Sure you can't buy happiness and having your health is a pretty cool thing, but I sure could use some money every once in a while, just to spend on things that will help me to forget all that nonsense..

MinorAccomplishments

Tonight I decided to go out to buy a couple of gifts. It is the holiday season, after all, and I was too tired and lazy to go to my studio. I went to Macy's which, other than Old Navy, where I tend to shop. It is only a few blocks from my house. Anyway, for those keeping score, the place was empty. Even one of the sales people said
"it's been dead" when I asked if it seemed a little quiet.

Every year I think I ought to get a job at Macy's or some place like that, when these places start to hire for the holiday season. I don't have a job usually and I am always in need of money.
But then I always end up talking myself out of it. I am always afraid that I might run into someone I know while working at the register and then they will know that I don't have anything that good going on. It is, of course, totally true, but I don't want anyone to think that.

Which reminds me of an old roommate I once had while I was in school. We were both getting degrees in the arts and even while we were in the middle of our programs and totally engaged in what we were studying, both of us would talk openly about what a total waste of time and money Art School was. Anyway, I remember my friend saying that after school was over, he was going to go right back to his old home town and go and get a job at the local A&P bagging groceries. He was really looking forward, he said , to running into his parents friends. And when they asked what he was doing with his life, he would tell them, "What do you mean?...This is my life..." I remember laughing with him at the irony of all of this and thinking this was hysterical. We both thought we were so funny and above this. Looking back I must say that I don't think that this is all that funny at all. And I am not so sure what I thought was so funny in the first place.

You know, sometimes I wish I had maybe moved out of my old home town and tried to live in some place that I didn't know and nobody knew me. Not that it would have mattered much, I am sure. But at least I could look back at my old school days and
they might actually start to look more like they are distant memories.

NewLocation

It's funny. For years I have made art work complaining about how people with connections always seem to get what they don't deserve and how under-served I've been while having to watch insiders rake in the attention and money. I have pointed my finger at the elitists and insiders and hurled my obnoxious comments in their direction knowing full well that they couldn't hear me and even if they did, they could not give a shit about what I was bitching about.

Well, all of that seems to be changing. For this month I will be blogging as a guest of the New York Times.And let me be the first to say that I can't think of anyone who deserves this more than me for I have devoted weeks of my hard earned time to the craft and all of that hard work is finally paying off.

So keep your eyes peeled for my entries at
http://www.nytimes.com/ref/opinion/guestcolumnists.html
starting tomorrow.

Thanks. DK

PS Ummm-it is going to take a little more time. They actually have this process called "editing" which I've never used before. It's great but adds a couple of steps to getting in-line.