The New City Subterraneans

Aug 20
thug life.
Feb 22

thug life.

Poem of the Day:  No Matter, Never Mind by Gary Snyder(via B. Joneser)NO MATTER, NEVER MINDThe Father is the VoidThe Wife       Waves Their child is Matter.Matter makes it with his MotherAnd their child is Life,               a daughter.The Daughter is the Great MotherWho, with her father/brother Matter          as her lover, Gives birth to the Mind.               -Gary Snyder                 Turtle Island***Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 
Feb 22

Poem of the Day:  No Matter, Never Mind by Gary Snyder
(via B. Joneser)

NO MATTER, NEVER MIND

The Father is the Void
The Wife      Waves 

Their child is Matter.

Matter makes it with his Mother
And their child is Life,
               a daughter.

The Daughter is the Great Mother
Who, with her father/brother Matter
          as her lover, 

Gives birth to the Mind.

               -Gary Snyder
                Turtle Island

***

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 

A Weekly View and Vignette: Uruguay - Past Meets Present(via J. Maston) "I love it when the past meets the present.  This statue of Jose Artigas stands in the Independence Plaza in Downtown Montevideo, Uruguay.  His backdrop is a huge building of flats and the thriving successful city and country that he helped to make."-J. Maston ***"I love the contrast of this photograph.  I think it tells a story of contemporary society in Uruguay and the country’s rich historical past." -B. JoneserThoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@hotmail.com
Feb 22

A Weekly View and Vignette: Uruguay - Past Meets Present
(via J. Maston) 

"I love it when the past meets the present.  This statue of Jose Artigas stands in the Independence Plaza in Downtown Montevideo, Uruguay.  His backdrop is a huge building of flats and the thriving successful city and country that he helped to make."

-J. Maston 

***

"I love the contrast of this photograph.  I think it tells a story of contemporary society in Uruguay and the country’s rich historical past." 

-B. Joneser

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@hotmail.com


http://craphound.com/images/5344091754_5c1b4f4b8e_b.jpg
Feb 12

http://craphound.com/images/5344091754_5c1b4f4b8e_b.jpg

Norman Mailor’s Popeye.
Feb 12

Norman Mailor’s Popeye.

Bukowski is a whore.
Feb 12

Bukowski is a whore.

Poem of the Day:  Daryl Strawberry Asleep in the Field of Dreams by Paul Beattythey raised the price of dreams
blue inked can of del monte creamed corn
where baseball players
are reborn
in their prime
to play in modern day times
and not only was the ball white
shoeless joe jackson was white
his uni was white
all the dead white players was white
takin batting practice in white home uniforms
under white iowa clouds
I squirmed in my seat hopin for a
warm thunder storm
that would rain down cool papa bell
and hell would drip off corn stalk blades
pool into a homestead grey
inna a grey away uniform
flip down flip-up shades
and say	hey now lets really play
got to wear your sun glasses 

 so you can feel cool

but its only a movie
and in film school heaven is
where white doctors who played
only an inning and a half in the show
can pray for a tinker everlastin chance to groove the 0-2 sinker
white boys steady leanin in
truly believin this is the best movie they’ve ever seen
but none of em asked josh gibson to slo-dance
across the color line that
falls in an iowa ball field
broken but unhealed
fathers younger than their sons play catch
onna mismatch patch
natural grass and james earl jonezes broad ass
hollywoods black fat majesty
bellows…and people will come 
black people smiled and fell in a single file
to pay to watch mel ott run through Fences
and put the suicide squeeze on my mothers mother
whose color
is the same
as the night game infield
…and the people will come 
to see that black father to be
with scars on their knees
from shinbones split in half
and knocked off kneecaps
practice the rap dunks they will pump over their daughters n sons
…and the people will come 
how could daughters n fathers build
wooden bleachers
just to sit and cheer male features
if umpire pam postema dies in the minor leagues
ty cobb’ll hook slide into heaven
and she’ll call him out
and he will get up dust himself call her a…
brush it off as a tease

is this heaven
no its iowa

is this heaven
no its harlem
is this heaven
no its bedrock
is this heaven
no its cabrini green
do they got a team
aint sure they got dreams
damn sure aint got a field
or crops that yield
is that sign for steal
I approach the third base coach
and ask is all the movies for real ***Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 
Feb 9

Poem of the Day:  Daryl Strawberry Asleep in the Field of Dreams by Paul Beatty

they raised the price of dreams

blue inked can of del monte creamed corn

where baseball players

are reborn

in their prime

to play in modern day times

and not only was the ball white

shoeless joe jackson was white

his uni was white

all the dead white players was white

takin batting practice in white home uniforms

under white iowa clouds

I squirmed in my seat hopin for a

warm thunder storm

that would rain down cool papa bell

and hell would drip off corn stalk blades

pool into a homestead grey

inna a grey away uniform

flip down flip-up shades

and say hey now lets really play

got to wear your sun glasses
 

so you can feel cool

but its only a movie

and in film school heaven is

where white doctors who played

only an inning and a half in the show

can pray for a tinker everlastin chance to groove the 0-2 sinker

white boys steady leanin in

truly believin this is the best movie they’ve ever seen

but none of em asked josh gibson to slo-dance

across the color line that

falls in an iowa ball field

broken but unhealed

fathers younger than their sons play catch

onna mismatch patch

natural grass and james earl jonezes broad ass

hollywoods black fat majesty

bellows…and people will come
 

black people smiled and fell in a single file

to pay to watch mel ott run through Fences

and put the suicide squeeze on my mothers mother

whose color

is the same

as the night game infield

…and the people will come
 

to see that black father to be

with scars on their knees

from shinbones split in half

and knocked off kneecaps

practice the rap dunks they will pump over their daughters n sons

…and the people will come
 

how could daughters n fathers build

wooden bleachers

just to sit and cheer male features

if umpire pam postema dies in the minor leagues

ty cobb’ll hook slide into heaven

and she’ll call him out

and he will get up dust himself call her a…

brush it off as a tease

is this heaven

no its iowa

is this heaven

no its harlem

is this heaven

no its bedrock

is this heaven

no its cabrini green

do they got a team

aint sure they got dreams

damn sure aint got a field

or crops that yield

is that sign for steal

I approach the third base coach

and ask is all the movies for real 

***

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 

Feb 9

Today’s Tune to Boom: Smokey Robinson and the Miracles - Cruisin’

One of Motown’s greats, Mr. Robinson smooth and crisp notes defy the nickname “Smokey Joe” given to him by his uncle as a young boy.  As Western-Movie loving six-year old, his uncle explained to him years later that he christened the nickname so the lighter skinned young man would never forget he was black.  Smokey seems to have carried these concepts with him and through his music listeners can feel the soul escape from his lips every time he blesses the microphone.  Enjoi my favorite of Detroit’s own soul guru.

***

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 

A Weekly View and Vignette: Cambodia - Inside the Walls of Tuol Sleng(via J. Maston & TheWindSweptSky)If one thing shines through as indicative of the 20th century, sadly it might be genocide.  All of our technological advances have lead to the more efficient killing of our fellow man.  Estimates range drastically but it is almost universally accepted that over 100 million people died at the hand of genocide in the 20th century. 
This picture is from inside the walls of the Tuol Sleng memorial in Phnom Penh where in the 1970’s the Khmer Rouge killed over 1.5 million of its own people.  The torture was brutal and they murdered almost indiscriminately.  
The warden of this prison, Duch, is currently on trial awaiting his fate.  He fled Phnom Penh after the rebellion was suppressed and lived out in the countryside for years.  After a conversion to Christianity in the mid 1990’s Duch was placed on trial earlier this year, and has asked to receive the maximum penalty for his crimes against humanity, asking even to be stoned if the court sees it fit. Support Independent Art!  Buy this print HERE! ***Thoughts? Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 
Feb 9

A Weekly View and Vignette: Cambodia - Inside the Walls of Tuol Sleng
(via J. Maston & TheWindSweptSky)



If one thing shines through as indicative of the 20th century, sadly it might be genocide.  All of our technological advances have lead to the more efficient killing of our fellow man.  Estimates range drastically but it is almost universally accepted that over 100 million people died at the hand of genocide in the 20th century.


 

This picture is from inside the walls of the Tuol Sleng memorial in Phnom Penh where in the 1970’s the Khmer Rouge killed over 1.5 million of its own people.  The torture was brutal and they murdered almost indiscriminately.
 

 

The warden of this prison, Duch, is currently on trial awaiting his fate.  He fled Phnom Penh after the rebellion was suppressed and lived out in the countryside for years.  After a conversion to Christianity in the mid 1990’s Duch was placed on trial earlier this year, and has asked to receive the maximum penalty for his crimes against humanity, asking even to be stoned if the court sees it fit. 




Support Independent Art!  Buy this print HERE!

***

Thoughts? Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com 

"there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. people so tired mutilated either by love or no love. people just are not good to each other one on one. the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners. it hasn’t told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched unspoken to watering a plant."

- ― Charles Bukowski, Love is a Dog from Hell (via chuckkcuhc)

Feb 7
A NewCitySub’s Original: Sacrifice by Klo
sacrifice.
 
i share a house with a 
           suicidal girl 
whoslitsherwrists and
bleeds 
            all over her 
carpet floor.
so 
i
switched rooms with her.
hardwood.
                 and now
cleaning up 
isn’t so 
hard 
anymore.
 
-Klo***Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com
Feb 7

A NewCitySub’s Original: Sacrifice by Klo

sacrifice.

 

i share a house with a 

           suicidal girl 

whoslitsherwrists and

bleeds 

            all over her 

carpet floor.

so 

i

switched rooms with her.

hardwood.

                 and now

cleaning up 

isn’t so 

hard 

anymore.

 

-Klo

***

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com

Feb 7

Today’s Tune to Boom: Quicksilver Messenger Service - Mona (Live 1969)

As one of the top “hippie bands” out of the Bay Area throughout the 60s and 70s, QSM not only played alongside some of the most influential bands to ever take stage but should also be considered one of the greats.  Similar to their Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane counterparts, Quicksilver Messenger service ushered in a new folk-rock sound intertwined with psychedelic swinging rhythms.  Clutching to their indy roots, QSM became the last San Francisco hold out in the hippie scene until finally signing with Capitol Records in 1967.  Throw on your set of Bose, slap that volume knob, and fall into a trance with the psychedelic sounds of some of the greats.  (And the live footage also deserves some scrutiny)

***

Thoughts?  Email correspondance to newcitysubs@gmail.com