portrait of one of my favorite artists, Cheryl Sterling,
who was inspired by the artwork i was creating and
did a series of photographs in this manner. of course,
the inspiration just kept on flowing because SHE
inspired ME.

—————-
Now playing: The Buzzcocks – Why Can’t I Touch It?
via FoxyTunes

still its early stages. i’m off to watch Blackadder II for kicks now.

but today, it takes on a different, more sorrowful meaning.

goodnight, wex. thanks for the hits.

see more of beth’s strangedolls here.

this was the view in my sidemirror, as i headed east, the sun setting behind me. i loved how the lines in both images seem to fit perfectly with one another, as if extended from one scene to the next.

a rather odd angle, but that’s what comes of not bothering to look in the viewfinder as you’re driving down the road, simply propping the camera on your shoulder and having it face backwards.

same here with this. these drums are like sleepy giants lining the highway.

i sidetracked down battleground road in hopes of getting a nice shot of the san jacinto monument at dusk [alas, the park was closed and inaccessible]. in the meantime, i got this shot, which oddly enough, it’s hard to make out exactly what those spires are. they remind me of crosses and it sends a chill down my spine.

the only decent shot of my descent into the washburn tunnel.

but i think this was my favorite from the set. i can’t even say why, i just dig it:

http://www.supportkamehameha.org

heartbreaking.

rosen’s fishing for a class action suit is utterly contemptuous and vile.

just had lunch with nick. it’s nice to hear how things are going for him. i never had any doubt about his path in life. it’s interesting to have watched the humble beginnings blossom into such opportunities. he played for me the song billy joe shaver recorded that nick himself wrote. he’d given me the version he did [which i kept on rotation in the car until it permeated my brain and made its way into my subconscious to become a jaunty beat to go through life with], but hearing billy sing it was just too cool. i’m so proud of that boy.

long are the days when we sat at his place near the little mexican cemetery and talked about big dreams. it seems these days, we’re talking about dreams coming to fruition. a good thing. he hasn’t lost any bit of his charm and gumption, either. i hope it stays with him. i wonder sometimes if the newness for me hasn’t worn off in my department. we talked about “scratch”, how things were back in the day. when you think, “oh, i hope i’m successful enough so that i don’t have to put up with all this.” honestly, i’m not there yet, but i will admit things are a bit easier. and sure, i do miss those days. … sometimes.

i’m going to look again at the willie nelson tickets, because he says they’re not that much as i quoted before. he’ll be playing that event, which was, to me, the deal breaker for me to want to go.

best wishes, mister nick. keep it going, brother.
. . . . . . . .

unrelated video, but i just wanted to share.
i saw the jim cullum jazz band years ago at the landing on the riverwalk in san antonio. ktsu plays an hour of jim cullum dixieland tributes to jazz artists every weekday and it brings back memories. great stuff, if you dig dixieland:

. . . . . . . . .

this one IS related:
billy joe shaver’s Georgia on a Fast Train:

and this … this is just perfect:

.
.

what i didn’t expect was to find her inspired by a photo of mine to create “the whisper”:

—————-
Now playing: Brian Tyler – Neela Drifts
via FoxyTunes

—————-
Now playing: Barrio Jazz Gang – Hot Jacket
via FoxyTunes

—————-
Now playing: Orquesta del Plata – Montserrat
via FoxyTunes

. .

—————-
Now playing: Mark Farina – some funky house
via FoxyTunes

Cheryl Sterling, renowned quilt and fiber artist created this incredibly detailed and beautiful quilt, [30" x 33"] based on the small photo above. i am in awe that she would take such time and talent to create this without my asking her to do so. the stitching, if you click the photos on the left, are so fine and abstract, this quilt is amazing! as is all of her work. i only wish she lived closer so we could swap ideas!

. . .

Yvette [oil, 2005]

this small painting really made a big impression on a friend of mine, author Frank Fradella. his wonderful written interpretation left me speechless. i’m honored not only to have someone like frank own a piece of mine, but more importantly, to have it move him to words such as these. it is painted on gallery wrapped canvas so all sides are incorporated.

Frank Fradella, author of “Valley of Shadows”, “Cyber Age Adventures”, “Vespertine 1912″ and others, purchased “Yvette” from me in 2005. upon its arrival, he had this to say:

A few weeks ago I purchased an amazing print from the talented [sic] julie zarate / outlaw_jesus.

No. Wait. I’m using the wrong terminology here.

It’s not a print. It’s a painting. It’s an original. How she could bear to part with this I’ll never know. But here it is. At last. Staring at me from the wall in front of my desk. She’s beautiful. And sitting here this morning, about to get back to work on the latest CAA story, she looks at me like she knows me. Like we took a journey together once.

Something in my brain clicks and I place the feeling. It’s the missionary from Lost Horizon, that most amazing novel by James Hilton (which may very well challenge The Great Gatsby as my favorite novel). (No, it’s not really her, but there’s something in the grace of those lines that makes me almost believe it could be.)

In any case, it’s through those lips that this tale is imparted to you. Thank you, Julie. What a wonderful muse you have been.

If you’ve never read this book, you simply must. You must.

* * *

Yvette by Julie Zarate
Lost Horizon

We’d left that place for parts unknown,
by plane and winged prayer,
set fire to those fleeing heels
and bore us in the air.
Our pilot clubbed and left aside,
a stranger in his place,
who greeted us with pistol’s end
and Oriental face.

Our Mission burned and set to ash,
poor Baskul set ablaze,
four passengers now Shanghaied
in that region’s latter days.
As it followed there was bloodshed,
(as in any sad revolt)
though our safety wasn’t certain
when we closed the safety bolt.

To what purpose we were kidnapped
not a one of us could guess,
toward Nepal our engine headed,
and we sat in sad duress.
We refueled at loaded gunpoint,
once again we took to air,
and our landing in that snowstorm
left us plane- and pilot-bare.

Set to freezing in that carcass,
not a scrap of bread to eat,
and the howling winds around us
sang the hymns of our defeat.
Then at once a rescue found us,
tethered, led us through the storm,
brought us, wide-eyed, here to Shangri-La,
to this valley, safe and warm.

Nothing further may I utter,
we are bound by silent oath.
You may trust that secrets guarded
only serve to keep us both.
What then followed: fit for stories,
fit for madmen and their drink,
and it passed so quick behind us
it could fill an eyelid’s blink.

—————-
Now playing: Joe Ely – Where Is My Love?
via FoxyTunes