≡ Menu

Pictures at an Exhibition #1: Of Gay Stoner and a Prose Poem

“WHEN A GUY has two gals for partners, who could ask for anything more? Bob Weber joins Sandy Topotski left and Gay Stoner in a gay number.”

You had me at “Gay Stoner.” MOTUS A.D

Charles M. Russell, Painter of Old Montana

Boys will be boys |Giant Oak Park – Peoria, Illinois 

For Sale: Bonnie and Clyde’s Sawed-Off Shotgun 

Shepard’s Barber Shop – Conroe, Texas 

Perspective Drawings Reveal Artist’s Position within Different Rooms

Flower Flashes in NYC by Lewis Miller 

Picture Hats: One Of The Favorite Fashion Styles Of Edwardian Women


“The Mysterious Arrival of an Unusual Letter” by Strand:

It had been a long day at the office and a long ride back to the small apartment where I lived. When I got there I flicked on the light and saw on the table an envelope with my name on it. Where was the clock? Where was the calendar? The handwriting was my father’s, but he had been dead for forty years. As one might, I began to think that maybe, just maybe, he was alive, living a secret life somewhere nearby. How else to explain the envelope? To steady myself, I sat down, opened it, and pulled out the letter. “Dear Son,” was the way it began. “Dear Son” and then nothing. Are Prose Poets Trolling Us? 

Greenland Unicorns and the Magical Alicorn 

How the Hudson River School Became America’s First Art Movement

An assortment of mineral specimens from the Department of Mineral Sciences’ collections are displayed in the storage vault known as the “Blue Room,” at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History.

Inside the Secret Collections Backstage at the US Museum of Natural History

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Monty James September 20, 2019, 11:59 AM

    Gerard, on the subject of “Boys will be boys”, you might like this:

    My turn

  • Rob De Witt September 20, 2019, 3:05 PM

    That’s a barbershop, all right. You can almost smell the talc in those pictures.

    I just saw my acupuncturist last week. When I lived in Oakland 30-something years ago I turned him on to the local barbershop on College Avenue where we both lived; the guy who started it up is still cutting his hair and we always exchange Marty stories.

    My favorite is about Marty being determined even in the ’80s to have a real barber shop and not a Salon. To that end there were always stacks of old and older men’s magazines scattered about for the waiting customers. I commented one time that the story illustrations of the girls-in-their-underpants variety were much more erotic than the modern spread-eagle-in-whore-suits stuff that was taking over the culture, and Marty said, “Yeah. That was before they started losing the distinction between pornography and gynecology.”


  • Casey Klahn September 20, 2019, 3:13 PM

    Gawdam those are some ugly wimmin in hats.

    Thanks for the punny skating pic. Brings back memories of roller skating days.

    Have a great weekend!

  • Chris September 20, 2019, 7:01 PM

    I’d rather have Bonnie & Clyde’s BAR.

  • Jack September 22, 2019, 4:54 PM

    When I was a kid my legs, knees and elbows were always covered in scabs from roller skating in those primitive metal wheel, adjustable things that clamped onto our shoes, but seldom stayed on, with a skate key. And we skated on cracked sidewalks with irregular sections that always caught the skate and brought us down. And we used no pads, gloves or helmets to protect what little sense the Lord gave us.

    I recall crouching low, striding in my skates with arms swinging side to side in a kiddish rhythm and losing a skate, sometimes both, in mid stride. Eventually, and sooner rather than later because I realized that I was incredibly shitty at skating, I hung them up and refused to join the skateboard craze later on.

    I turned to horses and hunting and never looked back. I hate skating.