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Me n’ Pat.

Pat Sansone 100 Polaroids
I went to see Pat Sansone’s show “100 Polaroids”, which was a show and a book party, cause all 100 Polaroids were hanging in the gallery at Eighth Veil, and there were drinks and people celebrating the publications of Mr. Sansone’s book of the same name.

I got there right when the shin dig started, cause I didn’t want to be out late…cause that’s the way I roll: early to bed and late to rise.

The cool thing about being the first person there was getting to spend a few minutes talking to Mr. Sansone. I’m gonna refer to him as Mr. Sansone — as opposed to “Pat” — cause I’m not gonna try and come off like I know the dude now, or after spending 15 minutes with him that I somehow left some sort of indelible impression on him and now we’re all BBF’s n’ shit.


I did, however, buy a couple books off him.

I didn’t let him know what a geek-boy fab I am for Wilco, the gig he does for a paycheck…or that I like The Autumn Defense, the gig he does cause he loves playing music…or that I really, really like the pictures he makes with his SX-70.

Well, I did praise his work — but not in a worshippy, sloppy, silly way.

The evening was exciting enough to blog about, cause really, I haven’t had shit to say since I made my contribution to Bagazine #4, which was last spring.

All work and no play makes Jim an Average Boy.

If you want to grab a copy, I’d do it right away, cause there’s some of the limited edition (150) still online over at The Wilco Store.

You can check out some of Pat Sansone’s work from the show at a Flickr gallery curated by a dude named Michael Raso.

I have no idea who Michael Raso is; perhaps I should check him out.

Finally, here’s Mr. Sansone’s Flickr page.

Oh, and did I mention all work and no play makes Jim an Average Boy?

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Marketing to Men.

Bagazine Marketing to Men
The Good Ole Days are a myth. They only exist in your mind.

People are as creepy and perverted and weird as they’ve ever been — it’s human nature. The only difference between now and, say, 1956, is the dissemination of information. Which is to say our times are no more depraved or sick or twisted than any other time in history — it’s just that CNN wasn’t around to broadcast it 24/7; in fact, I think we have it all pretty good, for the most part. Sure the economy sucks, and there’s no cure for HIV or cancer, and the Earth is getting warmer and over-populated, but I’ll certainly take living in The Present over The Past.

Marketing to Men is my contribution to Bagazine #4, and it conveys my thoughts about just that — our creepy, pervy past.

Bagazine Marketing to Men

There’s eight ads from the back of various mens’ magazines (all mid-century), and they’re hawking everything from fake cop badges to cheap firearms to porn to vanity products. My favs are the how-tos: how to make one-way mirrors and listening devices that take “ordinary materials” and turn them into a “Super Directional Mike [sic] that amplifies sound 1000 times. YES, YOU CAN ACTUALLY HEAR CONVERSATIONS THRU WALLS A BLOCK AWAY.”

There’s a guide to street fighting, and if you’re a “Man & Wife team with a camera”, you could “earn the kind of money you have always dreamed of.”

The first forays into amateur porn?

Who knows — but if you sent a buck to “Artek” in Hollywood, CA, I think you might have been surprised at whatever advice they offered.

Or not.

100 copies signed and numbered, gocco print and a good, old-fashioned hand stamp for title and colophon (am I contradicting myself?); 3 proofs marked “A/P”; concertina fold.

Bagazine Marketing to Men

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The Holidays, Allan Milkerit’s Books, and The Abandoned Planet.

Abandoned Planet book store San Francisco
I just learned Scott Harrison’s bookstore — Abandoned Planet — will close on at the end of year. According to the flier posted on his door, the landlords are “Communists”, and they’re not renewing his lease; it’s going to be their new meeting place. He’s been there 16 years. I’m not sure if he’s going to open a store somewhere else. The sad thing, of course, will be the demise of the Jack Micheline Room — unless the Commies keep it, which, I suppose, is highly doubtful. I don’t know if I’ve ever really talked about Jack’s room, but he painted Scott’s back room, with poetry and pictures, and it’s really a site to see. One of my very favorite memories was spending a day with Jack in his room; he taught me how to read poetry there. We spent a few hours that afternoon, then walked over and had lunch. Jack Micheline lived across the street at The Curtis Hotel — Room #22. He died on BART not long after that day we spent in his room, reading poetry. I’m gonna try and make a trip up the coast mid-December and take some pictures before those filthy Reds seize the joint.

Allan Milkerit and I would walk around that very neighborhood during lunch break from Tall Stories. Tall Stories was the book co-op we both worked; a woman named Donna rented shelf space to anyone who wanted to sell their stock. It was a great atmosphere, and I learned a lot from Allen..but I’ve written about that already. My friend Joe, who joined Tall Stories right before its demise (and then started Valhalla Books with Allan) just sent me this David Streitfeld’s blog about Allan’s books. It’s a blog selling Allan’s books (well, not all of them) as well as describing Allan — both as a person and a bookseller. Which is probably a redundant way to describe it all. It’s a great read, so I’ll just leave it at that.

I’m home for the holidays, and I didn’t stray too far. I shoulda spent some time with my pal Mike from Big Dog Press, or Dale Dauten, or a few of my high school buddies; instead I stayed at my folks and spent time with them…and my little brother and his family, and my sister with hers. Although I did go to see my old friend Michele; she’s a long-time friend and a fellow reader and an ex-jock and now she legislates. We spent an hour or so wandering around Changing Hands, pointing out books to one another, and talking about what we have read, should have read, will someday read, or will never read. We both came to the same conclusion: if it doesn’t hold our attention out of the blocks, it gets shelved.