Saturday, October 8, 2011

Home away from home

Here is my lavish studio, please note the three and a quarter walls, that's right looks like a certain institution (Cornish College of the Arts) has faith in a certain student (not me, I'm not sure what her name is but I think she might be a junior, or maybe a very advanced sophomore. But anyway I've heard a lot about her I think she's from back east and has six brothers, and it's just a rumor but I heard one of the brothers is friends with one of the girls from Heart. But anyway she does these incredible painting that are not visible unless you eat a huge spaghetti dinner, buy 6 $0.20 stamps and watch a hour and 6 minutes of a romantic comedy, while holding a thimble full of sodium nitrate. Now I know, I know it's been done, but her craftsmanship is breath taking). 

It was really Important to me that the walls be painted eggshell white, it's just so much softer which allows me to access a more vulnerable state so that I may approach my work the way a snap dragon might from a terrace on a crisp spring morning near Rue De Menilmontant.  the floor is actually a painting by Vermeer called "View of Delft" of course I have repainted it to look like a concrete floor, I wanted the floor to inspire me but the landscape was distracting.  

My trademark solid gold stool and easel were generously donated by my long time patron and employer the good lady Sparks. I can so clearly remember the first time I and the lady met. It was a sweltering mid February day, the birds were dirging and the exhaust smelt of nickels and fresh bread. I was a young street tough just come to America from the state of Ohio. I had nothing but a quarter of the shirt on my back (Shirts during this time were often bought in installments with a 16% APR plus interest). I was able to make ends meet by signing up for various underground bare-knuckle knitting competitions. It was here that the lady Sparks found me. The lady Sparks frustrated by her monotonous life of luxury and ridiculously slow wifi speeds (we're talking 12Mbps) decided to disguise herself and sneak into town. Not understanding the currency system she took an apple from a cart with out paying. The cart clerk grabbed her and was going to cut her hands off, but just then me and my pet monkey Abu swung in and saved her. With her hanging on we swung from tree to tree until we made it back to my tree house. Inside the tree house we got in my row boat and peacefully rowed through a lagoon while the animals around us sang "Go on and kiss the girl" but just before we were going to kiss the hyenas killed scar. The next day was the day that changed everything, I had made it to the finals and it was going to be the knit of a lifetime. The good lady Sparks urged me not to knit, just to walk away but I told her "No this is something I have to do, to prove to Fisher Stevens (Actor who played Ben Jabituya in the "Short Circuit" movies)  that I am a man." But I was no match for Granny Pennyfeather, and her cross stockinette stitched poncho. I spent months in a comma. When finally I woke with a sneeze and shouted "French toast!", I promised my lady I would never knit again, "instead I will paint so the world will know, and the journal too, mister Hearst and Pulitzer, have we got news for you. Now the world will hear, what we got to say, we been hawking headlines, but we're make'n em today!". Then she said she would buy me the Stool and easel if I stopped singing songs from the "Newsies".  

The red chair was on a stack of chairs down the hall, it used to have a piece of duct tape on it but I took that off.

....probably shouldn't have ended with the chair.

Friday, July 1, 2011


P.S. I want the world to know how incredibly difficult it was to post this, we have cars that drive them selves, you can turn off your oven with your cell phone, but god forbid you try to post a long jpg.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I Really Shouldn't Be Proud Of This But...

This is a reply I wrote for my friend Neil's blog post....

well I don't know about all that. I am a very busy man and don't really have the time to read blogs like these, but I had my assistant give me the gist of it and I must strongly disagree (because I never do anything weakly)...

I mean what's wrong with orphans flying kites in the rain? they don't have parents for god sakes they should be able to fly a kites in what every situation they want, in the rain, in the snow, at the bottom of the sea, where ever. These kids have led very challenging lives and what ever twisted act of anti-social behavior gives them a glimmer of light in their' hopelessly pointless lives is more than acceptable in my book (the Exorcist). Further more as a being capable of reproduction I would actually prefer rainy days being specifically for orphan kite flying. I don't like the thought of one of my own unwanted children sharing a park, or mountain field with a brunch of orphans. Because really, who can enjoy kite flying with that around? I mean have you ever watched an orphan fly a kite? They don't smile they don't run or laugh, they don't even look up at the kite, they just hold the sting and stand in place and look at their' shoes. I once saw one, her kite wasn't even in the air. Instead it lay on the ground a just a few feet anyway from her. Sometimes catching little gusts of wind that would lift a corner just enough to give the slightest bit of hope that it might take off and sore high above the threes, and be lifted to a place free from the horrors of this world. Free from gruel, free from scrubbing floor, free from neglect, and free from group toilets. But alas, the corner would dip and the despondent girl, standing so still it was as though her legs were as broken as her heart, string still in hand, let out the slightest sigh, barely visible to the naked eye followed by the gentle rhythm of silent sobbing. Depressing, is this special brand of kite agony something I want my little punishments from God exposed to? No, because it would be my job as a broken spirited absentee parent to protect them from real life. So in summation you are a monster everything you think is wrong, and you should get on your knees and thank me for this brief exposure to my genius.

Brad Taylor (dictated but not read)

Sunday, October 10, 2010


As the prophets foretold I have returned for yet another installment of Brad Taylor Man Of Action!!! First off I feel an apology is in order, I understand that it has been far too long since the last time I posted and am surprised there hasn't been more rioting in the streets over it (people your not trying hard enough).

September we hardly knew thee, and good riddance. Seriously, September we are not on speaking terms, lets just see how the rest of the year goes and maybe I'll call you in 12 months but don't hold your breath. Much has changed in the stunning Broadway production that is my life this past month, everything at once in fact. Most importantly school has started, school being most important of course because I am always there. Up here visual problems wear knuckle dusters, and steel toed shoes. But I digress, I also started my new job at the school I love it I am the gate keeper, proud, strong, all powerful... well that might be a little over exaggerated basically I'm the door greeter for the registration office. pretty underwhelming right... wrong I have a desk and a computer, of course it's a PC but it's under the desk so people can't see it, so i just imitate Mac sounds while I help people.

But I fear the stress of school is starting to weigh in on me. for you see the college I am attending is a college that Brendan Fraser Graduated from. and the stress of school has taken his form in my dreams. the other night I dreamt that he started crashing at our apartment and Began demanding things until all my time was consumed serving him, for which he was ungrateful. In fact he proved to be such a disagreeable house guest me and Libby asked him to leave, he laughed at us turned on the TV and sat on our couch. But I have heard that this is not typical of the real Brendan Fraser.

Most my time out of school is spent at my desk at home working on school things. At times I fear that I'm going mad but then I get a quick vote of confidence from my giant roller skating pet rainbow trout with Beene Crosby's head and I'm ready to keep at it (he's got a lot of really great advise, at least when he hasn't been drinking; but you know what they say about fish). Well I think that will be all for now I'll try to keep this thing going better I must of forgot to feed the elves that usually write this, I mean it's been days since they cobbled anything and there's a funny smell in the hall closet.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

It Begins!

Welcome to the first chronicling of the exploits of Brad Taylor Man of Action, Action, Action. Our story begins on the mean streets of Seattle, were I have just made a sandwich. I have been in the city for about two weeks now and though times are hard and adjustments have to be made I’m already learning the ins and outs of city life. For example when I first got here I tried hunting hobo (a key source of protein in the city) by tying a bag of Doritos to the end of a string. But for whatever reason I just couldn’t get any of them to bite. Maybe it was because I got ranch Doritos (the hobo has a more sophisticated pallet), or maybe the string wasn’t long enough (four inches might not be enough distance from the bate). Emaciated and frustrated, I decided to observe my prey, you know, get to know them. And after a few days I changed out the Doritos for malt liquor and I am fishing with dynamite.

Looking for apartments proved more difficult than anticipated as well. First I used a primal approach, the tried and true “mark your territory” method, this method is problematic and not recommended. Next I designed a flag and proceeded to plant my flag in the living rooms of places I wished to live. This method resulted mostly in confusion and ultimately proved ineffective and not recommended. Strung out and desperate I answered an add on Craig’s list and found a lovely one bedroom apartment with lots of closet space, good sized kitchen, and a little dinning area; which I later marked and planted my flag in.

The job search is next I have an interview tomorrow and another one pending. I submitted a large number of different resumes and intend to interview several time for the same position using disguises and an assortment of assumed names. Will they hire Esteban Guzman the Latin dance instructor, or Arcangelo Mancini the Italian Latin dance instructor, or Adolf Fenstermacher the German Latin dance instructor, or might they hire Brad Taylor man of action?