dayton is not in ohio

I nearly killed my computer. I’ve been wanting to put up a post about my recent show in NJ, my trip to the East coast in general, and a salute to a great year and a tough post-season for the Phillies… This would be happening, but I have inadvertently scrambled my computer’s brain and have very little control over it right now. If you want to read a little on the show you can go here.

What happened? Glad you asked. I changed a setting to not allow my computer to go to sleep when it was unplugged. It was supposed to be temporary but I forgot to change it back. So I closed it, put it away, and then left for 9 hours. The poor computer was just sitting there in NYC, wide awake, suffocating in my backpack. It wasn’t until 16 hours after I put it away that I took it out. I thought it was dead. I plugged it in and it started but everything was messed up; Lack of oxygen to the brain… no email, no calendar, no address book, no bookmarks.

I drove back to Chicago with the thing asleep in the back, not sure if it was gonna make it. I spent about six hours on the phone today with Apple support and finally, thanks to the great technicians Leo and Andrew, have all of my essentials back up. It’s gonna live, but my computer is still very, very confused and it may take some more surgery… I promise to update with pictures and stuff (about real life) when we get rolling again.

First, about the show in New Jersey. I have a few tickets left for the opening of the fall-winter exhibitions at Grounds for Sculpture/International Sculpture Center, in Hamilton, NJ. This is close to Philly and Princeton. A nice trip for committed New Yorkers. I have one piece in a show of student work… I think it should be a good show. I know there is a Virginia Commonwealth University student in there and sculpture at VCU rawks pretty hard at sculpturing.

The opening is Saturday, October 6, 2 - 6pm. I have no idea what to do at a four-hour opening. I have no idea what to do at openings regardless. The opening is not public, so if you want to go you must have one of my invitations. If you want one, email me your address and I’ll send it out: mail (at) daytonc (dot) com… You also have to RSVP, and the ticket is good for you and a guest. It’s officially dubbed a “private cocktail reception” and I’m not positive what that means, but I think it entails free drinks, and guilt if you don’t tip the bartender. I know, because I went to something like this for Tim Hawkinson in L.A. It was fun, and I’m still guilty. Seriously, any of you that are given to leaving comments on my blog that know anything about this (Who’s had a museum opening? Ben? Rob?) please tell me what to wear, and where I can buy it.

School is great, but the Castlemans in Illinois are a very busy family. This is why I have neglected the blog.

Anna goes to preschool twice a week at our church. Karen teaches college and other stuff. I go to grad school. Anna’s actually in grad school as well, and currently working on a series of acrylic paintings on paper pilfered daily from, you guessed it, Felix Gonzalez Torres. They’re really fantastic and she’s already gotten an offer for a trade. I’m ‘corking’ baseball bats with steel and Vaseline and crushed fluorescent (ha! I spelled that right the first try!) bulbs and felt and other stuff… Nine bats total, completely indistinguishable except for their weight… labels with what they happen to be corked with and hanging on a custom made steel bat rack. Title: If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.

I just had the idea to wear a custom made “I made Richard Serra cry” T-shirt to the Jersey opening…

Finally, check out this video about Susan Hagen’s installation at Eastern State Pen on the Philly Artblog. Roberta and Libby mention my installation at Eastern State in passing. They crack me up. They also keep us ex-patriots in touch with what’s happening in the Ill-adelph. That last word was very Rubens-like. Wow.

Phillies lost 12 - 0 tonight.

66 degrees and clear in Chicago.

Sorry for no pictures.

Goodnight.

The closest I ever got to seeing the kinds of indie rock bands that are the regular fare of Rob Matthews and many of my other Philadelphia friends, was a little bar/club located in a double-wide trailer in a borderline bad part of Jackson, Mississippi called W.C. Don’s. This place was small, hot and dark, but it was one of the places I ended up occasionally my freshman year of college (1993). Over the years many, many unknown bands played there, and I’m sorry to say that I missed such unknowns as REM, Widespread Panic and the Flaming Lips, as mentioned in the linked article below. I did see Galactic, a New Orleans based jam band that ended up becoming much more well known. I think the cover was $3. The other draw was that they accepted school IDs as proof of age. My fake one said I was 21, and it’s hard to believe that anyone bought it (my age, not the ID… the ID was perfect…) because at age 18 I looked about 15.

Don’s came back to me recently because The Spares, folk-country-americana band of our pastor’s wife, played there on a recent tour swing through God’s country. She said it was the worst show of all time, and hates Jackson. Now she certainly should know better that to judge a city by it’s most seedy rock club, but having been put on a double bill with a hardcore band probably didn’t help her impression. You should check out the Spares, Jacksonites, buy a CD and maybe she’ll feel better about the town.

Anyway, that little reminiscence is just a lead in to saying that, perhaps as an act of divine judgment, W.C. Don’s is closing forever. Here’s an article about it.

But as Chesterton says, “If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing….” you know the rest. I’m… I’m, just. I’m speechless. Why do I torture myself.

There are only two reasons why any Philadelphia Philly batter would be the final batter in a ball game. One, you hit a walk-off __________ (home-run, single, anything…) or two, you get the last out.

The same is true in the All-Star game. The same is WORSE in the All-Star game - uh, oh… did I give it away, Aaron Rowand. Oh! Uh.. sorry Aaron, that… that you put a final end to the National League rally…

It’s not your fault. It’s Tony LaRussa’s fault. Two words: A-L-B-E-R-T. P-U-J-O-L-S.

I’m not proud of the fact that I don’t care about those readers who have no idea what I’m talking about. Right now, I don’t care.

It’s worth doing badly.

Picture of a storefront church about a mile from our house. Not sure the denomination… maybe Jay-Z is the pastor?

…the freedom to buy 50-cent soft-serve from the Swedish, I guess.

I, like the person that sent this to me, really want to believe that this was delivered tongue-in-cheek. Sadly, I’m not so sure. However it doesn’t seem too far removed from some of the actual ‘research’ conducted around this highly politicized, pseudo-scientific debate.