Tag Archives: wern-chop

Where are you Mt. Everest?

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(You get it, you get it…it’s Herzog.)

I am in my final day as Lambchop, I can feel this. And it could not come a moment too soon. I keep getting calls on this ridiculous, tiny phone from a local political organization. Lambchop apparently does not have any friends. But Lambkin, if you do come back, you should pay some money to the electric company. They really want to have it.

And now I really want to tell you all to stop reading this blog. It is my firm belief, and I say this as a dictum, that all these tools now at our disposal, these things part of of this explosive evolution of means of communication, mean we are now heading for an era of solitude. Along with this rapid growth of forms of communication at our disposal — be it fax, phone, email, internet or whatever — human solitude will increase in direct proportion.

Go outside and create some images! Where are all of our images?!

Inner Chronicle of What We Are

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(Ed. note:  To truly understand the contents of this narrative, pharm please listen with your Werner Herzog voice generator.  Still on the fritz?  Then jumpstart your inner Herzog monolog (Herzolog?) with this classic wisdom on art v. bovine nature)

I feel that Lambchop must be pleased with the outcome of this situation as I have continued to exist in this place for a second day.  In the evening I noticed there was a line drawn across a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in my cabinet, recipe so I made a point of draining it into the plants.  In my experience, mind I have learned that you should never try to control people. 

It seems strange that garbage should be collected and kept in front of the houses here like some rotten form of sculpture, barely concealing a foul and monstrous nature, making a display of that.  There is a lot of savagery to be observed in New York.  On the subway platform, I have seen a rat on the track carrying a mouse for its dinner, holding its neck in its jaws.  The mouse struggled and squeaked, but there is no escape from the reality of our fates.  You either have dinner or become it yourself.  I think I would have a burger for lunch.

Burden of Lambchop’s Dreams

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(To obtain the maximum of meaning of this text, please filter through your Werner Herzog voice generator.  If you do not have one of these for some reason, please use the slightly inferior quality of your imagination.  Here, some classic Herzog to help you get started.)

What does a Lambchop think and feel, and most importantly, what does she eat?  Not much, apparently.  There is nothing in the cupboard but a jar of unopened mayonnaise.  I am not interested in the condiment, so I do not delay in the start of the quest, to spend some days as Lambchop. 

I travel to my studio at the ends of the earth in Brooklyn.  Am I in Williamsburg or in Bushwick?  It is  difficult to say, the auto parts shops are manned only by dogs.  I arrive at my studio at 8 o’clock and this is the time of my first disappointment.  The workspace is a square measuring 60 meters.  Am I a human being creating artworks, or a mouse getting measured for its first coffin?  Also, it is quite dusty.  This is no space for adventure. 

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghosts

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It’s starting to get downright creepy around here! I called Lambchop last night, but it seems she is on vacation, so I had to speak with Wern-chop instead. Wern-chop isn’t the greatest listener, I’ll admit. S/he kept saying things like “I see planets that don’t exist and landscapes that have only been dreamed.” I asked her what she thought of these shoes I was thinking of buying, and she said “We are surrounded by worn-out images, and we deserve new ones.” Well, OK, then. So you think I look worn-out!

Then I found out that Wern-chop gets a 401(k). I don’t even have one of those. I decided that this settles it. I am launching my own ghostwriting and living services. I will be you in the ether of the internet. I will update your Facebook status, your Twitter, you Tumblr, and your Friendster, your LinkedIn, your Myspace. Your Plaxo, whatever that is.

See, I am already me in both real life and on the internet, so I have the necessary experience.

I will also answer your emails and formulate responses to the thorniest problems, both existential and otherwise. Perhaps you need a boost at work, or you need to fire a tiresome friend. I will do this and more. If anything backfires, then I will blame your ghostwriter.

Here is a sample faux life experience (this one is free!): you are on vacation. It is very exotic, and everyone is jealous at first. You have just conquered the Khyber Pass. Oh no, now there is a river! It is too deep to ford. One of your oxen has escaped and eaten a village child, and your mother has succumbed to cholera. You don’t have long yourself. I have selected the appropriate victim tribute photo for your Facebook page, and I have applied to have it memorialized.

I am so hired!