dod

I have a foul mouth and a twisted sense of humidor. The sixth Lord Byron, George Gordon, was a poet like myself, the sixteenth. I have studied fart ormally and informally. I graduated from the Sawbone T-Bone Diner in Redneck, NJ, with a degree in philosophy.

I was a gypsy bartering jewelry boxes fashioned from tongue depressors. I have been in my bedroom South of Market huffing paint fumes and the blood of princess mosquitoes. I motored away in a van with four smelly dudes playing rock for forty years. From my fingers and toes I am used to be squirting out paintings, found object assemblage, dada installations, and collage at my stratosphere studio in San Francisco, Alabama.

p. s. i also like to fight, fuck, and smoke my friends' skin.