the smell of wine and cheap perfume...

Seriously, folks. I get goosebumps from this one.

Afternoon Delight

I'm tired. Not sure why. Walked two miles in the bitter cold... Thought it would pick me up, a brisk walk in the sunshine, but it left me exhausted. Then I had pasta with a meat ragu... I didn't have the energy to chew the last few bites; the food coma set in quick. It's not even 6pm and about a half hour ago, I was ready for bed.
But, oh, my warm, milky friend, you rescued me. Thank you, Coffee. To crave you and then to have you is pure ecstasy.

up up - go further faster...

There are some very creative folks visiting my subway station... They are constantly improving the posters. These are two of my favorites.

why I love the internet

This is some seriously f*cking awesome footage of some dudes yodeling. The scenery is amazing, the mood is amazing. Be sure to listen for the dog...

the sweet smell of ON'D

We're working on ideas for the ON'D lifestyle. Scented candles are very popular these days. We are developing some very special scents...
THE CAPTAIN'S FARTS - A delicate bouquet of beer, Filet Mignon and green beans.




OLD MONEY - polyester, schnapps and carnations lend to the full-bodied aroma.

Tosso the doodler

Tosso likes to doodle. He doodles all over the place. He converts window envelopes into wide mouthed monsters. Every magazine cover in our place has been improved by his inking. A few years ago, his mom dug up some of his old doodles. I think that when I was bored in class, I obsessed about Duran Duran... Anyway, here are two of my favorite examples of his active imagination at work - from way back when.

life goes on: a confession

For the last few days, I have found myself trying to wrap my brain around what is happening in Haiti. When disaster strikes, if it isn't in your back yard, it is easy to ignore, and frankly, it is hard to function on a daily basis if you really allow yourself to feel the weight of it all. On September 11th, the September 11th, I was in Paris. I lived in Brooklyn at the time, as I still do, but was in the French countryside for a wedding and was finishing up my visit with a quick stop in Paris. I didn't find out about the attacks until the morning of the 12th. I don't know how I missed it, but I was on vacation, busy enjoying myself and cloaked in blissful ignorance. When I got back to my hotel on the night of the 11th, I saw people huddled around the TV in the lobby and I thought, what silly folks for watching TV when they are visiting Paris. On the morning of the 12th, my mother in law knocked on our hotel room door. "New York was bombed." She was confused and upset so the message came out all wrong. We turned on the TV and watch the planes hit the towers over and over and over again.
I remember the day I spent in Paris, after I found out about what had happened, after my reality shifted. My body was possessed by it. But those Parisians seemed to go on with life as usual. I mean, people were talking about it, but things didn't seem different. I longed to be home with my friends. I longed to be with people who felt how I felt. We couldn't get back to NYC for over a week. The planes into the city were backed up. We spent a night at a hotel outside of the airport in Paris. It was in a strange little village. The pillowcases had black spots on them and a mildewy smell. The people at the reception desk were rude. We went to a mediocre restaurant, the only place to find food in the village, and took an after dinner stroll on the little cobblestone streets. There was this tree in the middle of the village that was absolutely filled, packed, with birds, all shrieking in unison. A pair of white panties lay on the ground under the tree and there was bird shit everywhere. It was absolutely creepy and we rushed back to our smelly hotel room. We were able to fly to Germany the next day to be with my in-laws. We found comfort in the company of family and old friends. I made a Rosh Hashanah dinner for my German in-laws. I have fond memories of that time, although I was filled with the most intense longing to be home.
I remember reading about the earthquake in Haiti a few days ago. But I didn't pause. I just continued with whatever I was doing. Slowly over the course of the week, it is starting to sink in. I am trying to digest it, let it under my skin. But it hurts too much. So I head back to life as usual... I go out to hear Cuban music and I dance. I love to dance. To be locked arm in arm with someone and be supported in movement and motion is a high - a totally addictive high. In those moments, I do not think about anything. I am in the moment and I am happy.
I remember when my dad died. I was 24 years old. The pain was tremendous and I had never experienced anything like it before. The night before he died, I wanted to call him, something told me to, but I was busy and kept saying that I would call in five minutes. I never called. At two in the morning, I checked my email and there was a note from him. He died a few hours later. Why didn't I fucking call? I remember after the funeral, I was sitting around and laughing with old friends and family. I couldn't believe it, and I was self-conscious at first, but that was when I learned that I was capable of laughing and I knew that the soul was capable of healing itself and I would be able to be happy again.
So here I sit in my apartment in Brooklyn, reflecting on my life, trying to understand what is going on in Haiti. It just hurts too fucking much. There is pain all around us every day. When you pass someone on the street, you don't know what is going on inside their head, inside their body. We go on with our lives as people suffer pain we will never know and we also go on with our lives as we suffer tremendous pain. I am not trying to compare my father's death or September 11th with what is happening now in Haiti. But I can only measure grief with my own ruler of experience.
I will repeat now the lesson I learned when my father died. Suck the marrow out of life. Live your life. Love and be loved. Fuck it. Go for it. You only live once, so you might as well dance.

oh no they didn't...

Sometimes the Germans are so silly. Seriously? Hope - the Obama musical? Yes, they can. Yes, they did.

Mr. Brown

I have known Curtis Brown for close to twenty years. He is one of my favorite people. For reals. He is super smart, really sweet and funny. He doesn't take himself too seriously. He can make me feel so special - you know, the rare type that just makes you feel really good when you are around them, like a happy pill. I am lucky to know him.
Over a decade ago, Curtis introduced me to Otis N' Dwayne. A few years later, he introduced me to Dylan, his childhood BFF, Captain and co-creator of ON'D. Curtis is truly the gift that keeps on giving.
I have been gathering Bios for our website, press kit, etc. and after only a half a year or so of begging, Mr. Brown delivered. I am not going to make you wait that long. Here it is:
Curtis Brown is a Cambridge-based crank, college professor, and literary manqué.    He was educated at Berkeley and Harvard.  He has written feature articles for Bidoun Magazine, the Beirut Daily Star, and the Harvard Crimson; and his countless irritable letters to the editor have appeared in the New York Times, the International Herald Tribune, the London Review of Books, the Los Angeles Times, the Boston Globe, and the San Francisco Chronicle.   He has taught literature at Berkeley, Harvard, Stonehill College, and Haigazian University in Beirut, Lebanon.  His former students include Natalie Portman, and Graham Sack, the human child lead in Dunston Checks In. 
Brown’s creative collaborations with Dylan O’Neil date back to 1985, when they were thirteen.   Otis ‘n Dwayne was written on the porch, on the toilet, and in the shower of the Oakland squat the two of them shared in the late ‘90s. 

The Notorious Jerry D.

Mr. Patrick Hume was kind enough to send us a few words. He plays the amazing Jerry D.
"Born in the Atlas mountain ranges of Tunisia many years ago my life began. And after 10 years of climbing those mountains I moved to the Sahara desert where I became a sand muse performer for all the mirages and people I met along the way. One day I came across a Filmmaker in search of an actor for one very special role in his epic journey of discovery. That filmmaker was Dylan O'Neil, that actor was me, the role was the one and only Jerry D. My dick as my head, my head as my dick and a close call with a gallon of melted vanilla ice cream that was to represent the sperm of man, I survived to tell the tale of "Otis and Dwayne". Enjoy the film and when it hits the theatres of Tunisia, I will be a guest speaker so please join me, it's a wonderful place."

quiet earth

Here's what Quite Earth has to say about ON'D:

Troma meets Harmony Korine in gay android adventure OTIS N' DWAYNE

I don't know how I've missed this, but this retro looking gem seems to have been languishing for a year now. Why? Hopefully we'll find out soon. It's loaded with inappropriate sex and I'm not exactly sure there's much of a narrative, but the trailer is definitely worth a look.

hell yes