Sunday, May 30, 2010

There Is A Hesitation


Painting by Donna Zhang


there is a hesitation

there is a hesitation
before picking up
to dial the number –
a hesitation that
wavers so softly
between
steeling oneself
and bracing oneself
to fall apart
.

Yi-Ching Lin

Posted over on her site Yi's Bits on "Healthy Doses"

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Under Twelve Hours


under twelve hours

under twelve hours
there will be
nothing but
clear sky between you
and a gapless
longing
.

Yi-Ching Lin

Posted over on her site Yi's Bits on "Healthy Doses"

Saturday III


Saturday

3.
Driving alone in my '64 yellow Pinto,
at 2:30 a.m. on Highway 395, a few
minutes north of Red Mountain,
California, headed for Ridgecrest.
It was a balmy night on the high
desert, and I drove with my window
down, letting the sage and cactus
flowers fill my nostrils. The star
map over Death Valley was awesome.
It was a Sunday night. I had made this
journey numerous times recently,
since our situation dictated that my
young wife and I work in different
towns. I was the opening manager
for a restaurant in Ridgecrest.
I was flying low in the sweet darkness
and I came over the lip of a hill,
and dipped into a wide basin that
spread out ten miles from town.
There were city lights glowing
northeast of me over at the China
Lake Naval Weapons Center.
Then I saw some other lights
ahead of me that looked like a
work crew. Coming closer I noticed
two strong searchlights moving
about, illuminating some old buildings
and a railroad car on a siding.
"What kind of work crew would be
out here this time of night?". The
big lights were mounted on some
kind of large aluminum water tower
perched a hundred feet overhead.
Confused, I speeded up toward the
strange activity. At one block's
distance suddenly I could see clearly
that the oval-shaped metal object
was certainly not a water tower;
there were no stanchions under it;
just 100 feet of bare air between it
and the buildings.
"Christ, that is a UFO!"
I heard someone say in my head,
thinking why do people always
witness such things when alone on
the desert at three o'clock in the
morning? I was terrified, the flop sweat
soaking my shirt, but still I pushed
down hard on the gas pedal heading
straight toward it. Was I losing my
mind? Was I hallucinating? Was I
going to be abducted? What would
they do to me? Two hundred yards
out the distinct saucer shape was
evident, with two rows of lights
amidship, red and green, oscillating
in opposite directions. In the space
of a breath the encounter was over.
The searchlights snapped off, and in
a blink the silver craft took off from
a dead stall to out past the horizon,
disappearing in the eastern ink.
Somehow as a reflex, I had jerked
my head to the right, and was able
to visualize its warp speed travel
path clearly against the white sands
on low ridge lines under a full moon.
It made no sound at all, probably
utilizing anti-gravity propulsion.
I stopped my baby Ford and sat
idling alongside the road, shaking
like a dog crapping tacks. There I
sat for five minutes, alone in the
night, 40 miles north of Edwards
Air Force Base, and a bare 50 miles
west of Area 51, in what later I found
out is called "The Triangle". Weeks
later when I began to tell a few
people about my sighting, I could
not shake the feeling that a craft
of that size and complexity could
not have operated so close to
three military bases without their
knowledge. Twenty years later
while visiting the UFO museum at
Roswell, New Mexico, I was asked
to record the event for their permanent
archives. I was happy to comply, and
as we talked--government
conspiracy was on all our lips.

Glenn Buttkus May 2010

Saturday II


Saturday

2.
I did well in college, placing first in my
class, earning a "Highest Scholastic
Achievement" award, and I was given the
honor of leading out the graduation
procession. But the graduation ceremony
was held three weeks post final exams.
I had already started my summer job in
a machine shop. The actual night of
graduation I was deep into my new
work routine and actually forgot about
it. I drove into Seattle and had gone to
a late matinee film; Anthony Quinn in
LOST COMMAND. I called home during
intermission to let my family know where
I was and my little brother answered the
phone. Very excitedly he reminded me
of where I was supposed to be, telling me
that the college had called the house
several frantic times. I dropped the phone
and broke into a dead run, thinking
"Oh Christ, tonight there will be a police
patrol car outside, and they will stop me
and ask me what I am running from."
But I made it the two blocks to my
1955 Chevy Bel Air, and
minutes later was already on the
freeway headed south. I drove the 20
miles from downtown to my campus
in 9 minutes. Squealing into the college
parking lot, mufflers blasting, I was
met by two teachers, holding my cap
and gown. I pulled it on over my greasy
work clothes, lying about why I was
late. So on that eventful evening in
in 1966, as my mother lie dying of
cancer in the shadows of a nearby
hospital, Buttkus graduated last in
line, after Zumbrowski. I feel
embarrassed each time I open my
college yearbook, and under my picture
I read about my scholastic accolades.

Glenn Buttkus May 2010

Saturday


Saturday

1.
During the winter of my content in
1972, that inexorable joy I always felt
waiting in the red wings of the Glenn
Hughes Playhouse during one of my
performances in MACBETH,
playing the wrathful Macduff,
wearing animal skins like the
characters in Orson Welles 1948 film
version of the play, bare-chested
with a Druid cross painted on it,
blue make-up smeared in a Celtic
war mask around my eyes,
holding a ten pound broadsword
tight across my shoulder,
the yellow leather wrappings on its
hilt pressing warm against my
clenched right fist, biceps buff,
tanned and taunt, black beard short
but matching my shoulder-length
hair, held out of my face with a beaded
deerskin head band, that had long
leather strands running down my back,
with a short golden cape--my only
tribute to Elizabethan tradition; knowing
that in less than a minute I would step
into the glaring performance lights
and challenge Macbeth to a sword
fight to the death. The tall muscular
actor playing Macbeth stood down
center on the edge of the proscenium
delivering his last soliloquy. We had
choreographed a seven-minute battle
royal. Moving through the much-
practiced dance of mock death, the
steel blades rang out like bellicose
bells, shooting out showers of sparks
as they clanged solidly together.
Even though I was predetermined
victor of this struggle, still I had to
earn that moment eight times a week.

Glenn Buttkus May 2010

Friday, May 28, 2010

Julie Bell: Barbarian Spice



Julie Bell (born 1958 in Beaumont, Texas) is an American painter. A fantasy artist, she is a former bodybuilder and fantasy model for her husband, painter Boris Vallejo.


Julie Bell has painted the covers for about 100 fantasy/science fiction book and magazine covers since 1990. In the early '90s, she illustrated painted covers for video games as well as many trading cards for the superheroes of Marvel and DC. She designed the award-winning Dragons of Destiny sculpture series, Mistress of the Dragon's Realm dagger series, as well as the Temptation Rides sculpture series produced by The Franklin Mint.


During the past eight years, a bright star has been rising on the firmament of science fiction/fantasy art. In this short period, Julie Bell has established herself as a force to be reckoned with, rubbing elbows with the top luminaries of the art world. Born in Beaumont, Texas, her art studies always centered around drawing, especially of the human figure. Her unique sense of color and dramatic composition puts her paintings in a class by themselves. Her, by now, legendary "metal flesh" has the fluency of water and the hardness of steel while maintaining the sensual softness of the skin. This magical effect has become her unmistakable trademark.

Julie Bell met Boris Valejo in 1989, and later married him. She recalls: "Boris taught me the painting and the technical parts. He taught me to trust myself when I paint. You almost have to fall in love with your painting."


A former competitive bodybuilder, Julie applies the same discipline and intensity to her art career. At the heart of her art is an element of empowerment and independence.

Julie Bell met Boris Valejo in 1989, and later married him. She recalls: "Boris taught me the painting and the technical parts. He taught me to trust myself when I paint. You almost have to fall in love with your painting."
Bell and Vallejo reside in Pennsylvania. She has two sons, Anthony Palumbo and David Palumbo, both of whom are also professional painters.