Creighton Galleries

oil paintings


the other side of grace?

Replythings i have been connected to but still don't understand...

as a young person and all out of place wherever i was and at school and the weekly drawing of some piece of pious shit in class put my scrap of paper into the basket and realized i could be clever if my name was drawn by scribbling a jerky celebratory soon as i did this thing, my name was drawn, i did it twice more and each time my name was drawn...

next time i didn't and didn't....i hope that fucking nun was paying attention




back in brooklyn i came across a damaged monarch butterfly so i screened in a fruit crate [to keep my cats away] and gave it water and pollen and flowers and everyday i would put a pencil in there and it would hop on and i would move the pencil up and down and the butterfly would open and close it's wings with the movement..[i have photos of this].

and one day it flew off


why i am no longer a buddhist

why i am no longer a buddhist......

a few decades ago i was completely snowed in and knew it would be awhile till i wasn't, and i had a toothache..

i was used to 'roughing it' in those days, and fixing what went wrong, if it was the tractor or the storm, the local politics or god almighty..

so this toothache...damn!

after the second day i decided to do something about it, and what i did was tie a string around my tooth and attach it to this buddha head i had carved out of a block of sandstone and pull the tooth....


the string i used was not strong enough and when i dropped buddha the string broke but not before it magnified the pain tenfold.....

desperate and insane, i found a heftier cord and repeated the procedure....

the cord did not break this time, but the tooth stayed put....what happened was that my head jerked forward and smacked itself into the bureau i was in front of and knocked me out for a short while...

i hope buddha is doing fine, but he won't be getting a card on his birthday


russell studivan....

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had a feeling i would make him famous as well he should i will tell stories about him as i remember them, but first an introduction to russell...
he was a logger in nova scotia and when he got into his late 60's and the camp moved on he stayed .

he had a little place way back in the woods sided in aluminum press plates from the local newspaper...

no electric or anything you might imagine.

this is the story of when i met him....

it had been storming but warm for a december in canada...thunder and lightning....

a bear came into his place and took russels bread was in a glass jar..russ was there and took it in stride but the bear came back after a bit and was threatening
this time.......

in his words.

i looked at him and he looked at me an i guess we didn't like what we i shot him'

with a .410 single shot that he had behind the stove and had to get around the bear to even reach...touched it behind the ear and pulled the trigger

two romances in chinatown

once waiting for someone to come out of bank near canal street and standing outside watching people go by and a girl huddled her coat around her crossing 7th ave, and a button flew off, she did not notice at the time. i went out into the traffic and picked it up and went to find her..

a block or two later i saw her again after she had noticed and was looking.we met in mid street and i handed it to her a quick glance and we were gone but not forever.

chinese new year and i worked around there loved the festival and the dragon dance but it's all crazy people throwing fireworks right at you..

and a pack of firecrackers went right at me and this chinese woman and we ducked into each other in a doorway our faces close and our bodies closer as the demons were scared away till next year and again the instant was even more.

the end

and it had been feeling like the end for awhile so like everything else that sneaks up the end became less than the sum of it's parts....

it was late on a snowy night and a major storm had been predicted, larry and i were working on a job for my then wife about 20 miles from my house.  after work we went to a tavern to see what the night would be like. this was in truro, nova scotia.

larrys wife was leaving him for an environmental terrorist part of a collective called 'fish or cut bait'. my wife was hearing voices from the 'spirit guides'

so we were at this tavern and everyone in town was there too, something about an end of the world storm in canada makes people gather in taverns.

i met some people and was having a nice time with them and was invited back to there place for however many days it might take to be anywhere else..and i liked them.

larry got into shit with some people a woman threw a beer in his face he dumped a pitcher on her head and got thrown out i did not care.

soon i got messages from larry huddled up in the car and cold where was i...the waiters would bring them to me i did not care

the night went on so did his messages and finally i knew i had to get him somewhere...i drove through the storm on a road that was not there.

fish tailled off the highway so as to bury the car in a drift so the plow could open the road whenever. and we began to walk the mile or so to my house..

when it snows like a motherfucker and it's the middle of the night it is darker than you can imagine and the snow already past your knees and the road is the same as the sky as the four foot ditch you walk across and not see or feel...

he is cold i give him my coat.we are lost

he wants to stop and hole up under a spruce till morning i do not we argue..i am starting to resent him..

he can do that but i will not i know if we keep the woods to our right sooner or later we will re cross the adds miles to the way but we do.....

we cross stone walls without even noticing them buried if you fall you can't even get back up by now the snow is so deep.

i recall having the shit scared out of me but letting it be as a matter of course, pants down momentarily.

hours later we come across the road again only knowing by tripping over a telephone post sticking up...just getting to the house is left and we do and my wife has locked the door which i will break down only cant..

one of the kids hears the noise and opens up the warm and light.

the next day i notice that among other things i lost that night was the heel of one of my boots....for the hell of it i looked but

ride with pride

was late for work today, so instead of driving over the mountain and along the ridge,i took the most direct route and decided to go through town and on the highway.

when i got to where my road met the highway there were a number of bikes roaring by, so i waited..and waited...HUNDREDS of bikes went by, as far back up the highway i could see there were more bikes, mostly harleys but there were crotch rockets, and older bikes of every kind, choppers too. so i tried to enjoy the show....there were bikers that even had their dogs on the seat, and of course the girls with their pretty asses jigglin as they held on.

five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen and i was getting steamed, and there were a line of cars in back of me. it was obvious the town cops were givin the riders the right of way. and still as i looked up the road there was no end to the bikes....

turned out to be an annual ride for some memorial and charity

i edged closer to the highway and as soon as there was the smallest gap, i darted into the breech..

so there i was

as we got closer to town there were dozens of people on the sidewalks watching and waving, and here i came in my beater of a ford taurus STATION WAGON, steering with my knees and waving out both front windows like the fkn pope.....jaws dropped, but some people doubled up howling with laughter.

i was almost sorry when they turned left and i went right.but

made my day


y'know what i hate, man?
like when you are runnin' late for work and you just got out of the shower y'know and like you wanna put your clean socks on but like if your feet are still a little damp and the socks like drag on your feet and just don't slide on, right?. so, like you push and pull and maybe bunch them up so only the toe part is open, but you get them on and the bent part by the heel is like sideways and you say 'fk' cause you don't even have enough time to say the whole word, y'know and then you're even later. then everybody on the road is like drivin at the speed limit or slower and your sock still doesn't feel right and all the lights are red anyway

so you finally get there eh? and as you pull into your parking space, like a pick-up truck full of iranians or maybe albanians all smokin' cigarettes pulls into the next space so close like you can't even open your f'n door so you quick back out right into a shopping cart that someone just left in back of your car and it shoots back and hits this beemer broadside an it's full of probably lawers and they claim their gonna need a new paint job at least and you hafta give your insurance info which they hafta read in like triplicate.

so you finally punch in and get a vending machine coffe only instead of caffe lait which you ordered it gives you mocha berry !

so,i like HATE vending machines!! >:(