BlackNotBlack.com

A Torso from the Past

Authoring a blog has had unintended consequences and benefits, both of which manifested last week. First, some octopoidal American corporate entity tried to track down Ari by using BlackNotBlack. They called the phone number of the Tony Brown Gallery in the link at right looking for him. Which just goes to show that nobody can be bothered to read anymore, because if they had perused even one or two postings, they would have known that Ari is not at the Tony Brown Gallery, nor even in the United States. Note to octopoidal American corporate entity: Ari lives very far away, but you’ll have to read to find out where.

I assumed that was the end of people using the blog as a homing device, but then, just a few days later, my old friend Bryon found the blog and dropped me a query. I haven’t heard from him for years, but as you can see from the above photo of his redecorated torso, we had some good times together, though I think we would both agree, neither of us remember them. But that’s the great benefit of people arriving back in your life after an absence—it’s an excuse remind each other of the stunts you pulled.

I should explain that when the gory shot above was snapped we were pretty sure we were going to be rock stars, and in fact, we had already attained a measure of success—if success can be measured by two CDs, several tours, gigs at places like CBGB and the Cabaret Metro, a management deal, and some support slots for a number of internationally famous bands. Around that time Bryon and I also launched a magazine together—the one on whose cover we put Bjork—so he was especially thrilled that I saw her in Iceland.

Anyway, Bryon and I had our rock star fantasy and milked it pretty much dry, and they were interesting times, but I never name-drop or discuss those events in detail because the end of that era was the beginning of the best and most adventurous time of my life. I mean, if you’d told me on the day we called it quits as a band that I’d soon smuggle coatimundi in the Caribbean, take part in the runtur in Reykjavik, and see violently dispatched corpses in Guatemala, I’d have asked for a rail of whatever you were snorting. And because the future always seems to hold so much promise for more thrills, I habitually resist fetishising past antics (this blog notwithstanding).

But hearing from Bryon has made me reconsider my stance, because it stirred up the silt at the murky bottom of my memory and some remarkable items floated to daylight. So expect some gonzo posts in the upcoming months. I mean, what’s the point of good stories if you don’t share them, right? If people don’t want to hear them they don’t have to read the blog. Oh wait—I already have no readers. Almost forgot. In any case, Bryon figures in a number of good tales and I think I have permission to share. Boy, is he going to regret it.

Labels: coatimundi, guatemala, runtur

posted by Egan Ehlers @ 10:02 AM