the history of inspiration

mark kostabi


alas a mess story

shiver the star does
when it runs out of
gases like a car wounded
in traffic or a puppy
mangled for a life
time buy some protection
four in a row died tragic
folks died two leaving
nothing but hopelessness
behind which i suppose that
is something being that it
is a being that is very much
wanting and wading through
to get to the top of the
bottom of the misery it
has known nothingness
cradled forever buy a strong
force field a pungent odor
permeating the post you know
when that day that was long
ago witch one they were all
bad very few good ones in
the mean time being overly
appreciated for their own
reluctance breathing deeper but
not better chocking on the vomit
that came from the vomitorium
i grew up in a world of mercy
now I'll die in a world of despair
disappear i hope i do when the
load is heavy and fear is the least
of our worries get in line the lions
are hungry waiting to chomp at
the bit drill bit cutting holes in
the atmosphere will let the air
out and the space in clambering
colorlessly for nothingness
again caged in by the cataclysmic
results of a reluctant pursuit of
probably daydreams focusing on
being paranoid instead of pride
void of voice and misconstruing
meandering meagerly for a moment
the momentum is slowing as we
are growing older some wiser
some shrinking thinking not much
left too rot like the sandwich you
got and didn't like spit it out
for the ants extra change feeling
your pants gets you there but
not home i have no home rome
when in doubt it's cold remedy is
close figuring for the most least
you could do is be aware settle down
somewhere not there anywhere but
there closing in on the mark
missing it buy a mile for litters
sake make it your row front
row were it is loudest you can
get spit on like the side walk
in the place you like the least


my stolen guitar in the background..i miss you little buddy...

exiting that show

picture of a picture of one of my paintings from the aforementioned show...the middle is fabric..then they let me paint behind it on the wall...

picture of a picture of me taking a picture of one of my shows

picture of a picture of a painting

simple already simplified

all roads lead somewhere

woodsong...a sculpture


where the gas tank went...



that is me working on a gastank of a 1970 firebird...

all of these drawings...stolen

various variety

sold to a dear friend

similar thoughts

not sure what i was thinking

more seperation


seperation of color and thoughts


the end

walk on

personal thoughts


my apt. no longer

not stolen



made in canada stolen in america

dog on art

gross miss story


gram...keith and anita at joshua tree...

fallen angel

It was 1971, and the Rolling Stones were "exiled" in the south of France,busy with recording songs that would eventually be released as "Exile on Main Street," arguably their best album. During that long summer, the on again/off again recording sessions combined with the relaxed atmosphere,drugs and alcohol, and hangers on, to create a potentially explosive atmosphere. Fortunately, the explosions were kept to the creative kind, andwith the release of "Exile" in 1972 the Rolling Stones reached their creative peak. One of the many hangers-on that summer was Gram Parsons, who would one day be hailed as the "founder" of country-rock. However, in 1971, Parsons was anything but the legend he would become: musically adrift after quitting theFlying Burrito Brothers, and indifferent to his talent, living off a trustfund and dreams, frying his mind on a variety of drugs, Parsons easily slipped into the Rolling Stones cocaine fueled trashed jet set lifestyle.Parsons had met the band on their 1969 American tour, and became fast friends with country music fan and fellow-imbider of high quality drugs,guitarist Keith Richards. Upon Richards invitation, and despite Mick Jagger's evident distaste of him, Parsons jetted to France and set up house in Richard's rented sea-side mansion. Until recently, only a few photos andrumors of guest vocals survived to document this meeting on two musical minds. But the recent finding of a cassette tape among the archives of the late Peter Quentin-Quisp, an Austrailian journalist, sheds much light on this much speculated upon era. An edited transcription follows.August 28th, 1971, late afternoon.KR: (singing and playing guitar) "She's a devil in disguise....telling dirty lies.....what's the next line, then?"GP: "Hell if I know, man. Like I wrote that piece of shit. Are you hungry?Let's get some more of that killer shrimp."KR: "Sure, why not? Hey, Anita, dahlin; why don't you run down to the market for us? Here's a fiver."GP: "My oh my, you are one fine lady, Miss Anita. I sho would appreciate it if you could get some beer, too, ma'am, if you could find it in your beautiful heart to do so. (Anita leaves the room, muttering "fuckin assholes")"Ah, that ol southern charm. It works everytime! She sho do have some pretty eyes, tho. I could write a song about those eyes."KR: "Mind yeself, mate, and pass that joint over ere!"GP: "Sure, man, be cool, be cool!" Let's see that guitar!" (sounds of a guitar, slightly out of tune)GP: "Anita.....Aneeeta....I neeed ya.....to buy some beer and bring it here...." Aw fuck it. Hey man, you ever hear that George Jones song "White Lighting? We should cover that one when we record our album, man! GeorgeJones: the king of broken hearts....KR: "aw Christ, ya ain't gonna start bawling again, are ya? (listens to GP fumbling through the song) Naw, mate, it's in A....that's right. Next chord is D. Give me the geetar, man." I needs to play some blueeeessss.!"MJ (entering room): "Oh, I thought I'd find you here Keef, ya flash cunt bastard! (sees GP) Oh, you're here, too, of course. Working on a country song are ya? Lovely, just lovely.GP: "Oh hey ya, Mike."MJ: "It's Mick!"GP: "Whatever." (GP and KR burst out laughing)MJ: "We do have a vocal session scheduled that you are supposed to be at,you know. Suppose you might button up your trousers and come on down, or doI need to leave a trail of joints to lure you on down. No, wait, that buggerwould eat em all up like shrimp first!" KR: "He said "shrimp!" (he and GP start laughing again)MJ: "That does it, I'm going to the picture show with Charlie!"KR: "Is he gone yet?"GP: "Man, that cat needs to mellow out and get high on some cosmic country,you know? Maybe I should get him and Hillman together and....."KR: "See which stick is farther up the bum!" (Laughter...)GP: "Where the hell is the beautiful lady with the shrimp? (sings) Angie.....Angie...KR: "Anita, mate!GP: "Hey that's cool. I need a mate too!" (laughter) End of transcript.

wishful thinking




well well...my art show was a good time. i hope those of you that made it had a good time as well. sorry i missed a few of you(minusworld/sugarpants) i must have been up stairs in the party room or something. anyway bill santen played a wonderful set and showed some of his kick ass paintings. ben allen blasted some art rock. my whole soundtrack thing wasn't what i expected. it played but i'm not sure if anyone heard it. o well the hair police made a brief but memorable appearance. i sold a few things which leads me to the next story. so i was going to leave town on sunday, but i ended up sleeping all day. then on monday i packed up most of my shit in my car. then brian got home and we hung out...then decided to go see this pretty girl sing at high on rose. when we got back to the icehouse we saw someone walking away. brian said "he just broke into someone's car." he was right...it was my car! they tore the shit out of my dash getting out my old ass won't even play burned cds cd player. they also got my danelectro guitar. that is not the worst of it. they stole every drawing i had(nearly 100)...even the one i did of myself in the second grade. all of it was in a rigid brand vacuum box....i would have loved to have seen the look on those cockfuckers faces when they opened the box and realized it wasn't a vacuum...but .... i would say at least half of the art i have ever done in my life....so i have cried and slept through the past couple of days...all the time wondering what it was that i did to deserve this...my aunt says shit happens..she is right. i guess i needed to weed out my art collection and i could also use a new cd player. i have an acoustic gibson(i would have probably jumped off the gotyam roof if that one was stolen) o i forgot they also got all of my cds..maybe 200 or more...probably a bunch of shit they will not even know what it is....i think that is all ..it's making me sick to write about it so i'm stopping now...if you ever go to the icehouse....make sure you don't have anything in your car....detach your cd players...so goodbye to my drawings...i still have all of my paintings which is good....i'm out about $1000.00...i'm going back to sleep... good thing is we got there in time...before they stole my laptop..amp...digital camera...dad's cellphone...my insulin...