Kids Today

Eh, look at the show-off who just got back from climbing camp.

Royal & Barracks (2002)



I Came Out Of My Studio To This, Or, Oh!

Holi and Dhuleti

Backings and Forthings From the Emailings: Ars Moriendi

From the emailings: Congrats on getting the pieces chosen for your show! I am sure it will be well received! And really, Chloe's seems like a good venue and audience for the pieces you've selected. Way to go.
Ty Hardaway: It's a practice exhibit for me. A favor really. I was asked to hang but after the management change I thought I was off the hook to actually do it. But I was reminded that, indeed, my month is coming up.

I've picked five images from two important collections (largely selected by Sistine); split in half for both sides of the room. Ten pieces. And classic me, I won't even be in town the first week and a half that it's up.
From the emailings: Terrific. Will there be a guest book for folks to sign/write in? Keep it, so you can include their comments in your (auto)biography's chapter about the exhibit...
Ty Hardaway: Ha! No, I'm not doing guest book. This is a practical matter. I'm not doing this in search of getting an feedback. It's not an art school jury. For me, exhibitions are like the newspaper - yesterday's news. Cognitively I'm in a different space by the time things are selected, printed, framed, and put on a wall. So comments aren't important in this case.

I won't do an artist statement. What the hell would I write? I'm not in the business to tell people how to view my work or, for that matter, who I am (like I know). I like that people can create their own stories about what I've presented. Or, even better, it it leaves them baffled, I'm happy.

I won't price the individual pieces or the collection either. It's not an exhibition of unrelated pieces or an starving artist sale. It's one piece of work to look at. If someone really wanted to buy it (all ten pieces as a set that I would hang properly for them somewhere), they would figure out how to find me.

I am not doing a reception or post cards. I couldn't stand around and look at people not looking at my work and trying to talk to me about stuff I don't care about. I'm not inviting anyone to see my work in a coffee shop. Again, it's a practice thing for me to get into the mechanics of plan-print-frame-hang. Print-frame-hang. This is our future.

I think I'm calling the exhibit: "ars moriendi" by

The new album, as it turns out, is also titled "ars moriendi." This is all the summer 2010 project; the exhibit and the album: "ars moriendi" by

Next live exhibit will probably be images from "An Historical Record" at some point. Shit, I'm considering working from here out as Mr. Julius Tyrone (MJT).


Archive Scans (Heath 1988, Tommy 1991)

Ask Ty...July 23 [A Racist Thursday Question]

It must be Tuesday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions
Q: Dear Ty,

I was sitting on the toilet, playing Scrabble, minding my own business when opportunity struck; I laid down the tiles to spell out "Jews" - (and it was a triple word score!) only to be rejected and told that word was not in the dictionary. They allow "fag", mind you.

What gives?

Ty: Good question and an even better observation, :). What gives? What gives is the name you chose to ask an Ask Ty question with, :). An emoticon? For reals? I got to type a damn emoticon over and over? Who are you, Prince? What gives is right, with your crazy colon-closed parenthesis (CCCP). See? You can try to make me type a damn emoticon over and over but I ain't going to type an emoticon over and over, CCCP.

OK, you were what? You were playing the crossword puzzle game, Scrabble® (choose USA, Canada, and their respective territories), whilst on the toilet? Why on earth did you even tell me that? How is that part relevant? What I envision is the Scrabble® board atop your lap with the folding part going perpendicular to your thighs so it doesn't fold upon itself and tiles slide into the toilet.

Forget Ask Ty... let's ask CCCP how you play Scrabble® on the damn toilet? How do you not have tiles littered all up and down your hallway? What do you have, some sort of intestinal disorder where you basically live on the toilet? Do you keep Scrabble® already set up in the bathroom? And, lastly, who the hell are you playing against? Who is playing a board game with you in the bathroom with you, CCCP? You have a gimp or something?

Let me get this straight so I can even begin answering your Racist Thursday™ question: You were playing Scrabble® while on the toilet and you tried to spell a word, "Jews," and your opponent told you it wasn't a legit word and actually had a dictionary that said that word wasn't legit? But somehow another word, "fag," was in that dictionary and you're like all mad so you write and ask me to be Marriage Ref about it, CCCP?

What dictionary did your inflexible toilet Scrabble® playing partner bring to your bathroom? Merriam-Webster maybe? I'm going to check the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 1980 edition because I'm old school. This is like six-pound book which contains 1,550 pages of words that I am not dragging into the bathroom so I can play Scrabble® with a person with gastro-intestinal distress. That's so fucking disgusting, CCCP!

Oh, wait, I don't even need to look in the dictionary because I've played Scrabble® before and I've lived on earth for almost 45 years and I went to elementary school and I already know that "Jews" is a word (whether in your friends shit-room dictionary or not) that can not be used in a shit-room board game of Scrabble® because it beings with a capital letter. The "J" in Jews, dog. C'mon. Words that are spelled with a capital letter cannot be used in the crossword game of Scrabble®, CCCP. Like EVERYbody knows that.

I don't know how they play in prison or in Russia, comrade, but in the USA, Canada, and their respective territories, we cannot use "Jews" and that's not racist nor Thursday. Point goes to your bathroom Scrabble® gimp, CCCP.

Doy! What am I, a rabbi now?

Just a guess,



Studio Notes (progress report on the big projects in progress)

Yapdogs of the Bourgeoisie ("please scoop your pet's poop")

Ask Ty...July 23 [The iPhone 4 Question]

It must be Tuesday Friday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions
Q: Dear Ty,

Haha! So your Apple iPhone 4 is a total bust. It won't even hold a call if you hold the phone a certain way. How stupid! A phone that you can't use as a phone. What do you have to say now, Apple lover?

- Apple H8r
Ty: Good question and an even better observation, AH8r. So, yeah, I guess there has been some information in the press and thereabouts about a phone that Apple makes that if you squeeze it in a certain way you lose the call.

And I'm an "Apple lover."

Really? Am I so psychologically invested in a corporation that I'd call myself a "lover" of such a company? No. I guess people notice that I use certain products and mention what I like about them. Sue me because I like what I like. But I don't necessarily automatically love VW or Apple or Epson or Fleshlight or Bristol-Meyer Squibb/Sanofi-aventis or Wyeth Consumer Healthcare (the fine makers of Preparation H®) or Sig Sauer (who makes my piece).

I'm just at a place in my life where I have found the stuff I use (and the companies that make them consistently) and am comfortable with that. I'm a creature of habit like all the rest of you. Want me to change my products? Prove me some better. Science me on that tip. I don't have time to try 27 different socks when I can order me up some J Crew socks and have them delivered to my doorstep and keep moving forward in this life. I already know what I'm getting. Who has fucking time for 27 different socks or going to Target, Apple H8r? Answer me that?

Conversely, I don't find it in me to necessarily "hate" a company or the products they make. I may not use them but I don't have the emotional spectrum to hate a Pontiac. You in all seriousness have the time and energy to call yourself "Apple H8r?" What did Apple do to you, son?

Anyway Mr. Jobs's and his Magic iPhone 4 Voice Calling Machine, AH8r. Just for you.

Here's what my main tech homey, Farhad, has to say about mobile phones and dropped calls: [clicky]

Here's what I have to say about mobile phones and dropped calls: Good! Who the fuck uses a goddamn cell phone to talk to anyone with any seriousness anymore? The phone, Apple H8r? Jesus just typing that makes me cringe. How annoying is anybody on a telephone anymore. People, quit being like Apple H8r and talking on the damn phone everywhere like you're on your toilet at home in the basement.

I do not see the Apple iPhone 4's tendency to drop phone calls to be a defect. I see the Apple iPhone 4's tendency to drop phone calls to be ITS BEST FEATURE! No lie. I don't have an Apple iPhone 4 yet but this so-called "news" is the best advertising possible. Apple, run ads on this, freebie from me. I'm running out* to get a damn Apple iPhone 4 right now and if any of you call me I'm squeezing it like a lemon (until the juice runs down my leg) to disconnect your damn voice call. Who do you think I am, Elisha Gray (look it up). This ain't 1876, Apple H8r. And all I have to say is, "Oh, you know...iPhone..." and shrug and turn my eyes like this.

Apple's iPhone 4's best feature, AH8r, is the QuikDisconex™ feature. Web, photos, music, email, txt, and EZ CALL TERMINATION! You got all pissy when Mr. Jobs stopped putting floppy drives in his Magic Computional Machines back in the '90's, now you wanna hate on the elimination of the telephone? What's your problem? This is the future, dummy. A future sans telephones to annoy everybody.

In the interim, we have this:

A prospective transcript:
[Telephone rings]

Ty Hardaway:
[Immediately annoyed and agitated and paranoid]


Apple H8r:

Dude? It's me, ----- ----! What's going on, buddy? I'm your number one fan and I just love you, man. We're down here at the bar and we want to buy you some drinks. We got Pabst Blue Ribbon and we're wearing skinny jeans and we have ironic t-shirts! Trucker hats, man...trucker hats! Pleeeeaaaase come and join us. We'll buy all you want, man! And we can take pictures with you with our Blackberries, dude! You're the maaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnn!

Ty Hardaway:

How'd you get this number?

Apple H8r:

Oh, man...I got it from Corey. He said you'd be cool if I gave you a ca

[Ty Hardaway does the Apple iPhone 4 QuckDisconex™ squeeze]
Just a guess,


* "Running out..." = ordering online.


Some Time with J.B. Dunn (an interview)

I happened across my good friend J.B. Dunn of The Secondhand Ramblers* at Chloe's today and happened to have my recorder. He, in turn, happened to have a guitar.

Among other things, we discussed music, love, and John Prine. I also twisted J.B.'s arm into playing a few songs (his own and John Prine).
[Listen 44:17]

*Listen to Five-song EP at Facebook link.

Ladybug Ladybug



So on February 2, 2009 I had a TGA. It's well documented that this happened to me so I won't bore you with details. As traumatic as this may or may not have been to me and those close to me it did not compare to something that happened to a very dear friend of mine on the very same day, at the very same time.

In the hour just before my TGA, I had attended an emergency board of directors meeting. One of the few other people attending that meeting in person (others joined via conference call) was my friend and dear colleague, Jane. Jane was what you could describe as my soul mate on that particular board. We were often synced in opinion and temperament; often strategizing behind the scenes to present a unified front.

Now, here's something that not many people know but at the very same time, on the very same day I was having my TGA, coincidentally, Jane was having a massive stroke. Weird, huh? This is something that I have never taken lightly. Jane and I were weirdly (and forever) linked in a manner that challenges many notions of fate (FTE #3, perhaps).

Jane, being a few years older and suffering a more serious episode than I, was hospitalized for a long time and went to rehab afterwards. Me? I was released the next day and barely broke stride in my long history of antics, mayhem, and ruckus. Sure, it was a somewhat difficult time for me and it took me some time to get back to normal, but I did. You'll not hear this often, but I am normal.

I just learned that Jane died on Saturday. I haven't been this upset about a death in a very long time. I hope that I can continue living in a manner that would continue to make Jane proud and giggly.


Ask Ty...July 16 [The Jewish-Fate-Earthquake-Science Question] - UPDATE

It must be Tuesday Friday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions
Q: Dear Ty,

Is "Jewish" a race or a religion? You don't seem to be a man of faith yet you identify yourself with your Jewish roots. What gives?

- chRon in T.O.
Ty: Good question and an even better observation, chRon. It's Friday and I've been up since just before 5:00 a.m. and had my free Starbucks gold card status coffee. I'm ready to roll with a long-form answer, chRon. Let's do this thing!

Judaism is a religion, my brother. It is not a race at all, but the the sum of the commonalities of Jewish practices and the cohesion of the Jewish community cause many people to believe Judaism to be a race. That's simply a cognitive shortcut people take to identify and sort those unlike themselves; you, white, Asian, Hispanic, and Jewish. Shit, some people still think the Jew have horns, right?

Put simply, Jewish is to race what Christian is to politics.

Most importantly, Judaism is a way of life; a set of practices and behaviors common to people who believe in this thing called Judaism. This religion/way-of-life package is a bit complicated in Judaism because of two important historical initiation/self-preservation caveats:
  • A Jew is anyone born to a Jewish mother.
  • A Jew remains Jewish...forever.
As the stories go, you can leave Christianity and Islam, but once a know the rest. You can't even be kicked out for bad behavior. And that's where this non-practicing black (Filipino) Jew called "Julius" comes into the picture. I am apparently and allegedly born into a club that I never visit except to tell people that I belong to it. The members of the club believe I belong to their club but they never see me around the pool. My mother is Jewish. I think it's the funniest thing ever!

As you surmised, I am not at all a man of religious "faith." I do not believe in gods or unicorns or dragons or the Easter Bunny. I believe in science. I'm a data guy; peer reviewed journal articles with significance levels of 5% (0.05), 1% (0.01) and 0.1% (0.001) makes blood swoosh around my brain like nobody's business. Science is my tr00f.

Maybe because I was successful at a world-class university or maybe because I have had some "life experiences" that have shaped how I view the world, chRon, but I believe all religions to be self-propagating pyramid schemes filled with tons of brainwashing and initiation rites that make the activity appear as if it is much more "important" than it really is. And in many religions there is the unsubstantiated promise of an "afterlife" -- suffer now, chill later. For eternity.

What, have I no faith? Nope, I have an education in social psychology.

Yet, I have tempted God fate on more than one occasion to the point where I have been surprised with the outcomes of coincidence. Here are the two that immediately come to mind:
Fate Tempt Example #1: On March 11, 1993 I said aloud for people to hear, "There is no God. If there is a god, I want a sign." I awoke the next morning to a telephone call that my mother had died. Shocking? No. She was sick and she was dying. I knew this. Besides, it is factual that EVERYbody ultimately dies.

But the words, "...if there is a sign..." still echoes in my (h)ear holes. Does this prove or disprove a god? No. It only demonstrates that I have a big mouth and poor timing.

Fate Tempt Example #2: On July 7, 2010 I posted on the Facebucks the following quip: "I miss earthquakes." Haha! Funny, right? Missing earthquakes is kind of ironic or something.

Here's the transcript:
Ty Hardaway July 7 at 8:50pm:
I miss earthquakes.

likes this.

me too!

You are welcome back anytime.

Me too! Except the Northridge one...

Ty Hardaway:
‎@ Serena: I was in Sylmar as a kid and Loma Prieta in grad school. I actually MISSED Northridge by hours. I had just left LAX to fly back to the east and found out about it when I landed. Dangit!

I knew this guy who lived through Loma Prieta.

‎ cream...

‎@Ty - Be glad u missed it. I was in West Hollywood. Close enough to sustain damage to the house, and to my psyche. Having been thru 20 years of earthquakes, the N'ridge one felt E.V.I.L. like no other!!!

Ty Hardaway:
‎@Serena - word! I was literally five miles from Loma Prieta epicenter. In Santa Cruz. I empathize, sister. The aftershocks were massive.
Still, I would have had a pretty good lifetime trifecta with Northridge on my vita.
So what happens to mister-natural-disaster-collector-earthquake-vita this very morning at 5:04 a.m? A fucking earthquake happens, that's what. Here in Maryland.

I happened to be awake this morning because the cat was licking his ass whilst lying atop my legs. I was paralyzed yet wide awake. One sudden move while the cat was in ass licking mode and I'd probably be a fatal cat attack victim. But suddenly "Max" jumped up and bolted for the door.

I was relieved until the house shifted five feet downward and to the south.

CRACK! Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble!

A motherfucking Maryland. The fuck is going on, chRon?! I knew it right away too. My wife--although Israeli, not from a seismic region--and I both bolted upright.

Here's the transcript:
The wife:
What was that?!

Ty Hardaway:
[In overly professorial tone]

That, was an earthquake.

[I lay back down to resume sleeping]

The wife:
No it wasn't, it's still going!

Ty Hardaway:
That's how they work! Wait, you're telling me "no?"

[I laughed here]

The wife:
Was it a gas explosion?!

Ty Hardaway:
No! It was an earthquake. Maybe a one on the Richter scale. Maybe two. Why do you have your glasses on?

The wife:
To be ready!

Ty Hardaway:
Ready?! For what?! Lie down, dude!

The wife:
Are you sure it's not gas?

Ty Hardaway:
Do you smell gas?

The wife:

Ty Hardaway:
Go back to sleep!

[Takes glasses off the wife's face and pulls her down to be horizontal but that does not make a woman stop talking]

The wife:
How is this possible?

Ty Hardaway:
Plate tectonics.

The wife:
How is this possible in Maryland?

Ty Hardaway:
Plate tectonics.

Wait! I just posted on the Facebocks that I missed earthquakes! Like a couple of days ago. Weird.

The wife:
What? That's so stupid.

Ty Hardaway:
Seriously, I typed, "I miss earthquakes" like David Blaine or some shit.

The wife:
Why would you miss an earthquake?

Ty Hardaway:
Yes! At 5:04 a.m. today we had an earthquake. Check it:
The U.S. Geological Survey reported a 3.6 magnitude earthquake centered in Montgomery County at 5:04 a.m. Friday. The epicenter was in Gaithersburg near I-270 and Route 124 (39.145 degrees N, 77.222 degrees W), USGS reported in a preliminary finding. Its depth was 3.1 miles.
That's like right exactly under my house. Like the Devil and BP made the earth move under my bed.

As the old saying goes: why didn't I ask for money? On Faceback, I should have typed, "I miss money" or "I miss a pizza" or "I miss Helena Christensen" except I don't believe in all that fate nonsense. Sure coincidences happen and the world is largely chaotic.

With regard to these two Fate Tempt Examples, it's simply fun to note the anomaly of coincidence. Well fun may not be the word for FTE #1, chRon.

See what I just did here, kids? I turned a perfectly important discussion of religion into a trivial discussion of science. I am liberal ivory tower socialistically brainwashing you so you don't go to heaven either.

So I guess my question to you, chRon, is...

Just a guess,


---------------- UPDATE ----------------
The Diaspora Need Not Apply, from NYT


Untitled (0001)

Chloe's Will Be Mad That The Competition Sent Me This*

* Finally, I'm somebody!

Rickey Retard Remix*

* The man knows how this thing works.

"Sad, VERY Sad" - for James Miley*

* Accompanying story behind this post is available through the Ty Hardaway™ Dot Com premium fanflow update site (PFUS - by subscription only).

MC Julius Hookhand's System Reset Day

I. Recently I witnessed tiny pieces of my once living body flush down a toilet: blood on a tissue, toe nails, hair, and probably enough other sloughed fragments to perform a proper DNA analysis.

II. I realized for the very first time that what I was witnessing was the sum of existence; finally the apropos metaphor.

III. We create, as a species, to destroy; to make to waste. We build up only to tear down.

IV. We build our realities only to tear down our truths. Thus, there comes a threshold where the fundamental elements of an existence hidden from the rest of the world comprises the majority component of a being.

V. Like a non-digitized virtual reality. No truths, no realities. What is real in the the mind, we discover, is the purest and most salient of all realities.

VI. And so here I live nearing 95% anti-social with a preference to be doing 95% anything else but hell-bound to and by A Duty To Society.

VII. There are times to shirk. When the time arrives. There are times for work.

VIII. End Times as the end of time.

Julius Belted at my Doorstep

I love receiving stuff. Keep it coming!

Thanks Philly Boy Gabe!

Two Photos Juxtaposed