Ashes Monroe profile picture

Ashes Monroe

If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd

About Me


I'll make a point of offending your holy city, only to return you to a state where no one else ever can. Dressed "like a pimp in mecca, where there are no pimps"...kerouac said....
let us offend eachother gracefully...
I'm an artist, social retard, visionary, uselessly occupied by nostalgia. I befriend not easily, but sincerely. I forgive first impressions. I avoid overtly vicious people, partially because they exhaust me, and partially because I generally avoid insecure weaknesses. I'm flawed, and I know you are too. I will be apologetic about my mistakes, but not about who I am.
My photography:
your world, my world, their world. Le monde entier.
chez-moi en France, the latest view from my newest home.
it's in the way you move your eyes.
generally dislikes those who use exclamation marks
hates netspeak (ex. you="u" or other annoying abbreviations)
attracted to those who use language well
only decides to feel pain when she forgets what it feels like
loves to read
loves to learn
absorbed by beauty
likes strong people
hates the word "facsimile"
remembers her dreams
relentless sexual energy
intelligent sexual ..read:selective)
smart but approachable
respectful but casual
hates name-dropping
tries to be a real friend
likes songs about trains
can't watch music videos because they're always different in her head
contradicts herself
loves to dance
likes to push her limits
likes to see things a new way
needs to be challenged
easy-going control-freak
loves a good story
makes a good story
feels silly using slang
uneasy about being touched
likes to be touched
doesn't believe in umbrellas
remembers your birthday
practices the art of awareness
listens to you
will ask you hard questions
will understand if you can't answer
tolerant
curious
doesn't believe in time
bad planner
(working on being a good planner)
likes to laugh
laughs at self
likes to help you remember how to live
gets you in trouble
makes you wonder why you didn't get in trouble before
conspires to take over the world
might actually do it
domestic
survivalist
understands the necessity of playtime
ambitious
lazy
conflicted
gets tired of being strong
too aloof, or too aggressive
always and never knows what she wants
impatient
beginning to understand
beginning to forget
always feels alone
wants to help
loves to love
still learning how to love
...probably thinks you're beautiful.
clear my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
I know not what it is,...
-W.B. Yeats, "Sailing to Byzantium"

My Interests



The only food items I've been known to crave:

sushi, wasabi (yes it gets it's own mention), chubby hubby ice cream, lindor chocolates, irish coffee, vegetarian corndogs from Saturn in Santa Cruz, creme brulée, olives, red curry with mock duck (from Thai Time in San Diego, I think they put crack in it), krispy kreme donuts (damn you french people for depriving me)
My design biz
bohemebox.com

My photography
bohemebox.com

..taking pictures, rice candy, collecting books I'll never read, making wierd art, calling everything art, thinking, making other people think, making music, finding magic

MAKES ME HAPPY: bright days with nothing on my to do list, farmers markets, fellow dreamers, people with passion, ambition and intelligence,

MAKES ME SAD: the human condition, overt physical lust, ignorance, fake lesbians, insubstantial shock value, angry/petty people, non-sensical drama.

I'd like to meet:

Because I've received tons of spammish friend requests lately, you have to enter my last name to add me. So if you'd like to befriend me, send me an email.

A mermaid, an honest salesman, and a castle in the sky.
...and people who do crazy shit for no apparent reason.

Artists erect giant pink bunny on mountain

An enormous pink bunny has been erected on an Italian mountainside where it will stay for the next 20 years.

The 200-foot-long toy rabbit lies on the side of the 5,000 foot high Colletto Fava mountain in northern Italy's Piedmont region.Viennese art group Gelatin designed the giant soft toy and say it was "knitted by dozens of grannies out of pink wool".Group member Wolfgang Gantner said: "It's supposed to make you feel small, like Gulliver. You walk around it and you can't help but smile."And Gelatin members say the bunny is not just for walking around - they are expecting hikers to climb its 20 foot sides and relax on its belly.The giant rabbit is expected to remain on the mountain side until 2025.

Music:



The Dandy Warhols, Goldfrapp, David Bowie, Blur, Bjork, The Sugarcubes, The Dead Milkmen, Electrocute, Massive Attack, Love and Rockets, Mazzy Star, Blonde Redhead, Grandaddy, Phaser, Annie Lennox, Thom Yorke, Radiohead, Wilco, Pixies, Oingo Boingo, The Clash, Chemical Brothers, New Young Pony Club, Beta Band, Stereolab, Orb, UNKLE, Annie, Cut Copy, Joanna Newsom, FischerSpooner, The Specials, The Strokes, Sebadoh, White Stripes, Sisters of Mercy, Front 242, Joy Division, INXS, Chicks on Speed, Echo & the Bunnymen, the chameleons UK, The streets, Talking Heads, Danny Elfman, Brian Eno....and more but I'm bored.

Movies:

wings of desire, sex and lucia, santa sangre, labyrinth, legend, amelie, The pillow book, city of god, the mystery of rampo.

Television:

suck.

Books:

currently reading:12/28/06:rediscovering poetry (neruda, ginsburg, kerouac, etc), An American Tragedy, Naked Lunch, more 04/10/06:zen and the psychology of transformation, art and physics, gravity's rainbow, a return to love.
Science, Anatomy, Theories on Life and Love, Rich Lit, Fanciful Fiction, thief of always, on the road, I'm a romantic Kerouac tart.
...Marie's Five-Copy Books.
Dedicated to all my fire-hearted loves...
Howl
Allen Ginsburg
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machin- ery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene- ment roofs illuminated, who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war, who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull, who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn- ing their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall, who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York, who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al- cohol and cock and endless balls, incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo- tionless world of Time between, Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook- lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo, who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer after noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox, who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook- lyn Bridge, lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon, yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars, whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement, who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall, suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind- ings and migraines of China under junk-with- drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room, who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts, who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grand- father night, who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep- athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in- stinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis- ionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels, who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy, who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla- homa on the impulse of winter midnight street light smalltown rain, who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa, who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire place Chicago, who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incom- prehensible leaflets, who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed, who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons, who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication, who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu- scripts, who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy, who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love, who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose gardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may, who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword, who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman's loom, who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can- dle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness, who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake, who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet- ticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too, who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy- ment offices, who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium, who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion, who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery, who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music, who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology, who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish, who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht &tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg, who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade, who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess- fully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried, who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse &the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinis- ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality, who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap- pened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas- saic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles, who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation, who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity, who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes, who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second, who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz, who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave, who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp notism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury, who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in- stantaneous lobotomy, and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho- therapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia, who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia, returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad man doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East, Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock- ing and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night- mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon, with mother finally fucked, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur- nished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrat- ing plane, who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intel- ligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet con- fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

Heroes:

some of my favorite people:

My Blog

Burning Man?

Who's going to burning man this year? I'm seriously debating if I should go back. It feels like it's getting super huge and maybe losing it's 'something' if you know what i mean. I'd rather quit while...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Fri, 25 Jan 2008 08:56:00 PST

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HH!!!
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Mon, 14 Jan 2008 04:32:00 PST

Paris and I at opposite ends of the room...

I'm at home with a headache tonight, wishing I could go have a drink with an old friend, or with someone who makes me feel like I have a place, like a puzzle piece, and it was here and then there and ...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Fri, 28 Dec 2007 12:20:00 PST

there’s such a sad love...

I wonder if everyone feels that throughout life, you have to fight the sleep that creeps into your heart.
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Thu, 06 Dec 2007 03:17:00 PST

zzzZzzzzz.

soooo tired, I read an article today about two (naturally) Siamese twins in Germany that managed to be separated. Their names were Mercy and Goodness. Mercy, ok, I've heard that one, but Goodness? ...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Wed, 05 Dec 2007 08:44:00 PST

sous-titre

I can hear the dogs outside, my cat runs to the window and listens attentively as though he were receiving a message that he would relay to someone of great importance. The night crawls through the t...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Tue, 27 Nov 2007 07:11:00 PST

highway 17

There was a spot on 17 that I could see a pair of white crosses in my rear view mirror float off into nothing. This time a twinge of spanish guitar almost made me miss it, like I had almost missed yo...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Sun, 23 Sep 2007 05:27:00 PST

Rumbly Tumbly

This trip has been strange, I'm leaving too soon and It feels like something is ending and I won't know until after I leave. I'm a little sad and stressed and frantic, like I want to cry and work and...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Wed, 12 Sep 2007 01:37:00 PST

Cause to listen

Pass the hours listening to the silence, crawling in and out of the lumps in your throat. Your skin leaping up and down with the anticipation of the call. They're lurking under your pulse, aching to...
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Thu, 16 Aug 2007 04:07:00 PST

I am invincible, as long as I'm alive.

I've had way too many theological discussions in the past few days. My smile is cool and clear, and I am transparent.If you were to ask me anything, now would be the time.
Posted by Ashes Monroe on Mon, 29 Jan 2007 02:34:00 PST