Wednesday, December 29, 2010


New York, Dec. 26

Sunday, December 26, 2010

photo by EGS
bohicket........photo by EGS

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Monday, December 20, 2010

Sunday, December 19, 2010



sunrise, sunset.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Little Jimmy............blues crab.

red, white, and blue
Photo by EGS.

Friday, December 10, 2010



Tackle Box.....c.1942.....heart pine; butt joints and box nails; nuts and bolts holding hinges. Outside touched up......inside, no treatment.

Thursday, December 09, 2010

Wednesday, December 08, 2010


No one, I think, is in my tree--- I mean it must be high or low.
That is you can't you know tune in but it's all right.
That is I think it's not too bad.

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me.

Always, no, sometimes think it's me, but you know I know when it's a dream.
I think I know, I mean, ah yes, but it's all wrong.
That is I think I disagree.

--John Lennon

Tuesday, December 07, 2010


ain't no blues at the fish camp.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010


blues on the roof

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Fishcamp Veranda

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Monday, November 08, 2010

Caught in the act.
The bird is safe.  The cat is a loon.

Monday, October 11, 2010


Cawed in the act.

Friday, October 08, 2010



Poupon d'fleur.........Doggo Sapien.


the anti-duck waits.



Bermuda

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

VANITIES, FAIR and FOUL


 Alles Vanity, by the Baron von Sturgeon




'All Is Vanity,' Saith the Preacher 
by Lord Byron
(1788-1824)

Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possessed me;
My goblets blushed from every vine,
And lovely forms caressed me;
I sunned my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender;
All earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.

I strive to number o'er what days
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there rolled no hour
Of pleasure unembittered;
And not a trapping decked my power
That galled not while it glittered.

The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.

Monday, September 06, 2010





More on Frank Shorty:

http://www.lakotaone.com/frank-shorty

Monday, May 31, 2010

Anonymous

God bless Frank Shorty.
He died.
What else could he do?
They had him by the balls.
Fuckin money.

--- Anonymous Commenter

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Frank Shorty's artwork on tipi