Pistol Pete

Posted on March 23, 2007 by Varg

He was way before my time, and I have heard talk of his legend but, damn, I never knew Pistol Pete had these kind of moves…

Update: And with only one heart valve at that!

From Wikipedia:“he collapsed and died of a heart attack at the age of only 40. An autopsy revealed the cause of death to be a rare congenital heart defect; he had been born with only one coronary artery instead of the normal two.”

6 thoughts on “Pistol Pete”

ashley says:

March 23, 2007 at 9:50 pm

Wow. They’re wearing shorts.
booze says:

March 24, 2007 at 9:28 am

i want a name like pistol pete. kinda like dem boys from Tomb Stone.
Varg says:

March 24, 2007 at 11:03 am

“booze” sounds good enough to me! though it borrows from a washed-up ’80s comedy star and you aren’t much of a drinker…here’s what she’s up to now…

http://tailsofjoy.net/
Jeff says:

March 24, 2007 at 7:53 pm

I know the guy lived a strange life outside of basketball, including some time as a recluse and an alcoholic. However, I didn’t realize he died in the presence of that fucktard James Dobson. Nor did I know he becamed enamored w/ ufology. He’s still a god a little upstate from you, Varg.
jeffrey says:

March 24, 2007 at 9:07 pm

Pistol Pete’s last words before his collapse:

“I feel great!”
liprap says:

March 25, 2007 at 3:00 pm

Damn, not only are those words to live by, they are now words to die by.

Thanks, Jeffrey. Thanks a LOT.

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Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.