You Can Help Save The Endangered Klang!

We are raising funds to help pay for the medical, therapy, lost wages, and round the clock Screaming Yellow Zonkers for klangklangston, also known as Josh Steichmann. If you would like to contribute to this noble, just cause then please buy a digital reproduction of one or more of his series of prints of the Salvation Mountain in Niland, CA. We ask that you make a donation in an amount of your choice & by your method of choice to Josh after you download one or more of these high resolution (TIFF) prints. Clicking on a thumbnail will download a file approximately 15mb via Mediafire. You do not need a Mediafire account to download.

You can donate in several ways--if you wish to contribute monetarily, you can send a check or money order to
J. Steichmann, P.O. Box 131254, Ann Arbor, MI 48113-1254, or if you prefer to donate by credit card, bank transfer, or PayPal account, click on the donate button below and to the right.

If your donation is more of the spiritual, moral, or fruit-basket variety--that is, you don't think the post office box would fit that knitted full body suit in size XLT--email us at klangklangston@gmail.com and we'll send you the local street address. Modesty and the thought of all of klang's ardent followers trying to park in West LA prevents us from publishing the exact coordinates here.

If you want to preview the catalog of lower resolution files of the Salvation Mountain photographs, click here.

We appreciate every card, letter, gift-in-bad-taste, and every last red cent and we hope that you cherish your digital file purchase at least as much as you would enjoy an invisible t-shirt.


Friday, April 2, 2010

Two-hand touch!

Got my splint off yesterday, good times. Now I can type two-handed, which is pretty damn revelatory. Did have some more cod-Kafka at the doctors: I called on Wednesday (like I did prior to my previous appointment) just to confirm and make sure everything was jake. I ask 'em, "So, I don't need to come in early for x-rays or anything," and they say, no, no, just come in at 12:30.

So, we get there at, like, 11:45, and when we check in, they tell me, Oh, man, before your appointment, you gotta go get x-rays. So we hustle down to the interminable first-come x-ray office on the first floor, wait with some screaming kids and an endless parade of elderly wraiths like this office is the end point of some katabasis. We're all anxious about getting x-rayed and then getting back by 12:30.

So, we do and we do, and we wait in this overcrowded office where it's so packed with wheelchairs that they're sending 'em out into the hall. At about 1:15, I go up and ask, hey, weren't we supposed to go at 12:30? ¿Que honda? ¿Que pedo?

Nope. Turns out that the real visit is scheduled for 1:30, and the x-ray "appointment" was scheduled for 12:30. That none of this was communicated was apparently all part of some elaborate game theory.

Anyway, got the staples out of my arm, and the splint off. Got to switch pain killers to something non-habit forming but not much fun. I have a heart-shaped cut on my elbow which is (I can't see it) apparently totally emo and Amy can't look at it because it's all too gross.

In other news, the giant fire that blazed two nights ago during America's Next Top Model, over at 3733 Midvale? Not a meth lab, far as we can tell. Amanda and Isaac took me over there on my daily constitutional, and it's just a gutted garage full of burned out pick-ups. I might try to sneak a camera over there just to see what I can get. Aside from the absolute toxic smell (the smoke from the fire was totally choking on the night of), it'd be a neat place to shoot nudes, but no one I know has any interest in being my nude model for scenes of urban blight, so…
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