hot dog evening gown

crawling back

2010-05-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

its time to pump this party. even if every time i say that im coming back its only a post about how im coming back. party time.

stare

2010-01-18T23:23:00.001-08:00

kylerobertwilhelm.com

2009-12-13T23:42:00.000-08:00

loyal fans, new website is coming to display other aspects of my life. froth ye. let the hype begin.

coast to coast

2009-09-27T11:31:00.001-07:00

pictures today/words tommorow

yearbooks
left the central headquarters

i wish you well pearly gates

noahs arc

eastern seaboard
looking into the culinary labratory of satan

boiled water

nolita

broken social scene

dump truck at chelsea hub

homestead act
hibernation

each little step counts

2009-07-19T13:13:00.000-07:00

the supremes. serious business.

keen

2009-04-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

everythingisterrible.com

an attempt at refrequency

2009-01-29T14:49:00.000-08:00

cat power is on fire. its not new, but she keeps revitalizing herself in my ears.

return of the thaw

2008-09-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

if you happen to find yourself down and out in san luis obispo on september 26th, make your way over to traditional tattoo on foothill to check out some new paintings by the author. sustenance!

summer inhabitants #1

2008-07-19T00:00:00.001-07:00

krifka

ashley

college pains

2008-06-29T19:49:00.000-07:00

until recently, I always thought growing pains was a disease that affected only one man in the universe, that man being the magnificent but tragically contagious kirk cameron. in the sitcom of a lifetime, cameron heroically portrayed a whimsical child that dealt with the daunting process of aging in his younger years, but what cameron didn’t realize at the time of signing with this role was that these growing pains would follow him for the rest of his life, with or without his companion, aka dad, alan thicke. although growing pains took an eternal rest from television fame in 1992, the pains continue to take their toll on cameron to this day in the form of an ever-evolving forehead. poor cameron’s helpless cranium keeps rocketing skyward like an extra from the movie coneheads, and to no avail, it is still growing painfully.
i used to look at this situation from a safe distance, thinking to myself that it only occurred to the rarest of hollywood prodigies, but alas, in my naivety, it has begun its own death march in my life. as i step up to the final standoff of me versus the cal poly bachelors program, i realize that i too am subject to the disposal of aging like sweet kirk cameron is. i can never more walk across this campus and get excited at the sight of a lucy’s juice bar, for i have drank too many in my past five years. nor can i walk into the kennedy library with anticipation of riding the elevator up and down the floors for 15 minutes straight, like many bright eyed and bushy tailed freshman may be able to do, for i know how many people have copulated in these transport devices. you see, my trusty kcpr volunteer essay reader, i have long passed the threshold of young unadulterated college excitement here at cal poly. so as i march towards the football field at the far westerly corner of campus for graduation, i beg of you, let me feel the young winds behind my sails again, let me know what it is like to ride the kcpr schooner across the fountain of youth. for you see dear reader, i, much like kirk cameron, now know what these growing pains are, and in the final days of my collegiate career, i need to bury these pains of the adult world before they bury me, blue collar and all.

the thaw

2008-05-26T09:21:00.001-07:00

hibernation is coming to an end. hope everyone is well. kate nakamura and i will be exhibiting our work june 6th at the venue formerly known as the dwelling. if you have wondered, 'what ever happened to that poor wilhelm child ?' then this is the answer as to why i have been MIA for the past two quarters. kate does sculptural installations and drawings and i, well, i cover my body in oil paint and ask the teacher if i can leave class early. anyways, here is the poster we conjured up. inspired by ol' rodchenkski himself. come on down friday night and join us for some art and friends. hope to see you there.

go ride a bicycle

2008-02-21T11:36:00.000-08:00

with friends for mas fun

port of the land

2008-02-09T08:36:00.000-08:00

like many land bearing creatures without the ability to sustain a pliable living situation under colder conditions, when it rains, the humanoid tends to find its way to various structures of habit that will supply the humanoid with warmth, sustinance, and even an intellectual stimulation from time to time. while perusing our way through the greater northwest coastal states this weekend, my travel companions and i found ourselves within the gentle grasp of a beautiful region known as portland, oregon. in our temporary residence there, we noticed how these regions were consistently more moisturized than our southernly comfort zones. the light rainfall that settled there seemed to softly nudge us to the focal points of the city, where warmth eminated from within the buildings. downtown portland swayed like an ebbing tidepool, back and forth the rain escorted us out of the streets, whilst the indoors wooed us towards their presence. like the dust covered moths we travelers were, we fluttered aimlessly until confronted by the brightest luminescence to grace our eyes. delicately bumping and shuffling until huddled inside, we shed ourselves of our soggy coats only to find we had stumbled upon the dustmop of dustmops itself: powells books! the scent of aged pages eeked its way through the walls of this castle until reaching our nasal olfactory receptacles. nostrils flared, eyes focused, ears perked, the journey into bookdom had begun.
taking up one city block of portland, and rising up four stories above the ground, powells becomes a land much like an oasis; a plentiful source of wonderful attributes, yet there is always a barrier that will not allow for full enjoyment within this paradise.
as mine eyes begun to wheel around the room they rested on certain titles and signs projecting what the rooms contained; 'self help' section, 'pulitzer prize' winners, 'sandwiches for mutes cookbook' sections. my mind galloped through the aisles like an adolescent great dane. slow down marmaduke. i centered my canine chi, and collected my thoughts as i walked past the 'helpless cats that should be eaten by dogs and/or robots 'books section of powells. onward my legs ambled, head and neck turning into a sprinkler. what was that last bright book, maybe i should go back and check it out, it could be a winner. no, move forward, focus. but that one is on sale, i should buy it, oprah would, easy kyle, easy. spinning and spinning, people began to quietly look at me and tuck their kids behind their stable parental legs, whispering the answers of the universe to their seven year olds as i careened down the stairs away from the gawkers. it wasnt until i reached the literature section that i knew something was wrong. sweating profusely by now, one sock long gone to who knows where and clutching with sheer terror to a clump of duck feathers i ran trying to seek refuge close to the floor. for a while there was silence, and faint footsteps became a metronome off in the distance, calming the heart rate until it reached a reasonable pace again. something once again caught my eye even in this maddening state, but this time it wasnt an oprahs book club badge, it was something very different. i raised my head slowly and looked towards the source just as i had when i fluttered towards powells in the first place. the light this time yeilded an unfamiliar face, one of a ghost, a ghost with little words. joseph heller, is that you? what are you doing here? mr. heller looked at me and without a stutter explained to me the secrets of the universe. you see young kyle, he said, for this is the curse of powells; your love for books is infinite, yet when surrounded by all the books in the world you cannot seem to grasp a single book of which you'd like to purchase. i cried a little as he exploited the truth deep within my lungs, loins, and estomago, and then i walked out of powells and down the street and enjoyed me a nice macdonalds half pounder of meat and watched some ultimate fighting championship reruns.

on burritos and liberty

2008-01-20T01:15:00.000-08:00

when approached by the situation of being stranded in a specific place for the rest of my life, there are only a few things that i would need to survive: food, water, and a mental capacity to resist specific hallucinatory states over a period of time due lack of human interaction. the latter skill of resisting insanity would take such a toll on ones body and mind that the stranded would need to replenish their glucose levels by introducing systematic regiment of food to their energy converter (gastrointestinal system). taking into consideration that i would be stranded within the confines of a solitary location, my situation would only permit one type of food for the rest of my waking life. and what would this eternally satisfying food take the form of? within the criteria of the situation, the food must be able to provide nutritional value that coincides with the spectrum of healthy living. by stating the term healthy living i hope to corral my food into an all encompassing 'well balanced meal'. let us focus on what we have knocked out in the process of creating these perameters i have set up thus far. first and foremost, vegemite, you are out of here! why, oh why would you kick ye olde vegemite out of the running for the coolest... ahem... excuse me... greatest and most sufficient stranded island food so early in the contest? well let me tell you why compatriots. beginning with the most obvious reason, vegemite is bland and is more boring than the white bread that you spread it on. when you introduce it to a room of new, non-vegemite saavy humanoids, it becomes obnoxious, and creates an interruption in the comfortable lifestyle at hand. the only thing louder than its light hansa yellow label is the taint that it leaves on your mouth after invades your house and leaves a mess behind in your kitchen. if there was one positive characteristic of vegemite, which may or may not exist within reality, it would have to be its cute, malty accent, that seems to make anything it is spread on much 'softer' than if it was ordinary old american margarine.
but hold on their mate, if vegemite isnt the greatest food that you could happily spend the rest of your life with, than what is? well, for one, the greatest food was invented in america, duh, and was assimilated by the mexicans who we stole the whole idea from in the first place. need i proceed with the argument? i need. i need. to all the bogans out there that need it spelled out for them due to their lack of freedom of education throughout childhood, the greatest and most wonderful food in the entire world is the burrito. packed with diverse ingredients, ranging from rice, beans, meats, vegetables, and cheeses, these wondrous blocks of the food pyramid are thrown together into a melting pot created by the hot barrier of a tortilla where they all work in unison to create a wondrous, flavor infused, dining experience. the burrito then goes on to dominate every and all taste buds in its way until it gains total control and domination of the deployment centers for the 'tastes fucking delicious' hormone.
now if you still cant understand the reasoning behind why burritos are not only my deserted island food but also the greatest food ever invented, it may just be due to the fact that you are either australian or that you have no soul.

dont let this happen to your country

listen to milt jackson

2008-01-13T10:26:00.000-08:00

vibes

from the grave pt. 3

2008-01-01T15:14:00.000-08:00

when confronted with a fear, the human brain has the ability to create situations that transgress the limits of what most may consider reality. in the city of diversity, these byproducts of my cranial activity manifested themselves before my eyes, and became the last things my looking balls would ever process as visual stimuli. in my viewers eyes there may be some loss in the credibility of my words after stating that what i culminated in my mind came to life. so i shall prove to our visually dependent culture that my words are true with the final photographic essay... from the grave. on a side note; as i walk through the valley in the shadow of death, i find it comforting to know that there is wi-fi, because i would be pretty bored in the afterlife without an internet connection, and you wouldn't have this deathly wonderful piece of writing genius to enjoy.

upon return to our prison we wilted our way back into the ever-so-slow process of succumbing to our foreordination. visions of a land in which we ran free within an artistic hotbed had fluttered away as quickly as our desire to live another day in the house on nevins and dean street.

but why? where is the threat? why give up in a city so great as new york? one may ask these questions if one has never been to the land of nevins and dean. for within the confines of this well insulated home holds a danger that i would never have associated with my own blood relatives. and without further adieu, i will open pandoras box in the simplest of terms. my cousins are zombies. and these zombies ate us. and once they ate a walrus. but that is another story for another night.

innocent as it may seem, the relatives seen in this picture were housing us for the sole purpose of quenching their childrens thirst for californian blood. here they are pretending to read, but they were just at the table to make sure we were keeping our flesh pristine by filling our intestinal tracts with foods such as puffins cereal.

while appearing docile, meg creates a special meal that will preserve the flavors of our skin to the utmost degree, and fully satisfy her zombie children.

again, readers may find disbelief in my words after the last two shots, due to the extremely gentle looking hosts, but one cannot deny the words any longer after seeing the zombies themselves.

do not believe for a second that the smaller zombie may have a softer side and can be coerced out of eating your flesh, for she is the most dangerous of them all.

ZOMBIE ATTACK!!!

notice the pure joy of the zombies as they walk away from the killing floor. i snapped this pic off just before rigor mortis compelled my body to take on the characteristics of a fallen willow tree. the zombies saved my upper body for mastication later on when they were hungry again.

and so i say to you dear reader, when traveling to new york, remember to pay your respects and spend three days straight in mourning at the foot of ground zero. or else you too will be wishing you had... from the grave.

from the grave pt. 2

2007-12-30T07:26:00.000-08:00

after arriving at dean and nevins street we were allowed a few free days out of the cells to roam the land of new york. being the cruel trick by our captors it was, we enjoyed swooning in its offerings, letting our eyes run free in the land of diversity even if our bodies would never escape the city on the eastern seaboard.
when trapped in an urban jungle and struggling for life one seeks those who survive in the harshest of conditions. survival becomes contagious. our journey brought to attention the struggle of trees within new york. few and far inbetween, they become an interesting creature emerging from the concrete as a testament to nature.

tree of nevins street struggles to be seen by the metropolitan citizens, in the dead of winter it is difficult

tree of madison avenue buried thick in the central layout of the city disguises itself from the viewer by pretending to be an art nouveau lightpost

although the city harshly ostracizes the subtleties of nature within its buildings and vehicles, there are several moments of hope. the central park haven supplies the drowning new yorker with all the nature they can handle. central park was an island within an island on our trip, it was our final fleeting moment of life, before we headed back to the cells for rations.

of course on the way back nature began to take a back seat again.

organic turned to mechanical

and industry taunted us with imitation. two mechanized trees stretch out to us with cold steel branches

harrowed by the trip outside seeking refuge, we were drawn back to our future grave. was it the loss of hope within the city walls that drove us back, or just the call of our stomachs for food, i dont know, but it was our last dance with the outside world. and i didnt even get to see the symbol of freedom that every immigrant looked to as a beacon of light for new lives in the early twentieth century; the statue of liberty!

oh wait. yes i did. and it renewed my faith in the united states of america.

from the grave pt. 1

2007-12-21T11:31:00.000-08:00

last week i died. before i passed into the afterlife i traveled. before i transported my flesh pod across a country's fertile earth space i shaved, but that is another story within itself that you will understand when you get older.
they say that there is a land that stretches a very small length of the eastern seaboard, they being people that own maps. i trust them, or should i say, trustED them. this land contains within it a social factor that i had forgotten about, a benefactor to human interaction, a beauty via aknowledgement and acceptance; this land contains the definition of the noun diversity. having hailed from the central pacific region of califonia for the past half decade, i had forgotten of this ever-elusive crown jewel of humanity. feeling absent of the conglomeration of viewpoints of the world, i set out to find this fabled land they call new york.
when traveling, i always seek an intrepid companion, so as to avoid dying first when faced with a potentially fatal situation. and so a woman by the name of laura krifka was chosen to mobilize with me. how i tricked this innocent flesh pod to walk into her own grave willingly and close the casket is a long and complicated story. i told her that we were going to see artwork and stay with my relatives. thats actually all i needed to fabricate verbally to coerce her, and thus it actually was not as long and complicated as i had presented two sentences ago. did i believe my own farce story myself and dive into my own demise? maybe so, but i like to think of myself as a braniac, so no, i did not believe such a tall tale. and so begins the tale from the grave.

we caught a metal bird on december twelfth two thousand and seven. very approximately six years, three months, and one day from when several drunk metal birds deviated from their godsent paths of transportation. but that is another story for another night. we arrived in jfk and found our way to the land of brooklyn, where my relatives lived and invited us to stay with them.

a brooklyn doorway that is not exactly where we stayed but close

we were whisked away to our quarters upon entry to the house, and found quickly that this wasnt exactly the blissful visit we had expected within our nubile brains.

cell #1

cell #2

view from cell #1

the location of nevins and dean street would be like a mirage to us, so inviting and perfect, yet we would come to know it as the last place on planet earth we would ever know.

continued when i dont have to wrap presents... from the grave of course

beleber returns; darwin prevails

2007-11-19T21:33:00.001-08:00

today, mr. michael beleber returned from the north and we set out on an adventure to skateboard our way into the history books.

belebrainiac

we should have accepted our fate when the gatekeeper told us we couldnt skateboard due to lack of protective accesories. but we forged ahead and hopped the fence when she wasnt looking. needless to say, there were fleshpods strewn about within minutes of entering the confines of the skateboard arena.

gravitationally disabled

magna cum laude

we quickly thereafter found our way to the safety of the finest vessel to ever charter the morro bay waters. a boat manned by the most outstanding captain, known as to the masses as chet. the THAI BOAT. healed we were.

and then we went back to brians house and tried to make a bonerhead halloween poster.

is robot takeover such a bad thing?

2007-11-18T11:44:00.000-08:00

a short photo examination of technological culture and its peripherals.

morning robots

robotic waste

morning robots eat cats

escape the electronic rennaisance to start your wandering days

incubator

2007-11-14T11:47:00.000-08:00

paradise, a reverie which every human beings wandering brain deals with from time to time. a land of eternal beauty in which the ideal dream state pauses and allows for a complete and utter saturation of the ambience within these intangible landscapes. many humanoids look to the fertile lands of the san luis obispo global region and in their minds cultivate this reality into a metaphorical representation of paradise. recently, these pleasant climates that build a euphoric reputation have been thrust into an incubative state, building up an incredibly boisterous war machine of heat, unleashing day after day until it has completely obliterated any sort of hint alluding to an idea of fall. this heat will not allow for any crisp, this heat will not stand down to any brisk, this heat laughs at the paradise trapped inside a parched desert wanderers thoughtbox. paradise no more, san luis obispo is sweating. and so am i.

parched

reclining nude, dana schutz 2002
oil on canvas 122 x 152 cm

the beauty of an ULTRA long distance runner

2007-11-11T11:05:00.000-08:00

yesterday my father ran an ultramarathon. it took him 8 hours 42 minutes and 36 seconds. in the rain. uphill. absurdity takes control when the adjective ultra is put infront of the noun marathon. welcome to my blogski.

bliss