photographer is Martin Parr.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Bim Bom
Just swallowed a little piece of mercury.
Headache for the first time in a while.
Poker night tonight, hopefully with a live ambient dj/musician.
Off to St. Johns in a bit to go to a huge, multiple venue photography exhibit.
Gearing up for trip to Louisiana.
Finals around the bend. This means the end of math classes... maybe forever!
It also means the beginning of serious hard core electrical engineering classes.
Headache for the first time in a while.
Poker night tonight, hopefully with a live ambient dj/musician.
Off to St. Johns in a bit to go to a huge, multiple venue photography exhibit.
Gearing up for trip to Louisiana.
Finals around the bend. This means the end of math classes... maybe forever!
It also means the beginning of serious hard core electrical engineering classes.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Well, would you believe me if I said a lot has happened since my last post? If you did, you'd be right.
Nothing exciting, of course, just a little bit of life. Is this what they're talking about when they say live a full life?
School is in full thrall, the girls are really rocking it, we're gearing up for a trip to Louisiana in December, Corinne is working harder than ever, being more rad than ever. We took a little weekend trip to Astoria up where the Columbia meets the Pacific, and we practiced having fun there. My friend Dave and I had a photo show at a gallery. Worked out alright. We'll see if any prints sell. They were mostly portraits, so I don't have high expectations. The aesthetics of the show were nice, so that was a plus.
Fall term is coming to a close and I will be happy to finally put math classes to bed. I've been looking at job opportunities and it looks like being an electrical engineer will be a good move for me. Lots of jobs, varying degrees of skill and experience. It's kind of exciting! Granted, I'm a total nerd, but if I can parlay that to my advantage, all the better.
Nothing exciting, of course, just a little bit of life. Is this what they're talking about when they say live a full life?
School is in full thrall, the girls are really rocking it, we're gearing up for a trip to Louisiana in December, Corinne is working harder than ever, being more rad than ever. We took a little weekend trip to Astoria up where the Columbia meets the Pacific, and we practiced having fun there. My friend Dave and I had a photo show at a gallery. Worked out alright. We'll see if any prints sell. They were mostly portraits, so I don't have high expectations. The aesthetics of the show were nice, so that was a plus.
Fall term is coming to a close and I will be happy to finally put math classes to bed. I've been looking at job opportunities and it looks like being an electrical engineer will be a good move for me. Lots of jobs, varying degrees of skill and experience. It's kind of exciting! Granted, I'm a total nerd, but if I can parlay that to my advantage, all the better.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Co Plove
Holy shit a cop will fuck your life up for a few moments. Why would I care, I'm trying to be nice and get out of the ticket the whole time I'm incredulously watching you scribble on that thing that won't let any information go, the carbon copy is thick right back to headquarters everything you're writing is showing up real-time in bright lights in some empty room filled with electric memory. Even if you wanted to I'd still get humped for a quick and greasy $200 so why am I still smiling and not spiting you in your face? Because I love humans and yes, you are a human and I love you you fucking monkey's uncle in a wigwam gestapo suit. And yes you may shoot me in the armpit stat just aim at my wallet and split the check.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
The Magpies of Negaland
Oh my goodness! My back was achin' achin' achin' from sitting living, lugging huge rucksacks of huge textbooks about and about, and a bed that just won't quit until I'm busted. Moanin' and groanin' and Corinne convinced me to hop on the Pilates crucifix, so I did and now I feel wonderful! Oh, what a little exercision can do for a soul (and his back bones).
--break--
OK, back from my day, winding down, the old lady's out partying while I'm here at home washing dishes, doing calculus and dinking around on the computer. Obviously. Don't ever let it be said I didn't pull my fair share of work!
Nothing new here really, you all already know the score. Trying to gear up for a Louisiana trip around Christmas time, that should be a lot of fun. Other than that just trudging right along, trying to have fun all the while.
--break--
OK, back from my day, winding down, the old lady's out partying while I'm here at home washing dishes, doing calculus and dinking around on the computer. Obviously. Don't ever let it be said I didn't pull my fair share of work!
Nothing new here really, you all already know the score. Trying to gear up for a Louisiana trip around Christmas time, that should be a lot of fun. Other than that just trudging right along, trying to have fun all the while.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
True Confusions
Sunday morning, blearily doing things like washing dishes, chatting with the children, wringing my hands over god knows what. Homework is calling, not too loudly though. Like to stay ahead of the wave, like a surfer way up not worrying about tanking. Feels good that way, although being in the tube can be a blast too. I'm guessing.
Watched Peter Greenaway's "The Draughtsman's Contract" last night. The man knows how to make movies that leave people in a state of "huh?", that much is for sure. I liked it, it was one his most straightforward movies I've seen, and yet still very quirky. "Drowning By Numbers" was also in a similar vein.
OK, time to go make pancakes and do some calculus. Ahh... Sunday mornings...
Watched Peter Greenaway's "The Draughtsman's Contract" last night. The man knows how to make movies that leave people in a state of "huh?", that much is for sure. I liked it, it was one his most straightforward movies I've seen, and yet still very quirky. "Drowning By Numbers" was also in a similar vein.
OK, time to go make pancakes and do some calculus. Ahh... Sunday mornings...
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Borg Template
Been cloning my thoughts lately, just to keep up. There's a decided lack of nothing in my life- it's like a circuit with no resistors, just keeps ramping up, theoretically impossible, but still in effect...
I often have this feeling of emptiness, maybe like a person who loses an arm or a leg feels, like there's nothing where something should be. But it's nothing that I had before, at least not that I can recall, so it's a more distant feeling of a void. To think of Rimbaud and those types, who did the world in by the age of 18, and to think of coming up on 40 soon, it's a little unnerving. Where did I think I would be by now? And doing what? Why did I think I was god's little comet, sent here to zip through the world and blind the citizens with my blaze of perfection? I would really love to blame it on being brought up "special", but I'm not that lazy. It's my own fault. It's a character flaw that I can live with or work out. How long did Narcissus stay there at the lake?
Bought two new books yesterday: Edith Hamilton's "Mythology" and Italo Calvino's "Italian Folktales". These are for reading to the girls and also reading to myself. The girls woke up in the middle of the night last night and I read a bit to them from each book. They were entranced, even in the Calvino one which has no pictures. Satie's getting better at pictureless books, but Odile generally needs something. I did convince her to look at the words like they were a picture and that worked last night, but I don't know how many more times that's going to work.
But they were enthralled with the convoluted tales, especially since they contained Queens and Goddesses... these are the great stories, the myths that have fed human minds for thousands of years. I think it will help the girls' minds expand and become more fertile.
I often have this feeling of emptiness, maybe like a person who loses an arm or a leg feels, like there's nothing where something should be. But it's nothing that I had before, at least not that I can recall, so it's a more distant feeling of a void. To think of Rimbaud and those types, who did the world in by the age of 18, and to think of coming up on 40 soon, it's a little unnerving. Where did I think I would be by now? And doing what? Why did I think I was god's little comet, sent here to zip through the world and blind the citizens with my blaze of perfection? I would really love to blame it on being brought up "special", but I'm not that lazy. It's my own fault. It's a character flaw that I can live with or work out. How long did Narcissus stay there at the lake?
Bought two new books yesterday: Edith Hamilton's "Mythology" and Italo Calvino's "Italian Folktales". These are for reading to the girls and also reading to myself. The girls woke up in the middle of the night last night and I read a bit to them from each book. They were entranced, even in the Calvino one which has no pictures. Satie's getting better at pictureless books, but Odile generally needs something. I did convince her to look at the words like they were a picture and that worked last night, but I don't know how many more times that's going to work.
But they were enthralled with the convoluted tales, especially since they contained Queens and Goddesses... these are the great stories, the myths that have fed human minds for thousands of years. I think it will help the girls' minds expand and become more fertile.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Trembling to Boredsville
Classes are definitely in full swing, and that hard lump that rises in the throat during the first few classes has melted into a semi-hard lump after days on end of hitting the books and realizing that I do still kinda have a brain.
Life is swinging hard, and without getting too much into it, I feel like I am sitting at the limits of a lot of types of internal energy. My time is stretched, my emotions are stretched, my patience is stretched, my mind is stretched, my body is in dire need of sports and exercise, my wallet is stretched. You would think with all this stretching I would be lumbered up. But one thing I've noticed about stretching: you don't feel that great about it until you're done doing it, then you're happy as pickled cabbage that you did. Tap, tap, tap on the old noggin', that's where being a conscious being comes into play, right old chap? I fucking hope so.
For those who care, vector calculus is not as hard as it sounds. What is hard is remembering all the calculus from I II and III that you need to pull this shit off, not to mention linear algebra and a penchant for patience with looooooong proofs that would knock out a freshly upped crack head on a roller coaster. That's me, jouncier than a freaked out, frazzled up froiker.
Dead Souls is really helping me at night. Gogol has got to be one of the most hilarious writers to grace the face. The premise, if you don't already know, is that one Chichikov travels the outskirts of a provincial capital, N., buying "dead souls" from acquaintances. These dead souls are simply the serfs on estates who have died but haven't been stricken from the tax logs. His reasons for doing so are murky, but the general idea is that he is going to build an estate that exists only on paper, with which to move up in the world.
The story is marked by what is known in Russian as "poshlost." Frequently translated as "banality" it is so much more than that. It is the quality of being human/sub-human and reveling in it, the quality of embracing yourself, warts and all and happily throwing the windows of your base side open for all to see, even calling the crowds outside to look in and, if not revel with you, then to experience your individual putrescence. But all of these "derogatory" terms don't do poshlost justice; it is seen as a good thing, because it is precisely these things that make one human. This concept is a precursor to Dostoevsky's more advanced notion of the necessary illogicalities that we humans commit. But enough of that.
Here's some decontextualized tidbits from Dead Souls:
on provincial Russian justice: The state peasants of the hamlet called Lousy Arrogance, joining with their fellows from the hamlet of Cockyville, supposedly wiped from the face of the earth the local police force, in the person of the assessor Drobyzazhkin. He was found on the road, the uniform or frock coat on the local police force was worse than a rag, his physiognomy was utterly beyond recognition. The case went through the courts and finally came to the chancellery, where the intimate deliberations took the following line: since it was not known precisely who among the peasants had participated, and there were many of them, and since Drobyzahkin was a dead man, meaning that it would not be much use to him even if he did win the case, while the peasants were still alive, meaning that for them it was quite important that the decision be in their favor, it was therefore decided thus: the assessor was himself the cause, having unjustly oppressed the peasants of Lousy Arrogance and Cockyville, and he had died of apoplexy while returning home in a sleigh.
So haughty, readers of the higher ranks, and along with them all those who count themselves among the higher ranks! And yet what exactingness! They absolutely insist that everything be written in the most strict, purefied, and noble of tongues- in short, they want the Russian tongue to suddenly descend from the clouds all on its own, all properly finished, and settle right on their tongue, leaving them nothing to do but gape their mouths open and stick it out. Of course, the female half of mankind is a puzzle; but our worthy readers, it must be confessed, are sometimes even more of a puzzle.
There's a lot of this in Dead Souls, a lot of meta-writing, where the reader is invited to examine the language and story, and even their own culpability in the tale. If I'm not completely off the mark, this style of writing began in earnest with Cervante's Quixote, at least there used to transcendent effect. Gogol uses it in such a strange way. Almost as punctuation, the story side-steps itself, the author makes half-assed excuses for the hero's actions, quarter-assed excuses for Russian slovenliness and zero-assed excuses for his very own actions. It is masterful and self-aware and funny and poignant and engrossing. In short, I am enjoying the hell out of it.
Life is swinging hard, and without getting too much into it, I feel like I am sitting at the limits of a lot of types of internal energy. My time is stretched, my emotions are stretched, my patience is stretched, my mind is stretched, my body is in dire need of sports and exercise, my wallet is stretched. You would think with all this stretching I would be lumbered up. But one thing I've noticed about stretching: you don't feel that great about it until you're done doing it, then you're happy as pickled cabbage that you did. Tap, tap, tap on the old noggin', that's where being a conscious being comes into play, right old chap? I fucking hope so.
For those who care, vector calculus is not as hard as it sounds. What is hard is remembering all the calculus from I II and III that you need to pull this shit off, not to mention linear algebra and a penchant for patience with looooooong proofs that would knock out a freshly upped crack head on a roller coaster. That's me, jouncier than a freaked out, frazzled up froiker.
Dead Souls is really helping me at night. Gogol has got to be one of the most hilarious writers to grace the face. The premise, if you don't already know, is that one Chichikov travels the outskirts of a provincial capital, N., buying "dead souls" from acquaintances. These dead souls are simply the serfs on estates who have died but haven't been stricken from the tax logs. His reasons for doing so are murky, but the general idea is that he is going to build an estate that exists only on paper, with which to move up in the world.
The story is marked by what is known in Russian as "poshlost." Frequently translated as "banality" it is so much more than that. It is the quality of being human/sub-human and reveling in it, the quality of embracing yourself, warts and all and happily throwing the windows of your base side open for all to see, even calling the crowds outside to look in and, if not revel with you, then to experience your individual putrescence. But all of these "derogatory" terms don't do poshlost justice; it is seen as a good thing, because it is precisely these things that make one human. This concept is a precursor to Dostoevsky's more advanced notion of the necessary illogicalities that we humans commit. But enough of that.
Here's some decontextualized tidbits from Dead Souls:
on provincial Russian justice: The state peasants of the hamlet called Lousy Arrogance, joining with their fellows from the hamlet of Cockyville, supposedly wiped from the face of the earth the local police force, in the person of the assessor Drobyzazhkin. He was found on the road, the uniform or frock coat on the local police force was worse than a rag, his physiognomy was utterly beyond recognition. The case went through the courts and finally came to the chancellery, where the intimate deliberations took the following line: since it was not known precisely who among the peasants had participated, and there were many of them, and since Drobyzahkin was a dead man, meaning that it would not be much use to him even if he did win the case, while the peasants were still alive, meaning that for them it was quite important that the decision be in their favor, it was therefore decided thus: the assessor was himself the cause, having unjustly oppressed the peasants of Lousy Arrogance and Cockyville, and he had died of apoplexy while returning home in a sleigh.
So haughty, readers of the higher ranks, and along with them all those who count themselves among the higher ranks! And yet what exactingness! They absolutely insist that everything be written in the most strict, purefied, and noble of tongues- in short, they want the Russian tongue to suddenly descend from the clouds all on its own, all properly finished, and settle right on their tongue, leaving them nothing to do but gape their mouths open and stick it out. Of course, the female half of mankind is a puzzle; but our worthy readers, it must be confessed, are sometimes even more of a puzzle.
There's a lot of this in Dead Souls, a lot of meta-writing, where the reader is invited to examine the language and story, and even their own culpability in the tale. If I'm not completely off the mark, this style of writing began in earnest with Cervante's Quixote, at least there used to transcendent effect. Gogol uses it in such a strange way. Almost as punctuation, the story side-steps itself, the author makes half-assed excuses for the hero's actions, quarter-assed excuses for Russian slovenliness and zero-assed excuses for his very own actions. It is masterful and self-aware and funny and poignant and engrossing. In short, I am enjoying the hell out of it.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Waffle Maligner
One class down, 5 billion to go!
Stat. Anal. was fine today, with the exception of there being far too many tables in the classroom, so many scrunched together that many went unused and people sat on the floor near the door because it was impossible to get to some tables because of the blocking thing that happens when too many tables are in a room. Did reading that last sentence suck? It should have: I was trying to convey the clusterfuck feel of sitting in a room with too many tables.
Thing sucky #2: the chairs are mismatched with the tables. By this I mean that it is hard to sit comfortably and write, for the table is too high! This is a pain in the, well, all over the body after about 30 minutes. After 2 hours? You start double-checking your chiropractor co-pay online and swearing like Kasey Kasem under your breath.
#3= the professor was 20 minutes late. First day of class. 20 minutes late.
4: the professor was very quiet. I like to sit kinda near the back, in the middle, for the sweeping vistas that can be had. Now I will have to get to class early and jockey for a front row seat so I can hear the damned man!
5er- the building is very creepy and decrepit. This is the Chemistry building, for god's sake! There are chemicals everywhere, dirty instruments, classrooms boiling over with crusty casks, broken beakers, cobwebs, flickering lights, oozing tubes of who-the-fuck-knows... Jesus PSU, pick yourself up and take a deep drong look at your goddamned self! You are charging me $600 a class! At least you can brush your teeth before our date. It's a bit pathetic.
Well, the girls are cute, the guys are total doofuses, so at least I get a little cutey-pie attention, although with this new beard it's a whole different spectrum of females. And, oddly enough, a whole new spectrum of guys too.
If anyone wants me to explain standard deviation, I can do that for you.
Stat. Anal. was fine today, with the exception of there being far too many tables in the classroom, so many scrunched together that many went unused and people sat on the floor near the door because it was impossible to get to some tables because of the blocking thing that happens when too many tables are in a room. Did reading that last sentence suck? It should have: I was trying to convey the clusterfuck feel of sitting in a room with too many tables.
Thing sucky #2: the chairs are mismatched with the tables. By this I mean that it is hard to sit comfortably and write, for the table is too high! This is a pain in the, well, all over the body after about 30 minutes. After 2 hours? You start double-checking your chiropractor co-pay online and swearing like Kasey Kasem under your breath.
#3= the professor was 20 minutes late. First day of class. 20 minutes late.
4: the professor was very quiet. I like to sit kinda near the back, in the middle, for the sweeping vistas that can be had. Now I will have to get to class early and jockey for a front row seat so I can hear the damned man!
5er- the building is very creepy and decrepit. This is the Chemistry building, for god's sake! There are chemicals everywhere, dirty instruments, classrooms boiling over with crusty casks, broken beakers, cobwebs, flickering lights, oozing tubes of who-the-fuck-knows... Jesus PSU, pick yourself up and take a deep drong look at your goddamned self! You are charging me $600 a class! At least you can brush your teeth before our date. It's a bit pathetic.
Well, the girls are cute, the guys are total doofuses, so at least I get a little cutey-pie attention, although with this new beard it's a whole different spectrum of females. And, oddly enough, a whole new spectrum of guys too.
If anyone wants me to explain standard deviation, I can do that for you.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
From the pen of Nokolai Gogol
To such worthlessness, pettiness, vileness a man can descend! So changed he can become! Does this resemble the truth? Everything resembles the truth, everything can happen to a man. The now ardent youth would jump back in horror if he were shown his own portrait in old age. So take with you on your way, as you pass from youth's tender years into stern, hardening manhood, take with you every humane impulse, do not leave them by the wayside, you will not pick them up later! Terrible, dreadful old age looms ahead, and nothing does it give back again! The grave is more merciful, on the grave it will be written: "Here lies a man!" - but nothing can be read in the cold, unfeeling features of inhuman old age.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
It's thickest right here...
Hi fellow goons, it's been quite a meaty day, with waffles at the top. Shared a pollo chimichanga with my eldest progeny, studied differential equations, slung dirt (both real and social), watched too much Ali G, inhaled too much burnt rubber, ate some wonderful watermelon and rode my bike hard. Who ever said I was a slacker?
I don't relate to slackers, or hipsters, or yuppies, but I get that a lot from people in the habit of looking down on others. I saw an anti-hipster Adbusters and it gave me pause. Isn't that their main audience? I'm confused now. I guess hipsters make me a little uncomfortable too, but I'm not going to dedicate an issue to them. Even if I had issues to dedicate. I'm just confused- doesn't everyone have better things to do than to look and act like everyone else? Get a goddamned sewing machine, buy plain clothes and take a running leap. Seriously, just falling bodily on the machine will impart a dadaist coil to your newfangled clothing and you will not look like anyone else. Now the acting part, that's the tought part... oh that's funny, blogspot will correct my spelling on words like "chimichanga" but "tought" is okay? Hah, as soon as I typed "tought" in quotes the "misspelt" word underline disappeared! Wow, this has degenerated into navel gazing quite unfortunately.
Watched the first episode of Dexter the other night. I thought it was pretty swell. I like the main actor dude, the gay brother from 6 Feet Under. He's pretty fucking good. I'm noticing with TV shows though, there's always a cadre of good actors (sometimes just 1) and then there's... the bad guys. I think Tootie is in Dexter! Let me check... nope, not Tootie. Pretty damn close though.
Been hooked on these: http://www.willitblend.com/videos.aspx?type=unsafe&video=chuck . Seriously, watch one. You'll want to watch them all. There's something about watching things spinning to oblivion. I think my favorite, as far as concepts go, is the Rubik's Cube. Next I would like to see the BlendTech blend an inferior blender... yum. I like how the guy says "Bad Guy smoke... don't breathe that." when he opens the blender top. He will be dead within 5 years of the most horrific lung problems the world has seen since WWII.
I'm getting a little nervous about school- this is my last semester of math classes. I am specifically taking a lighter load so I can ace everything and be done with math classes... FOREVER. Don't get me wrong, I like math, but the classes are so over the top, especially at this level, you are learning things that you will almost surely never need to know, but you have to be able to show that you've grasped the concepts. It will be nice when I'm working and I encounter problems that are easy in comparison to the shit I've been doing. Ahh, I can hear my heels hitting the marble countertop now...
G'Night!
Love Ya Burt
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Steam Flows Uphill Past the Stream
A tremendous crash. My head snaps up from the pillow. It's morning because the light is bluely snaking around the tapestry on the window. After the sound of the crash slowly dies in my head the sound of small girls giggling begins to fill it. I throw the sheets aside with gusto and pop out of bed with a dream-enhanced, breakfast-eating grin on my face. My wife is standing there with her arms crossed, staring at me pleasantly.
How do your mornings go these days? Everyone's mornings are slightly different, right? Even from day to day, my mornings differ. If I can master the wake-up, I feel I can master the day.
March 18, 2003:
Weird thoughts today: I thought that a toilet seat that I had sprinkled a little pee on was following me from bathroom to bathroom down I-5- that spot of sprinkled pee was in the same place- but I shook the thought off; while driving I imagined what it would be like to drive over a dead body, mangles and meat in the road, a human body.
March 19, 2003:
I can only writhe across my life, spitting curdled milk, screaming with clotted blood shooting from my throat, I am unhappy. It becomes apparent when the candy-clotted haze lifts and everyone's spite shows through. I have no faith in humans. I have nothing but instant mistrust, hatred, recoilingness, disgust, aversion. Even those I purport to love can, in a moment, become an enemy. No human is beyond the reach of putrescence and shit. It must be said: I am the only one who matters in this horrid game, my pleasure the only measure. Sure solipsism rears its ugly head, but to whom is it ugly, fucker? In a world with no mirrors, the solipsist is always right.
I want to crush every little fucking thing between my stone hands. I will then smile benignly at the wasted crumpled bones that writhe there under the weight of exiting marrow. I will smile and vomit my love in to my palms and rub the broken nothings back into existence where they will sit and be completely silent forever, happy in an existence which consists solely of watching my charmed life and the beauty and purity that shoots in and out of my every pore and orifice.
How do your mornings go these days? Everyone's mornings are slightly different, right? Even from day to day, my mornings differ. If I can master the wake-up, I feel I can master the day.
March 18, 2003:
Weird thoughts today: I thought that a toilet seat that I had sprinkled a little pee on was following me from bathroom to bathroom down I-5- that spot of sprinkled pee was in the same place- but I shook the thought off; while driving I imagined what it would be like to drive over a dead body, mangles and meat in the road, a human body.
March 19, 2003:
I can only writhe across my life, spitting curdled milk, screaming with clotted blood shooting from my throat, I am unhappy. It becomes apparent when the candy-clotted haze lifts and everyone's spite shows through. I have no faith in humans. I have nothing but instant mistrust, hatred, recoilingness, disgust, aversion. Even those I purport to love can, in a moment, become an enemy. No human is beyond the reach of putrescence and shit. It must be said: I am the only one who matters in this horrid game, my pleasure the only measure. Sure solipsism rears its ugly head, but to whom is it ugly, fucker? In a world with no mirrors, the solipsist is always right.
I want to crush every little fucking thing between my stone hands. I will then smile benignly at the wasted crumpled bones that writhe there under the weight of exiting marrow. I will smile and vomit my love in to my palms and rub the broken nothings back into existence where they will sit and be completely silent forever, happy in an existence which consists solely of watching my charmed life and the beauty and purity that shoots in and out of my every pore and orifice.
Penis smock penis frock
Hands down, one of the best menatl in a long while, Allen.
Coming from that direction of speed I thought the blast of shell
was Japanese or permanetnt, but perinitely, yes things are laid.
Planned to make quiche, made mushrooms and protestant pamphlets
Gored Melancon Baron Puddle-Maps Behringer 27, Glocksman Channel
Toad tipped fingernails ovary o very Lee oy vay! et verily...
pointed out every simple dent in the Goddamned thing, kicking my tir
Mammoth galloping down Gullery Row in Greenwich, I swore to death
at the mixed up space crackers defending obartine philanthropisseds
second gate opens moored shiling deflated kite sac bent in unorigi nal duress
bent in objectionable directions bent towards a worse overhead fan
bent slightly upwards, with, i swear, a horrible disgusting smile
painted on it pushin Bentweed fluffing sidewalkways from the grinning
garbageman's house, bent in ungodly stupor over the pool of tea
bent obscenely up inside an adverb bent gay
bent meatlessly into the tub of bones bent bonelessly into the
Coming from that direction of speed I thought the blast of shell
was Japanese or permanetnt, but perinitely, yes things are laid.
Planned to make quiche, made mushrooms and protestant pamphlets
Gored Melancon Baron Puddle-Maps Behringer 27, Glocksman Channel
Toad tipped fingernails ovary o very Lee oy vay! et verily...
pointed out every simple dent in the Goddamned thing, kicking my tir
Mammoth galloping down Gullery Row in Greenwich, I swore to death
at the mixed up space crackers defending obartine philanthropisseds
second gate opens moored shiling deflated kite sac bent in unorigi nal duress
bent in objectionable directions bent towards a worse overhead fan
bent slightly upwards, with, i swear, a horrible disgusting smile
painted on it pushin Bentweed fluffing sidewalkways from the grinning
garbageman's house, bent in ungodly stupor over the pool of tea
bent obscenely up inside an adverb bent gay
bent meatlessly into the tub of bones bent bonelessly into the
whitened crag of burns
bent hunched, parts in the cheeselike rock pores, riddled
with parched caves and char, other parts
gracing gliding through the tough leathery air
describing flesh loops and architecture
from Palagul-2#4#, bent hurting through life
with parched caves and char, other parts
gracing gliding through the tough leathery air
describing flesh loops and architecture
from Palagul-2#4#, bent hurting through life
bent, normally bent, finding that his silence
Bent rudely into the crystal bowl of marzipan. she saw this from
the mushroom and marmalade gazebo where the ju ju pops sat in a wardrobe of
ice and pubic hair, I saw her bending formard to mea sure his angle
of departure from decoroum, coloured decoroum my dearest
insitent, even bent upon driving the car directly into the jail wall
there in the milky way hitting the cliff I saw a mewling
Bent rudely into the crystal bowl of marzipan. she saw this from
the mushroom and marmalade gazebo where the ju ju pops sat in a wardrobe of
ice and pubic hair, I saw her bending formard to mea sure his angle
of departure from decoroum, coloured decoroum my dearest
insitent, even bent upon driving the car directly into the jail wall
there in the milky way hitting the cliff I saw a mewling
soul in her eyes, the trembling skin of her pale
puncturing eyeball, a quivering bared beauty trembled with even
more shimmer there directly in her eye socket, was it a beauty?
yes
but there was a snake of steel
there was blood
the red and white things in her eyes
more shimmer there directly in her eye socket, was it a beauty?
yes
but there was a snake of steel
there was blood
the red and white things in her eyes
arose
and paled the blue furthest to black
and paled the blue furthest to black
I kissed her then
and we danced off the cliff
and we danced off the cliff
Monday, September 15, 2008
Endeavoring to Gild the Lily
School starts in two weeks. Calc IV, Differential Equations and Statistical Analysis. Fun.
Hit golf balls yesterday. I am not the next contender for golf champion of the universe, no matter how much I believed I would be. That's a thing about me: I think I will be the best at something until I try it, then I get frustrated and mope. Pretty cute, huh?
Had a little get together the other night. Fire going, beers and wine, conversation, ping pong. It was quite pleasant. We talked a lot about the Terry Gross/Gene Simmons interview, except for a long time in the beginning I was referring to the Terry Gross/Richard Simmons interview. I was set straight, but not before confusing the pants off of some partygoers.
Went to a kids "thang" yesterday with the girls and some friends. There was car painting, bead threading, music, 8mm film loops where you could make your own and they would get spliced into the ongoing loop, dancing. It was mighty fun and the girls had a great time, which was the main thing. I'm having to face the fact that yes, we do have a wonderful house but the girls need to leave it a lot and get out into the world and do things. They get cooped up here and fall into old bad habits; out there, there's new stimuli to interact with. It helps them stay interested.
Then went golfing with Jeff. That was fun and frustrating. What was even more fun was having beers and talking business with him afterwards. We went to Hopworks on Powell- they had some truly awesome beers that they brew right there in the building. Fresh, well made beer is just unlike anything else. We had a bunch of good ideas too... he's been working for some bumbling construction company, so he's got a head full of what not to do, in addition to the construction skills. We both agreed we should probably take some, cringe, business classes. Shiver! But, if you want to run a business, it seems like a thing to do.
Anyway, our business idea is a remodel/new construction company that does green, LEED certified work. We want to be affordable, so we were thinking have a grant writing/finance research arm of the business; do systems design (that'll be me) for high efficiency electrical systems; portfolio research, to determine the best spread of technology to increase home efficiency; and have a good passive solar arm, a group of people who know their passive inside and out and can tell right off the bat what a house needs to run tight. I would also love to have a cool architect on board, someone who can design shit that will constantly remind the owner that their decision to greenify was a great idea, and give them a good feeling inside. So much of this stuff is insulation and shingles, stuff that really only hits once at first and then again every now and then on the energy bill, but you get used to that. I want something, even kinetic would be rad, that reminds the owner that they are on the good-guys side. Something like translucent rainbarrel trombe wall: you see it fill up with rain and retain heat in the winter, instead of all that water going down the drain and the heat bouncing off the wall into the yard. That kind of thing. Jeff also mentioned landscaping, which I just realized is a great external insulator. Lots of research to do, lots to think about. I'm excited! Too bad the renewable energy systems program required me to fucking drive all over town. I'll just have to roll my own.
Here's your eyecandy for the day. Check the rainbow! (This was just randomly found on flickr)
Hit golf balls yesterday. I am not the next contender for golf champion of the universe, no matter how much I believed I would be. That's a thing about me: I think I will be the best at something until I try it, then I get frustrated and mope. Pretty cute, huh?
Had a little get together the other night. Fire going, beers and wine, conversation, ping pong. It was quite pleasant. We talked a lot about the Terry Gross/Gene Simmons interview, except for a long time in the beginning I was referring to the Terry Gross/Richard Simmons interview. I was set straight, but not before confusing the pants off of some partygoers.
Went to a kids "thang" yesterday with the girls and some friends. There was car painting, bead threading, music, 8mm film loops where you could make your own and they would get spliced into the ongoing loop, dancing. It was mighty fun and the girls had a great time, which was the main thing. I'm having to face the fact that yes, we do have a wonderful house but the girls need to leave it a lot and get out into the world and do things. They get cooped up here and fall into old bad habits; out there, there's new stimuli to interact with. It helps them stay interested.
Then went golfing with Jeff. That was fun and frustrating. What was even more fun was having beers and talking business with him afterwards. We went to Hopworks on Powell- they had some truly awesome beers that they brew right there in the building. Fresh, well made beer is just unlike anything else. We had a bunch of good ideas too... he's been working for some bumbling construction company, so he's got a head full of what not to do, in addition to the construction skills. We both agreed we should probably take some, cringe, business classes. Shiver! But, if you want to run a business, it seems like a thing to do.
Anyway, our business idea is a remodel/new construction company that does green, LEED certified work. We want to be affordable, so we were thinking have a grant writing/finance research arm of the business; do systems design (that'll be me) for high efficiency electrical systems; portfolio research, to determine the best spread of technology to increase home efficiency; and have a good passive solar arm, a group of people who know their passive inside and out and can tell right off the bat what a house needs to run tight. I would also love to have a cool architect on board, someone who can design shit that will constantly remind the owner that their decision to greenify was a great idea, and give them a good feeling inside. So much of this stuff is insulation and shingles, stuff that really only hits once at first and then again every now and then on the energy bill, but you get used to that. I want something, even kinetic would be rad, that reminds the owner that they are on the good-guys side. Something like translucent rainbarrel trombe wall: you see it fill up with rain and retain heat in the winter, instead of all that water going down the drain and the heat bouncing off the wall into the yard. That kind of thing. Jeff also mentioned landscaping, which I just realized is a great external insulator. Lots of research to do, lots to think about. I'm excited! Too bad the renewable energy systems program required me to fucking drive all over town. I'll just have to roll my own.
Here's your eyecandy for the day. Check the rainbow! (This was just randomly found on flickr)
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Things Have Changed
Okay, I have made the commenting easier, thanks mom. Now I will get very important penis enlarging spam- good thing, I could use it!
I have decided that I need drugs to function, namely caffiene. I hadn't had it in a few days, and then I had a cup of strong tea this morning and became astounding! I will endeavor to use drugs to my advantage.
I have decided that I need drugs to function, namely caffiene. I hadn't had it in a few days, and then I had a cup of strong tea this morning and became astounding! I will endeavor to use drugs to my advantage.
Monday, September 8, 2008
All the shit in the universe comes whizzing by
OK
Life just comes faster than I can swing at it! I love it, but there's a part of me that wonders about it all... when the psychiatrist asks me "have you ever considered suicide?" I know how to answer, but really, it's a noble endeavor. Don't worry, I don't have it in me, but as the old song sings, "this world is not my home, this world is not my home, this world is not my home, I'm just passing through."
I was going to put the song up for all you dedicated readers to listen to, but I couldn't find it online and I was prepared to buy it, but I realized I was being ridiculous. If you want to hear the song, it's a beautiful one, it's by His Name Is Alive on their album Stars on ESP. It's a plaintive, evocative, soul scarring song. I believe it's an update on this song. The His Name is Alive song is more apropro. Look for it, and when I get my old cd back I'll put it up here.
Well, I've lost that forlorn feeling now, what with all this YouTuberry, so I'll just end it here. Don't call the men in white coats on me, I'll be fine, to be honest it was just the Bushmills that made me feel pensive, so don't worry about me, you've got much worse problems, I'm sure. To be honest the main thing that's got me down is doing some very unfulfilling and destructive housework, but I need to remember that I've done a lot of good and hard work recently that I should be able to fall back on. I don't know what the medical name for my problem is but maybe we should start a raffle and come up with one. It's basically mental hypochondria, so if you can come up with a pithier title, please do, I'll be indebted to you for that!
Here's a cute thing to keep you from the bottle or the razor:
Life just comes faster than I can swing at it! I love it, but there's a part of me that wonders about it all... when the psychiatrist asks me "have you ever considered suicide?" I know how to answer, but really, it's a noble endeavor. Don't worry, I don't have it in me, but as the old song sings, "this world is not my home, this world is not my home, this world is not my home, I'm just passing through."
I was going to put the song up for all you dedicated readers to listen to, but I couldn't find it online and I was prepared to buy it, but I realized I was being ridiculous. If you want to hear the song, it's a beautiful one, it's by His Name Is Alive on their album Stars on ESP. It's a plaintive, evocative, soul scarring song. I believe it's an update on this song. The His Name is Alive song is more apropro. Look for it, and when I get my old cd back I'll put it up here.
Well, I've lost that forlorn feeling now, what with all this YouTuberry, so I'll just end it here. Don't call the men in white coats on me, I'll be fine, to be honest it was just the Bushmills that made me feel pensive, so don't worry about me, you've got much worse problems, I'm sure. To be honest the main thing that's got me down is doing some very unfulfilling and destructive housework, but I need to remember that I've done a lot of good and hard work recently that I should be able to fall back on. I don't know what the medical name for my problem is but maybe we should start a raffle and come up with one. It's basically mental hypochondria, so if you can come up with a pithier title, please do, I'll be indebted to you for that!
Here's a cute thing to keep you from the bottle or the razor:
Friday, September 5, 2008
I'm bad for the planet
Life is hitting overdrive these days, and I'm not helping any! I think about those days of sitting around, staring at the sky, doing nothing (actually I think I only had maybe one or two of those days total). Never again, it seems like. But I don't really want that anyway.
Got a new gas stove at the house, quite exciting, I know.
Going to see Built to Spill tonight if we can, Ratatat tomorrow, early eve, Trans Am and Polvo in the night time, if possible. Full weekend and we found a 15$/night babysitter! Things are looking up!
Anyway, these are missives to myself and I already know all this bullshit so why do I bother, you may ask? Or not, since you don't exist. Well, call it a solipsist's diary. The most futile thing in the universe.
Got a new gas stove at the house, quite exciting, I know.
Going to see Built to Spill tonight if we can, Ratatat tomorrow, early eve, Trans Am and Polvo in the night time, if possible. Full weekend and we found a 15$/night babysitter! Things are looking up!
Anyway, these are missives to myself and I already know all this bullshit so why do I bother, you may ask? Or not, since you don't exist. Well, call it a solipsist's diary. The most futile thing in the universe.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Put on Your Believing Panties
Yesterday was a tough day.
I was convinced our house was poisoning our children and ironically they were acting so badly I was kind of rooting for it to, but quick-like. But it wasn't really them, it was my bad attitude, which didn't help them out, viscous cycle 101. So, we decided to pack everyone up and, that's right, go to the hardware store.
We purchased a wonderful new gas stove. Not the cheapo kinds, but not the ultra-fancy ones either. This one is minimum frills with one big exception: it has a fifth, middle burner. Now, this may not seem like a big deal to those of you who see cooking as a nice smelling punishment (and I count myself in your ranks sometimes), but to people like Corinne, and me vicariously through her delicious dinners, we thought this was a great idea. Now we can do paella, huge gumbos, gigantic soups, all that. Plus, the stovetop is basically one big level hot zone, so you can slide your little cast iron pans over the fire to your heart's content. Come over, we'll feed you.
We also got a wonderful new faucet. The handheld sprayer part is built into the faucet itself, not separate. And it's high loping so you can fit... you guessed it... the soup pot under it! God I'm getting old.
I was convinced our house was poisoning our children and ironically they were acting so badly I was kind of rooting for it to, but quick-like. But it wasn't really them, it was my bad attitude, which didn't help them out, viscous cycle 101. So, we decided to pack everyone up and, that's right, go to the hardware store.
We purchased a wonderful new gas stove. Not the cheapo kinds, but not the ultra-fancy ones either. This one is minimum frills with one big exception: it has a fifth, middle burner. Now, this may not seem like a big deal to those of you who see cooking as a nice smelling punishment (and I count myself in your ranks sometimes), but to people like Corinne, and me vicariously through her delicious dinners, we thought this was a great idea. Now we can do paella, huge gumbos, gigantic soups, all that. Plus, the stovetop is basically one big level hot zone, so you can slide your little cast iron pans over the fire to your heart's content. Come over, we'll feed you.
We also got a wonderful new faucet. The handheld sprayer part is built into the faucet itself, not separate. And it's high loping so you can fit... you guessed it... the soup pot under it! God I'm getting old.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
New Type of Music
Found a new kind of muzak that I've been enjoying. To date I've only found two avowed proponents of it and they are both Norwegian or Netherlandish, or of various local locales. Woops, sorry, one's from Vienna. The style is something like beaty, jazzy improv. I guess you could consider Can in that arena, but Can had a very poppy element. Supersilent and Trapist are what one might call downtempo, not trying to take you anywhere you don't want to go, but giving you solace wherever your mind wanders. I'm going to get lynched here, but think later Talk Talk mixed with Thelonius Monk. Now you're getting there, and you even want to go.
I love talking dirty to myself.
http://www.last.fm/music/Trapist
http://www.last.fm/music/Supersilent
I love talking dirty to myself.
http://www.last.fm/music/Trapist
http://www.last.fm/music/Supersilent
Friday, August 29, 2008
Bilge Pumps R Us
Just had a yummy lunch: new carts on the cart block=edible Pad Kee Mao and not super greasy Vietnamese! Yay!
Hit golf balls for the first time in my adult life last night. Not too bad, not as easy as I wanted, but not too bad either. I'd like to do a good wholesome 9 holes, just to have the experience. I've heard that it's frustrating, batting the ball to the left, then the right, trying hard to get it in the hole. Well, I'm up for it, are you?
What's with "No worries"? I don't get it, people are always saying this to me, as if trying to project their worries onto me. I'm not fucking worried, what are you so damn worried about? We just had a worry-free interaction, so even bringing up worries makes me a little worried... about you!
The summer is toying with us here in Portland. Threatening to end, threatening to burn, and then just being straight up pleasant sometimes. This planet and its "weather".
Watched Control the other night, joy Division biopic in which the actors play their own instruments. It was okay- beautifully shot in B+W on what must have been some of the most expensive B+W film out there. Too bad the acting was a little off, especially the singing, and the story was not exactly true to what I've heard of the situation. Ian Curtis was more of a prick than they made him out to be and his mistress was not quite so nice to him. In fact it is purported that she would get disgusted with him and storm off when he would have seizures. Cold. Although, now that I think about it, I read that in the book written by Curtis's widow, so... who knows, not me.
And here's your cool visual for the day. Give this photographer a cookie!
Hit golf balls for the first time in my adult life last night. Not too bad, not as easy as I wanted, but not too bad either. I'd like to do a good wholesome 9 holes, just to have the experience. I've heard that it's frustrating, batting the ball to the left, then the right, trying hard to get it in the hole. Well, I'm up for it, are you?
What's with "No worries"? I don't get it, people are always saying this to me, as if trying to project their worries onto me. I'm not fucking worried, what are you so damn worried about? We just had a worry-free interaction, so even bringing up worries makes me a little worried... about you!
The summer is toying with us here in Portland. Threatening to end, threatening to burn, and then just being straight up pleasant sometimes. This planet and its "weather".
Watched Control the other night, joy Division biopic in which the actors play their own instruments. It was okay- beautifully shot in B+W on what must have been some of the most expensive B+W film out there. Too bad the acting was a little off, especially the singing, and the story was not exactly true to what I've heard of the situation. Ian Curtis was more of a prick than they made him out to be and his mistress was not quite so nice to him. In fact it is purported that she would get disgusted with him and storm off when he would have seizures. Cold. Although, now that I think about it, I read that in the book written by Curtis's widow, so... who knows, not me.
And here's your cool visual for the day. Give this photographer a cookie!
Monday, August 25, 2008
I Owe Myself A Good Talking To
Woo! Went out with Randy Eskelin last night, Miss Delta's one-year annivers. where they were having a shrimp boil. It's ostensibly Cajun food, and it came pretty close, but the servings! Waaaaay too small. I'm not complaining (too much) because the food was free, but... I was sitting at a table with five guys and we had to split one pan of shrimp while there was one fat dude sitting by himself across the room who got treated to a couple of pans. That was a little frustrating, as everyone at my table will attest.
It was fun to hang out with a bunch of cute gay boys. I of course was the black sheep, and the butt of many jokes, and rightly so. And I took last night to go back into the closet... the bisexual closet. Or, I guess I should say I demolished the closet. For the longest time I swore up and down that I was bi, but, I have to be honest, boys just don't do it for me. I'm a ladies' man, and not in that suave way, just in that obsessed way. They boys last night all comforted me as I swung the wrecking ball, and assured me it was quite alright to be a white hetero male (albeit a bit of a rarity), the important thing (to them!) was to keep an open mind and not be a gay-hater. True words, good to keep in mind.
Kept the drinks to a minimum, that was _really_ nice, I need to do that more often. This morning I'm still able to function, which is super-nice, something I could get used to.
Alright, you people want a picture and a link, huh? Okay.
I read a Nikolai Gogol story, The Coach, last night, as threatened. It was only 5 pages long, but I laughed quite heartily. It was a light little jaunt; the man is obsessed with moustaches, in the way that I am obsessed with women.
I met the guy who runs this website last night: The Beard Revue Looks like a funny read.
More pictures on their way! Must go pick up prints from the camera store today, hope everyone is doing well!
It was fun to hang out with a bunch of cute gay boys. I of course was the black sheep, and the butt of many jokes, and rightly so. And I took last night to go back into the closet... the bisexual closet. Or, I guess I should say I demolished the closet. For the longest time I swore up and down that I was bi, but, I have to be honest, boys just don't do it for me. I'm a ladies' man, and not in that suave way, just in that obsessed way. They boys last night all comforted me as I swung the wrecking ball, and assured me it was quite alright to be a white hetero male (albeit a bit of a rarity), the important thing (to them!) was to keep an open mind and not be a gay-hater. True words, good to keep in mind.
Kept the drinks to a minimum, that was _really_ nice, I need to do that more often. This morning I'm still able to function, which is super-nice, something I could get used to.
Alright, you people want a picture and a link, huh? Okay.
I read a Nikolai Gogol story, The Coach, last night, as threatened. It was only 5 pages long, but I laughed quite heartily. It was a light little jaunt; the man is obsessed with moustaches, in the way that I am obsessed with women.I met the guy who runs this website last night: The Beard Revue Looks like a funny read.
More pictures on their way! Must go pick up prints from the camera store today, hope everyone is doing well!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
MalStruck
Struck by some kind of melancholy after a few days of happiness. It's tough, as you all well know. I hate how people don't like to talk about how hard it is to live- people are afraid to stare into the darkness and talk it through, they think it makes them weak maybe. But I get even sadder at the thought of not being able to converse about it. And therapists? Please. Seems like mental prostitution. Not that I'm against prostitution, just that I don't practice it.
The end of summer rains have settled in and I think my entire being is in shock at the thought of the summer being over. We still have hot days peppered in here and there, but there's been some grey grey skies lately. I've come to realize that my favorite days are fluffy clouds, blue skies, mid to low 70's, low humidity. Those are the days where I can just laze about and enjoy the world to its fullest and not feel like there's things to get done. Around here, those days are about 30 per year. The worst is when I work on those days- I can watch them drifting by through the windows.
What the hell has been going on in my life? I'm getting revved up for school in a few weeks, trying to splash through all of my math classes and get on to the heady stuff. Dusting off the old calculus skills, kind of excited about a statistical analysis class (I know, I'm a nerd). Been reading almost nothing but engineering books, books on science and math, Buckminster Fuller, quantum mechanics books. What the hell is going on with me? It's pretty crazy. I can feel Calvino, Borges, Mann, Gogol, Dostoeveky, etc. all peering at me from the genius table, shaking their heads and mumbling about losing a promising son. In fact, I think I'll dust off my Gogol books and chomp into them a bit for a goddamned laugh. The man was insanely genius and I highly recommend him to everyone. The Coat and The Nose are two obvious beginning spots, but check out Dead Souls for a hell of a ride. Funny and dark in ways you've never imagined. I also have a book of his horror stories- they give me goosebumps and they are out of this world! And this guy died in 1852! He was far far ahead of his time.
Wow, even just thinking about wonderful stories has lifted my spirits. Maybe I should get the hell off the radiation box and go read a great book... bye!
The end of summer rains have settled in and I think my entire being is in shock at the thought of the summer being over. We still have hot days peppered in here and there, but there's been some grey grey skies lately. I've come to realize that my favorite days are fluffy clouds, blue skies, mid to low 70's, low humidity. Those are the days where I can just laze about and enjoy the world to its fullest and not feel like there's things to get done. Around here, those days are about 30 per year. The worst is when I work on those days- I can watch them drifting by through the windows.
What the hell has been going on in my life? I'm getting revved up for school in a few weeks, trying to splash through all of my math classes and get on to the heady stuff. Dusting off the old calculus skills, kind of excited about a statistical analysis class (I know, I'm a nerd). Been reading almost nothing but engineering books, books on science and math, Buckminster Fuller, quantum mechanics books. What the hell is going on with me? It's pretty crazy. I can feel Calvino, Borges, Mann, Gogol, Dostoeveky, etc. all peering at me from the genius table, shaking their heads and mumbling about losing a promising son. In fact, I think I'll dust off my Gogol books and chomp into them a bit for a goddamned laugh. The man was insanely genius and I highly recommend him to everyone. The Coat and The Nose are two obvious beginning spots, but check out Dead Souls for a hell of a ride. Funny and dark in ways you've never imagined. I also have a book of his horror stories- they give me goosebumps and they are out of this world! And this guy died in 1852! He was far far ahead of his time.
Wow, even just thinking about wonderful stories has lifted my spirits. Maybe I should get the hell off the radiation box and go read a great book... bye!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Something's Odd...
Something is odd, with humans, that is. Have you ever noticed how we can be oblivious to the biggest problems and focus incessantly on the little ones? It's very confusing to me, and realizing it about myself doesn't make things any clearer. What's the solution? Is there just one, or is it a multitude of solutions? I know this is vague talk, but I have a feeling that everyone reading this knows what I mean. There's something wrong with us, something fundamentally out of balance... it's unnerving and I wish I could say I had faith that we will tighten up the bolts before it's too late. Whatever the hell that means.
Here's one of my favorite new photographs-
For those of you who don't know the subjects, the one on the left is Odile, my 3 year old daughter, and the little prince on the right is my recently wedded, bestest friend in the world, Ryan Leblanc. This was the morning after the wedding at a brunch on Market Street in San Francisco. This picture is just a wonderfully perfect capture of these two at their finest. Odile constantly talks about Ryan and Ryan is constantly chattering to me about Odile. This photo encapsulates all that banter for me in one happy moment when these two were taking the time to enjoy each other. Pretty cool.
Had one of those magical kind of days yesterday where everything is pleasant, no bad news calls, body felt wonderful, got things done, relaxed, felt really at ease with myself. Then I watched Blade (yes, the one with Wesley Snipes). Weird end to an otherwise perfect day.
Here's one of my favorite new photographs-
For those of you who don't know the subjects, the one on the left is Odile, my 3 year old daughter, and the little prince on the right is my recently wedded, bestest friend in the world, Ryan Leblanc. This was the morning after the wedding at a brunch on Market Street in San Francisco. This picture is just a wonderfully perfect capture of these two at their finest. Odile constantly talks about Ryan and Ryan is constantly chattering to me about Odile. This photo encapsulates all that banter for me in one happy moment when these two were taking the time to enjoy each other. Pretty cool.
Had one of those magical kind of days yesterday where everything is pleasant, no bad news calls, body felt wonderful, got things done, relaxed, felt really at ease with myself. Then I watched Blade (yes, the one with Wesley Snipes). Weird end to an otherwise perfect day.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Things We Made Up On Our Trip To Keep Us From Going Insane
Overheard on Christian Radio: "In today's religious news, Man Injured by Holy Spirit." I changed the channel instantly, because really, do you need to know more than that? We laughed for approx. 8.24 minutes.
Idea for a bumper sticker: "Crosses don't kill people, the Jews do." Don't get mad at me for that, I'm just making a point.
There are these obnoxious signs in California that say "Speed Enforced by Aircraft". I thought a much more effective sign would say "Speed Enforced by Guilt". Agree? Disagree? Indifferent? Didn't even read this? Great.
Idea for a bumper sticker: "Crosses don't kill people, the Jews do." Don't get mad at me for that, I'm just making a point.
There are these obnoxious signs in California that say "Speed Enforced by Aircraft". I thought a much more effective sign would say "Speed Enforced by Guilt". Agree? Disagree? Indifferent? Didn't even read this? Great.
FUN TIP: around the house
fun tip #1: whenever anything happens in your house that you don't approve of (your wedding dress gets washed with the diapers, wasps swarm around your meat cake, your partner and children perform a crystal meth intervention on your ass, etc.) all you have to do is pop up, stick your chest out and yell "GUARDS!!!" Try it in different voices.
The Girls and Boy are Back
Back from California- wonderful trip, if you excise the driving. SF, fun as usual, a little tough with the girls, since it's not the most kid friendly city in the world, but we made do. Went to the Yerba Buena Gardens, super kid fun zone. Also went to the Exploratorium and everyone's minds were blown. We could have spent all day there, but we had to rush off to naps and Ryan's wedding.
When we first got to town we went to our little "cottage", located in the Castro. It's run by this guy Dennis Peron who is a big medical marijuana activist, was apparently buddies with Harvey Milk (although Ryan thinks all the pics of them together is simple photoshoppery). The cottage we stayed in was a weird cavernous love shack with little natural light, and right outside the cave was a black light garden. The place was insane, a SF townhouse with 9 separate sleeping quarters, all stacked on top of a grow operation. We kept a good eye on the girls. That's kinda how all of SF went, really.
Got together with my cousin Alexis who is super-awesome and who I only get to see every 4 years apparently. We had lunch in North Beach then went over to City Lights. I hung out in the alley next to city lights with the stroller and bags and took pictures of the people through glinting windows. There's a bar next to City Lights that has this written across the top of the entrance: "I've been itching to get away from... PORTLAND, OREGON!" That gave me a good chuckle.
The thing about the alley next to city lights is that there were no cars allowed, it was paved with cobblestone and had murals and sunlight all over the place. I could have stayed there all day, soaking in the sun, listening to the people talk, not worrying about getting run over... it was one of my favorite places in SF so far.
The wedding was great, Ryan and Carrie looked very happy and Ryan choked up when he was speaking his thoughts about Carrie. It almost made me cry, it was so damn cute. All of their friends were wonderful and happy- it went off without a hitch and everyone had a great time, including the children, who danced to klezmer music and ate yummy Bi-Rite cake all night. Satie eventually couldn't hack it anymore and opted to pass out in a chair in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone that walked past would peek over and smile at her sleeping little figure scrunched up in a ball.
We took off Sunday, headed over the Golden Gate and drove up to Eureka to stay with Marcy Bruce, super-wonderful persona grata. Eureka was fun, the houses were beautiful in old town where we hung out and this horrific old house scared the pants off of me one night on the boardwalk.
I shot a bunch of film, so much, in fact, that I was glad to run out of film. Then, we hit the Redwoods! Dang. I missed about 20 wonderful shots when we stopped by Gold Beach. We found a little indenture for the girls to play in (we stopped at a windsurfer hang out- not a great idea for hanging out because... SURPRISE! that's where it's really windy!) but the girls were playing and in the background was this humoungous outcropping covered in velvety foliage that was whipping in the wind. It was a wonderful shot that I'm just going to have to store away in my mind.
Anyway, after another fucking 8 hours of driving we finally got back to our wonderful home that was still standing. The plants all seemed to like us being gone because when we got back the plants were thriving everywhere! Maybe I need to water them a little less.
Off into the world, be nice to yourselves and here's a little something to chew on, I know you guys need visual victuals:
More Pictures to come once the film is developed.
When we first got to town we went to our little "cottage", located in the Castro. It's run by this guy Dennis Peron who is a big medical marijuana activist, was apparently buddies with Harvey Milk (although Ryan thinks all the pics of them together is simple photoshoppery). The cottage we stayed in was a weird cavernous love shack with little natural light, and right outside the cave was a black light garden. The place was insane, a SF townhouse with 9 separate sleeping quarters, all stacked on top of a grow operation. We kept a good eye on the girls. That's kinda how all of SF went, really.
Got together with my cousin Alexis who is super-awesome and who I only get to see every 4 years apparently. We had lunch in North Beach then went over to City Lights. I hung out in the alley next to city lights with the stroller and bags and took pictures of the people through glinting windows. There's a bar next to City Lights that has this written across the top of the entrance: "I've been itching to get away from... PORTLAND, OREGON!" That gave me a good chuckle.
The thing about the alley next to city lights is that there were no cars allowed, it was paved with cobblestone and had murals and sunlight all over the place. I could have stayed there all day, soaking in the sun, listening to the people talk, not worrying about getting run over... it was one of my favorite places in SF so far.
The wedding was great, Ryan and Carrie looked very happy and Ryan choked up when he was speaking his thoughts about Carrie. It almost made me cry, it was so damn cute. All of their friends were wonderful and happy- it went off without a hitch and everyone had a great time, including the children, who danced to klezmer music and ate yummy Bi-Rite cake all night. Satie eventually couldn't hack it anymore and opted to pass out in a chair in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone that walked past would peek over and smile at her sleeping little figure scrunched up in a ball.
We took off Sunday, headed over the Golden Gate and drove up to Eureka to stay with Marcy Bruce, super-wonderful persona grata. Eureka was fun, the houses were beautiful in old town where we hung out and this horrific old house scared the pants off of me one night on the boardwalk.
I shot a bunch of film, so much, in fact, that I was glad to run out of film. Then, we hit the Redwoods! Dang. I missed about 20 wonderful shots when we stopped by Gold Beach. We found a little indenture for the girls to play in (we stopped at a windsurfer hang out- not a great idea for hanging out because... SURPRISE! that's where it's really windy!) but the girls were playing and in the background was this humoungous outcropping covered in velvety foliage that was whipping in the wind. It was a wonderful shot that I'm just going to have to store away in my mind.
Anyway, after another fucking 8 hours of driving we finally got back to our wonderful home that was still standing. The plants all seemed to like us being gone because when we got back the plants were thriving everywhere! Maybe I need to water them a little less.
Off into the world, be nice to yourselves and here's a little something to chew on, I know you guys need visual victuals:
More Pictures to come once the film is developed.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Life Updates
#1- Bought SimCity4
#2- Going to San Fran Thursday for Ryan Leblanc's (yes, that Ryan Leblanc) wedding.
#3- Bought a new sink
#4- Bought a fig tree and a eucalyptus
#5- Got caps for the sewage drains, now we can get reimbursed for disconnecting downspouts and no charges for stormwater management- cheapo
#6- back and neck killing, but got some oxycodone from a friend, very helpy, can actually sleep now!
#7- listening to Volcano the Bear, not that good. Grizzly Bear on the other hand I highly recommend, as well as Brightblack Morning Light
#8- Girls like Kombucha... a lot, which is great because it is very good for you.
#9- Building fences
#10- Got soaker hose for garden, happy food.
#11- I've come to realize that we are a household of compulsive readers. We have about 30 books strewn all over every surface of the house
#12- Battlestar Galactica is fun (and I'm NOT a nerd)
#13- Need to find a new good job
#14- Drugs.
#2- Going to San Fran Thursday for Ryan Leblanc's (yes, that Ryan Leblanc) wedding.
#3- Bought a new sink
#4- Bought a fig tree and a eucalyptus
#5- Got caps for the sewage drains, now we can get reimbursed for disconnecting downspouts and no charges for stormwater management- cheapo
#6- back and neck killing, but got some oxycodone from a friend, very helpy, can actually sleep now!
#7- listening to Volcano the Bear, not that good. Grizzly Bear on the other hand I highly recommend, as well as Brightblack Morning Light
#8- Girls like Kombucha... a lot, which is great because it is very good for you.
#9- Building fences
#10- Got soaker hose for garden, happy food.
#11- I've come to realize that we are a household of compulsive readers. We have about 30 books strewn all over every surface of the house
#12- Battlestar Galactica is fun (and I'm NOT a nerd)
#13- Need to find a new good job
#14- Drugs.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Super Special Music Rant Episode
John Cale, Paris 1919
John Cale, what the hell are you doing? Wow, I really don't like this "acclaimed" rock album. It was touted as one of the best albums of the 20th century by Wire magazine, so I picked it up about 10 years ago. It recently found its way back to me... woof, it is a stinker! I love Cale for the most part, the best VU was with him and Nico and Nick Drake sure got hands up from him, but man! Come on, listen to the album before you put it out.
Tribute to Joni Mitchell
Well, you're all talented musicians (kd lang, Sufjan Stevens, Prince, Elvis Costello, Annie Lennox, Bjork), but you know what? Joni is out of your reach! Of all these covers, only one comes close to rivalling the original: Caetano Veloso doing Dreamland. But then again, everything Caetano touches turns to musical gold. The guy has the spirit of a million Sufjan Stevenses and such alien humor and musical talent. I'm always intrigued by his songs. Does anyone know how I can link to songs so people can hear what I'm talking about?
Daydream Nation (Sonic Youth): this album is pretty rocking and if you haven't heard it yet you should check it out a little bit. I'm not the biggest Sonic Youth fan around, but every so often they hit the nail nice and hard and correctly. This album is full of those hammer hits. Special props go to Teenage Riot, Eric's Trip and Hey Joni. Listening to Hey Joni right now and... yes. "Hey Joni, put it all behind you... Hey Joni, now put it all behind me too... these times can't add up, your life's such a mess... tune out the pasts and just say yes." cue harmonic guitars. Love it. "Tell me Joni, am I the one to see you through, in this broken town can you still jack in, and know what to do? I remember our youth, our high ideals, I remember you were so uptight, that time in the trees, we broke that vice, we took some steps and now we can't think twice." I'm sorry but that shit is good.
some bad Guided by Voices album: Isolation Drills. These guys are constantly bumming me out with their half-baked music. Every now and then there's a gem, like that "I am a scientist" song.
a weird Donovan "greatest hits" thing that's pretty miss. What kind of a Donovan greatest hits album doesn't have Mellow Yellow and Hurdy Gurdy Man? Or Season of the Witch? I'm confused.
Free (Negativland) good for a few chuckles, these guys make dissent sound fun. It's not on this album, but I can't get their bastardizing of the My Favorite Things from the Sound of Music out of my head: "Wild, wild white girls that melt into nose cream", "ponies in dresses and warm, warm doorbells", "when the bee stings, I simply remember my dog bites and I feel sooo sooo baaaaaaaad"
laugh buttons
Zombies Greatest Hits (I love these guys for some reason!), Neu 75, Prefuse 73, Blood on the Tracks, On Fire (Galaxy 500), It's Very Stimulating (Paul Barman, funny ass shit, music by Handsome Boy Modeling School, ie: good), Mobius Beard by Copy (not nearly as good as the previous album, which has been in constant rotation at our house), Nassau (Sea and Cake, wonderful album, will play until I die), My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (about as close to perfect as an album can get, in my mind), Charm of the Highway Strip (Magnetic Fields, one of the Mag Field albums that I can listen to over and over again, brilliant), Tweez by Slint and a live Iggy and the Stooges bootleg called Open up and Bleed.
Can anyone top this list for eclecticism? Methinks not.
Pic for the day:
My buddy Hot Dog doing a funky ollie
John Cale, what the hell are you doing? Wow, I really don't like this "acclaimed" rock album. It was touted as one of the best albums of the 20th century by Wire magazine, so I picked it up about 10 years ago. It recently found its way back to me... woof, it is a stinker! I love Cale for the most part, the best VU was with him and Nico and Nick Drake sure got hands up from him, but man! Come on, listen to the album before you put it out.
Tribute to Joni Mitchell
Well, you're all talented musicians (kd lang, Sufjan Stevens, Prince, Elvis Costello, Annie Lennox, Bjork), but you know what? Joni is out of your reach! Of all these covers, only one comes close to rivalling the original: Caetano Veloso doing Dreamland. But then again, everything Caetano touches turns to musical gold. The guy has the spirit of a million Sufjan Stevenses and such alien humor and musical talent. I'm always intrigued by his songs. Does anyone know how I can link to songs so people can hear what I'm talking about?
Daydream Nation (Sonic Youth): this album is pretty rocking and if you haven't heard it yet you should check it out a little bit. I'm not the biggest Sonic Youth fan around, but every so often they hit the nail nice and hard and correctly. This album is full of those hammer hits. Special props go to Teenage Riot, Eric's Trip and Hey Joni. Listening to Hey Joni right now and... yes. "Hey Joni, put it all behind you... Hey Joni, now put it all behind me too... these times can't add up, your life's such a mess... tune out the pasts and just say yes." cue harmonic guitars. Love it. "Tell me Joni, am I the one to see you through, in this broken town can you still jack in, and know what to do? I remember our youth, our high ideals, I remember you were so uptight, that time in the trees, we broke that vice, we took some steps and now we can't think twice." I'm sorry but that shit is good.
some bad Guided by Voices album: Isolation Drills. These guys are constantly bumming me out with their half-baked music. Every now and then there's a gem, like that "I am a scientist" song.
a weird Donovan "greatest hits" thing that's pretty miss. What kind of a Donovan greatest hits album doesn't have Mellow Yellow and Hurdy Gurdy Man? Or Season of the Witch? I'm confused.
Free (Negativland) good for a few chuckles, these guys make dissent sound fun. It's not on this album, but I can't get their bastardizing of the My Favorite Things from the Sound of Music out of my head: "Wild, wild white girls that melt into nose cream", "ponies in dresses and warm, warm doorbells", "when the bee stings, I simply remember my dog bites and I feel sooo sooo baaaaaaaad"
laugh buttons
Zombies Greatest Hits (I love these guys for some reason!), Neu 75, Prefuse 73, Blood on the Tracks, On Fire (Galaxy 500), It's Very Stimulating (Paul Barman, funny ass shit, music by Handsome Boy Modeling School, ie: good), Mobius Beard by Copy (not nearly as good as the previous album, which has been in constant rotation at our house), Nassau (Sea and Cake, wonderful album, will play until I die), My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (about as close to perfect as an album can get, in my mind), Charm of the Highway Strip (Magnetic Fields, one of the Mag Field albums that I can listen to over and over again, brilliant), Tweez by Slint and a live Iggy and the Stooges bootleg called Open up and Bleed.
Can anyone top this list for eclecticism? Methinks not.
Pic for the day:
My buddy Hot Dog doing a funky ollie
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Reading, writing, rapping, and differential equations.
Overheard in my house today:
(In singsong voice)
Odile's got ears where her nose should be
I wonder what she hears when she smells me!
What's new? Well all kindsa shit. Painting the front porch chocolate brown with oil paints. It looks beautiful and yummy, but I'm worried that the sun will make it scorching hot. I'm thinking about lining the side of the porch with lattice and growing plants on it to block the sun out.
Getting back into film again. Bought a bunch of film, dusted off the old cameras, been shooting a lot, got some chemicals for film developing and print making. Got some good shots so far, but I'm still torn between film and digital. They both have their pros and cons. I'm thinking about just getting a good digital point and shoot- that way we can take quick pics and video, but when we want to take an "artistic" shot we can break out the film cameras. One of my prints got chosen to be in the Blue Moon customer show (I actually like this one better)- no big deal, but it was cool to get picked. Their annual customer shows are the coolest photo exhibits I've ever seen. The spread of voices and styles is insane, and they really do try to pick only stunning photos. I don't think mine really qualifies. I'm sure they were just trying to keep me coming back, which I will be doing anyway, but it's a nice gesture.
Going to SF next week for Ryan Leblanc's (yes, that Ryan!) wedding. Should be exciting and fun. We have a little money, so it's not going to break the bank like we were worried, and after SF we're going to go up to Eureka and stay with a friend, then do the redwoods, then stop in Medford and stay with Corinne's parents. Nice leisurely drive back. I've done the SF to PDX drive a few times now and it ain't all that great. 101 sounds much nicer than I-5...
Just watched::: Wholphin #3 (methinks)- pretty good! There's a Paul Rudd/Amy Lippmann piece that's well done, a Guy Maddin ripoff piece that was cool, an obvious lift, but great in its own way, a piece on drunk bees (they get kicked out of the hive until their hangovers wear off; some of them return to the hive but some head straight back to the bar (the bar being a weird plant that has fermented juice coming out of it)), a musical piece where someone attacks a full drum kit with a semi-automatic weapon (the cymbals were surprisingly resilient), some guy who likes to hang on vertical poles with just one leg and one arm (he seems kinda... out of it, but there's a twist at the end of this mini-documentary). Needless to say, if you haven't seen any of the Wholphins, check them out. They are without a doubt the best quarterly DVD magazine out there. They may be the only one, but that doesn't detract from this kudos. It's put out by McSweeney's, so take that as you will.
I dreamed some crazy dreams last night. High school people everywhere, people that I remember from high school days. Not just my high school, but all the high schools around where I grew up. My dream was stinking with high schoolers. I had Odile on one arm and some paraphernalia in the other... I lost Odile wandering through throngs of old acquaintances and enemies. I was freaking OUT- she was about 2 months old in the dream- Corinne eventually found her, but she was hurt and I felt awful. I woke up, went back to sleep and dreamed an alternate ending: someone who looked like Tom Hanks had a submarine and a side-kick and they took Odile away to a faraway black market.
Books I'm reading and you probably won't:
Beginning Game Development with Python and Pygame- I want to get some Python under my belt and this seemed like a fun way to do that. Python is an interesting language- I like the way it tells you that you've fucked up as you're programming. Pretty handy.
Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity- Faraday's the guy who really nailed down what the hell was happening with electricity and magnetism. This book is a compendium of his experiments that he gave to students, along with annotations to help the reader follow. Very cool stuff actually. It gives a good insight into what is going on in the weird world of electricity.
Understanding Renewable Energy Resources- Not for the meek, lots of calculus and physics in here; good for the up and coming renewable energy engineer- that's me! Could it be you?
The girls are doing well, they need lots of outside time, even if they don't think so. It's good for them to get the hell out and go crazy- they seem to do better away from the house and preferably with lots of other kids they can pester and psycho-analyze. Heavy on the psycho.
Some cool links that have come my way:
carboard and conductive paint noise maker
My new hot thing (there's a little store in Fubonn here in Portland called serenity arts that has an amazing selection at great prices)
get weird
Thanks go to Mo for this one great way to make your enemies love you
Kyusu-ishi since I've gone completely out of my mind tea crazy, I've been drooling over some of these amazing teapots. They also have iron teacups on this site- what could be more zen manly? you drop your tea cup and instead of breaking it demolishes the floor! cool.
(In singsong voice)
Odile's got ears where her nose should be
I wonder what she hears when she smells me!
What's new? Well all kindsa shit. Painting the front porch chocolate brown with oil paints. It looks beautiful and yummy, but I'm worried that the sun will make it scorching hot. I'm thinking about lining the side of the porch with lattice and growing plants on it to block the sun out.
Getting back into film again. Bought a bunch of film, dusted off the old cameras, been shooting a lot, got some chemicals for film developing and print making. Got some good shots so far, but I'm still torn between film and digital. They both have their pros and cons. I'm thinking about just getting a good digital point and shoot- that way we can take quick pics and video, but when we want to take an "artistic" shot we can break out the film cameras. One of my prints got chosen to be in the Blue Moon customer show (I actually like this one better)- no big deal, but it was cool to get picked. Their annual customer shows are the coolest photo exhibits I've ever seen. The spread of voices and styles is insane, and they really do try to pick only stunning photos. I don't think mine really qualifies. I'm sure they were just trying to keep me coming back, which I will be doing anyway, but it's a nice gesture.
Going to SF next week for Ryan Leblanc's (yes, that Ryan!) wedding. Should be exciting and fun. We have a little money, so it's not going to break the bank like we were worried, and after SF we're going to go up to Eureka and stay with a friend, then do the redwoods, then stop in Medford and stay with Corinne's parents. Nice leisurely drive back. I've done the SF to PDX drive a few times now and it ain't all that great. 101 sounds much nicer than I-5...
Just watched::: Wholphin #3 (methinks)- pretty good! There's a Paul Rudd/Amy Lippmann piece that's well done, a Guy Maddin ripoff piece that was cool, an obvious lift, but great in its own way, a piece on drunk bees (they get kicked out of the hive until their hangovers wear off; some of them return to the hive but some head straight back to the bar (the bar being a weird plant that has fermented juice coming out of it)), a musical piece where someone attacks a full drum kit with a semi-automatic weapon (the cymbals were surprisingly resilient), some guy who likes to hang on vertical poles with just one leg and one arm (he seems kinda... out of it, but there's a twist at the end of this mini-documentary). Needless to say, if you haven't seen any of the Wholphins, check them out. They are without a doubt the best quarterly DVD magazine out there. They may be the only one, but that doesn't detract from this kudos. It's put out by McSweeney's, so take that as you will.
I dreamed some crazy dreams last night. High school people everywhere, people that I remember from high school days. Not just my high school, but all the high schools around where I grew up. My dream was stinking with high schoolers. I had Odile on one arm and some paraphernalia in the other... I lost Odile wandering through throngs of old acquaintances and enemies. I was freaking OUT- she was about 2 months old in the dream- Corinne eventually found her, but she was hurt and I felt awful. I woke up, went back to sleep and dreamed an alternate ending: someone who looked like Tom Hanks had a submarine and a side-kick and they took Odile away to a faraway black market.
Books I'm reading and you probably won't:
Beginning Game Development with Python and Pygame- I want to get some Python under my belt and this seemed like a fun way to do that. Python is an interesting language- I like the way it tells you that you've fucked up as you're programming. Pretty handy.
Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity- Faraday's the guy who really nailed down what the hell was happening with electricity and magnetism. This book is a compendium of his experiments that he gave to students, along with annotations to help the reader follow. Very cool stuff actually. It gives a good insight into what is going on in the weird world of electricity.
Understanding Renewable Energy Resources- Not for the meek, lots of calculus and physics in here; good for the up and coming renewable energy engineer- that's me! Could it be you?
The girls are doing well, they need lots of outside time, even if they don't think so. It's good for them to get the hell out and go crazy- they seem to do better away from the house and preferably with lots of other kids they can pester and psycho-analyze. Heavy on the psycho.
Some cool links that have come my way:
carboard and conductive paint noise maker
My new hot thing (there's a little store in Fubonn here in Portland called serenity arts that has an amazing selection at great prices)
get weird
Thanks go to Mo for this one great way to make your enemies love you
Kyusu-ishi since I've gone completely out of my mind tea crazy, I've been drooling over some of these amazing teapots. They also have iron teacups on this site- what could be more zen manly? you drop your tea cup and instead of breaking it demolishes the floor! cool.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Blat From the Pat: March 24, 2003 (not edited for brevity, but with updated notes)
I've been sitting at home smoking weed and taking vitamins. It's certainly the life. Now I just need to find a way to succour those who would sustain me with gifts of blinding penchant created during my sojourn.
this is pretty bad. boring to start, mealy-mouthed to end, doesn't even warrant being typed up, but too late!
There she sat, cramming garamyacin into her open wounds. She didn't grimace, not even at the sight of us soldiers. She was running from us when she landed in the spike and sprite pit on Canterburry Square. A trail of blood led us to where she has made a pre-fab shopping mall for pubescent girls and dormice.
well, this is obv. also crap. it's one of my aborted attempts to stimulate even just a short story with a couple of spastic mind strokes. the formula is very obvious to any masochist who spends time studying my inane rantings: start with some splash of nonsensical pap; take this very seriously and stretch it to meet a bit of dark reality; continue stretching til it pops; start again. artistic, huh? check out the next piece for proof.
Mable brazed her hand over the pile of bills sitting on the table. (ok, I broke the formula here, but all I did was flip the starter weirdness with the later straight story, watch:) She left a streak of blood, especially on the Ben Franklins. "Smelly, do you really think they'll let us slip out of the country and into some droll sea-shanty town in the Caribbean?"
"Hell yeah, Mabez," answered Corky Smelly. "I got fifty mill riding on Garrison Keillor in the eighth and that's enough to set the whole of the damn west on edge!"
Just then the Department of Homeland Security kicked the door down and took a huge shit on their pile of money.
in retrospect: wouldn't it have been just a bit funnier if someone,anyone other than the dept. of home. sec. had kicked the door down? geez. this was all done on a typewriter, stream of consc. so I guess you get what you pay for. This was my mind at work, getting shit out and down quickly, so you can't hope for golden nuggets to sprinkle down like that. but it's a bummer knowing that my mind doesn't work fast enough to realize that the most obvious choice is going to be the most boring one.
April 23, 2003
Gabriel sat in a puddle of warm spring water, the sun slid down his back and landed at the end of his spine, caressing his entire frame with ravenous glee. His sarong slid down and Dawn glanced at him through the fabric of her blouse as she pulled it over her head. The sarong tightened slightly as we watched her undress, as her breasts shot out of their holsters. She clutched at the nipples and gave Gabriel another quick darting glance- their eyes met for a moment- their passion increasing exponentially then. Dawn dove into the spring, cracking her head on the rocks, and the spring grew red with love.
really, what on earth could I say about this?
here's another word splurge, these were the equivalent of cleaning cobwebs out of the attic, except imagine yourself showing off to no-one while you were waving the old witch's broom in dark musty crevices
Hallelujah paralysis zygote homeopath gargantuan hemophiliac barbituate feral lapidary taxonomy gavel regal lucid lurid usage tree topsoil meander thrice located in arboreal territory nutmeg nutshell poisonous neanderthal calligraphy monstrosity huntington downs placid meanderings diametrically opposed squadrons of lust mudslinging mustering felching filaments leading kite strings astray undermining intentions ocularly upwards, sidelongly glancing at tentaments of dismay and prejudice internment camps swelling with good folk piercings pissing off father like people engendering a generation-
Fontainbleu considers his cuticles and grimaces at Jupiter's allegory sweltering in the sunlamp of Merces. Pulitzer pulls up his testicle shaped pants and dances down Broadway with a dagger across his eyebrows- "Anyone here willing to wager a lightyear's wages that Richard TRICKSON Nixon was a hermaphrodite?" His lacy filaments spread in effervescent sacrament across the rabble.
well, I don't know whether to thank or blame Willy Burroughs. I'll leave that up to you. Sorry for the pain, more to come!
this is pretty bad. boring to start, mealy-mouthed to end, doesn't even warrant being typed up, but too late!
There she sat, cramming garamyacin into her open wounds. She didn't grimace, not even at the sight of us soldiers. She was running from us when she landed in the spike and sprite pit on Canterburry Square. A trail of blood led us to where she has made a pre-fab shopping mall for pubescent girls and dormice.
well, this is obv. also crap. it's one of my aborted attempts to stimulate even just a short story with a couple of spastic mind strokes. the formula is very obvious to any masochist who spends time studying my inane rantings: start with some splash of nonsensical pap; take this very seriously and stretch it to meet a bit of dark reality; continue stretching til it pops; start again. artistic, huh? check out the next piece for proof.
Mable brazed her hand over the pile of bills sitting on the table. (ok, I broke the formula here, but all I did was flip the starter weirdness with the later straight story, watch:) She left a streak of blood, especially on the Ben Franklins. "Smelly, do you really think they'll let us slip out of the country and into some droll sea-shanty town in the Caribbean?"
"Hell yeah, Mabez," answered Corky Smelly. "I got fifty mill riding on Garrison Keillor in the eighth and that's enough to set the whole of the damn west on edge!"
Just then the Department of Homeland Security kicked the door down and took a huge shit on their pile of money.
in retrospect: wouldn't it have been just a bit funnier if someone,anyone other than the dept. of home. sec. had kicked the door down? geez. this was all done on a typewriter, stream of consc. so I guess you get what you pay for. This was my mind at work, getting shit out and down quickly, so you can't hope for golden nuggets to sprinkle down like that. but it's a bummer knowing that my mind doesn't work fast enough to realize that the most obvious choice is going to be the most boring one.
April 23, 2003
Gabriel sat in a puddle of warm spring water, the sun slid down his back and landed at the end of his spine, caressing his entire frame with ravenous glee. His sarong slid down and Dawn glanced at him through the fabric of her blouse as she pulled it over her head. The sarong tightened slightly as we watched her undress, as her breasts shot out of their holsters. She clutched at the nipples and gave Gabriel another quick darting glance- their eyes met for a moment- their passion increasing exponentially then. Dawn dove into the spring, cracking her head on the rocks, and the spring grew red with love.
really, what on earth could I say about this?
here's another word splurge, these were the equivalent of cleaning cobwebs out of the attic, except imagine yourself showing off to no-one while you were waving the old witch's broom in dark musty crevices
Hallelujah paralysis zygote homeopath gargantuan hemophiliac barbituate feral lapidary taxonomy gavel regal lucid lurid usage tree topsoil meander thrice located in arboreal territory nutmeg nutshell poisonous neanderthal calligraphy monstrosity huntington downs placid meanderings diametrically opposed squadrons of lust mudslinging mustering felching filaments leading kite strings astray undermining intentions ocularly upwards, sidelongly glancing at tentaments of dismay and prejudice internment camps swelling with good folk piercings pissing off father like people engendering a generation-
Fontainbleu considers his cuticles and grimaces at Jupiter's allegory sweltering in the sunlamp of Merces. Pulitzer pulls up his testicle shaped pants and dances down Broadway with a dagger across his eyebrows- "Anyone here willing to wager a lightyear's wages that Richard TRICKSON Nixon was a hermaphrodite?" His lacy filaments spread in effervescent sacrament across the rabble.
well, I don't know whether to thank or blame Willy Burroughs. I'll leave that up to you. Sorry for the pain, more to come!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Reasons
Thanks to Wiley Wiggins, who made everything okay again.
It's a cold-ass summer morning, and I think I'm finally realizing two things: I like having the NY Times (even though I don't have it right now), and Portland is just a cold town, doesn't matter what time of the year it is. It can drop into the 50's in the middle of summer, so keep your scarf close to your vest.
In personal news, I feel from the hammock, onto a poorly placed log and gummed up my shoulders and necks. And experiments show that sitting in front of a computer is not really the fastest way to get sore nex back to normal.
Here's the obligatory children photo:
Completely torn between film and digital. Film just feels right, but the hassle factor is high. So also is the art factor. Digital... easy peasey, but the look is never quite right, unless I can get a hold of a super fancy digi-camera. Torn torn torn, maybe I should just strike it rich and get both.
Keep an eye on this spot, I promise to update often with tales of broken shoulders and pictures of beautiful girls.
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