Thursday, August 31

The good side of Television.

Documetaries are so comforting. Sometimes they push the edge and emphasize conservation, saving entire ecosystems from the onslaught of man. Sometimes they tackle unconfortable subjects like mental health, eugenics, and genetic enginering. I sppose this is why I prefer the pure nature docu's (e.g. Lemurs of Madagascar) and history docu's (e.g. Ancient Egypt mysteries) to some of the others more prone to raise ethical turmoil in my own head. I know I'm dodging it, but it's one of my few pasttimes and I have the right to watch what I want. I don't completely shy away from distrubing programmes, but on the whole I watch things that bring out that "Gee-whiz" feeling which, to me, science is all about.

I remember wandering the halls of the LA County Museum of Natural History as a child being absolutely transported into the land of the dinosaurs, or the large mesozoic herbivores. Here, right before me was something that was unimaginably old, yet was once alive. It blew my mind then and in a much smaller way it still does today. Plus the gift stores at places like that are awesome. I remember being told my my mom I could pick out one book, and after what seemed like an hour of whittling and narrowing, I finally settle on "In Search of Schrodinger's Cat," by John Gribben. It immediately stoked my interest in the world of the very tiny, and how the strange, chance laws underpinning matter and energy at that scale somehow how morphed (now we call it emerged) into the deterministic large-scale universe we see around us. It also introduced some basic nonintuitive aspect of quantuum physics that puzzle and bother me to this day. Who'd have thought a simple book, now earmarked and falling apart from use, would have led me into a such an exciting and largely misunderstood field? But at its base, good science writing for the intelligent layperson, such as low-mid-technical books that tell a story while imparting the subject's essence using methaphors and illustrations to make the concepts cleaer, whilst avoiding all but the most necessary jargoon, are a treasure.

I'm fortunate to be able to download my TV programmes from the UK as well, and the plethora of educational documentaries constantly flowing from the BBC has enouraged me that the 'intelligent' documentary, as opposed to adrenaline feuled, quick-cut format lacking much in the way of actual science that the US channels seem indundated with, is alive and. David Attenborough and John Lynch are aging but still alive. Hopefully they are the kind of people who prefer to work until they die, and I wish them both the longest, healthiest lives possible. My existence would be immeasurably poorer but for the escapist, high-quality masterpieces these gentlemen and other producers bring us on a almost nightly basis. Britain seem to be leading in quality by far on average, but contribution from the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, France, and other countires are doing their part, if not in such a stately, refined way, Vive le documentaire; Apart from a good book, it's my preferred choice of entertainment on a night alone.

Sunday, August 27

Hidey Hole.

The only time I can ever get ethusiastic about cleaning is when I think of it as an enjoyable thing on its own, which most of the time seems nuts. But once you get the ball rolling a bit and start moving things around and grouping like items together and the whole rest of it, it can actually be fun. I hate the spraying and scrubbing and mopping and vacuuming parts still. It's nice when those things are done, but I haven't found a way to make them enjoyable in and of themselves.

But going through boxes of old things (especially pictures, postcards, or letters), rearranging books on shelves, moving furniture about to give the room a fresh feel, even flipping cushions and mattresses over is fun - it involves both your mind and your body, and it creates a sense of forward momentum that is so much more enjoyable than that other feeling, the backwards slide. Being the procastinator I am, I have to break chores up into manageable sub-chores and make a battle plan out of the whole operation, or else I'll get overwhelmed immediately. But if I get the list written and actually start ONE thing, the odds of me continuing on and doing most or all of the rest go way up.

Unfortunately now is one of those times, so I must end this blog and all it's hidey-hole procrastination-ness. Damn the Internet!

Friday, August 25

Where's the innovation?

What happened to PDAs and digital ink? At one point not too many years ago, Palm Pilots and Pocket PCs were proliferating, tablet PCs were clearing the horizon and better display and input technologies seemed nearly at hand. Fast forward five to eight years, and what has changed in that arena? Almost nothing. Palm still has a proprietary OS and its hardware is underpowered and sloppy. Windows CE is the retarded kid Microsoft hides in the bedroom when the relatives come over. Some graduate students may be carrying tablet PCs around with them in the chem lab, but I don't see them at Starbucks. Instead everyone has the same basic hardware they did a decade ago - a laptop, a cell phone, and an iPod. OK, iPods weren't around 10 years ago, but Walkmen were and the Rio was starting to catch on.

It wasn't too long ago that IBM created a monitor called the T221, which was a 22" widescreen LCD display, nothing revolutionary there, but get this: It had a native resolution of 3840x2400. That's right, 9 megapixels on a single monitor. Think about the possibilities of that sort of pixel density: truly immersive gaming with no need for antialising, font fidelity and flourishes that would make reading from a screen much more like booklike and less eye straining, entire digital photos displayed on a monitor at a 1:1 pixel ratio, with no need to make a high resolution print to see how the image "really" came out. At the time I just assumed we were headed toward smaller but denser displays, better handwriting and speech recognition, and other breakthroughs that would integrate electronics more intimately into our lives than before. The whole "wearable computing" thing.

But we're caught in some kind of iteration where TVs and computer displays are getting bigger but not better per square inch. Graphics cards remain separate entities than either allow content creation for movies and videogames (on the business side) or that allow amazing physics that is only used by a non-mainstream contingent of PC and console gamers and ignored by a general public that has yet to accept a 3D workspace OS environment, much less demand better ways of storing, sorting, and linking their data (think about the gloves Tom Cruise wore in Minority Report). People still type their files in Word or in an email or, like I do, in Notepad for crying out loud. They don't talk to their computers except to occasionally curse at them. We're still using mice, and many are still tethered by cords to a box that looks suspiciously like they did in the mid 90s. Consoles have become more sophisticated and re-established the living room, not the bedroom or office, as the game room, but the console industry is even more segmented into narrowly-defined genres where glossy predictability and bullet-point features are the order of the day, not creativity.

People talk about an iPod "revolution". I don't know about you but when I was a teenager laying out at the pool, everyone was listening to portable cassette players that weren't all that different than what we're doing now. DVDs have replaced VHS but the quality of its image has been a disappointment in my opinion, and not having a true surround audio standard has left all but the highest-end home theater installations looking and sounding no better then in years past, for all the hype. You could watch Star Wars on a laser disc in the 80s with a Bang & Olafson audio setup that would give you darn near the top-end experience you can get now.

What's happened has been an almost total halt of true innovation, and an interregnum of refinement of previous breakthroughs making that tech cheaper and available around the world at the commodity rather than the novelty level. PCs have become ingrained in our lives not because they do anything differently than they did in the 80s and 90s, but just because now everyone has one, so communication via email, IM, Skype, and multiplayer gaming is practical. All these innovations had already occurred, but now they've matured and worked their way into our daily lives.

I think the expectations for rampant technology growth were significantly OVERestimated and our lives haven't changed as much as we thought they would have by now. Remember the idea of the paperless office? There's more paper than ever! Things never move in the direction you think they will. It's turned out that little things like having a camera and keyboard on your wireless phone have been huge hits, while items seemingly so useful like digital paper or flexible screens have not. To speculate about why this is would be more of an exercise in psychology than my tired brain has the will for at the moment, but it does go to show that the "pundits" in any industry, over the long run, are usually no better at market prediction than a coin is. And coins are cheaper to consult.

Don't like fishy breath?

These are really good.

They taste like orange Starbursts, but they contain Omega-3 (EPA/DHA 100mg in each).

However, the reason they taste so good is that each chew has 25 calories in it. No free lunches in this life, buddy/dude/homey.

Unless you work at a food store, I guess.

And they are kinda expensive for what you get, $12 for 50 chews. Hmm. Now it seems like a ripoff. Nevermind.

They are made in Canada though.

Wednesday, August 23

I'm really happy right now all of a sudden. Funny how life works. Yay!

Therefore, I have nothing interesting or insightful to blog about, just gonna enjoy the feeling. Cheers to anyone reading this, and may some of my happiness rub off onto you and yours!
moonbase alpha.

the moon has disappeared again like a wound wound around my arm fueled by gin a scar plays purple but settles for white against negro skin too thin and dry and somethings not right theres a girl in the pool screaming out blood for a second i thought the water was red and everything went silent now she's laughing and i'm losing hold trying to keep the trees overhead where they are supposed to be and pastel skies from turning velvet my chair is too hot even with a shirt over the metal rim it sears my skin and it feel so good to know im alive thats how i knew last time when they found me drowning in blood that i was alive and i was crying but not really feeling anything else inside but pain and men overdressed in red and yellow pulled me from the scene of the crime like an odd toy floating in a red sea to a bunker catholic and white but i blacked out i never knew my charge i never paid a dime i spent a year that week with antiseptic hands all over my body and clothes that opened the wrong way i will never forgive or forget when i needed love i got cold fish wrapped in modern methods of treatment i will never forget the people i meet in these places they seem more alive than the outsiders who go about their robot work shuffling crazies who have that knowing look in our eyes we are the real seat of consciousness i am convinced and the people of moonbase alpha have ceased to care what happens to them anymore or believe that what happens outisde their own minds is in any way real.

Tuesday, August 22

i have a headache now
i have a lifeache
people try to listen and understand
i know in their hearts they must care
but nobody can see the things i see
nor would a sane person want to
in their minds
they are blinded to what is real
what people who are utterly dead inside
can only feel
i have a headache now
a heartache
it is all I know
and now all the snow
i could ever imagine is falling down around me.


I regret that I can't feel high all the time

Cannot whoosh from thought to action and back
Barely able to catch my breath for the anticipation
Of creating, educating, and organizing
But I would rather be at peace with myself and feel
That cool breeze upon me as I stare out over the vineyards
And relax, comfortable with any change that may come my way
And feel rooted, more than anything in the world.

And you say, it's only a delayed nightmare
But if what you say is true then let it lay waiting, I'm in no hurry
The beast can never be beaten, Grendel cannot be slain
For good, or else goodness could not even exist
And besides, this grass feels moist and cool on the bottom of my feet
I cut my foot, she said why don't you wear shoes when you go out?
I said I don't wear shoes for the same reason
Most people don't spend their entire lives plugging their ears.

Monday, August 21


catch me if i fall
i'm losing hold
i can't just carry on this way
and every time
i turn away
i lose another blind game
the idea of perfection holds me
suddenly i see you change
everything at once
it's the same
but the mountains never move
rape me like a child
christened in blood
painted like an unknown saint
there's nothing left but hope
and your voice is dead
and old
and always empty
trust in me through closing years
that perfect moments wait
if only we could stay
say the right words
or cry like the stone white clown
and stand
lost forever in a happy crowd
no-one lifts their hands
no-one lifts their eyes
justified with empty words
the party just gets better and better
and i went home
with nothing left
but faith
nothing left but faith
nothing left but faith.

(words by r. smith)

Sunday, August 20

(Photo by Patricia Kimball)

My own personal bugaboo is fonts, or the management thereof. I love fonts (typefaces to be correct), I'm grateful they exist, and all that. Yet I've never developed a satisfactory system for managing the huge number of them that I have.

The funny thing about having a ton of tiny files is it slows to a crawl programs like virus/malware checkers and anything else that combs through your hard drive file by file. You could have the same amount of occupied space on your drive, but if it was divided into 100 files instead of 8,000, any such operations would only take a fraction of the time.

But that's besides the point. The thing is, I love fonts, I want to be able to choose and use fonts at will, but I don't want to clobber my system and make it choke on its own poached-egg-on-a-bagel so that I have to perform the ctrl-alt-heimlich maneuver on it. Simply dumping every font I own into the Windows\Fonts folder seems to be an incredibly bad idea.

I've tried different strategies. I've used Suitcase, which allows you to create "sets" which are basically collections of pointers to the real font files, and then activates them on the fly (which moves them to said Font folder). After you're done doing your thing, you can deactivate the set and your fonts return to their place outside your system folder. Sounds good, and it is. But Suitcase for Windows crashes often, and many programs have to be restarted when you activate a new set because they apparently don't continually poll the Font folder for changes. Adobe apps are generally good about this, but not many others are.

I've tried some other pretty geeky programs aas well as manual methods whose details I will refrain from boring you with. And yes, before we go any further, I *should* be using a Mac and using Suitcase Fusion. And I will, some day soon. But for now, I need ideas on how to make this work on Windows. More fundamentally, I'm searching for philosophies of font organization which transcend platform.

Do you have all your fonts in one folder alphabetized? If not, how to you split them up? By purpose (display, body)? There are some fonts that don't fall so neatly into those categories. And even then you'd be left with two huge groups in need of further division. Do you sort by foundry? This seems arbitrary and not very helpful, except in a cool historic way. What about by how well you like them (great body fonts, decent display fonts, etc)? What about by general style (script, roman, dingbat)? Do you only choose a subset of your entire collection that you think you will use 90% of the time and keep those ones activated? See how complicated this gets?

And then the doozy - How do you create a proper font book so that when you need one, you can efficiently browse your collection and choose the correct typeface for the job? I've got Adobe's latest book, but not those from other foundries, and this leaves me in a bind. Not surprisingly, there is a dearth of decent software allowing you to print quality samples from which to make a gallery book. Good news - I have fonts up the yin-yang. Bad news - unless I want to go blind looking at each face, the very size of the collection works against my ability to choose the correct one.

So what I'm looking for are your opinions, your experiences, anything you might have to offer on this onerous topic. I realize most of the people liable to read this blog are not designers as such, but you don't have to be to have an opinion on something like organization. It's a metatopic disguised as a concrete practical problem, and metatopics are what this site is all about. Anyone?
Monkeys are geniuses compared to people.

A person decides, "I don't like bananas" or, "I don't feel like one right now" or, "Ok, but I gotta get the peel and all those strings off it first."

The monkey eats the whole thing peel and all and thinks, "Damn, that was grubbin. I'm lucky I found some food. Now I won't die of starvation for a little while longer."

Saturday, August 19


No one person is being talked about here, so if you're reading it trying to figure out of it it's you, you're wasting your time.

In general, it just seems like people who answer questions, who do the talking, are more self-centered than those who ask the questions, and do the listening.

If you're a talker, how many times have you caught yourself describing a friend to another person, and realized you just don't know that much about them. How much of a "friend" are you really?

If you're a listener, how many times have you secretly wished someone had asked you a question you just asked another, but they never do, and you're left with an insightful answer dying on your lips?

How many relationships are truly two-sided?

Wednesday, August 16


There's something so soothing about a bath. I can see why all the spa treatment facilities rake in so much business. It's better than an alcohol or drug buzz because you know it's natural and there's not gonna be some harsh rebound, just a gentle segue back into real life.

I just took a very hot steamy bath with those little beads in it and lots of bubbles. Also had all the lights out except some candles. I just sat and soaked for the longest time, submerged except for my nose, then finally I used a sponge to gently scrub my entire body with a new shower gel I bought. It felt decadent and slightly gay, but no one except the whole world knows, so it's ok.

When I got out I brushed my teeth the entire two minutes the toothbrush wants me to, then put the polishing attachment on and used that for a bit. I had already shaved before the bath, but now I put on my aftershave lotion and used a couple Q-tips to get the excess water from my ears. Stepped into a robe and slippers, grabbed something cold to drink, and sat in front of an open window with a slight balmy draft oozing in, just right and not enough to be uncomfortable.

In my new king-sized bed, with my best pillow propped behind me, I just went into deep relaxation mode as I listened to some very slow, haunting songs. It was a night made in heaven, delivered to me by ethereal FedEx and I was actually there to sign for it for once. Sometimes things just go right. We need to acknowledge that. Little things they may be, but nothing that gives you that tight, clean glow after a long day of physical work should be written off as 'little' in my book. Au revoir... avec plasir!

Monday, August 14

When you're out in it and not thinking at all
Become aware of the size of seasons
And a nettle grabs your skin but you don't notice
Because you've got to watch that overhanging
Manzanita snaking, roots spilled over everything

It all happens at once in the real world
Animals are
right at home, it belongs to them
The glowing eyes across the creek are not your friend
How absurd and unnatural our other lives
Must seem to them

Glued to monitors and vendor's faces
Shoving down and shoveling out and pushing though crowds
Must seem such a runabout, and an odd one too
To a great horned owl, or a kangeroo
But we forget the absurdity later. We always do.
I feel like I'm wrapped in an imagination of fairy tales
Thin like the wings of a dragonfly
And outside my protective skin is another world of iron and blood
And things no one should ever think of

Why we're able to ask such questions is the cruelest irony indeed
What is so important that so much must exist to get it made?
I wish the whole universe were gone,
I wish upon a star that the whole of this hateful universe were gone.

Am I the only who does this? I'll see a SCREENSHOT of a desktop with some windows open, and even though my brain organ knows it's just a graphic and not a live desktop, when I'm done looking at it, I'll click the 'close' box in the picture anyway. Sometimes twice.

Sunday, August 13

No hurry.

I've been lovestarved for so long that I'm risking being too smothering now. This is a good chance for me to relax, do some other things, address other aspects of life. I can feel the lack of someone to hold like an ugly hole in front of me. Holding someone is healthy. It's instinctual. Monkeys who are raised without physical affection become withdrawn, gaunt, and ultimately don't compete well or live long. For me, the urge is always to sprint at something when I am inspired, or float unmoving in a pool of sorrows when I am not. This is a good time for me to temper that urge. The last thing I want to do is ruin things by trying to hard not to ruin them.
(Yellow Canary With Cherries by Ann Craven)

"Where The Birds Always Sing"
(Robert Smith)

The world is neither fair nor unfair
The idea is just a way for us to understand
But the world is neither fair nor unfair
So some survive
And others die
And you always want a reason why.

But the world is neither just nor unjust
It’s just us trying to feel that there’s some sense in it
No, the world is neither just nor unjust
And though going young
So much undone...
It's a tragedy for everyone.

It doesn’t speak of plans or any secret thing
No unseen sign or untold truth in anything...
But living on in others, in memories and dreams
Is not enough
You want everything
Another world where the sun always shines
And the birds always sing.

It doesn’t mean there has to be a way of things
No special sense that hidden hands are pulling strings
But living on in others, in memories and dreams
Is not enough,
And it never is
You always want so much more than this.

An endless sense of soul and an eternity of love
Sweet mother down below and a just father above
For living on in others, in memories and dreams
Is not enough
You want everything
Another world
Where the birds always sing,
Where the sun always shines,
Where nothing ever dies.

Saturday, August 12


Robert Smith of the Cure.

You may have noticed there have been a lot of Cure song lyrics appearing lately. I vacillate between wanting to eradicate them and recommitting to my own work more exclusively, but I'm in a bit of a rut writing lately, and besides I've been listening to all my old Cure albums extensively and have a newfound zest for some of Smith's bizarre and beautiful lyrics.

The Cure - and Robert Smith in particular - are a polarizing band. You either love them or hate them. Or you fall somewhere in the middle. I grew up thinking they were mock-depressed made-up corporate pansies who played to teen angst whilst feeling little of it themselves. I was wrong.

Over the years I've truly gained a respect for Smith's poetry/lyrics, especially his early minimalist phase. Here he wasn't complaining about typical teenage gripes, like the Punks were doing, he was digging into Camus and Kafka for something more timeless. More ethereal.

And it worked. I mean, they found commercial success, but what I mean when I say it worked is that as easy a target as Smith is to lampoon with his hair and makeup and voice, you really don't want to, because he's a very smart guy and never comes across as smarter than you.

In fact, in all interviews I've ever read, he seems like the chap down at the pub (and usually is, lol) who'll answer any questions you might have, who never pulls the superstar card, is genuinely friendly to his fans and has a quite normal relation with his family.

It's as if he's maintained his sanity and dignity through the success by staying the same, not by changing to what is fashionable, even when his superficial appearance must have caused at least one record exec to explain "get that man a haircut and tell him to stop wearing lipstick, for fuck's sake!"

But Robert Smith is unchanging, and he is a decent human being, a good guitarist, a good singer with limited range, a teriffic poet, and a welcome staple to my 80s and 90s collections. He'll probably never crack my top 10 beloved artists, but top 25? No prob.
Just Like Heaven.
(Robert Smith)

"Show me how you do that trick,
The one that makes me scream!" she said.
"The one that makes me laugh!" she said.
And threw her arms around my neck.
"Show me how you do it
And I promise you, I promise that
I'll run away with you.
I'll run away with you."

Spinning on that dizzy edge,
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways
I had
to make her glow.
"Why are you so far away?" she said.
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?
That I'm in love with you?"

You - Soft and only.
You - Lost and lonely.
You - Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans,
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream.

Daylight licked me into shape.
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name,
I opened up my eyes;
And found myself alone alone
Alone above a raging sea,
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me.

You - Soft and lonely.
You - Lost and only.
You - Just like Heaven.

Day breaks

Another sun shines
Nothing to do today
It feels perfect
Elysian bliss, if you want it
Love or solitude, if you can catch it
Life has a way of playing its little games
And you are the referee of yours

Just another chance to believe
Once more the soothing scents of home
Now off again to the play-fields
Everyone will be wrapped in smiles
Smiles that make the sky deep blue.

Friday, August 11

Thanks (I guess) to Dan Heller for the photo
The Drugs Don't Work.
(The Verve)

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

And I hope you're thinking of me
As you lay down on your side

'Cause the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again.

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again.

I know I'm on a losing streak
'Cause I passed down my old street
And if you want me to show, then just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

But now I know...

The drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again.
The sound of the wind is not mechanical.

I've got a few exciting job prospects, an exciting female prospect, and the negatives in my life seem (for now) manageable. Is this what it feels like to be "normal?" Wow, this is great. Even the uncertainty of it isn't troubling me much - it feels like a challenge to conquer and make things even better. I'd better stop, I'm sounding like one of those rubbish self-help gurus now.

But seriously, just enjoying a beautiful day and not worrying about anything of consequence. Ahhhhh.....

Wednesday, August 9


400th blog post already. I was just celebrating my 300th not long ago at all. More pictures and poems probably are the main reason, but I've just had more to speak out about lately. More inspiration, more emotion, more vivid experiences. It's been quite a ride. Well, 500, I come.
Not for the squeamish... or maybe PRECISELY for them...

Meet your Meat

Morrissey on receiving PETA award

Note: I made the links highlight but not actually go to the sites. This was to protect minors from untoward things. Feel free to copy the links into your browser window and have at it though. The one from Morrissey is just a bonus, because he is so cool. Nothing shocking at that link.
We cut out the heart of an apple
So we can enjoy the sweetness it builds all around it
That it may have wanted for itself.

It seems to me all of human life is like this.

Tuesday, August 8

She stood in her native pose
too straight, I thought
chin was up and spine made
its gentle S curve I've pictured
in wakened dreams so many times
but her shoulders seemed hunched
it was noon so that could have been it
but it was midnight too,
in another part of the world.

We danced a pas de deux
all across green lawns that stretched
as far as eye could see, as far
as I could see there were no limits
to my bliss, I kissed her then and there
and I thought I heard a host of cherubim
but it was only a honey bee
lingering in the fading light of evening
while dawn arose in another part of the world.

Day breaks
Another sun shines
Nothing to do today
It feels perfect
Elysian bliss, if you want it
Love or solitude, if you can catch it
Life has a way of playing its little games
And you are the referee of yours

Just another chance to believe
Once more the soothing scents of home
Now off again to the play-fields
Everyone will be wrapped in smiles
Smiles that make the sky deep blue.

Wake Up.
(Win Butler)

Something filled up

my heart with nothing
someone told me not to cry.

Now that I'm older
my heart's colder
and I can see that it's a lie.

Children, wake up
hold your mistake up
before they turn the summer into dust.

Children, don't grow up
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up
we're just a million little gods causing rain storms
turning every good thing to rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

Monday, August 7


Your eyes take me on a leave of absence
Sometimes to work harder than most
Makes the most of what we have
Black pines against an inky black sky
Along the river grow so high
A saw-whet owl just caught my eye
Then back to your folded body
Inside sheets outside the rain, a dance
We practiced yesterday
The sweetest word candy
Not boyfriend and girlfriend, no

Not friends instead of, no
It's all of those things and more but love
Once labeled they fall from heaven
Lose their magical grace
For now I am here with you and the owls
And black pines cast no shadows
And dark all around us we find light in our hearts
And stand on our own for what we are.

Thursday, August 3

.... Time Jesum Transeuntum Et Non Riverentum ....


I regret that I can't feel high all the time

Cannot whoosh from thought to action and back
Barely able to catch my breath for the anticipation
Of creating, educating, and organizing
But I would rather be at peace with myself and feel
That cool breeze upon me as I stare out over the vineyards
And relax, comfortable with any change that may come my way
And feel rooted, more than anything in the world.

They tell me I sometimes see and hear things that aren't there

I have vivid memories of experiences that didn't happen
I bounce between flatline lack of interest and inappprpriate enthusiasm
Now I am just trying to keep warm and keep something in my stomach

I don't know what happened to my mind
I think I used to be able to tell what was real and what wasn't
I remember being smart, and quick, and having lots of hope
Trees twinkling and frosty air repelled by comforting fireplaces.

Wednesday, August 2

Lord of his tiny domain.

Simple lives.

I want to get out of America with all its stray cat methamphetamine toughs and empty garages and girls stuffed into two ounces of fabric with no feeling in their hearts anymore. Could we be happy where the sun sets on the graceful curve of hilltops or in a flat valley blanket of wild rose? Where cold rapids threaten to take your swimsuit yet you laugh unselfconsciously and later around the hissing fire we drink a beer and tell tall tales smiling and unconcerned with maintaining female or male, only our human dignity and decency. Can people truly connect? Could it be that simple?

Funny how time goes, though. One moment you're scared out of your wits and don't know why; it's just a feeling of supreme inadequacy and embarrassing doubt. The next you're lofty as trousers billowing about on the high cycle in the great coin-op dryer of life. I want to be a family man because family and love are important, but I want to stay vital and growing and interested until the day I die. If I repeat myself now and then, something's gone wrong. Everything cliche-free phrase longer than ten words, statistically, will be unique in your lifetime. Or so I've read.

I don't even trust what I read anymore, but it keeps me busy. Could we, do you think?
(Gerard Malanga, Peter Hujar, Unknown)

Candy Darling
(Daniel Ash)

Fell in love with herself
Couldn't really fall for no one else
Well I can't say that I blame her
No I can't say that I blame her
For taking just one more look

The saddest thing, I have to say it
Is no one could ever stay so strong
That is why
She had to die
Candy Darling, so long.
Like chasing unicorns.

I want someone who's as devoted to me as I am to her. Someone who's interested in me actively, takes time to talk to me and ask questions, listens and has an opinion on what I say. Someone who does special things for me just because she loves me. I don't want to feel like I'm a bore or a burden or a kook. Well, a kook is ok, as long as it's thought of as a positive. I want to be around the sort of person who likes me *because* I'm kooky (and hopefully sweet, too).

One thing my life never seems to be is dull. But I'm willing and eager to give my all for someone if I feel she's giving back just as much, in her own way of course. If I sense that I've become redundant or made to feel an inch tall, or if my talents are ignored or taken for granted and only my flaws focused on, it just kills the joy in life for me. No one wants to be in a suffocating or deadening relationship like that. I'm tired of chasing unicorns, but I will never settle for a broken-spirited mare.

Tuesday, August 1

Who AM I?

I hate fundies, by Metamatician.

How can you take all the complex emotions a person can feel for various other people in the world, everyone you know falling on your scale somewhere between love and hate, and fit it into the traditional model of relationships that stem primarily from Western monotheistic beliefs? I'm not going to go into my personal feelings about monogamy, marriage, free-love, or whatever, but the fact is, all variations on the theme really do exist, as do homosexual and bi-sexual lifestyles and almost everything else you can think of.

Once again it's backwards religions that attempt to force everyone into the same mold. For the most part diversity is making strides against this old-fashioned idea, but not nearly fast enough for some unfortunate people or in some particular areas. To me, if you love someone and they love you back, and you are both adults and consent to have a relationship, then that's all that matters. And if adults want to do other things with their lives like take drugs or live in communes or swing or whatever, that should be their right as well. What grounds does a government have to make laws as to what's moral or not?

Practical laws to keep people from harming one another are a different matter, but the law should keep its nose out of people's personal lives and bodies. Someday people will look back on some of the current prejudices and legislature as being as ridiculous as buying and selling human beings to use as slaves. Hopefully organized religion and intolerant beliefs of all kinds will vanish slowly over time, but I'm not as optimistic about this as I might have been if I'd lived at some point from the dawn of the Age of Reason up the mid 20th century or so.

Back then, the world still had lots of problems, but the problems of ignorance and dogma were steadily lessening in most places in the world as science and technology advanced. Unfortunately in our current climate of scientific indeterminacy (quantum uncertainty, complexity, chaos, emergence, blurring distinction between what's alive and what isn't), renewed religious fundamentalism, and technology that is poisoning our planet and making dubious "contributions" to the lives and culture of its people, we seem to have slid backwards from this noble pursuit back into some murky reactionary phase.

Is this merely an adjustment period after which an advance toward reason and peaceful enlightenment will resume, or a true shift in the wind? It's too early to tell, but again, I'm not optimistic. Science has simply gotten too specialized and difficult for most people to understand, reason has been dealt blows from the collape of Newton's clockwork universe and from sociological models embracing cultural relevancy (no objective mores, rights, truths), and it's hard to see the whole planet ever coming together into the kind of peaceful, seamless constituancy often found in science fiction novels.

But who knows, maybe further breakthroughs are ahead which will reverse the direction toward unification once again.

I'd give up happiness for a little serenity.

At this point I don't even know what makes me happy, what I like doing. Most things I do just get my mind off things I don't want to think about or are some kind of overindulgence. Or I'm trying to find happiness from infatuation, which is ultimately fustrating and ungratifying. What are good, stable ways of having fun that I can do and look forward to? Good things: Exercise. Being in nature. Outdoor activities. Photography. Traveling. Reading. Bad things: Drinking. Spending too much time on the computer. Watching movies too much. Overeating. Oversleeping.
Sha Shu.

I originally meant for this blog to consist only of my own original work, whether it be writing or visual art. I've drifted from this obviously, and that's fine. Sometimes another's work can pull just the right mood from a poem or set the stage better than I ever could. I don't consider it a shortcoming anymore, just an added tool in my toolbox to help me express what I am feeling.

I do try earnestly to credit other authors where possible. I haven't quite settled on a consistent design motif for doing this, so bear with me while I iron out the kinks. For song lyrics I list the songwriters name and not the band he or she may be affiliated with, since I'm repoducing the words and not the entire song as such. For painting or photos, I try to give credit when I can find it. If not, I'll mark it as "unknown."

All paintings, photographs, and words without such indications should be taken to be my own work. If you find obvious errors please let me know. I'm not trying to pass anyone's work off as my own, only add in occasionally bits that interested or inspired me so that I might spice up my site, give people a break from me, and hopefully turn some young impressionable minds on to other venues of art.
Far From Me.

For you dear I was born
For you I was raised up
For you I've lived and for you I will die
For you I am dying now.

You were my mad little lover
In a world where everyone fucks everyone else over...

You are so far from me
So far from me
Way across some cold neurotic sea
Far from me

I would talk to you of all matter of things
With a smile you would reply
Then the sun would leave your pretty face
And you'd retreat from the front of your eyes.

I keep hearing that you're doing best
I hope your heart beats happy in your infant breast...

You are so far from me
Far from me
Far from me

There is no knowledge but I know it
There's nothing to learn from that vacant voice
That sails to me across the line
From the ridiculous to the sublime.

It's good to hear you're doing so well
But really can't you find somebody else that you can ring and tell?

Did you ever care for me?
Were you ever there for me?
So far from me

You told me you'd stick by me
Through the thick and through the thin
Those were your very words

You were my brave-hearted lover
At the first taste of trouble went running back to mother...

You are so far from me
So far from me
Suspended in your bleak and fishless sea
Far from me.

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