i sing the body electric

motivated

2007-08-06T22:07:00.001-05:00

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

I was, of course, well aware of the myth stating that the memory span of a goldfish lasts only three seconds; and that, because a goldfish takes much longer than three seconds to die outside of water, to it its entire existence would seem to have been comprised of nothing but the agonizing struggle of suffocation, that all it could remember of its life was dying. I knew this was wrong, of course. I also knew it could never happen to a human being.
But then, science'd made a great many things possible.

There have been a few times in my life when I was glad I was a synesthesiac. See, my brain is all wired wrong. I don't experience the senses like someone else would. Taste and touch intermingle with smell and sound and it can get really hard to talk to someone else who has no idea the new an interesting ways I'm living life. But it can have its advantages. Case in point, the guy from Vinny's gang who's trying to put the fear of God into me. A street beating just doesn't work the same when the pain you're trying to inflict just makes everything taste purple to me.

Gosslings

2007-05-09T20:49:00.000-05:00

Taken by me, near lake beebe, 2007.

Berlin

2007-05-06T23:42:00.000-05:00

The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmitted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye, to bludgeon away all the strangeness, their mouths fringed with nails so they resembled steel-toothed carnivores, spitting them into their swift hands as they hammered up frame cottages and scuttled over roofs with shingles to blot out the eerie stars, and fit green shades to pull against the night. And when the carpenters had hurried on, the women came in with flowerpots and chintz and pans and set up a kitchen clamor to cover the silence that Mars made waiting outside the door and the shaded window.

Men Of Good Fortunes

2007-05-06T23:15:00.000-05:00

I suppose one night hundreds of thousands of years ago in a cave by a night fire when one of those shaggy men wakened to gaze over the banked coals at his woman, his children, and thought of their being cold, dead, gone forever. Then he must have wept. And he put out his hand in the night to the woman who must die some day and to the children who must follow her. And for a little bit next morning, he treated them somewhat better, for he saw that they, like himself, had the seed of night in them.

Sometimes the man who looks happiest in town, with the biggest smile, is the one carrying the biggest load of sin. There are smiles and smiles; learn to tell the dark variety from the light. The seal-barker, the laugh-shouter, half the time he's covering up. He's had his fun and he's guilty. And men do love sin, Will, oh how they love it, never doubt, in all shapes, sizes, colors, and smells.

Wait

2007-05-02T23:35:00.000-05:00

Every town has it's diner, where I'll meet you, and your friends too. Things are just a bit nicer, over some coffee, you can tell me all about your day. Sometimes I can't escape from my room, so excuse me, I'll be just a little late. You'll wait for me.

Every town has it's corner, where I'll see you, and your friends too. Hanging out, looking cool, saying the same things over and over again. Sometimes we all feel stupid, we say the wrong thing, you're not the only one. Sometimes we all get left behind, in the race of time...it's nothing. You'll wait for me.

Heinrich

2007-05-02T23:30:00.000-05:00

How are things on the west coast? Today, my heart swings. But I don't want a taste of victory, and I don't want to read your thoughts anymore. I've tried, but you know it's a lonely ride. There's heaven behind those eyes. Today, my heart swings. How are things on the west coast? You're an actress so you'd identify.

Festival

2007-05-01T14:56:00.000-05:00

I'm put together beautifully.

Big, wet bottle in my fist. Big, wet rose in my teeth. I'm a birthday candle in a circle of black girls. I'm a parade. God is on my side, the motorcade will have to go around. Ash trays and coffee cups are reversible!

Honor

2007-05-01T11:29:00.000-05:00

I was actually raised by women, my father skated but he left me with latent addiction.

I wouldn't dare to lecture, I don't know how to lead there's got to be somebody better.

I'm tired of sitting here pretending I'm not fucking dangerous.
Expirations are needed, they facilitate the end.

Good Morning

2007-05-01T10:17:00.000-05:00

You never call when you say you're going to. Maybe you just don't want to. I guess that's ok, if that's what makes you happy. I'm so under-appreciated. All the bad things get rolled up tight and smoked in my face. The good things go unnoticed or with very minor recognition. I know I'm not that talented, but I could use some support. It's sort of like, resentment mixed with superiority.

Play it cool, you're going to give yourself a heart attack.

Emergency Emergency 911

2007-05-01T01:29:00.000-05:00

sorry folks, just a false alarm.

nothing to see here, just keep it moving.

2 dogs, some plaster, and a whole lot of consumption.

everything is exactly how it seems.

the true, blue triumph is war.

fearlessly choosing sides is harder than math.

James Madison

2007-04-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

Why should I be sober, when God is so clearly dusted out of his mind?

Finals, finally.

Planet Earth

2007-04-29T23:02:00.000-05:00

David Attenborough is the man

Oporto

2007-04-27T22:58:00.000-05:00

don't you feel like we're all infected with some contemporary disease. it invades our pathology with every breath we take. did you know that there are people in South America who solve every problem with fighting. did you know that there are places in the world where human life is valued less than food.

everything that goes up, must come crashing.
what a cluster-fuck.

Lost Sharks

2007-04-27T22:48:00.000-05:00

That's not a riot, it's a feast, let's eat!
It is right, it is fitting, it is lawful, as much as it is in me.

We could take this merry-go-round around the world and still end up in the same snug little parking spot. After the 6 floor walk up, our legs are tired like infants playing in a sand box. The trees sway and groan like old men in a nursing home. Our lips are buzzing like we're playing kazoo's, and we talk as if we lived in the old days of left hands and crack pots. We must not sleep if we are to survive.

Aut Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam

Click Me

2007-04-24T16:39:00.001-05:00

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Butter Pecan

2007-04-24T00:30:00.000-05:00

Sitting here waiting for something to happen is almost painful. I'm just twiddling my thumbs while the world goes around and around and around and around and around. Do not fucking call me Green Eggs. Stop screaming every time someone is on the phone. In general, shut the fuck up.

I'm excited about these side projects, hopefully collaboration is a good thing. I desperately need a new phone and a new number and a new pair of shoes and a new fitted and everything else I've ever wanted in my entire life.

I feel detached and, how do you say, um, sang-froid. Yes, maybe that's the word I'm looking for. Lots of days I just sit in my stairwell and read for hours, only breaking for water and trips to the bathroom. I can't concentrate in my room. Upstate New York looks better and better every day.

Nicéphore Niépce's earliest surviving photograph, c. 1826. This image required an eight-hour exposure, which resulted in sunlight being visible on both sides of the buildings.

Real Fuel

2007-04-23T04:00:00.000-05:00

no sleep no sleep no sleep no sleep
have i told you recently how much i hate people?
i could watch tv and sit in my own excrement for hours and then get snake bites and run to the nearest alley and hide.

someone needs to un-invent time zones and shaving cream.
CSI < Law & Order
House > Entourage

i should be in the witness protection program

Blood Blood Blood

2007-04-20T15:19:00.000-05:00

more or
less how I

feel.

Traffic Control

2007-04-20T01:46:00.000-05:00

If you never had a day a snow cone couldn't fix, then you can't relate. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Expletive. Expletive. Sleep. Expletive. It's 3 in the morning. I'm not trying to trick you, I'm trying to help you. Let freedom ring, they done tapped the telephone. Home, stoned, all alone.

wheel. The machine is forever built and rebuilt. The operator is our collective We're all simply waiting on a very large line, awaiting our chance to ride a very small ferris consciousness. There are many people who get to ride the ferris wheel for a
i don't know what the fuck is going on. it's so easy to do. backwards. no sound.

there are 76 trombones playing in my head.

Judgement Yard

2007-04-14T01:48:00.000-05:00

I always get performance anxiety before I play a show. But I'm not nervous about myself, I'm worried about the crowd. Like, what if they hate it so much they leave? They just wasted like $20 and a bunch of time. I feel bad that I inadvertently stole from them. That's not right, is it? I always ask questions but none of them are going to get answered. My speech is on the fritz. I can't seem to formulate words properly, maybe I got lobotomized in my sleep.

My girlfriend is home and I am happy.

Intoxication #1

2007-04-13T03:03:00.000-05:00

I took drugs. I drank Samuel Adams Summer Beer. I smoked a joint of some Christian marijuana. I got my wish and played some Need For Speed and a little Fight Night on Zack's Xbox 360. I am well darkened, as the Cajuns say.

You know, I was walking down the street eating some sushi, and I got the weirdest looks from other people, like I was breaking some social barrier and that it was impolite of me to assume that other people would be comfortable with digestion in motion. Fuck them. They're all, "Well if you're gonna eat on the street, then I'm gonna fucking eat on the street." and I'm just like, "Dude eat on the street then."

They go to the same church.

Lucid Trees

2007-04-12T21:04:00.000-05:00

On the subway today I was yelled at by a black man missing his 2 front teeth. My iPod was blaring against the clickity-clack of the train so I actually have no clue as to what he told me, all I know is that he said it very loud, and the girl sitting across from me laughed. It must have been something clever. If you're not listening to someone speak, are they still talking? Does it even matter?

I feel insignificant. I wish I had some video games to take my mind off of everything that swirls around me. I'll never be depressed as long as I'm never happy. I don't know what I'm looking for. It sucks to be myself. It kills me to think they say I'm becoming something else. Yet i feel the same, and dirty, and guilty, and alone, and needing to acknowledge that I need no approval. Brothers, sisters, orphans, and dolphins. Simple ideas require repetition. Is life here really worth saving?

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

2007-04-11T22:36:00.000-05:00

When the last living thing
has died on account of us,
how poetical it would be
if Earth could say,
in a voice floating up
perhaps
from the floor
of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.

-Requiem by Kurt Vonnegut

Analysis

2007-04-11T11:14:00.000-05:00

I've been having some strange dreams lately, some frightening others confusing. I don't know if they're meaningful or just subconscious thoughts presented in some twisted pose. My anxiety is at an all time high; I've never felt so manic. I know I'm not being a decent person, I'm just flailing about in the ocean trying to hold on to water. I hope everyone is saved. I hope everyone can redeem themselves. I hope the weather gets nicer. I hope I grow up. I hope they stop doing construction outside of my window every morning and I hope the helicopters hovering around Manhattan all lose lift. I hope my mom can be happier. I hope my girlfriend can be happier. I hope I can be happier. Most of all I hope I'm not alone when it happens.

After all the bullshit, here are some cute kitties:

Choose a Bright Morning

2007-04-10T18:21:00.000-05:00

Everyone's favorite, unknown band from Uppsala, Sweden has announced their European tour dates, and don't I just wish I lived in Glasgow to catch them play at King Tuts. If you're totally out of the loop, check out Jeniferever's myspace page and be sure to watch their video for Alvik, their new single. My personal favorite off their new album might be A Ghost In The Corner Of Your Eye, with Swimming Eyes a close second.

The scenery of somewhere else.
I wish things were that simple,
That leaving solves everything.
That departing covers mistakes you've made,
The wrong turns you took years ago,
That leaving solves everything.

Summertime is my Favorite Pastime

2007-04-10T17:46:00.000-05:00

Metropolitan living got you down?
Can't keep up with the pace?
Too many occupied taxis and crowded subways?
Starting fist fights with alcoholic neighbors?
Bored of the same old homeless people?

WELL, HAVE I GOT AN ACTIVITY FOR YOU!

Come on up to the New York Historical Society where slavery is always fashionable and old paintings run the show. Security guards are always pleasant and the reading room on the 3rd floor has Greek dictionaries for all your etymology needs.

Afterwards you can go right across the street to Central Park and make fun of tourists spending $30 on a pedicab ride! Or take a gander at the gigantic Blue Whale at the Natural History museum and buy some astronaut ice cream.

Apartment Story

2007-04-10T17:12:00.000-05:00

I can talk all the nonsense I want, and my abecedarian wit will not compensate for my lack of intelligence. I think the the Writer was correct in his assumption when he said,

"A man writes because he is tormented, because he doubts. He needs to constantly prove to himself and the others that he's worth something. And if I know for sure that I'm a genius? Why write then? What the hell for?"

And what about the Professor? Didn't he have some good points? That everything takes just as much faith as it does truth in order to function. Even if something doesn't exist, if enough people believe in it, does that make it real? If hope provides a false relief does that same hope deserve to be destroyed? I don't know.

I was looking out my window and I saw some fire engines and a mother and her son on the roof of their apartment. I see some orchids in the window of someones apartment. There's a parakeet that flies around that same room. There's wine to be drank! Or is it drunk!? I don't know.

Disposable cameras from 20 years ago and Super Nintendo. Dragonfly across an ancient sky. Individual packets of mayonnaise and ketchup. Mixtapes and the like. Control, Alt, Delete. Band-aids and chocolate cake. Cement trucks and Hungarian restaurants.

Quick, post a picture so nobody will read what you wrote. Wait a minute here, mister! Hey, I'm talking to you! If I don't make it home will you call my wife?

Aldous Huxley

2007-04-10T13:38:00.000-05:00

The writer, humanist, and oft quoted Aldous Huxley can really pour it strong, if you know what I mean. In his 1954 essay, The Doors of Perception, Huxley expounds on mescaline use. It's long and a little difficult to read, but interesting nonetheless.

"If we could sniff or swallow something that would, for five or six hours each day, abolish our solitude as individuals, atone us with our fellows in a glowing exaltation of affection and make life in all its aspects seem not only worth living, but divinely beautiful and significant, and if this heavenly, world-transfiguring drug were of such a kind that we could wake up next morning with a clear head and an undamaged constitution-then, it seems to me, all our problems (and not merely the one small problem of discovering a novel pleasure) would be wholly solved and earth would become paradise."

Photography and Such

2007-04-10T13:17:00.000-05:00

This guy, Abelardo Morell, takes amazing photographs, but in particular his work using a camera obscura is awe-inspiring.

This [crazy] woman, Elena, went to Chernobyl and took pictures. Creepy and intriguing. Not so much about the photographs, but the story accompanying them.

Book of Bad Breaks

2007-04-10T12:33:00.000-05:00

Thee More Shallows of Anticon Records from the sunny state of Cali-for-na-yay, is really the best band I've come across in a long time. Truly original and inventive stuff right here. They have a Myspace page, click the link above, and there's some info up on the Anticon site. My favorite song on their new album is probably Night at the Knight School, but Oh Yes, Another Mother and Proud Turkeys are both ladykillers in their own right. And for what it's worth they look like some cool guys with a good sense of humor and a quick wit.

Also, I don't remember seeing these ads, but Sega was pretty racy (and by racy I mean hilarious) back in the day:

Stalker (1979)

2007-04-09T14:56:00.000-05:00

So summer is gone,
Leaving no epitaph.
It’s still warm in the sun,
Only that’s not enough.
All that true could have come,
Like a five-fingered fluff,
Folded into my palm,
Only that’s not enough.
No evil was sighted
In the good aftermath,
World was festively lighted,
Only that’s not enough.
Life forever was tucking,
Caring, making me laugh.
I was really lucky,
Only that’s not enough.
No leaves ever seared,
No limbs broken rough.
Day, like glass, washed all clear,
Only that’s not enough.
Arseniy Tarkovsky - Verses from Stalker

third post

2007-04-09T13:47:00.000-05:00

On the outer banks of the city a man sits alone on a rock with a flask and a cigarette. He mumbles to himself about the weather and how the cars never used to pass through this part of town. His eyes wander recklessly and it makes him queasy. His cigarette has gone out and he searches his pockets for a pack of matches. His hand instead finds a bottle cap and a folded piece of paper. Written on the paper in black typewriter print are the words, "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Parsin."

second post

2007-04-09T09:39:00.000-05:00

The Laptop Poet's Guide to Life

Everyone's an addict
God is a triangle
Exercise intellect, and if you lack it pretend
We can't escape the petri dish
Defend your family
Insight is disease
Even if you're lost, front like you've got a plan
Try not to sleep
Live a pious life and get hung by the saints
Enjoy yourself (it's later than you think)

first post

2007-04-06T19:33:00.001-05:00

think big