3x5" post-it notes, "journal" books, one-off printed typings, thoughts dumped to inert* email messages, writings and notes adjacent to notable material printed out, stray paper usage, and blog entries...
i write my thoughts in so many disparate places, mediums, forms and formats. i have no standard because it doesn't feel right. standards do not feel “right” to me. standards are like templates: starting points. but even starting points change over time and so become revised, revisited, or reevaluated. meaning that all things change, though some things are slower to change and so can enjoy a time of relative static usefulness. meaning that they are relatively unchanging but still provide high usability because of their versatility, recognizable, and recurrent properties.
and though it may be that, in general, people utilize and/or crutch-on standards, templates, etc. i do not do so lightly**. perhaps i challenge too much, or make things “too difficult” by “thinking too much.” but i don’t feel that my core reactions are “thinking too much.” i am operating at natural levels. ha! i’m sure that will sound funny to somebody. maybe ridiculous is a better word, maybe not but my awareness of that potentiality has given me some smile. i’ll take it.
*for convenience and availability. i scramble to find the first thing available to capture thought into record. this results in my use of post-it notes and the use of the utility of being able to type in email messages. "inert" because the intention is not to email, just to record, the option of being able to "send" the content afterwards is coincidental benefit.
**”lightly” seems to me to suggest or imply that i am controlling my actions, when actually it is my feeling or natural reaction
i was compelled to start writing this as output/reaction/exhaust to expression that is cooking in me at the relative moment- movement.. something like that. i was watching tekkon kinkreet, this work has good rhythms with me. it speaks a lot about change and the process or cycle of things, it also focuses on the activity or “blood” of what makes urban- urban. attributes of the “city” or “street.” there are many examples in my life that contribute to my “gathering(s)” and tekkon kinkreet is a new(er) addition to those contributions and resultant inspirations. i definitely like recognizing like-rhythms, either as individual minds, or works, or even whole productions (where many minds contribute to the work, thus making the source of inspiration more vague since it’s not any one person but rather a dynamic or context that creates the element speaking to me).
i love the byproduct of street. the city. urban. concrete and weather or not it will rain away into earth and time sooner or later. the process(existence) is something i cannot speak enough about. i am consumed by it. i am suspended in it. at times i feel to think(cannot help but be made to think) of it as it articulating me rather than me within it. the more i observe and ponder the more i see the façade of control and purpose the individual animated being has. we are not individuals with the comfortly-crafted idea of being autonomous in our presence; arrogance, oversight, and lack of observation, experience, or awareness contribute to the idea of such control by the individual. at least to my examinations and findings, of which i have no control over; i have accepted what i receive, i stumble over my cultural programming and awareness-dynamic(intellect and instinct aka “humanity”), but i cannot deceive myself or hide from myself or what i receive in existence.
i am only part of existence. for all that common and contemporary cultural associations hold, humans are as "individual" as any category or label that we have created. but we are not. “individuality” is an artificial intellectual label, an idea to aid in understanding and communication. it is a matter of layer and perception. layer being context, and perception being experience or one’s own gatherings. to look past common associations and definition finds that everything is part of the whole. and the whole is infinite.
the human, the bacteria, the sun, the atom- all parts of the whole. none isolated from each other, all influencing the process. connected.
existence. environment. context. wonderment.
being aware of all of this is overwhelming. so much so that i am continually torn apart by: my butt’s first morning itch, by day’s continuing breaths, by all the wonderfuls about in adjacently; and from this awareness, that there are things doing and being at all the moments regardless of my thoughts about them, that there is a furious dynamic in concentration on this planet, and that that fury really doesn’t stop here, but is continual as far as i can imagine.
awareness gives me this. it takes care of me, watching me when i’m down, caring for me when i have forgotten to care for myself, always there with me, regardless of me and my nonsense. my humble short-lived fussery i provide until my own process folds back into the whole.
i fail continually to produce tangible shared-expression. i could say “art” but that is too singular, too much the “comfort-based category” for the sake of easy communication. isn’t the challenge of understanding worth it to interpret and translate? much like an aged wine, cheese, or preserved collectible. the efforts are worth it. the comfort-laden knee-jerk phrase “work smarter not harder” comes to mind; i am not “trying” to make things harder, i do not serve “for the sake ofs” because i cannot. if i follow my intuition, my instincts, my gathering(s)- i cannot. if i choose to be unbalanced and contort and force and control things then i can conform "for the sake of." and do so without thought, without observation, without wonderment, curiosity, and inevitable questions and discovery and awareness.
i am as complicated or convoluted as i am because of my gathering(s), my experience and continuum of influence that is existence and environment. i shy away from phrases and quotes for the most part because they are relied on as fact and for comfort too often. they mislead and program. mainly because they are easily misused by those that do not have the experience to wield such phrases, just enough to be “dangerous” with them. they are, after all, just tools. no not the people, the phrases. but though i shy away from phrases and quotes i like the phrase “i yam what i yam” – popeye
and i have to remember and accept that quotes and phrases are actually really good tools. i know it from observation. recognizable elements disseminate knowledge and connect humans like water does in soup or oil does in engine. people know popeye and, for those that have the experience, will realize what that quote truly means, regardless of it’s original intentions or meaning. and by “truly means” i mean of what it means to each of us, since we each make our own conclusions. recognition is a good element or tool. humans and many other beings have obviously thrived on it throughout our evolution as evidenced by our continued presence.
what would you do when what you looked away to is suddenly not just in front of your nose or beneath your feet, but actually everything all the time? inside, outside- and beyond what you can touch or prove; what you are in love with is already. it has been always. waiting. waiting for you to recognize that your love for it, is it’s love for you.
then what? what does one do then?
12.03.2008
11.20.2008
mitered phrase
"reflection unleashes the trappings of experience."
"experience" and memory being all that preceeds the moment(s)* of reflection. otherwise, usually, generalized and referred to as "childhood." the phrase above was developed by necessity and intuition to try to keep the idea to a concise form(phrase) for use in communication. mainly since this "idea" keeps reoccuring in convserations with myself and others.
*pluralization put into parenthesis because, to me, there is no "moment" but rather a stream that continues to push us along. the mind is wildly abstract in ability to think beyond static limits and concrete forms. it is therefore curious how human cultures tend towards associations that do not emulate our organic forms.
"experience" and memory being all that preceeds the moment(s)* of reflection. otherwise, usually, generalized and referred to as "childhood." the phrase above was developed by necessity and intuition to try to keep the idea to a concise form(phrase) for use in communication. mainly since this "idea" keeps reoccuring in convserations with myself and others.
*pluralization put into parenthesis because, to me, there is no "moment" but rather a stream that continues to push us along. the mind is wildly abstract in ability to think beyond static limits and concrete forms. it is therefore curious how human cultures tend towards associations that do not emulate our organic forms.
straight forward and obvious
"all word and action reflect the rhythms present."
(“present” meaning “in existence/occurrence” as well as in time or at any given moment)
(“present” meaning “in existence/occurrence” as well as in time or at any given moment)
credit
i have no idea- my credit score. my “rating.” this prompts a topic about me that is too gorgeous in content for this particular writing.
but, of things credit, i have observed this about myself: pride and credit and the ego that is served by such foods, has no meaning for me. no feeling. well, no feeling initially. to be sure, there is no positive or negative feeling initially, the negative or adverse feelings and reactions i may have to limelighting develop well after my initial feelings. i believe it is the intuitive knowledge of experience and understanding that frames thought into reality; and in that realization of context comes my repulsion. the feeling is honest; not influenced by fear, control, or comfort. at times i feel lonely by it. but it is my gathering, the result of everything that has contributed to me and i appreciate that immensely of all things. i observe that my reactions, my feelings are not something i command. it is, at best, something i can influence.
there is nothing for the result of eventuality. ultimately all things are by way of the essence of evolution. that which exists does so as a result of all that has contributed to it. the contribution could be the absence or addition of something, context, etc.
persistence-of-something and product are results, indicators, reference points in time and moment. these “parts” are not the whole. they are abstract and static representations of the whole, just as the individual is a reflection of the whole. and the whole is infinite.
following the social standard of what “credit” is (having accomplished, completed, or done something), i do not feel it in me to make claim to. it would be like claiming credit for having moved appendage, waking up, or going to the bathroom. and although those things are considered “automatic” and based in instinct “without thought,” for me having completed a thesis, invented a new device, baking, developing new areas of study in mathematics or social-economic models aligning diverse classes of people, etc. (to any level of quality or recognition) is just as “resultant” as those parts of our nature that are usually taken for granted.
however, i am human- and thus cannot help but appreciate the celebration and familiar-made recognitions of events and happenings.
emotion...
i appreciate the attributes that make things what they are. and in this i find the importance through my bond with the “social group.” and i have come to appreciate more these attributes, these differences and similarities in myself. it helps me to get past my intellect, to derive nourishment from the cooperation of everything that thinks my brain. and so, versatile rhythms are revealed to me that welcome unity rather than separation. It is not marketing or “whatever i need to tell myself,” it is a deep and honest connection formed without force, intellectual purpose, or design. it is understanding and acceptance, something that is exponential with, and benefits from, plenty of reflection. whether the reflection is direct or indirect, from others or oneself, reflection is an amplifier of observation and experience.
emotion also amplifies. it does so with awareness beautifully. it may be anomalous to a god, robot, or alien – “those humans are so silly, so inefficient with their dubious chemical logic” but that is what we are. that is who i am. the “balance” that i continue to talk about, the inherent balance borne into our nature- the one affected by the dynamic of our evolution(or as i like to put it “instinct and intellect”), is our medium. it is we. it is neither excuse or absolution of responsibility or any other kind of intellectual construct. it simply “is” our state.
my mind draws a blank upon checks of ego. the bond of familiarity, however, creates a wealth; one that cannot be claimed or controlled. it exists only amoung the connections of those bonds. its wealth is exponentially grown the more that is added to the bond.
or
i don’t care about popularity or if anyone knows of the things i create, say, have said, coined, or done. but i do care about sharing my experience my “gatherings.” connections made for contribution to the whole. and the more people that connect with each other the more diverse and amplified the collection of experience they have. the connection, the bond – is inherently protected from those who would try to control or covet because once controlled or coveted the bond fades away leaving behind an empty carapace of perceived comfort.
but, of things credit, i have observed this about myself: pride and credit and the ego that is served by such foods, has no meaning for me. no feeling. well, no feeling initially. to be sure, there is no positive or negative feeling initially, the negative or adverse feelings and reactions i may have to limelighting develop well after my initial feelings. i believe it is the intuitive knowledge of experience and understanding that frames thought into reality; and in that realization of context comes my repulsion. the feeling is honest; not influenced by fear, control, or comfort. at times i feel lonely by it. but it is my gathering, the result of everything that has contributed to me and i appreciate that immensely of all things. i observe that my reactions, my feelings are not something i command. it is, at best, something i can influence.
there is nothing for the result of eventuality. ultimately all things are by way of the essence of evolution. that which exists does so as a result of all that has contributed to it. the contribution could be the absence or addition of something, context, etc.
persistence-of-something and product are results, indicators, reference points in time and moment. these “parts” are not the whole. they are abstract and static representations of the whole, just as the individual is a reflection of the whole. and the whole is infinite.
following the social standard of what “credit” is (having accomplished, completed, or done something), i do not feel it in me to make claim to. it would be like claiming credit for having moved appendage, waking up, or going to the bathroom. and although those things are considered “automatic” and based in instinct “without thought,” for me having completed a thesis, invented a new device, baking, developing new areas of study in mathematics or social-economic models aligning diverse classes of people, etc. (to any level of quality or recognition) is just as “resultant” as those parts of our nature that are usually taken for granted.
however, i am human- and thus cannot help but appreciate the celebration and familiar-made recognitions of events and happenings.
emotion...
i appreciate the attributes that make things what they are. and in this i find the importance through my bond with the “social group.” and i have come to appreciate more these attributes, these differences and similarities in myself. it helps me to get past my intellect, to derive nourishment from the cooperation of everything that thinks my brain. and so, versatile rhythms are revealed to me that welcome unity rather than separation. It is not marketing or “whatever i need to tell myself,” it is a deep and honest connection formed without force, intellectual purpose, or design. it is understanding and acceptance, something that is exponential with, and benefits from, plenty of reflection. whether the reflection is direct or indirect, from others or oneself, reflection is an amplifier of observation and experience.
emotion also amplifies. it does so with awareness beautifully. it may be anomalous to a god, robot, or alien – “those humans are so silly, so inefficient with their dubious chemical logic” but that is what we are. that is who i am. the “balance” that i continue to talk about, the inherent balance borne into our nature- the one affected by the dynamic of our evolution(or as i like to put it “instinct and intellect”), is our medium. it is we. it is neither excuse or absolution of responsibility or any other kind of intellectual construct. it simply “is” our state.
my mind draws a blank upon checks of ego. the bond of familiarity, however, creates a wealth; one that cannot be claimed or controlled. it exists only amoung the connections of those bonds. its wealth is exponentially grown the more that is added to the bond.
or
i don’t care about popularity or if anyone knows of the things i create, say, have said, coined, or done. but i do care about sharing my experience my “gatherings.” connections made for contribution to the whole. and the more people that connect with each other the more diverse and amplified the collection of experience they have. the connection, the bond – is inherently protected from those who would try to control or covet because once controlled or coveted the bond fades away leaving behind an empty carapace of perceived comfort.
a conversation with intuition
ultimately, if anything, more energy is spent in separation than is in union.
which my intuition developed when trying to say:
the obscene becomes when it is hidden. and the hidden or unknown promotes fear. unresolved issues, and the collective experience of such, give intuition an unbalanced ability to kindle the elements of fear, control, and comfort to beset(decorate) ablaze and obliterate reason (balanced intuition).
the initial phrase also speaks of the “social group” in humans(specifically – but probably applies to all creatures that would evolve to this relative level, on earth at least). that “together” is much more efficient than “separate.”
which my intuition developed when trying to say:
the obscene becomes when it is hidden. and the hidden or unknown promotes fear. unresolved issues, and the collective experience of such, give intuition an unbalanced ability to kindle the elements of fear, control, and comfort to beset(decorate) ablaze and obliterate reason (balanced intuition).
the initial phrase also speaks of the “social group” in humans(specifically – but probably applies to all creatures that would evolve to this relative level, on earth at least). that “together” is much more efficient than “separate.”
11.17.2008
altered genesis
i'm a weird boy in a weird land.
person.
the ruffled wig enjoys the chance. resting atop awareness, influencing the continual animation. delicious sensory and responsive articulation enable the temporary gathering. overwhelming input balanced by repetition being able to combine similarity; allowing contribution and inherent influence that makeup the medium of life.
person.
the ruffled wig enjoys the chance. resting atop awareness, influencing the continual animation. delicious sensory and responsive articulation enable the temporary gathering. overwhelming input balanced by repetition being able to combine similarity; allowing contribution and inherent influence that makeup the medium of life.
11.14.2008
exception survival
using post-it notes are like attaching bushes to my expression. in the oubliettes of job, expression needs disguise.
11.12.2008
self-talkings
[old thought]
i feel the term/idea "happy accidents" is better captured with the phrase "intuitive discovery"
[old writing]
proximity is destruction
idle is destruction
completeness is deadness
process is our lover
process is our love
process is our voice
our language
i feel the term/idea "happy accidents" is better captured with the phrase "intuitive discovery"
[old writing]
proximity is destruction
idle is destruction
completeness is deadness
process is our lover
process is our love
process is our voice
our language
boy eight bologna
“the yard is endless world.
boy collects pocketfuls.”
the wonderful of being a boy. glad for it. what else for it?
awareness, richly.
my feets are boy. my heart is boy. my thoughts are boy. my loves are boy.
when i do, i do as boy.
confused and certain
muddy, boy.
and i romp, and fly, tied to stream. send me nonsense possibility
round-about, twirl and not. picking apart and invention.
robots and far away, rockets and explosions
boy is kicked dirt and secret captain cave
couch galleons and old oak forts
boy is monster that can’t behave
ruffled hair and maybe quirky
boy is nail, bent and smirky
dirty clothes and melted candy
grass stains and lots of laundry
skinned knee is patch of experience
frogs whisperin’ mischievous secrets
and boy is boy
no more than boy
adventure and love all in one
crash and burn
the phoenix learns
and away to wonder he returns
boy collects pocketfuls.”
the wonderful of being a boy. glad for it. what else for it?
awareness, richly.
my feets are boy. my heart is boy. my thoughts are boy. my loves are boy.
when i do, i do as boy.
confused and certain
muddy, boy.
and i romp, and fly, tied to stream. send me nonsense possibility
round-about, twirl and not. picking apart and invention.
robots and far away, rockets and explosions
boy is kicked dirt and secret captain cave
couch galleons and old oak forts
boy is monster that can’t behave
ruffled hair and maybe quirky
boy is nail, bent and smirky
dirty clothes and melted candy
grass stains and lots of laundry
skinned knee is patch of experience
frogs whisperin’ mischievous secrets
and boy is boy
no more than boy
adventure and love all in one
crash and burn
the phoenix learns
and away to wonder he returns
11.11.2008
keys
the idea of “keys” or there being a “key” element to anything is relatively irrelevant.
a “key” implies an absolute. and it is my understanding that absolutes are nonsense. "absolute nonsense."
but to dial it back down from the existential, there is a need to communicate in relative terms of recognition. accepted and understood words and ideas are needed the more diverse the audience.
thus a word like “key” is used. but the issue lies in the fact that humans, in general, tend to relax on ideas, institutions, intellectual devices, or social staples. a key, literally and figuratively, is just a tool- a medium. ultimately there are no categories. a tool is as static as that reality it is based on. and that reality is ‘all’ we know. this awareness of flux and dynamic finds us rhythm amoung the process of our occupation. to find balance with the dynamic of existence turns distinction to white noise. awareness moves beyond intuition.
to "stop thinking" or to "let go" gives rise to intuitive adaptation. evolution through experience.
uncover the soil of social and intellectual content to discover the existential balance beneath. then leave it be, covering it back up with understanding and experience... which grows intuition.
a “key” implies an absolute. and it is my understanding that absolutes are nonsense. "absolute nonsense."
but to dial it back down from the existential, there is a need to communicate in relative terms of recognition. accepted and understood words and ideas are needed the more diverse the audience.
thus a word like “key” is used. but the issue lies in the fact that humans, in general, tend to relax on ideas, institutions, intellectual devices, or social staples. a key, literally and figuratively, is just a tool- a medium. ultimately there are no categories. a tool is as static as that reality it is based on. and that reality is ‘all’ we know. this awareness of flux and dynamic finds us rhythm amoung the process of our occupation. to find balance with the dynamic of existence turns distinction to white noise. awareness moves beyond intuition.
to "stop thinking" or to "let go" gives rise to intuitive adaptation. evolution through experience.
uncover the soil of social and intellectual content to discover the existential balance beneath. then leave it be, covering it back up with understanding and experience... which grows intuition.
11.08.2008
medium scratchings
my sensitive is tickled by the delicious of influence. it all and surround. it is me and else. and, well.. words and articulations fly away to join the vague gatherings. the present nothings full of sensation saturate and resonant change. the quieter, the louder. the calmer, the more intense. subtle is integrity. simplicity is foundation. repeating patterns equal one, and solids become many.
this is what culture is a part of; this immensity, this happening that i find awareness to. the process and culture of anything is continuous and abundant. i sleep with it, i wake up to it, i enjoy it with moon or sun. and furthered time that filters through makes acute this awareness.
the street.
the “street” represents a more isolated abstract from the whole of cultures abound. the street is the breath of concrete, the nudgings of alley, the tenet of building. It is the sound of shoe on toothy grounds, it is the choice of path and treescape found. It is random and distinct. It is expanse and succinct. It is the workings and movings, the action and process. wheels turning... imaginative blankets of sky roll past into canisters of perceiverie. an exponential net working and living; existing, sound.
foundation of organic dynamic. hard and soft. earth to ore, iron to cloud. reciprocal softness cradling cerebralism that inspires a mechanism to manipulate and grasp, that reflects the activity of elemental cousins.
skateboarding.
the culture of skateboarding was initially introduced to me by my dad and, around the same time, random skaters crusin’ down the sidewalk with the tell-tale bip-bop sound of the wheels rolling over concrete seams. later on the culture was shared through the mid-80’s popularity. transworld skateboard and thrasher magazines and places like “the bare cover.” i had my share of powell and peralta gear, skate rags, rector, and my long lost tommy guerrero pro model in metallic blue. to fondly remember my first board for a second: it had not just a nose grab but a nose bone, ribs/rails, skid pad, copers, and a truck skid. eventually i had to rip all that crap off of there. it is my belief that the store took me (and my mom’s wallet) for a ride at the time. not only that but they tightened my wheels so tight that I couldn’t even ride the thing initially. i eventually got an elephant key, loosened the wheels, and then proceeded to knock the first wind out of me as well as bite my first bit of concrete. It was a nice little patch of grass that sent me flying. All these years later, however, I have not lost my love of skateboarding. i still only weakly Ollie and my pop-shuvs always make my ankles cry a little, but i love cruisin’ on a board. Finding hills or taking flats and gliding about. stop-rocks? Yeah, who doesn’t dread them, but scared of them? no. they are reminders to live fully, maybe learn to identify and heed certain dangers but then to let it all ride out. the only magazine i seriously and continuously will contemplate subscribing to is a skateboard mag. and i find it’s not really about the skateboarders, tricks, equipment, or writing, it’s mainly the street- the urban culture i like. “urban.” i shouldn’t isolate the feeling of culture i love to a word like “urban.” It’s more like “environment in the human influence.” though i do like nonhuman influenced settings as well. there would not be a magazine produced that highlights “street.” books, yes. but a magazine, no. but skateboard rags do that well, and altogether with the writing, the equipment, tricks, it makes for a great saturation of culture. an experience.
writing (graffiti).
writing or graffiti was introduced to me after skateboarding. it existed in the neighborhood and surround that i lived in. by the time i was in middle school and got my first big surge of energy for this culture, the graffiti in my neighborhood was already 4+ years faded. though, back then people didn’t go over each other and/or clean the graffiti up. most of the graffiti that surrounded me back then was up in places that weren’t so obnoxious yet still visible. it wasn’t until i was shelving a new book that my highschool library had just acquired did i really get the sickness for writing culture. i was a teacher’s assistant and the book was subway art.
the book immediately took hold of my imagination (or probably the other way around) and flew away into ideals and adventure and fantasy.
it is still this way for me today.. but then that is how many things are and have been for me.
underground.culture is the center for me. generally a rich culture is one i have found, stays underground. It can be cultivated but it cannot be pulled up above ground without hastened oxidation. the roots remain underground. street and especially pool skating as well as writing (graffiti) are fine examples of this.
this is what culture is a part of; this immensity, this happening that i find awareness to. the process and culture of anything is continuous and abundant. i sleep with it, i wake up to it, i enjoy it with moon or sun. and furthered time that filters through makes acute this awareness.
the street.
the “street” represents a more isolated abstract from the whole of cultures abound. the street is the breath of concrete, the nudgings of alley, the tenet of building. It is the sound of shoe on toothy grounds, it is the choice of path and treescape found. It is random and distinct. It is expanse and succinct. It is the workings and movings, the action and process. wheels turning... imaginative blankets of sky roll past into canisters of perceiverie. an exponential net working and living; existing, sound.
foundation of organic dynamic. hard and soft. earth to ore, iron to cloud. reciprocal softness cradling cerebralism that inspires a mechanism to manipulate and grasp, that reflects the activity of elemental cousins.
skateboarding.
the culture of skateboarding was initially introduced to me by my dad and, around the same time, random skaters crusin’ down the sidewalk with the tell-tale bip-bop sound of the wheels rolling over concrete seams. later on the culture was shared through the mid-80’s popularity. transworld skateboard and thrasher magazines and places like “the bare cover.” i had my share of powell and peralta gear, skate rags, rector, and my long lost tommy guerrero pro model in metallic blue. to fondly remember my first board for a second: it had not just a nose grab but a nose bone, ribs/rails, skid pad, copers, and a truck skid. eventually i had to rip all that crap off of there. it is my belief that the store took me (and my mom’s wallet) for a ride at the time. not only that but they tightened my wheels so tight that I couldn’t even ride the thing initially. i eventually got an elephant key, loosened the wheels, and then proceeded to knock the first wind out of me as well as bite my first bit of concrete. It was a nice little patch of grass that sent me flying. All these years later, however, I have not lost my love of skateboarding. i still only weakly Ollie and my pop-shuvs always make my ankles cry a little, but i love cruisin’ on a board. Finding hills or taking flats and gliding about. stop-rocks? Yeah, who doesn’t dread them, but scared of them? no. they are reminders to live fully, maybe learn to identify and heed certain dangers but then to let it all ride out. the only magazine i seriously and continuously will contemplate subscribing to is a skateboard mag. and i find it’s not really about the skateboarders, tricks, equipment, or writing, it’s mainly the street- the urban culture i like. “urban.” i shouldn’t isolate the feeling of culture i love to a word like “urban.” It’s more like “environment in the human influence.” though i do like nonhuman influenced settings as well. there would not be a magazine produced that highlights “street.” books, yes. but a magazine, no. but skateboard rags do that well, and altogether with the writing, the equipment, tricks, it makes for a great saturation of culture. an experience.
writing (graffiti).
writing or graffiti was introduced to me after skateboarding. it existed in the neighborhood and surround that i lived in. by the time i was in middle school and got my first big surge of energy for this culture, the graffiti in my neighborhood was already 4+ years faded. though, back then people didn’t go over each other and/or clean the graffiti up. most of the graffiti that surrounded me back then was up in places that weren’t so obnoxious yet still visible. it wasn’t until i was shelving a new book that my highschool library had just acquired did i really get the sickness for writing culture. i was a teacher’s assistant and the book was subway art.
the book immediately took hold of my imagination (or probably the other way around) and flew away into ideals and adventure and fantasy.
it is still this way for me today.. but then that is how many things are and have been for me.
underground.culture is the center for me. generally a rich culture is one i have found, stays underground. It can be cultivated but it cannot be pulled up above ground without hastened oxidation. the roots remain underground. street and especially pool skating as well as writing (graffiti) are fine examples of this.
11.04.2008
effortless action
it is my effort to contribute to the influence of my humility. to not take myself so seriously.
it is not for the feeding of happiness or gratification but the service of intuitive artifact; an element of balance. balance that i believe is embodied in vague and dynamic mediums. continual mediums; undescribed, unconfirmed, fleeting, and changing.
i have been in those states of balance. i have felt them around me. in me. a presence of those dynamic rhythms.
i wait too often however; lazy and preoccupied with nonsense littlery and maybeness. but the moments are upon me, at least i identify them as "the moments." those of relative distinguishible change, and notably, change towards a more experienced balance. i can feel this. though, over the last week or so, i've lost a bit of the momentum i started, in my mind or heart i feel the immediacy. that current of continual flow. that stuff that i've been observing and gathering for so long but never having truly followed myself.
one step in front of the other. one at a time. continual, persistent. discipline.
but i think about the way human intellect phrases and frames things for the purpose of understanding and communication. a vehicle. a medium.
ultimately it is in the is-ness that things exist and not in the defining or understanding of them. they are without so much understanding or category. regardless of human.
because i think of the "journey" and the "steps" and "obstacles" and it appears to me that the individual never really moves; that intellectual constructs of layer and perception, or context and experience, project the mirrored-kaleidoscope sphere of influence we generally believe in.
basically: i(we) try too hard. we are "gifted" with a balance. born with it. intuition built of experience, information. so simplistic. but our attributes are tested by natural selection/evolution. what will out? what will persist and survive through adaptation? we are too momentary to ultimately decide that. we live the balance and existence will hold the almanac.
it is not for the feeding of happiness or gratification but the service of intuitive artifact; an element of balance. balance that i believe is embodied in vague and dynamic mediums. continual mediums; undescribed, unconfirmed, fleeting, and changing.
i have been in those states of balance. i have felt them around me. in me. a presence of those dynamic rhythms.
i wait too often however; lazy and preoccupied with nonsense littlery and maybeness. but the moments are upon me, at least i identify them as "the moments." those of relative distinguishible change, and notably, change towards a more experienced balance. i can feel this. though, over the last week or so, i've lost a bit of the momentum i started, in my mind or heart i feel the immediacy. that current of continual flow. that stuff that i've been observing and gathering for so long but never having truly followed myself.
one step in front of the other. one at a time. continual, persistent. discipline.
but i think about the way human intellect phrases and frames things for the purpose of understanding and communication. a vehicle. a medium.
ultimately it is in the is-ness that things exist and not in the defining or understanding of them. they are without so much understanding or category. regardless of human.
because i think of the "journey" and the "steps" and "obstacles" and it appears to me that the individual never really moves; that intellectual constructs of layer and perception, or context and experience, project the mirrored-kaleidoscope sphere of influence we generally believe in.
basically: i(we) try too hard. we are "gifted" with a balance. born with it. intuition built of experience, information. so simplistic. but our attributes are tested by natural selection/evolution. what will out? what will persist and survive through adaptation? we are too momentary to ultimately decide that. we live the balance and existence will hold the almanac.
10.30.2008
commons
human life seems to be a balance between instinct and intellect. neither one can be excluded from human attribute.
to be one's self... difficult in a social dynamic that demands conformity.
an artist is an artist, probably at conception.. probably set into motion with the foods eaten by the parents..
well, its the genetic line.
random events align to create an "artist."
"hidden" until a time where the behaviour they keep is exposed.. usually due to the wane or elimination of like behaviour in the artist's surround.
an artist usually, but gradually, begins "exposure" after age 5(ish). once in school, it begins.
once an artist is made to be aligned with unbalanced rules or generalized "system," they begin to reveal themselves whether they want to or not.
art seems to have to be blatantly abstract to be understood, recieved, and thus.. liked and taken ultimately as "contribution."
as an example: i have on my desk a "clear" lifesaver candy in a glorious clear wrapper (i think it may be coconut). i "see" so much in this piece, this object. but to most it is just an uneaten candy.. a wrapped candy. "clutter."
but enlarged or put into an assembly(assemblage) then people begin or have the possibility of being able to "see" the wonders in the object or the object itself - to feel the beauty of existence.
art is like a translation. a translator of existence. the "artist" is a kind of translator.
to be one's self... difficult in a social dynamic that demands conformity.
an artist is an artist, probably at conception.. probably set into motion with the foods eaten by the parents..
well, its the genetic line.
random events align to create an "artist."
"hidden" until a time where the behaviour they keep is exposed.. usually due to the wane or elimination of like behaviour in the artist's surround.
an artist usually, but gradually, begins "exposure" after age 5(ish). once in school, it begins.
once an artist is made to be aligned with unbalanced rules or generalized "system," they begin to reveal themselves whether they want to or not.
art seems to have to be blatantly abstract to be understood, recieved, and thus.. liked and taken ultimately as "contribution."
as an example: i have on my desk a "clear" lifesaver candy in a glorious clear wrapper (i think it may be coconut). i "see" so much in this piece, this object. but to most it is just an uneaten candy.. a wrapped candy. "clutter."
but enlarged or put into an assembly(assemblage) then people begin or have the possibility of being able to "see" the wonders in the object or the object itself - to feel the beauty of existence.
art is like a translation. a translator of existence. the "artist" is a kind of translator.
the star is true
i find more and more that human intellect(state of evolution) is in trials. growing pains.
balance is lost to the roar of comfort.
artists have suffered prison... still suffer the rules and ways.. tradition. intellect. study. thought- idea.
to then "unlearn"
instinct emotion feel intuition observation
why canvas? why frame? matting?
colour matching interior decor.
a capture of imagination- emotion... to coordinate with the couch?
tried and proven... means "safe" then? yes- that is it. safe. comfort. longevity. expression and pure emotion is sacrifieced for intellectual constructs.
the hands are free; the mind, even freer.
we bind ourselves with ceremony and expectation- anticipation.
the exaggerated lore of the beast can be cast away. it can remind the lost sailor the balance of the sea. a balance to see.
balance is lost to the roar of comfort.
artists have suffered prison... still suffer the rules and ways.. tradition. intellect. study. thought- idea.
to then "unlearn"
instinct emotion feel intuition observation
why canvas? why frame? matting?
colour matching interior decor.
a capture of imagination- emotion... to coordinate with the couch?
tried and proven... means "safe" then? yes- that is it. safe. comfort. longevity. expression and pure emotion is sacrifieced for intellectual constructs.
the hands are free; the mind, even freer.
we bind ourselves with ceremony and expectation- anticipation.
the exaggerated lore of the beast can be cast away. it can remind the lost sailor the balance of the sea. a balance to see.
blue
i see blue. i sea bleu. icee blue.
slush.
blue is suffocation. desperation. imagination. slumber.
blue is a whisper
a fortune teller.
electric. dynamic.
organic.
blue embraces and secrets
but it is honest and intuitive
it ultimately reveals,
even without consent.
"centaur"
that is to say: "too bad" or "deal with it"
slush.
blue is suffocation. desperation. imagination. slumber.
blue is a whisper
a fortune teller.
electric. dynamic.
organic.
blue embraces and secrets
but it is honest and intuitive
it ultimately reveals,
even without consent.
"centaur"
that is to say: "too bad" or "deal with it"
tcotz
tcotz is a word that represents many elements for me. one element is that of "see-thru." things like bubble gum machines, or store-front windows, marbles, or jello, amber or ice.
the earliest feeling i have for my love of tcotz, that i can recall, is of the preschool popping-ball push toy.
the earliest feeling i have for my love of tcotz, that i can recall, is of the preschool popping-ball push toy.
phrase
[old name that, when it was new, presented itself to me out of necessity to describe how i felt/feel about the byproduct of creativity- specifically traditional "artworks"]
"oxidized narrative"
"oxidized narrative"
be
i am because of everything i am or am afforded. whether that be resource, opportunity, experience, ability, vision or perspective, awareness, knowledge, etc.
i do not believe in predetermined "fate" but what i feel or believe is something similar. it is about eventuality, pattern, habit, equation, odds, chance, and predictabitliy. the elements that exist create what becomes. i feel this even if i see it an impossible thing to prove or know.
i feel that i simply feel. a reaction is to express my emotion or thought by mashing tangibility. is it for reflection or for process. the former equating to intellect, the latter to instinct. i don't feel that i'm expressing for others or my indulgent self.. it is a life necessity. but i also feel a connection with my kind: humans.
i need connection. connection, reflection, feedback, interaction- with humans. especially humans that i rhyme with, connect with. i lack continually close relationships. i do not limit that to meaning spacial presence, i include mental ones too.
i do not believe in predetermined "fate" but what i feel or believe is something similar. it is about eventuality, pattern, habit, equation, odds, chance, and predictabitliy. the elements that exist create what becomes. i feel this even if i see it an impossible thing to prove or know.
i feel that i simply feel. a reaction is to express my emotion or thought by mashing tangibility. is it for reflection or for process. the former equating to intellect, the latter to instinct. i don't feel that i'm expressing for others or my indulgent self.. it is a life necessity. but i also feel a connection with my kind: humans.
i need connection. connection, reflection, feedback, interaction- with humans. especially humans that i rhyme with, connect with. i lack continually close relationships. i do not limit that to meaning spacial presence, i include mental ones too.
plural
the way humans communicate.
the need for explanation. curiosity. answers. safety. fear. inner-circle prerequisites. marketing. understanding. etcetera.
i find no one medium or style or resons that i would or can limit myself to. the "voice" is too dynamic and organic for that. it is not even a question to me. that any relative one-thing could be rested-on to give breath and language to the "voice."
paintings, "multychs," sculptures, multi-media, installations, experimental, film, etc. are pale static forms, but there is always a loss when something becomes tangible.
organic to static.
underground to popular.
unknown to known.
but tangible is our relative nature. that speaks to us.
it is a wonderful process medium.
the need for explanation. curiosity. answers. safety. fear. inner-circle prerequisites. marketing. understanding. etcetera.
i find no one medium or style or resons that i would or can limit myself to. the "voice" is too dynamic and organic for that. it is not even a question to me. that any relative one-thing could be rested-on to give breath and language to the "voice."
paintings, "multychs," sculptures, multi-media, installations, experimental, film, etc. are pale static forms, but there is always a loss when something becomes tangible.
organic to static.
underground to popular.
unknown to known.
but tangible is our relative nature. that speaks to us.
it is a wonderful process medium.
intellectual interruption
artists get frustrated because their "voice" gasps for a language to speak with. but there is the element of intellectual interruption or baggage or habits that disrupt the dialogue of the "voice." an artist is or must be organic. changing. adapting. learning. exploring.
example:
picasso was "alllowed" to be organic, to explore through various kinds of medium or styles or reason.
perhaps warhol too.
pollock and morrison were not afforded that freedom. at least not by society.
the "voice" is always changing- dynamic, and the artist either breathes or not. exhales or not. there is no possiblity of choosing the voice or not having one. artists are a type of human that, by will or nature, work closely with the "voice." the "voice" is not a part of the artist. it is the artist. the more that an artist realizes this or allows themselves to "be," the clearer the voice becomes.
example:
picasso was "alllowed" to be organic, to explore through various kinds of medium or styles or reason.
perhaps warhol too.
pollock and morrison were not afforded that freedom. at least not by society.
the "voice" is always changing- dynamic, and the artist either breathes or not. exhales or not. there is no possiblity of choosing the voice or not having one. artists are a type of human that, by will or nature, work closely with the "voice." the "voice" is not a part of the artist. it is the artist. the more that an artist realizes this or allows themselves to "be," the clearer the voice becomes.
passing thoughts
my thoughts see through a false crown of paper. imagination is as fleeting and charming in its change. my pocket is fool.
with coin and phrase i will contribute to my kind and culture.
i must.
i would like feedback to know my effectiveness.. to adjust to do better but no accolade. no fame or recognition.
don't remember me, feel me. my gathered experience contributes to the social momentum. we all do this.
i need to do more.
with coin and phrase i will contribute to my kind and culture.
i must.
i would like feedback to know my effectiveness.. to adjust to do better but no accolade. no fame or recognition.
don't remember me, feel me. my gathered experience contributes to the social momentum. we all do this.
i need to do more.
quijote
[trying to put to phrase and word, the way i feel about the way i “see” things; and that most humans have access to this vision if they only accept the spectacles]
“we each contribute to the glass that grants (us) vision into the quixotic layers of awareness.”
“we each contribute to the glass that grants (us) vision into the quixotic layers of awareness.”
10.29.2008
antisocial acronyms
i wonder if it is simple oversight or if there is a substantial presence of elitism or esoteric cliqueism when it comes to the use of acronyms without establishing the root words. this first occurred to me when on ebay. there are many instances of “industry” acronyms being used by various individuals that are never defined in the descriptions. it was frustrating to me that this kind of “anti-social” behavior (at least at it’s root) would persist so prevalently on ebay and, eventually i would find, the internet.responsible use of acronyms in a social setting would be to define the root words at the first occurrence and then freely use the acronym from then on. otherwise a sense of separation, isolation, and elitism is insinuated whether that is the intention or not.
logic-based toilet roll installation
experiment and resultant logic state that: toilet paper installation that fits the inherent motions of human physical articulation is one where the paper feeds from the top down and towards the human. this follows the motion of the arm and hand as situated from either a sitting or standing position. one-handed removal of the selected paper does not appear to be any more difficult in either of the two ways of installing toilet rolls and thus is not regarded as a factor in the final results.
the exception would be the presence of free roaming pets with access to the toilet paper dispenser. in this situation installing the toilet roll so that paper feeds from the bottom and up towards the human would be favourable. this is especially effective for dogs that would otherwise paw entire rolls onto the floor.
when it comes to the debate on which way to install a toilet paper roll, the most likely culprit of impasse in conversation or argument is one of emotional and/or associative ties – especially ones of mental comfort or “habit.”
the installation method identified in this writing is umbrella to both private and public toilet venues.
the exception would be the presence of free roaming pets with access to the toilet paper dispenser. in this situation installing the toilet roll so that paper feeds from the bottom and up towards the human would be favourable. this is especially effective for dogs that would otherwise paw entire rolls onto the floor.
when it comes to the debate on which way to install a toilet paper roll, the most likely culprit of impasse in conversation or argument is one of emotional and/or associative ties – especially ones of mental comfort or “habit.”
the installation method identified in this writing is umbrella to both private and public toilet venues.
10.28.2008
poof
earlier, i was thinking of something that would be great to write about. but then i forgot it. then i realized how much of an issue this is with me. poof. gone. that’s what happens to my thoughts, important or trivial. i’m sure there are self-help methods or assisted methods out there that help to retrain or reshape the brain. maybe i’m one of those people who doesn’t think they need assistance or help. perhaps it’s just my frustration over the convolution of the way those sort of books or resources are written/taught/presented.
writing things down doesn’t help consistently/reliably. i’d have to write things down for the things i write down. and that is an exponent that would drive me mad before i would accomplish anything: lists for my lists for my lists for my lists...
i try to keep paper and pencil, and the like, around me so that i can grab these thoughts before they dissipate into the ridiculous-and-air*. but even that practice is not reliable/consistent. i have to remember to have the paper, the implement. i am not so scatterbrained or absent-minded as i make it seem, i just notice that i’m not as consistent/reliable as my ideal for myself holds, and i also have a tendency to forget the good that outweighs the perceived “bad” things. so, at times, i can make things sound a lot more dire than they actually are.
what was that thing that i wanted to write about though? it is still on my brain. It was good. it occurred to me while watching “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.” how can i forget what it is, being as substantial or important as i feel it was? there is that knee-jerk wisdom “well it must not have been that important.” which conjures the thought: “how does being able to remember something and importance correlate?”
perhaps i’ll remember it if i go watch sunshine again, or perhaps i’ll recall it at a later time.
*a tape recorder or recording device you say? i’ve recorded ideas but then i have to remember to go back and transcribe them and put them in order. this may work initially but eventually i fall off the horse and then the recordings turn into a nonsense-habit, the cassettes or electronic files simply piling up into compost oblivion.
writing things down doesn’t help consistently/reliably. i’d have to write things down for the things i write down. and that is an exponent that would drive me mad before i would accomplish anything: lists for my lists for my lists for my lists...
i try to keep paper and pencil, and the like, around me so that i can grab these thoughts before they dissipate into the ridiculous-and-air*. but even that practice is not reliable/consistent. i have to remember to have the paper, the implement. i am not so scatterbrained or absent-minded as i make it seem, i just notice that i’m not as consistent/reliable as my ideal for myself holds, and i also have a tendency to forget the good that outweighs the perceived “bad” things. so, at times, i can make things sound a lot more dire than they actually are.
what was that thing that i wanted to write about though? it is still on my brain. It was good. it occurred to me while watching “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.” how can i forget what it is, being as substantial or important as i feel it was? there is that knee-jerk wisdom “well it must not have been that important.” which conjures the thought: “how does being able to remember something and importance correlate?”
perhaps i’ll remember it if i go watch sunshine again, or perhaps i’ll recall it at a later time.
*a tape recorder or recording device you say? i’ve recorded ideas but then i have to remember to go back and transcribe them and put them in order. this may work initially but eventually i fall off the horse and then the recordings turn into a nonsense-habit, the cassettes or electronic files simply piling up into compost oblivion.
10.27.2008
time for tapioca
what a wildly time it is.
as the days proceed, as time rotates and processes, i find more and more a tangible connection to my presence.
i move through the medium with more texture and response. the sensation seems to grow.
it is an active-wow. a widened aperture that retains a generous depth of field.
i feel good even in my isolation. i can only imagine what it would be like to have more interactions, more hanging outs and whatnot nonsense. i am not the most socially-gifted person, i lack continual experience. i think it's mainly because i don't really indulge in many social functions. i do try but i become exhausted from more energy being put into the whole process than is being regenerated. not by choice but by result, i find myself removed from those places and situations over time.
it makes me think about the way of being human. there are so many "ways" of doing things. there is alot of confusion over this with all the various perspectives out there. not to mention the labels we are handed: good, bad, right, wrong.. it's supposed to be this way, or that way.
connection to ones self is good. where all else becomes white noise. you can finally hear your own balance and smile at that awareness.
as the days proceed, as time rotates and processes, i find more and more a tangible connection to my presence.
i move through the medium with more texture and response. the sensation seems to grow.
it is an active-wow. a widened aperture that retains a generous depth of field.
i feel good even in my isolation. i can only imagine what it would be like to have more interactions, more hanging outs and whatnot nonsense. i am not the most socially-gifted person, i lack continual experience. i think it's mainly because i don't really indulge in many social functions. i do try but i become exhausted from more energy being put into the whole process than is being regenerated. not by choice but by result, i find myself removed from those places and situations over time.
it makes me think about the way of being human. there are so many "ways" of doing things. there is alot of confusion over this with all the various perspectives out there. not to mention the labels we are handed: good, bad, right, wrong.. it's supposed to be this way, or that way.
connection to ones self is good. where all else becomes white noise. you can finally hear your own balance and smile at that awareness.
reaction
i don’t think we really choose our friends, i feel that we realize when that state exists or when it has faded. i also believe that trust happens in this same way. we do not assign trust or “give” it, it exists on its own. so this leads me to “favourites” or what we favour. are we so in control of what we like? or is this too an eventuality of attribute and element? do we just decide we do or do not like a thing or is it that we merely realize the state of existing rhythms?
at most we have an influence on the above things, definitely not control. at least not a control that is balanced.
this is not to say we do not have choice or purpose. hardly anything, if at all, is defined and static. we continue on with ourselves doing our best, trying to be good and survive and adapt.
at most we have an influence on the above things, definitely not control. at least not a control that is balanced.
this is not to say we do not have choice or purpose. hardly anything, if at all, is defined and static. we continue on with ourselves doing our best, trying to be good and survive and adapt.
quite quiet
questions that start out as “why are you so _______” are not ones i do well with. they are a kind of “loaded” exposition rather than question; i understand the emotional caliber being fired, but i don’t do too well at social games. i stumble across what i initially believe to be a more straightforward question. and then, to that, how does one answer? where does one begin? because this kind of question is inherently existential. and i believe that those who ask questions in this way are not really wanting an existential journey through philosophical entanglements. if anything the ulterior motives and planking moods of an individual behind these questions would only be exacerbated by first, my bewildered and awkward state, or second, my seemingly cheeky disdain. of which, usually, neither apply.
so: “why are you so quiet.” that is a question i am familiar with. and because of my long experience with this, and others similar, i’ve been made to observe it’s effect and consequences and more importantly the dynamic it exists-in and influences: human culture.
and yet, i still stumble, and fall. i am who i am and the questioner is who they are; and we move about until our shapes fit.
and i find that i will ask questions similarly-worded, but i tend to pull those punches because something inside me doesn’t feel right. my knowledge tells my learned instincts and habits to cut it out. don’t play games. don’t mince words.
so i stumble some more on essentially “second guessing.”
at times, maybe lots of times, i find myself on the edge of a kind of respect. on one hand i don’t want to intrude on others, on the other hand i want to speak up and prompt conversation with others. some will not like it, some will. and i have to remind myself that it is worth it, it is a good. i am not talkative unless i find rhythms to talk. and then it is exponentially driven. so i am still relatively quiet.
lately i’ve been finding myself experimenting, in ways, speaking more when i would normally be quiet. interacting when i would normally leave well-enough-alone. i believe these actions to be inspired by my want for connection and sharing.
to share one’s own gatherings- i feel an urge to do so. is this an instinct? i believe so. i feel it is “written” somewhere in our brains to be receptive and contributor to the social element of our evolved state.
so, through embarrassment or awkward, quirky moments, i continue on with the ideal of the “human social group,” the charm of communication.
so: “why are you so quiet.” that is a question i am familiar with. and because of my long experience with this, and others similar, i’ve been made to observe it’s effect and consequences and more importantly the dynamic it exists-in and influences: human culture.
and yet, i still stumble, and fall. i am who i am and the questioner is who they are; and we move about until our shapes fit.
and i find that i will ask questions similarly-worded, but i tend to pull those punches because something inside me doesn’t feel right. my knowledge tells my learned instincts and habits to cut it out. don’t play games. don’t mince words.
so i stumble some more on essentially “second guessing.”
at times, maybe lots of times, i find myself on the edge of a kind of respect. on one hand i don’t want to intrude on others, on the other hand i want to speak up and prompt conversation with others. some will not like it, some will. and i have to remind myself that it is worth it, it is a good. i am not talkative unless i find rhythms to talk. and then it is exponentially driven. so i am still relatively quiet.
lately i’ve been finding myself experimenting, in ways, speaking more when i would normally be quiet. interacting when i would normally leave well-enough-alone. i believe these actions to be inspired by my want for connection and sharing.
to share one’s own gatherings- i feel an urge to do so. is this an instinct? i believe so. i feel it is “written” somewhere in our brains to be receptive and contributor to the social element of our evolved state.
so, through embarrassment or awkward, quirky moments, i continue on with the ideal of the “human social group,” the charm of communication.
10.24.2008
mind the hat
the red hats that i wear take on as many meanings as there are moods in me or situations abound.
my hat is my familiar, it is my delicate-me, it is the protection of my mindle ("mental fiddle"-imagination), the clarity of epiphany, it is serendipitous chance, and inevitable change. the red represents change and the dynamic of existence, it says "organic" and feels warm like a comforting embrace. red also reminds me of the fantastic of the temporary and that i should not wait. be patient when needed- yes, but don't wait to do what intuition conjures for you.
my hat is my familiar, it is my delicate-me, it is the protection of my mindle ("mental fiddle"-imagination), the clarity of epiphany, it is serendipitous chance, and inevitable change. the red represents change and the dynamic of existence, it says "organic" and feels warm like a comforting embrace. red also reminds me of the fantastic of the temporary and that i should not wait. be patient when needed- yes, but don't wait to do what intuition conjures for you.
examining "corn"
this is a "copy" of an original 64px by 64px pixel-medium "painting" that i created in pixen (there is no dpaint soft for modern apple computers) for a friend of mine. i used to work as a pixel monkey/pusher back in the early 90's and the world of blocks, cubes, pixel, and isometry became ingrained in me.
overall pixel is just another medium- tool, but i do enjoy playing with those little bits of electric squares.
ultimately art is a byproduct of observation, collected experience, the dynamic of everything that exists at the point of its(art) creation. this piece, at 64x64px would not garner much attention in a gallery. could it even be displayed in a gallery "effectively." how would you sell pixel art at actual pixel size and format(electronic file)? as it is this image has been blown up substantially to be displayed at an general-appreciative size. can you imagine patrons walking around a huge gallery-space squinting at small monitors displaying pixel art in the only way it truly can be displayed (by monitor)? it is no longer actual pixel art if it is printed or enlarged or otherwise represented.
art is. art that sells is defined by that result. art that is famous is defined by that result.
art is a fart. a byproduct. appreciation and awareness define it otherwise.
overall pixel is just another medium- tool, but i do enjoy playing with those little bits of electric squares.
ultimately art is a byproduct of observation, collected experience, the dynamic of everything that exists at the point of its(art) creation. this piece, at 64x64px would not garner much attention in a gallery. could it even be displayed in a gallery "effectively." how would you sell pixel art at actual pixel size and format(electronic file)? as it is this image has been blown up substantially to be displayed at an general-appreciative size. can you imagine patrons walking around a huge gallery-space squinting at small monitors displaying pixel art in the only way it truly can be displayed (by monitor)? it is no longer actual pixel art if it is printed or enlarged or otherwise represented.
art is. art that sells is defined by that result. art that is famous is defined by that result.
art is a fart. a byproduct. appreciation and awareness define it otherwise.
oxidation
there are many delicious items about. in the city. here and there.
what happens when there is so much possibility that it all becomes one whole impenetrable block?
i am fascinated by the carpet in my apartment, all it's stains and variations- old as it is, it has many stories; grass patches, signs, people in automobiles, asphaltings, clouds, and.. all that kind of thing.
it doesn't take much to get a buzz over the way of things.
what happens when there is so much possibility that it all becomes one whole impenetrable block?
i am fascinated by the carpet in my apartment, all it's stains and variations- old as it is, it has many stories; grass patches, signs, people in automobiles, asphaltings, clouds, and.. all that kind of thing.
it doesn't take much to get a buzz over the way of things.
10.23.2008
farewell night
i arrived at work today at the usual time. however, and this little detail has alot of influence, i was late. late because there was a department meeting an hour before i got here. the hour meetings are mandatory overtime for a person who works the abnormal shift. only three other employees at the huge LLC i work at share this honor.
for the day staff employees they simply make their way over to the appropriate meeting room. no overtime- the meeting starts at 4pm and ends at 5pm.
but the gripe got away from me and mangled my evening here. i was doing so well too. it rained today and that was nice. i like turning off my wipers while stopped, it's funny because there are stopped cars with their wipers set on high wiping like mad. even funnier (at least i can't help chortling or cracking-off some air-pops) is when the rain has stopped and there goes those cars with their furious wipers beating the crap out of that nonexistant moisture.
i like turning off my wipers because of the kaleidorainshield-effect you get. since i work the evening shift, and when it rains on my drive home, i get some neet displays with an un-wiped windshield. the light columns on wet paths have me wishing that i could dive down there to find the end. as it is, i feel like i'm flying above that chasm of reflection.
i feel this same way on highly reflective floors, especially when there is a rug you can stand on and then peer over the edge down at the reflective abyss. when i leap off the rug my other self keeps me up by matching me foot by foot.
the rain has stopped and it's time to go home (i'm writing this from the after-shift of work). i feel like a slushy. they have orange-cream slushes at qt(quick trip) gas stations. those are good. they don't have the spoon-straws however. too bad. but not that bad. i threw my neck off earlier today so i'll go relax with my slushy (i hope the machine is working) and clean a bit, foodle with some personal illustrations, listen to some shoegazing selections, and look at the cool bottle of limoncello i was given by an executive at work. i had to out-dib a fellow associate who i like to think is a lush (with all the drink-related talk she readily shares).
see-thru is an attraction for me. and though the bottle is frosted glass it still has that see-thru charm.
oh, and i have to rip "human behaviour" to mp3. my eyes got big when i realized björk wasn't on my lists.
for the day staff employees they simply make their way over to the appropriate meeting room. no overtime- the meeting starts at 4pm and ends at 5pm.
but the gripe got away from me and mangled my evening here. i was doing so well too. it rained today and that was nice. i like turning off my wipers while stopped, it's funny because there are stopped cars with their wipers set on high wiping like mad. even funnier (at least i can't help chortling or cracking-off some air-pops) is when the rain has stopped and there goes those cars with their furious wipers beating the crap out of that nonexistant moisture.
i like turning off my wipers because of the kaleidorainshield-effect you get. since i work the evening shift, and when it rains on my drive home, i get some neet displays with an un-wiped windshield. the light columns on wet paths have me wishing that i could dive down there to find the end. as it is, i feel like i'm flying above that chasm of reflection.
i feel this same way on highly reflective floors, especially when there is a rug you can stand on and then peer over the edge down at the reflective abyss. when i leap off the rug my other self keeps me up by matching me foot by foot.
the rain has stopped and it's time to go home (i'm writing this from the after-shift of work). i feel like a slushy. they have orange-cream slushes at qt(quick trip) gas stations. those are good. they don't have the spoon-straws however. too bad. but not that bad. i threw my neck off earlier today so i'll go relax with my slushy (i hope the machine is working) and clean a bit, foodle with some personal illustrations, listen to some shoegazing selections, and look at the cool bottle of limoncello i was given by an executive at work. i had to out-dib a fellow associate who i like to think is a lush (with all the drink-related talk she readily shares).
see-thru is an attraction for me. and though the bottle is frosted glass it still has that see-thru charm.
oh, and i have to rip "human behaviour" to mp3. my eyes got big when i realized björk wasn't on my lists.
10.22.2008
not of my creation
experience is a medium that is secreted away to the individual.
a secret committed only to the individual.
interpretation and dubious documentation is the only way of ultimately sharing experience.
a secret committed only to the individual.
interpretation and dubious documentation is the only way of ultimately sharing experience.
1.11.2008
found
possible soon-to-see's. testing here for what may be.
this is much an experiment as any found within laboratory or prototype. a transition from myspace is the vague-impression i think is influencing me here. "here" being that i am actually typing and manipulating this blog-thing. i am not e-literate, but i have tended towards laziness and complacent procrastinative waiting. the result of me actually typing here, actually modifying my profile, and the concurrent attempts of coordinating myself amoung my various e-mail addresses and online presences, indicates a combination of attributes that seems to work to motivate and inspire me to produce results. now if only i could dissect that combination to reveal the magic that drives me.
i'm only being dramatic and particular with my arrangement of word because i am in the mood to do so. manipulation and the arrangement of word is an attraction for me. i am not into skin-deep fascades or fronts, and no falsifications, but there will always be misconceptions and misunderstandings when it comes to expression and the abstract.
i welcome this though, because curiosity and wonder lead to discovery, if one chooses to explore and ask. this means that those who find rhythms with who i am, who i evolve and adapt to be, who i continue to be and be and be, will discover as much about me as their own rhythms "allow."
i welcome you here, whether you choose to interact or dig deaper into the layers of who i am, or are a binary tourist perusing the fantastic stuffs online.
this is much an experiment as any found within laboratory or prototype. a transition from myspace is the vague-impression i think is influencing me here. "here" being that i am actually typing and manipulating this blog-thing. i am not e-literate, but i have tended towards laziness and complacent procrastinative waiting. the result of me actually typing here, actually modifying my profile, and the concurrent attempts of coordinating myself amoung my various e-mail addresses and online presences, indicates a combination of attributes that seems to work to motivate and inspire me to produce results. now if only i could dissect that combination to reveal the magic that drives me.
i'm only being dramatic and particular with my arrangement of word because i am in the mood to do so. manipulation and the arrangement of word is an attraction for me. i am not into skin-deep fascades or fronts, and no falsifications, but there will always be misconceptions and misunderstandings when it comes to expression and the abstract.
i welcome this though, because curiosity and wonder lead to discovery, if one chooses to explore and ask. this means that those who find rhythms with who i am, who i evolve and adapt to be, who i continue to be and be and be, will discover as much about me as their own rhythms "allow."
i welcome you here, whether you choose to interact or dig deaper into the layers of who i am, or are a binary tourist perusing the fantastic stuffs online.
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