The night began the way most nights being: with an idea. An idea of what to do and where to go. Tonight the chosen place was a dive bar on the west side of downtown. Little place called Bikini Lounge is what it was called.
"I dunno, man," he thought to himself. "More drinking? Really?"
He didn't mind the drinking, he minded the hangovers. The frustrating, inspiration sapping hangovers that seemed to permeate his very being. He hated them, yet he needed them. Needed them because it made his moments of clarity all the more special. He knew not to waste those moments.
So he finished getting ready, did his hair with a tousle or two and some help from the fan. He wondered aloud why he just didn't buy a hair dryer, but he knew he never would. Much too girly, he thought. Best to wait until he had a girl.
Clothes on, quick pocket check for keys, phone, chapstick, wallet and camera left him frantically searching for the gum. The that he crushed the last time he was out. Upon finding it, he broke out a piece and chewed it. It displaced the taste in his mouth and dried it out at the same time. The sweet mint cleared his nostrils and he breathed deeply.
Still no smell after the mint.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
How do you feel after reading this?
There simply wasn't enough moisture in the air. Every day he tried to breathe through his nose and it burned. It always burned and it never smelled of anything but heat. Like an oven door opened before your face was turned away. No nature, no wood, no salt, no nothing. But, for some reason, this made him think of something else: opportunity.
The place was an opportunity; a chance to construct something where there had never been anything like it before. To both paint the picture AND put the puzzle together was what he had here. He was good at puzzles, but he always longed for pictures.
From this realization came a clear image in his mind; a culture of people without traditions and pasts, a group of near settlers unknowingly on the forefront of the next great revolution of man. The Industrial Age had passed. The Age of Enlightenment was upon them, but known by few.
So these settlers set out into this new era, fresh with the ideas that would ultimately bring about a kind of feeling that no one was yet even capable of dreaming about. A quantum leap in the way that people lived their every day lives.
We are all connected, whether we want to be or not. The only way we can improve is that everyone must realize this and let down their guard. They must give in to the safety of the group, confident that as many, no one could defeat them. Not government, not those who did not understand, nor those who would reign terror down upon them. They believed because they realized they must, and this gave them power.
Not that they knew they even had this power. In fact, none of them did. Some of them had glimpses into the world where interaction was so transparent that honesty wasn't a choice, it was just accepted as standard. Within the transparent circle of connectedness, every thought and word were treasure and treated as fact. They were all together. They helped each other.
So it began that year. 2008 was the year the world changed.
The place was an opportunity; a chance to construct something where there had never been anything like it before. To both paint the picture AND put the puzzle together was what he had here. He was good at puzzles, but he always longed for pictures.
From this realization came a clear image in his mind; a culture of people without traditions and pasts, a group of near settlers unknowingly on the forefront of the next great revolution of man. The Industrial Age had passed. The Age of Enlightenment was upon them, but known by few.
So these settlers set out into this new era, fresh with the ideas that would ultimately bring about a kind of feeling that no one was yet even capable of dreaming about. A quantum leap in the way that people lived their every day lives.
We are all connected, whether we want to be or not. The only way we can improve is that everyone must realize this and let down their guard. They must give in to the safety of the group, confident that as many, no one could defeat them. Not government, not those who did not understand, nor those who would reign terror down upon them. They believed because they realized they must, and this gave them power.
Not that they knew they even had this power. In fact, none of them did. Some of them had glimpses into the world where interaction was so transparent that honesty wasn't a choice, it was just accepted as standard. Within the transparent circle of connectedness, every thought and word were treasure and treated as fact. They were all together. They helped each other.
So it began that year. 2008 was the year the world changed.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Illegal Immigration
Illegal immigration is a problem here in Arizona. But should citizens forgo their freedoms in order to help law enforcement?
According to the linked article, Sheriff Joe made another bust this week, netting 20+ illegal immigrants and a few citizens with outstanding warrants. Good job, but wait.
What about the 135 citizens, who had done nothing wrong, that were forced to sit for up to five hours in conference rooms? Is this kind of thing really okay? What if someone had come to your business and quarantined you for that long?
I would have left. This is absolutely ridiculous.
http://ping.fm/WJiYH
According to the linked article, Sheriff Joe made another bust this week, netting 20+ illegal immigrants and a few citizens with outstanding warrants. Good job, but wait.
What about the 135 citizens, who had done nothing wrong, that were forced to sit for up to five hours in conference rooms? Is this kind of thing really okay? What if someone had come to your business and quarantined you for that long?
I would have left. This is absolutely ridiculous.
http://ping.fm/WJiYH
Sunday, September 7, 2008
What it feels like
It feels like a stab wound right at the top of my buttock cleft. A clean, deep stab wound.
I can walk, but once I move my hips, I'm done. I could probably jog a step or two, but I'd either rip the wound or, which would probably hurt worse, sweat into the wound cavity, causing me such pain that I would keel over.
It's weird not being to move well. Every trip I take anywhere in my place is more deliberate now. No wasted motion, no extra effort. It's exactly the opposite of how I usually am. I feel like I'm handcuffed, but I know my hands and arms work just fine.
More maybe I feel more like a puppet that doesn't know he's a puppet. I think that I'm control, but I'm really not and the pain is just the master's way of showing me that I'm powerless. This could be the drugs talking.
The worst part is the isolation. I feel quarantined. I'm in constant contact through the internet, but I feel disconnected. It's humbling and scary. I appreciate people more now.
I will never, ever take bring able to run for granted again. I have four months to prepare for a half marathon. I'm going to love it.
I can walk, but once I move my hips, I'm done. I could probably jog a step or two, but I'd either rip the wound or, which would probably hurt worse, sweat into the wound cavity, causing me such pain that I would keel over.
It's weird not being to move well. Every trip I take anywhere in my place is more deliberate now. No wasted motion, no extra effort. It's exactly the opposite of how I usually am. I feel like I'm handcuffed, but I know my hands and arms work just fine.
More maybe I feel more like a puppet that doesn't know he's a puppet. I think that I'm control, but I'm really not and the pain is just the master's way of showing me that I'm powerless. This could be the drugs talking.
The worst part is the isolation. I feel quarantined. I'm in constant contact through the internet, but I feel disconnected. It's humbling and scary. I appreciate people more now.
I will never, ever take bring able to run for granted again. I have four months to prepare for a half marathon. I'm going to love it.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Artist attribution
In case you didn't know, I work for a design magazine. In our most recent issue, we wrote an article on a local boutique that was designed around an international artist's work. In a few of the pictures of said boutique were a few paintings from a local artist who will go unnamed. These other pieces were neither mentioned in the article NOR were they the focus of the picture.
We neglected to attribute his paintings to him. This was not an oversight, as they were, again, NOT the focus of the picture. Captions simply don't allow room for attribution for EVERYTHING in a picture.
My publisher received an email from said artist today, blasting us for our underhanded tactics, claiming that this was the reason our magazine was not highly respected in the art world.
I ask you this...where was the mistake here? Should we attribute every single thing in a picture? Was it right for some small time artist to blast us for not doing so? Was there a better way this should have been handled?
I'd love to know your thoughts.
We neglected to attribute his paintings to him. This was not an oversight, as they were, again, NOT the focus of the picture. Captions simply don't allow room for attribution for EVERYTHING in a picture.
My publisher received an email from said artist today, blasting us for our underhanded tactics, claiming that this was the reason our magazine was not highly respected in the art world.
I ask you this...where was the mistake here? Should we attribute every single thing in a picture? Was it right for some small time artist to blast us for not doing so? Was there a better way this should have been handled?
I'd love to know your thoughts.
EDIT: As it turns out, the offended artist's paintings were for SALE and not in any way part of the design of the boutique. Does that change anyone's perspective?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I've always wanted to know...
...how women with muffin tops can walk out of the house showing them off. WTF is wrong with them?
...why black dudes like LARGE women. Not curvy ladies, but straight up fat bitches.
...why when it's the girl that just wants sex things seem to be on shakier ground. When it's the guy both sides know where they stand.
...why I still like Matchbox 20. Does that mean I need to grow up?
...why I haven't done the things I wanted to do. What's the harm in trying?
...why I'm not rich and successful yet. I don't get what I'm supposed to doing, so it seems a better idea to just wait until I do. Which is completely ridiculous.
...English is not our national language. Let's vote it in.
...why black dudes like LARGE women. Not curvy ladies, but straight up fat bitches.
...why when it's the girl that just wants sex things seem to be on shakier ground. When it's the guy both sides know where they stand.
...why I still like Matchbox 20. Does that mean I need to grow up?
...why I haven't done the things I wanted to do. What's the harm in trying?
...why I'm not rich and successful yet. I don't get what I'm supposed to doing, so it seems a better idea to just wait until I do. Which is completely ridiculous.
...English is not our national language. Let's vote it in.
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