Imperium Regalit

The Empire Dawning

2011-04-20T19:26:00.002-04:00

If you know anything about me, you know that I am, as a creator and general human being, very Cartesian in my actions and functioning's. One of my most terrible handicaps is that I usually act in an 'when b = c, d will happen' mindset. Everything about me and my life is usually dependent upon a catalyst. Whenever this mysterious condition is met, my life will be allowed to progress.

I have spent the last weeks, well months really - if we trace back to its inception, attempting to build this social media - online presence thing up from the ground. I had this handful of ideas, and I could see a way that they could be presented, but before I could actually get to work on them, I had to buy the domain names, and then once the names were acquired, I had to get them published to place holders.

Now, with the help of Bush - with a shit ton of help from Bush - I have them up and ready to receive the wealth of my words, opinions, thoughts and perspectives. So there is nothing to hold me back, no conditional modifier to be met.

And here we go.

Ryan

Nanowrimo Pt 1

2010-11-01T10:49:00.003-04:00

The first bout with Nanowrimo went really, really well. I dont want to start feeling too confident because I know that before this is all said and done I will probably just shoot myself in the foot and fuck the whole monster up. Or at least that is what I am expecting to happen.

The daily goal that you have to bleed to reach is 1.6k words. I managed, starting at midnight last night to hit the 3.77k mark which remarkably puts me almost two days ahead of schedule. If I can keep just a little bit ahead of where I am supposed to be then perhaps I can actually make up for the moments of weakness that are sure to come and compensate for the travel time that I will have to make at the end of the month.

It is already kind of a blast, even after just the few hours that I was working on it last night. I had a lot of fun doing this last year and was sorry that I did not hit the goal but I planned badly. This time, I feel like I planned better but getting sick really did not help out too much. There is this crazy electricity that goes along with the writing. I always keep a #nanowrimo search window over in my Seesmic Desktop for Twitter and its almost a constant stream of people, all over the place, who are going crazy and doing this thing. I know that it is producing a ton of terrible novels and I am sure that the percentage of them that ever even see the light of day is negligable, but there is something about it that really makes me happy.

46.3k Words to go.

Speaking of...

Late Late Late October

2010-10-28T00:47:00.003-04:00

No sassy ramblings about how much this time of the year hurts my heart/soul/mind. No mention (Besides this here) about how long it has been since I have actually contributed anything readable here. No crazy and attempted artistic 'spirituality' posts of images in the interim. No reference to the fact that I feel like shit...

Instead I would just like to make a general nod of recognition to the fact that November (National Novel Writing Month - or NaNoWriMo for short) begins quietly at midnight on Halloween.

I am extremely excited about it. I have had a story brewing since I took the train to New York City for Belgian National Day over the summer.

Over the last few days I have been relaxing on my writing (Last few Days? Ha!). I have been trying to keep as much of the creativity bottled up in preparation. I figured that I would still need to keep my fingers limber so I decided on trying to share here as a warm up. I miss this blog. It was a good friend to me in days gone.

So for the next three days I will work and I will clean and I will wait, attempting to lean all possibilities in the direction of success. Fifty-Thousand Words...its not really that much.

Ocho-Cero-Cero

2010-01-04T23:30:00.002-05:00

So coincidentally this is my 800th post.

Today I celebrated New Years Day on the fourth of January. I did not feel that I was ready for all the new beginnings that accompanied the hungover I had on the first. So this is my first.

Carrie does not really believe in New Years resolutions, and as a rule I have been one of the worst people I have ever met for following through with anything. With that in mind I am going to stay away from the resolutions and instead resolve to be resolution-less and more productive all around.

I have three projects that I am working on at the moment, and if I can get those pulled off before the spring, then I think I will be pretty happy with myself.

I think I fell into a pretty nasty fall/winter hole.

Before the fall really even took off, I was back throwing away any time that I had into World of Warcraft for god knows why. Then once that was over, it was retail season at the Comic Shop in Century Three Mall. Then I was home for festivals, home for holidays, home for christmas, and the miles I drove in-between were filled with regret, Lucero, and an idle unproductive mind.

I have this window of time here that I am really going to try and use.

I have been telling myself for the last fifteen or so years that I would never smoke past thirty, and here I am looking at February 20th with a pretty awful panic. So there that is. About two months of smoking left, and I am really trying to imagine where reasonably would be the best place for me to have my last cigarette. I have two ideas. I will figure it out.

Anyhow, once I am done with smokes I am going to have to hide myself pretty deep in another addiction or two to make it out the best I can.

Here's to the New Year.

The Spendthrift Wordsmith

2009-11-16T11:18:00.002-05:00

This week I am concerning myself only with not spending money and working on this damn novel for NaNoWriMo. I know that I am going to fudge the "not spending any money" rules here and there for a few obvious reasons and previous engagements, but I still think I can pull it off pretty well. As long as I am making my lunch for work rather than hitting the Century Three Food Court, then I should be ok.

As for the NaNoWriMo book, I am getting closer to where I need to be. In order to finish you have to write at least 1,666 words a day. I missed the first five and then went two days without writing, so I was already eleven thousand words behind. I have managed, through mad, wreckless writing, to crunch that deficiet down to about five thousand words. My only worry is that I am going to have to go out of town for Thanksgiving at the end of the month and that is going to involve two days of driving that will not be able to be included in my writing days. Then is when I am going to be hating myself for starting so late.

It has been really fun though. Just last night I descovered the NaNo community on Twitter, and they are really awesome. Some girl challenged me to a write-a-thon for the hour from 12am to 1am. (I beat her, I will have you know by 600 words at 2600 to 1800). Supposedly they do it every night, which I think is a lot of fun. They are really supportive and all of them are going through exactly what it is that I am going through. Unfortunaley, a lot of them are a lot farther ahead. Yesterday was the midpoint of the month and I was very jealous to hear all the people talking about hitting the amazing midway point of 25,001 words. It will come soon enough, I just really need to stick with it. In fact I should probably be doing it right now instead of writing here. Fuck it, I call this warm up.

Weakened Wanting

2009-09-25T13:33:00.003-04:00

For some reason or another to slap fingers at keyboard keys without meaning, purpose or intent.

Its really kind of frustrating in that I have wanted to write a bit on here about a few things that have been happening lately. I wanted to talk about the comic book store. I wanted to talk about the possibility of me working at this bar, Dish, in the Southside. And christ, I wanted to talk about the crazy protests that went on here yesterday. I want to talk about so many things, but there is very little that I feel that I can accurately say.

There is this weird fake anitcipation that is building in me with the approach of October. Mid September had me in a very weird way. I was looking ahead towards October and I was really, really, excited. That excitement however has kind of burned away and left some strange residual melancholy. Not the usual, but something different.

Who knows. More to come. More to come.

State of the Union

2009-09-01T12:02:00.003-04:00

I put my parents on a plane yesterday around noon, sending them back to Little Rock and ending a four day period of gluttony, debauchery, and non-productivity. I am ready once again to get back to work and to look at the things that I need to get done and when I need to get them done.

On the job front, I renewed the attack with increased vigor. I went back and emailed, basically, every single person that I had talked to concerning work. I trolled Craigslist with an almost sickening frequency and was rewarded with two replies to job posts less than five minutes after they had been posted. I got no word back from the beverage director at the Rivers Casino, but I did hear back from Todd at New Dimension comics with some promise. We emailed back and forth all day yesterday and it sounds like hopefully he might have something for me in the next week or so. That made me feel good. Good and hopeful.

Mihailo (The artist that asked me to help him write this story that has been floating in his head for the past five years) and I have been out of touch a bit. I have been preoccuupied with other projects and he has been constantly working at the tattoo shop. I am hoping that we can get together today for some shop-talking.

I am looking at basically ten days until the Pittsburgh Comic Convention. I am assuming that Mr. Hoffman's illustrating is coming along on schedule for "Everyone Is Going to be There," and a part of me is still hopeful that I can pull off a small book of my own illustrating before my tentative illustration deadline of monday morning. That is when I have to get the files to Joe at Ditto Documents to print them up for the Convention next Friday.

Once the convention has passed, I will be more willing to dedicate my time to writing a script for "Three Rivers" and working with Mihailo on "Worm in the Blossom." We really need to get some script work done, but the brainstorming (or 'polishing the pebble' as he calls it) keeps getting more and more intense. Our original 10 issue book turned into 30, and then back down to a manageable 18 (three six books part). We were wanting to have our first issue finished by September but that has not happened. We will see. I am going to call Mihailo as soon as I leave the coffee shop here.

October Stories is up and running, even though I have been pretty sparse publishing to it. You can follow it at www.twitter.com/octoberstories or at www.octoberstories.blogger.com . Parents in town and other distractions have kept me from doing it more often. That and the fact that I have to really really get myself into that october mindset which involves beer, whiskey, and tom waits. More will come, preferably with more regularity.

November is national novel writing month, which I plan to do with some friends. Who knows how that will turn out, but it seems like it will probably be fun. There is a script writing contest as well, but that is not until december I think. It is a 25$ entry fee, but I might as well consider it.

September has begun. October is on the way. Already my heart is being tugged by these cool breezes and its pulling me back to that central zone of my life...steel window screens, breezes blowing down Southridge Drive...meeting girls in parking lots with tall bright street lamps...driving with songs pouring forth from open windows. I have a feeling that this one is going to be tough. I am going to try and do my best, as always, to prepare and be ready for it.

Thanks for listening.

...and that was a perfect example of my lack of motivation.

2009-08-17T14:33:00.002-04:00

So rather than sitting here and talking about how I really need to get out of the house, I instead rambled on about science fiction writing in the face of modern media.

I just really need to do something right now rather than sit here that might jump start my motivation and get me doing some things that need to be done.

I am sorry for this post, as there is no reason why anyone would want to read it, and just writing it is kind of making me mad at myself because I am still writing it and not hitting post and getting up to get some things done.

Maybe I will add an image and call it quits.

That sounds like a good idea.

Pulling the plug, at least for a little while.

2009-08-17T14:19:00.002-04:00

I really need to go on a hiatus from Battlestar Galactica. I just finished episode 17 of season three. When I dropped Carrie off at the airport yesterday I was on episode seven. That is almost ten straight hours of TV watching.

As a note, I really hate the stigma that Science Fiction gets from people. My wife for example. When I try and explain to her how great the writing is on this show she just kind of shrugs and says "I don't like Sci-Fi." When I say what I am about to say, I think that I will probably get some heat for it, but I think that the Sci-Fi sitcom has put a lot of people off. Maybe I am just making this up. I was never a really big fan of Star Trek. Some of the episodes were really, really good, but it did not have an overall story arc that tied the entire thing together rather than just "These are the voyages of the star ship enterprise." Maybe I was missing something.

TV shows in general have a bit of a handicap in that they are designed as a medium for advertising. Granted that all most pop art is mostly a vehicle for making money, but behind a lot of it is an artistic desire. Take for example Lost. From everything that I have read, J.J. Abrams was a bit upset when they tried to stretch the show out after the writers strike, making one season into two. To me its almost as if someone, having written a short story, was told, yeah, we need to make this longer...rather than writing a novel, they end up making a long short story. It is in these instances that we get "filler episodes" such as the one on Lost with the two diamond theives or on Battlestar Galactica when all the Sagitarians get sick.

There is a valid arguement that can be made that these serve the purpose of identifying you with characters that otherwise are not as well developed which in general gives the entire series a more filled out feeling. But I think a lot of the time it is just to add another episode that people are going to watch for the networks that want all those loyal fans to see their advertising.

Anyhow, I need to get out of the apartment, get some real writing done and save the Battlestar for later in the evening when I am too tired to think.

2009-08-03T13:48:00.003-04:00

The writing is coming along a bit slow today.

Early last week I had finished the first issue of "Worm in the Blossom" and had handed it over to Mihailo a little too enthusiastic. A few days later he called me back to tell me that it wasn't really quite what he was expecting.

Which is, actually, to be expected.

This guy has been forming this story in his mind and through sketches for almost five years. He is closer friends with these characters that he has created than he is with me, whom he has only known since December. My only request has been that he will allow me to do all the rough drafts for the project.

So with this all clear, I should have know that this is how it would have turned out. Its exactly how I had imagined it would. I think that I got a little two excited with the first issue though and started to invest a lot of thought into it. I started imagining how great it would be to be a writer of comics and how much fun the medium was in order to express things that were not so clearly expressed in other purely text-based genres. I forgot that I am, in fact, very, very new to all of this. But then Mihailo got an email from Marvel asking him what comics he would like to illustrate for them, then he and I went to the comic book store out in the century mall, and we talked everything over.

So now I am here, at the coffee shop. Trying to use a lightning fast flash blog post to get my fingers juiced. I am sure that I will write this one and then he will tear it apart and I will try again. This is what has to happen, and hopefully by the third of the eighteen issues, I will be able to produce something that does his vision justice while still creating something completely new and beautiful myself.

I love being a 'writer'

2009-07-29T14:38:00.002-04:00

I just posted this on Craigslist as an ad to try and get some info for this project that I have started to work on. It sounds awesome. Just reading this ad that I posted makes me wish that I were a CMU Robotics Student or Alumni.

Matress Dominos

2009-07-29T12:33:00.001-04:00

Fun With God.

2009-07-29T12:19:00.000-04:00

Insomnia

2009-07-29T04:03:00.004-04:00

I feel like its going to be one of those nights. I feel like I am just pushing sleep around like a pile of dust on some linoleum kitchen floor. I feel as if I am exhausted and sleep is just that one last thing that I really cannot bring myself to do.

It could also be that as per the word of Sean McCardle I have been reading the work of Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Millar (Ultimate Spider-Man 1-16, and The Ultimates V1, issues 1-13).

Every time that I finish an reading an issue think for a few moments about closing FF View and opening up Word to work a little bit more on this Outline I started today.

The last week has been really pretty amazingly productive on the writing front. I finished the first of sixteen issues of my collaborative work with Mihailo Vukelic: "Worm in the Blossom," I also completed two smaller books that I am planning on self-publishing before the Pittsburgh Comic convention with the help of Joe McMahon. I hope to get two more of those done before Friday when I send out my plea's to the artists that I know to illustrate them for me. After that, its back to "Worm in the Blossom" for another issue before I give myself some time to work on three more sizable projects I have in mind. I figure if I can always stay one full issue ahead of Mihailo's illustrating, then I should be in pretty good shape.

I feel really comfortable with the comic medium. I have been catching up with the fifteen year gap between when I was a kid and read the X-Men and Spider-Man every month to now. I brought all my comics back from Arkansas and it has really been a blast going through them (though I cannot, for the life of me, place what I did with all of my Image comics: Spawn #1, Youngbloods #1, Wildcats #1, Savage Dragon #1). Maybe I can get my folks to dig around for them before they come up here to visit in September.

Oh well. Maybe I will read one more issue of Spider-Man.

Soy Bacon, you taste like morning breath.

2009-07-28T15:31:00.005-04:00

So the funny thing is that I was trying to be a better person in that I wanted to stop dealing with or supporting bullshit. I was thinking about all the shit that goes into actually putting meat on a table in front of me. Its kind of crazy and nuts. I have no qualms with eating meat. Quite the opposite really. It's just, weird.

I really like this concept of a "Localvor." I like the idea of living off the things that are directly around you. Especially in situations where the food is already there. Who knows, its silly. I was trying out some Veggie Burgers (Which unfortunately ended up being Soy Burgers) as well as some Veggie Bacon (which again, ended up Soy Bacon). The burgers were not terrible, but the bacon was like a warmed up dog treat. I was sitting there with Carrie thinking about what it was that I was actually trying to do by eating Vegetarian.

Anyhow, we came to the conclusion that because we do not want to have children that we can pretty much say fuck the environment and everything, but not for the reasons you think. Some people would say: "Well if I am not going to have any children, then why should I worry about what the world will be like 100 years from now." Instead, I think of the, ugh I hate to say it, 'carbon footprint' of a single individual. Then I try and think of the effect that that one single person would have when you consider them having, say three children. Over the course of those three children's lives, they will have a pretty similar footprint to their single predescessor. So that single footprint has now become four. Take into concern that, we will say, two of those three have at least one kid. That single footprint has become seven. That is a huge effect on any environment.

By not having kids, my carbon footprint is so negative that I can brush my teeth with oil and do away with Soy products for good.

How much is good enough? How much is just good?

Oh, It's You.

2009-07-17T23:55:00.003-04:00

Oh Pittsburgh,
The story is the same. It has been played out in countless romantic comedies and in those varied parts of our youth all over and over again. You are that friend, the girl, the best friend. You are understanding. You are kind. You sit with me in the coffee shop while I aimlessly poke and prod my waffles, covering them once more with syrup just for something to do. Unhungry. Inattentive. The audience, of course, they get it. As I sit there dwelling on her, drawing her memory out into the open so many times it has been faded by the Pennsylvanian sun, they see you for how beautiful you are. You may not be like her, but then again who is? Who could ever be? But they see it, the audience does.

"Oh she is so nice..."
"Yes, yes. Always there for him, that one."
"There is something inherently charming about her own self-consciousness, almost like Lord Byron..."

There is a Rolling Stones song, somewhere, about exactly this.

*****

The rain killed me tonight. I am always lacking in my preparations. The bus took almost a full hour to show up. I live right around the corner from the bus stop. I could have gone back for an umbrella. I should have just taken the damn car. Instead, I waited. I sat there smoking Camel Wides and watching these bizarre clouds sweep over Lawrenceville. The Arkansan in me peering into the soul of each of them for that funnel that would make them something extraordinary.

When the sky fell I was almost to my stop. I ran and hid beneath one of the convention center walkways, hoping that it would let up enough for me to meet my girl for the Gallery Walk. I spent about a half hour chatting with Jim, the parking lot attendant, about the various dangers of living in any city in this great country.

When it let up, I met her in a room full of grade-school children's art work listening to what appeared to be a bunch of frat kids play some of the best bluegrass with some of the most beautiful harmonies I had seen in a spell. We went to the culinary institute ($1 dishes!) and filled up for about six bucks, then went to the space next door for some free not-coors light and avant-avant-avant-garde artwork, the best of which was thus:

It was accompanied by two bean bags, each of which had a pair of headphones that played a looped portion of Axel Rose on the end of "Don't Cry" ad infinitum. (You know the part 'ayyyyyyy-eyyyyyyyyeyyyeyyyeyye'). It never ended. I must have sat there, drinking my not-coors light, and chortling to myself for at least ten minutes. It was great.

We hit the Harris theatre for free screenings of a handful of local shorts, which were really funny and really cool. Downstairs had some great photographs and a bottle of Rebel Yell with a tin cup attached to the handle with twine. We missed probably a half dozen other galleries all along Liberty and Penn.

The do this every month here. If you look hard enough you can find anything.

Angie's CD Swap

2009-06-25T13:51:00.002-04:00

Hey everyone else, sorry for doing this here, but my printer decided to stop working.

Keyboard Cat, Redux

2009-06-04T18:51:00.002-04:00

These videos had been discussed the other day concerning their biggest flaw, which is the fact that they are all titled "Play them off, Keyboard Cat." And being how YouTube only displays a thumbnail of the exact middle of the video, most of them end up with just a picture of the cat. So what I am going to do here is make a little catalog of my favorites:

Dude vs Treadmill

Dude vs Himself

Pass Out Woman

Dude vs Flaming Dr. Pepper

Wine Lady

Time Square Toddler Punt

US American + The Iraq

TV Proposal

Family Religion Talk

Kid Scared

One of a Kind

Recoil

Light Fixture

Walker Texas Ranger

Vanity

Home Makeover

Venomed Such Words

2009-06-02T00:25:00.003-04:00

Another night at home. I broke my spending fast today for some Oreo Cookies and a Watchamacallit for my wife. Its always a terrible thing to not have something sweet in the house. I never crave sweets but when I do, lord its something awful.

Everything in my body is begging me to go out. I know that there would be at least one person to talk to at Excuses. And even when I am not in the mood for talking, there is something vastly entertaining about sitting at the bar sipping on a beer, staring down a shot of Jameson, chain smoking cigarettes, scribbling illegible notes in my notebook, and watching Charm School or some extreme sports show, or, god forbid, like that one night where I sat at the bar and could not for like life of me tear my perpetual gaze away from that small (it was not even the big HD one) TV that played not once, but back to back "Miss Hooters USA" competitions (the same one, no fooling, and it was from 2007, I don't know why that was such a special year in the competitions storied past that they felt the need to replay it or why I in such a fit felt the need to rewatch it).

It sounds like someone is using a Hedge Trimmer on my corner. I know that it is the unending road construction coming from Carson Street, but that does not make it any less obnoxious.

I could just sit around here, finish reading the last two issues of Akira (Which for christ sake, I dont know why no one told me how much better and long and drawn out the graphic novel version one was in comparison to the film...the film is a little over two hours I think, but the freaking book is four six 300+ issues. For shite!), drink some of the beer we have, or maybe even wine...hell if I felt like it I could strain the rendered bacon fat off of the Bacon-Infused Bourbon I made saturday and give that a shot. A smoke would not be bad. But I really, really am trying to be a frugal and spendtrift as I can be. These smokes need to last me through the weekend and there are about sixteen left. I have about 70% of a package of Buglers tobacco, maybe 30 more papers, all as an eventual backup. It will come to that, I am sure of it.

Anyhow I am writing here because I am a little bit tired, a little bit restless, and a whole lot of thirsty for booze that I know that I should not drink if i want to wake up early enough to get some work done before I go to a really important bartending interview.

Frustration

2009-05-19T17:40:00.005-04:00

I don't know why. but I do it to myself. Maybe we all do it. But there are these 'friends' that we have on Facebook that we are not, in any way, shape, or form, or cliche, or anything, whatsoever, friends with.

I keep asking myself why the hell is this person still on my contact list? Why must I be perpetually bombarded with his quasi-intellectual, snide conservative remarks about every time BHO (that is what they call Obama, just to have you know) wipes his nose the wrong way. It's torture and I cannot bring it upon myself to kick him. I don't know, I must get some pleasure from it. I do admit that I respond back occasionally to make a super sarcastic remark about things like why anyone would want the president of the united states to speak at their college graduation.

Anyhow I am going to illustrate my point about three items that can make you become an object of hate to others on Facebook. (All of which are enjoyed by this person in question).

1. Pictures of your baby instead of you. Not so much a big deal if we have been friends for a long time and such, but sitting at this moment in my inbox are about four different friend invitations from women who now have different last names then they did when I knew them 2-8 years ago, and every single one of them has a picture of their child instead of them. I have no idea who the hell they are. It just gets obnoxious. Make your kid a Facebook page and I will be friends with them too, but come on...

2. Propaganda. Facebook is a fun place to catch up with people you have not seen in a long time, or even just to be a part of peoples lives that you don't get the chance to be a part of due to distance, oceans, space etc. Its not a platform for which you should ejaculate your political, religious, or otherwise base values. Someone isn't going to like it, its going to make them uncomfortable. Friends don't let friends talk politics, religion, or buy music from Walmart.

3. Status Updates. This could be lumped in with the above, but fuck it. I like status updates that tell me what you are doing, where you are going, where you are going to be, how you feel at the moment and such. When you use them to state a very blatant opinion or to back up inane just dumb-fuck-ed-ness (new word, I made it) you should just be ashamed. That is what twitter is for, or Blogs. I don't know, I mean I don't write the rules on these things, but I guess that's how I feel. It seems like common courtesy, which is why we are all here, no? Oh well, I just needed to vent.

(ps - this final image is the first image I have ever edited with Photoshop, and though I know that it is not much, it is a minor achievement for me of which I am very proud.)

PIttsburgh

2009-05-19T17:06:00.002-04:00

Oh how I adore the level of professionalism that is present.

The New York Times Reader 2.0

2009-05-19T16:10:00.005-04:00

For anyone who is a fan of the New York Times, or news in general, and in specific of getting/reading/enjoying/sharing it online, I must say that I am a convert to the New York Times' new Reader.

You can download it right onto your desktop/dashboard; which works for Mac, PC, and Linux. Upon opening it, it will immediately download up to seven days of back issues which you can then read offline at your leisure. The only difference that I can see is that the offline version does not have the banner ads that the online one does. The implications of this are beautiful and brilliant. I only hope and pray that they translate it to the iPhone sooner rather than later.

User interface has always been a big problem with online newspapers, I feel. Whereas some people are inherently more comfortable clicking links and browsing articles that way, others (such as myself) enjoy reading an actual paper where the information and content that you stumble upon has more to do with page placement than relevance to the article. I believe you are allowed a more rounded view of events rather than such a pedantic one.

The Times Reader's interface is brilliant. I won't go so far to say that it translates like the Amazon Kindle to your eyes, but the font and shade are quite pleasant and newspaper-esque. You can read an article with your fingers on the directional keys, tapping up and down to go back and forth through the pages of an article, while hitting left or right to skim to the previous or next article. The reader also has a "browse" feature which allows you to zoom out of the articles and skim over headlines, page to page, before selecting a page to inspect closer. All together very well thought out and designed.

The only downside is that fact that it is not, like its online and day specific counterpart, free.

If you are already a home delivery subscriber (Like myself, even though I downgraded from Friday-Sunday to only Sunday once I got the Reader) The Reader is free to you. If you are not a subscriber, you can enjoy a thirty day preview for free, but then will be required to pay $2.75 a week, which for everything you are getting, is not too bad.

I think this is a very good step into a more organized online world of media, and I am glad that the Times pulled it off.

Keyboard Cat

2009-05-15T13:10:00.002-04:00

Laughing Squid had a great post today concerning this keyboard cat trend. If you check it out you will get about eight different of these videos, though just searching youtube for 'keyboard cat' can do it as well. I laughed for a really long time. here is a taster.

To begin one last long look back.

2009-05-11T23:43:00.003-04:00

It was only the reflections from my kitchen lights, but looking out the window it reminded me of the little paradise my father has spent the last twenty years or so building in his backyard. There was something a little inherent in the beauty there, not so much of looking out my window into the wet courtyards and rooftops of the Southside of Pittsburgh, but more so of that feeling of being really, really happy amidst the epic nothing of Little Rock, Arkansas.

It was such a happiness that it has inspired me to listen to that play-list on my phone so aptly titled "DO NOT LISTEN TO," which at one time held the moniker of "This Was New York." Inspiring seems like too weak of a word to use.

For anyone who is not on Facebook (You archaic loons, yea) I changed my status to read something like: "Ryan Reed has finally wiped the last traces of Microsoft from his life...the last partition on my Mac Pro being that which was filled with games, being the hardest..." I then go on to claim that some rediculously unreachable goal of creative productivity for myself.

I am going to stray, just to mention for a moment, The World of Warcraft and the role it has had on my move to Pittsburgh. Its just what I needed and just what I did not want. Moving into a new city in the deadest cold of a winter I could ever imagine (And I survived a winter in Ithaca, I will have you know) it was a great outlet to the frustrations that I felt in leaving a shitload of really damn good people and friends behind. WoW allowed me to reconnect with a number of the guys that I had passed up even before New York. I needed that comraderie. But as those games go, I put way too much of my attention into and sacraficed a lot of time that could have very well been spent not making excuses to my unproductivity. I needed it though. I do not regret that time. Mac Mercer, in particular, Sam Brown, and Matt Hoffine (Who doesnt fucking count because I still talk to that glorious bastard almost more than any two men need to talk - on which subject, don't even bring up Bush Williams) were all people that I needed for the long dark winter, colder still with the realization and actualization of the losses...blah blah blah. I needed it.

But we all grow up. We all learn that you should never end a sentence with a prepositional phrase. Its just something that happens, and when you grow up you learn to worry about the things you can change, and embrace the things that you cannot.

So distractions aside, its time to get to work.

As in a wake I will not let you, dear New York, dear, dear, Brooklyn fall by the wayside unrealized. I will give you a month, one month of the full realizations of what will probably end up being some of the best years of my life. Then, once I return from my trip to Little Rock (which should probably be near the Ides of June), I will never speak again a word of regret or longing towards that dirty old town (Little Rock? Memphis? Ithaca? My heart has reverberated in the halls of far too many towns to give any true weight to longing). But thats it.

Lets see what this old boy can do.

Vegetables (And a fruit or two)

2009-05-07T11:07:00.002-04:00

I know that very few of you may find this interesting, but I was doing a little research (After Carrie kept ruining tomatoes by putting them in the refrigerator) trying to find out proper storage techniques for various veggies. I found one website that was rather helpful here. There are a few bits in there that I did not already know, which is helpful.

I love you New York

2009-05-06T12:19:00.002-04:00

How can I ever be expected to actually push past this longing, this interminable hole in my gut where joy used to reside, when all I keep seeing is trash and rubbish like this preview for a movie directed by Scarlett Johannsan. I mean, really?

In life, or as in such as I am living how, you have to start to look much harder than you used to for that bright light that keeps it all worthwhile. Especially in a town like Pittsburgh, having had Brooklyn, I need to find that brightness.

Stand by Me

2009-04-28T14:13:00.002-04:00

Alas, I cannot find a way to actually embed this video here so I will have to leave you with a link instead. I do not know who this guy is, but he has taken recordings of various street musicians around the world and edited them together to form a very uniform version of "Stand by Me." It turns out pretty good even though I would have hi-lighted some more than others.

Ps - Chaz Washboard from New Orleans, does in fact make an appearance in this video.

Stand By Me

The Archive

2009-04-28T10:26:00.001-04:00

The Archive from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Pittsburgh

2009-04-25T11:51:00.002-04:00

"He who has known the other days, the angry ones of gout attacks, or those with that wicked headache rooted behind the eyeballs that casts a spell on every nerve of eye and ear with a fiendish delight in torture, or soul devouring, evil days of inward vacancy and despair, when, on this distracted earth, sucked dry by the vampires of finance, the world of men and of so-called culture grins back at us with the lying, vulgar, brazen glamor of a Fair and dogs us with the persistence of an emetic, and when all is concentrated and focused to the last pitch of the intolerable upon your own sick self - he who has known these days of hell may be contented indeed with normal half-and-half days like today. Thankfully you sit by the warm stove, thankfully you assure yourself as you read your morning paper that another day has come and no war has broken out, no new dictatorship has been set up, no particularly disgusting scandal has been unveiled in the worlds of politics or finance. Thankfully you tune the strings of your moldering lyre to a moderated, to a passably joyful, nay, to an even delighted psalm of thanksgiving and with it bore your quiet, flabby and slightly stupefied half-and-half god of contentment; and in the thick warm air of a contented boredom and very welcome painlessness the nodding mandarin of a half-and-half god and the nodding middle-aged gentleman who sings his muffled psalm look as like each other as two peas."

-Hermann Hesse "Steppenwolf"

I got nothing.

2009-03-31T01:34:00.000-04:00

I really am in a slump right now. I am writing more lyric-less music
than I care to mention. I am hoping that this gig writing a graphic
novel gets my juices going.

Robots make our lives easier...and more fun.

2009-03-27T13:44:00.001-04:00

It's my mother's birthday and I cannot find my phone.

2009-03-26T15:21:00.000-04:00

A little bit farther along.

2009-03-26T15:13:00.002-04:00

Tuesday night at work was nowhere near as disheartening as Saturday. It think, for once, writing out, in full detail, the logical approach I was taking and the emotional backlash I was feeling may actually have allowed me an objective approach to the work. I keep thinking about my second day at BXL. Perhaps this could eventually grow into that? Who knows?

Tuesday was slow. I was allowed to approach and prepare everything at my own exploratory pace. It was pretty bad at first, with only reservations for four people. Alec let Sarah, one of the two servers, go home for the night. A half hour later, he let Diane the hostess go as well. That was right about the time that the people started to show up.

I know nothing of the protocols...

Phone answering, customer greeting, menu-giving, people seating, water pouring, hot-towel offering...all of this is lost to me. I mean, I get the gist of it. I can get all of these things done just fine, but Richard Chen's is the type of place where every action has its place. For me to 'just get it done' would be a bit unacceptable I am afraid.

But I learned a few things, which puts me a just a little bit more comfortable with my surroundings.

One of our cooks walked out during the rush. It seemed like a bit petty of a disagreement between him and Alec the manager. Silly altogether. In the worst parts of it Alec shouldered whatever load was required of him. It was very respectable in that Mackinzie Mercer / Yves Michiels sort of way. He ran food and took orders when needed. It was nice and good to know.

All together a better experience than Saturday. I only need to lower a shoulder and go at it.

Do people still fall for this shit?

2009-03-24T12:45:00.003-04:00

I received an email a few days back with this attachment. It was a .doc file so I felt safe opening it and proceeded to read one of the famous con bank account / foreign money scams that we used to hear about near five years ago. It felt incredibly late, but I figured I would share it here for you.

Werk

2009-03-24T12:08:00.002-04:00

I took a job bar tending at Richard Chen's in East Liberty after what had been almost four months of not working. I gave the job search a good deal of effort: mornings spent scouring Craigslist - afternoons papering the Southside if not all of Pittsburgh with my over-qualified service industry resume. Perhaps my expectations, my daydreams about a working life in Pennsylvania were a little unrealistic, perhaps this 'economic clime' was indeed as bleak as it appeared. I had proven skills, I had good experience, but the truth be known, I have never been very good at looking for jobs.

I don't really like working. I would prefer to 'spend my days writing novels and stories,' or if not that then 'arranging songs,' but I never really end up doing either of those and this misfound personal ideal of a working creator never really falls through to fruition. The three best paying jobs that I have held have all practically been given to me without any effort.

Buster's Fine Wine and Spirits was all Clay Tidwell, derived from seamless nights and mornings at Harbert Place. Somehow through drinking, guitars, summer nights, and sweaty-cold Memphis mornings brought me to the job offer when I needed it the most. Clay spoke and I answered and a year and a half of brilliance followed during the Gilded Age of Memphis, TN. The music picked up where the wine left off and no one got hurt too bad.

Davis Truck and Trailer in Little Rock, Arkansas was magical in its own right, both times that I worked there. Mr. Mackenzie C. Mercer said to me, offhand:
"Well...you can always come work for me if you feel up to some hard sweaty manual labor..."
I did. It was all new to me. I found something truly honest and enriching in the work. Every beer I drank I earned with my own sweat and exhaustion. I loved coming home dirty. I had something to show for my hours besides a paycheck. Summer in the hot-box paint room with the Mexicans and Ecuadorians, winter in the parts department building PTOs. Chain smoking and drinking bad coffee. It was all really good to me and something that I will always look back on fondly. When you include Kevin Bay and that house on Schiller where we lived, it was a golden point in my life.

Then there was BXL. After months of unemployment in Brooklyn, John Isom called to see if I wanted to wait tables in Midtown at this little Belgian Cafe. I had never really waited tables before. I had bartended uptown for a little over a year, but actual honest waitering...this would be new.
The first day I did nothing. I followed John Around and learned the way things worked. The next day I worked and he followed me. Thinking back now about that second day, sitting in bed that night, I really didn't think that I could do it.
The Midtown Manhattan business lunch almost did me in. I almost quit. Having never waited tables before, being thrown into that, having come from 108th Street were I was a god, to a mere peasant, sweating this unknown, I almost quit and robbed myself of one of the most formative and enriching experiences of my life. The rest is known: I became a bartender and was lucky enough to have known all the bastards that haunt the holes in my heart.

But this...

Now I am in that exact same spot, doubting my ability to make a go of this. Its all I can do to remember that night when I thought BXL could never work.

The elegance of Richard Chen's is a grace that I am not used to, a style uncommon to Pittsburgh, and I am a bastard to continually pair this with Manhattan. its all cocktails and wine. Its something I cannot help but look down upon even though it is so far beyond my own standards. The great majority of my discomfort lies in ignorance. Behind the bar at BXL I knew the answer to every question; I had probably heard them all a couple dozen times. Here there is a whole new realm of newness that I am struggling to keep up with at all times...something I know that I am more than able to keep up with as long as I can end up committing myself to it totally.

I am trying my best to approach Pittsburgh positively, as if I have never had Brooklyn or Manhattan, trying to remember my elation and joys in Little Rock and Memphis. But living like that can fuck you up beyond belief.

Inspired by Time Travel

2009-03-20T17:21:00.000-04:00

Zoom Zoom

2009-02-27T10:15:00.000-05:00

The coffee at Monroeville Mazda tastes like you soaked a sock in
foldgers for a few days and then used it to make tea. The last time I
was here, it was for almost 9 hours. Let's hope it does not take that
long this time.

Todays and Yesterdays

2009-02-17T18:26:00.006-05:00

Mihailo called me, as per our plan, and I went to his studio to throw some ideas around. I was late as usual but he was cool about it. He is in the middle of this project with a lot of brass reliefs, plaster, and neon. It looks like it is really coming along, but the majority of his time is spent finishing up this comic book that he is illustrating. I think that he enjoys the company and the break.

I had mentioned to him this thing that I saw on Craigslist about people needing a script for a short Horror Film and how it would have been pretty entertaining for the two of us to bang one out. The building where he has his studio is the old Midwestern rail hub for the entire region. Trains used to roll into this place from all over the country and then their goods would be redistributed. Once I get a job I have to get a place here. They are just amazing, and dumb cheap. Anyhow, at the mention of the Horror movie he told me that I had to see the top floor, as it would be perfect for filming. It was.

The entire floor is composed of chambers like this one, in a long rectangle that stretched to the left and right of this image. But only the first half dozen or so were actually contained like here; the rest of the floor was this huge open space where he said that he had, on occasion, brought his bike up and ridden around in. It was altogether quite amazing.

He introduced me to the sole occupant of the upstairs floor, a friend of his named Jason who he described as being a "Mad Scientist into Robots and Dinsaurs." A very cool guy it turns out. At the time he was making casts for Duquesne University's Darwin exhibit. They were these cool little molds of the feet of horses that illustrated their descent from a four toes to one.

Hanging out with the likes of these guys is exactly what I need here in Pittsburgh. Just spending time with Mihailo made me feel more productive and creative...much in the same way hanging out with Kevin or John did. I can only hope to keep it up.

Today I went to my first therapy session to try and kick the anxiety/fear of flying. It went pretty good, though I was a little unnerved by the box of Kleenex laid out for me or whoever.

My one true hope is that out of this I can get some better sleep and possibly be able to sit on a plane again without wanting to poison myself. There is too much that I want to go do and see that I don't want these dumb irrational fears keeping me grounded. The guy was nice and was not nearly as strange as the last one. This guy was more of a doctor and less of a Shaman; if office state can be used as any sort of comparison between the nice Jewish man today and the strange multi-ringed, yen-yang necklace wearing, constantly eating fellow before (though to his defense, he was incredibly insightful, just not covered by our insurance).

Mihailo printed out a handful of sketches for me to read, and I brought him nothing, which made me feel like an asshole. He also filled my hands with books: Bierce, Dostoevsky, Borges, enough to keep me full for a week at least.

I promised him an outline for my new novel and he is going to hold me to it, so I have that to work on now.

As I side note, I just want to say how intoxicating it is to hear him and this other guy talk about their "work." Writing has always been just a little fun thing for me, and to think of it that seriously as work that has to be done, is refreshing. I don't know why. I like to think of the time spent writing as working, though it never really feels that way. That was a bold-faced lie.

Week in Review

2009-02-14T12:23:00.002-05:00

Last week was better.

My initial plan had been to send off the rough draft so that John and Kevin would wake up on Monday morning with it in their inboxes. That did not happen until Tuesday afternoon. And that second play that I had been rumoring about on Facebook? Well it is coming along like peanut butter rolling downhill. I did however work on two songs that I am putting together. My fingers are so weak from months of frivolous noodling that it is a bit difficult to build back any action or stamina. I have hope, though.

The job hunt is frustrating. Everyday I scour Craigslist and the Pittsburgh papers, making calls and sending resumes. I try and get in touch with at least 10 people a day, but that doesn't always work out. Some contacts are stronger, some I feel like I am going to have a better chance at (Baker's assistant? I am still heartbroken that I did not hear back from that one). I am still waiting to hear back from the two people at Carrie's office that might put me in touch with a chocolate factory and a vodka distillery. Both of which I would enjoy doing, I think.

I did get, on Thursday, rather excited about a job posting on CL for the Lava Lounge. The Lava Lounge is owned by the same folks that own the Tiki Bar, Beehive Coffee, and Double-Wide Grill. Joe from Memphis works the door at the Tiki on Friday and Saturday nights and Bobby LaMonde, our downstairs neighbor/rockstar calls balls for Rock and Roll Bingo at the Tiki on Tuesdays (Which I went to this week and drank alot at and won the grand-prize of a $25 gift card - which paid my $24.50 tab - how cool is that?) and DJs the British Invasion night on Saturdays at the Lava. Needless to say, I was really excited about the possibility of joining this family. I called Bobby and Joe and begged them to put in good words for me after I had filled out an application and dropped a resume. But before the night was even over, they had hired someone. Oh my broken heart.

I have come to terms with the fact that I have made nothing of my life. I got extremely lucky in New York to have ended up in the position at BXL that I did. Extremely luck. Now I am in Pittsburgh, jobless. Whereas my wife has spent the last ten or so years of her life calmly and without haste, pushing herself at least in a direction that she thinks she would like to be, I spent that same amount of time doing absolutely nothing. Dreams of being writers and rockstars and progressing neither of them rather far all are that I can count my days. I have spent more time dreaming about doing things than I have actually doing them.

My reset point tends to be either in a bottle or with a video game.

I turn 29 on Friday. We will see what happens.

Pope

2009-02-14T11:42:00.001-05:00

see famous look-a-like faces

Kittens

2009-02-14T11:35:00.000-05:00

Well, well, where did you come from little man?

2009-02-12T14:59:00.002-05:00

I can think of very little at this moment that makes me as happy as this song and video. Which is a strange sensation, kind of a numbing like quality; religious. I still have this perpetual feeling of floating, like what is here is not really here, and if I can stay out of reach of it for a few more moments then perhaps I can float back from where I came.

There is a darkness somewhere that I don't want to see, somewhere in the night, just over the hill, a car is making a turn and painting all of the night bright.

I finished a play. In case you the random reader is not a friend of mine on Facebook. I finished this play that I have been working on, bit by bit, over the last four years . I have it in the hands of my "Editors" and it has at least one more level of revision (or proverbial binning) after I get it back from them.

I feel like I am shaking off New York, and this Memphis/Ithaca skin is returning. I am playing more music, writing less. Hibernating. Cooking alot, and dreaming about what I will have to do, what lies I will actually have to tell myself to get started on the novel that I want to get started on (or at least begin writing the crap preliminary one that will mainly do nothing but get me in the habit of writing more often).

Sometime I wonder if I am just posting here to see my words in print.

One Week and Counting.

2009-01-27T10:32:00.002-05:00

So I had initially had this idea that once Obama had settled into the oval office a new era of prosperity would befall me. With one week of the administration completed I have done nothing besides promise not to drink and smoke, drink and smoke, and make more and more excuses for my life.

I had and professed this idea to make a film where I played four different characters all with varying degrees of facial hair and all played by myself. The story was rather clever, as its basis was that the protagonist "Ryan" would be plagued by three separate "Ryans" who would continually keep him from doing anything productive. One was a wannabe drunk non-performing rockstar, one was completely obsessed with World of Warcraft, and the other just wanted to do nothing but read. Stange and amazing, huh? Like where the fuck could I come up with such a bizarre plot like that?

Life in Pittsburgh is quite strange. I have this strange idleness that has befallen me other times in my life. When I moved to Ithaca I new exactly what it was that I was doing. I was writing a novel. I wasn't working, I wasn't going out to drink a ton. There was no permanency, but more a stint with a goal. I have been in Pittsburgh for about two months total now and I am still looking for a job. I spent some time actually getting to know the local bar scene, which was strange, to be unemployed and still out drinking.

I had saved a bit of money from my last month at BXL, but now its gone.

I am just kind of floating here trying to grab onto anything that looks solid. Who knows. I have some projects but we all know that I only talk about doing things and then they never really get done. Thats how I roll.

I could not help myself.

2009-01-15T15:53:00.001-05:00

more animals

Thermals

2009-01-14T14:02:00.003-05:00

Do you wear underwear on the inside or the outside of thermal underwear, or by definition, being underwear, do you go sans additional undergarments? And if without, how do you live with that really awkward feeling?

The Holidays almost killed me.

2009-01-02T12:14:00.003-05:00

For Christ its been a rough two weeks.

We did the drive to Little Rock on a Friday, all 14 hours of it. Carrie started off driving so she got a brunt of the storms that ended up becoming all of that airport closing snow that hit the northeast. We got into town late, but not too late, so I went out for a few drinks with Matt. Some drunk guy stumbled over to me right after last call and handed me a shot in a plastic cup. I asked him what it was and he told me Bacardi 151. I shot it. It was terrible.

Saturday night we went drove an hour and a half down to Hot Springs Village to see Carrie's mom and step-dad. We made it back in time to meet people up at Pizza D'Action. Saw Amy, Autumn, Jenny, Matt, and bumped into Piper Smith and Haley Maddox whilst we were there. They closed and we tried to go to Midtown, but there was a band there, so instead we retreated to West End Tavern with all the jocks and frat kids for the last 35 min of regulation drinking. They kicked us out and some woman banged on my car window, showed me her drivers liscense, and asked for gas money.

Sunday night Jane Proffit was having a dinner party so we headed over there with my borhter in law David. We drank punch and wine. It was a little crazy. The topic of my fear of flying came up on a number of occasions. We talked about Catholic High School. Then we went home and Matt came over for some beers.

Monday night was the Williams/Reed family extravaganza which we have not done in almost 6 years. My sister made Jello Shots. My mother had never had Jello Shots. She liked them. She liked them alot. My super-catholic, not really drinking Aunt drank all of my Jameson. There were a million kids running around like mad. Carrie and I chased a buzz that we never caught and ended up babysitting my parents and trying to get them to bed without falling and breaking something.

Tuesday night I decided, rather than chase people I wanted to see all over Little Rock, that I would instead have them all over to my house. My parents kept preparing as if I were throwing a dinner party, to which I jsut had to tell them "I have whiskey, I have beer, we will be ok." Saw some good peopls. Laura Swanson, Matt, Courtney Frierson, Johnny Madden, Catrell Fisher, even Mac came out. We drank almost an entire fifth of Jameson and smoked a lot of cigarettes. It was a pretty good night.

Wednesday night was Christmas Eve, I think. I had resigned myself to not drink, but as the night wore on, and dinner with the family was over, I got the itch. Right about then Matt called me and we found out that Grumpys was still open, so we met Ben over there with his brother. I sucked down as much Jameson's as I could in an hour and a half. Then they closed at midnight and I was sent home and to bed.

Thursday was Christmas, dinner at my sisters. A kick ass beef tenderloin, really good red wine, beer, I blew my shoulder out playing Wii baseball against my nephews. I cannot remember if I went out that night.

Friday night, Carrie had seen that Ashtray Babyhead (this band from highschool that had broken up years ago) was playing with Kevin Kirby at Juanitas. Carrie and Dave and I met Matt and Ben up there where all the Little Rockers were hanging out. I felt like everyone that I saw I somehow knew. We left there before the headliners and went to Whitewater Tavern where it turned out Haley Maddox's band was playing. We stuck around for a few drinks to watch them, smoked some cigarettes, talked to some people, lost Ben, witnessed a hit and run, and then decided to go to waffle house for some food. Went to one Waffle House, it was full, talked to the lead singer of Ashtray Babyhead, yelled at some skater kids, went to another waffle house, saw the lead singer of Haley's band, ate, and got home about a quarter to four.

Saturday we made the 8 hour drive to Yates Center Kansas, through all those crazy storms and fog. We got there in time for dinner, I picked up a six of coors original and a pint of Old Crow. Drank with Carrie's brother and step-brothers, we went back to the house and drank more, opened presents, drank more, tried some snuff, and then ate 16 deviled eggs.

Sunday was laid back. The step brothers left. Joel and I started drinking around 3 or so. We had dinner, played Mexican Dominos, watched some movies and went to bed around 1.

Monday Carrie and I drove to Joel's place in Kansas City, about two hours away. We got there and started texting Jonathan Chambers trying to find out where the good BBQ place was. We found it (See picture below) and ate way to much food. We headed down to the Power and Light District where Carrie and I proceded to drink a fifth (no exageration) of Jameson. It was rough.

Tuesday was rough. Carrie and I both barfed and then got on the road for our 13 hour drive back to Pittsburgh. I had a cheeseburger for breakfast, a cheeseburger for lunch, and a cheeseburger for dinner (McDonalds, Hardees, and Burger King respectivley). We got in near 3am. It was a tough day (And the first dry one in awhile)

Wednesday was New Years Eve. Kevin was supposed to come in town, we were supposed go out with Joe, an Laura wanted to meet up. None of it happened. It just wasnt fated. Instead carrie and I ate at a terrible japanese resturaunt (we got our bill before we had even finshed eating) then we went to see Joe at work and Carson street was just too much. Drunk kids, and the girls, jesus christ, these girls. It was 19 degrees out, carrie and I bundled up good and we were still a little chilly. These girls were wearing spagehtti straps, mini skirts, skin skin skin. It was rediculous. I bet they were all sick yesterday too. Anyhow, we got off Carson and went to the Jagerbush for bad Kareoki and Dick Clark on TV. She and I, it wasn't all so bad just the two of us.

Thursday I barfed and promised my body that I would give it some time off. We are on day two, so we will see how it goes.

New Years Eve in Iron City

2009-01-02T12:13:00.000-05:00

Kansas Baby Cow

2009-01-02T11:59:00.001-05:00

Train Tracks - Pittsburgh, Kansas

2009-01-02T11:58:00.000-05:00

Christmas Day in Little Rock

2009-01-02T11:57:00.000-05:00

Homeade D-Day Special - From Scratch, crust and all.

2009-01-02T11:55:00.000-05:00

Lonesome Spirituality: AKA - The last photograph of me taken in Brooklyn

2009-01-02T11:54:00.000-05:00

A Goodbye of Sorts

2009-01-02T11:36:00.002-05:00

I have been putting this off for quite some time now. I think that I spent so much time actually leaving New York that when it finally happened I didn't really believe it. I said goodbye to Kevin and Rush and I just kind of got in the truck and drove west in the night. It wasn't until I was in Jersey, looking over my shoulder at the lights of Midtown, knowing that most of the people that I loved were there, right now, and I was abandoning them, that it really hurt.

I don't miss New York so much as the people that populate it.

But there is something about living in that damn city that I am physically feeling right now...

No one who has never lived in New York City can understand what it is like to wake up and go to sleep there day after day. You can spend as much time as you like trying to imagine it, but the truth is, its just not going to happen. Living in New York sucks. You make a lot of money, but you give it all back almost immediatley. You spend exhorbant amounts of your hard earned money (And face it, you work harder in New York) just to live there, and where you live, its usually small, cramped and uncomfortable. Everything is twice as expensive, you have no personal space, there is shit on the streets, people sleeping in the nooks and crannies, its freezing in the winter and blistering in the summer. But we love it.

There is something about being the center of the universe that attracts the best people to the city. Everyone is pretty and everyone is pretty smart. With a little but of spare time you can give yourself a free and superior education at the museums, you can hear music you would never have heard, eat food you have never seen, and just all around enjoy an exponentially more fruitful existence. In the end, its worth it. By just existing and persevering in that city, you are stronger and better than most.

The funny thing is that you can go to New York as a writer and practically never write, but still walk with your head high. Because in New York, just living there is almost enough to be proud of, and you can spend four years telling people that you are a writer without ever producing a page and they still belive you.

Now I am in Pittsburgh and that is not the case.

I feel like the Angels cast from heaven in Paradise Lost. I lay "astounded" among these rivers. I miss my friends and I even miss my enemies. I miss the perpetual and unadulterated love that surrounded everything in my life there. I miss Kyle. I miss Matt. I miss Ashley. I miss Klaas. I miss Kevin. I miss Rush. I miss Andrew. I miss it all.

My only hope is that I can do something to make you proud of me here.

And that is my goodbye and New Years resolution all rolled up into one.

L.C.'s BBQ, Kansas City

2008-12-29T21:23:00.000-05:00

On Time Travel: For Kelly

2008-12-29T13:11:00.000-05:00

Well there is a ton of information from a number of different sources, mainly fiction and movies.

As for the basic mechanics involved in allowing someone to time travel, they get a little bit blurry. You can look at Star Trek: The Voyage home, where they "slingshot around the sun" and that is all it takes for them to get to a specific point in time - I think their rationale there is that time is measured (and in being measured, perhaps, even created by the revolutions of the sun). Another reference to this sun-spining ability to time travel is the Superman movie where he flies around the earth in the opposite direction of rotation which in turn causes the earth, not the time-traveler, to reverse its rotation, causing time to travel backwards (little attention to the fact that the earth is not the sun, or that if the earth stopped spinning, gravity would stop).

The biggest problem with mechanics here is the specifics - mainly in both cases the time travelers (and in supermans case he was not traveling in time, we was making the earths time reverse and start over) are impossibly accurate in their destinations. Which is kind of weak for so innaccurate of a method.

The second strain involved is the scientific. Here you have the Doc Browns from "Back to the Future" as well as the H.G. Wells. Doc Brown makes a time machine that runs on plutonium. The "Flux Capacitor" is the mechanism that uses the plutonium fuel in order to travel through time (both back and forewards). By this method a more specific destination is plausible, though the mechanics are never really explained. What exactly does a flux capacitor do? The same mechanical engineering is present in the Wells work...and both of these, man-made vehicles make for one of the most interesting points in any time travel story.

The effects of the future/past/present on the future/past/present is really the basis for Back to the Future. There are two ideas in reference to the actions that the past have on the future. The first is that if you go back in time, you have the chance changing the future. Some stories make this much more drastic than others, especially in reference to all sorts of butterfly effects (i.e. even the smallest of changes introduced into an environment have the chance to make big changes). When Marty McFly is entered into the situation everything goes wrong, so much so that he damages the chances of his parents getting together. With reference to this as it becomes more and more certain that they will not get together, he beings to visibly and physically dissappear. Its almost instant. The effects of the future which have been changed are immediate.

The other side to this is that of alternate timelines. This is a strong theme in the show Heroes. This idea states that there are many different timelines that contiune on, regardless of changes that have happened in their pasts (ie you could go from a post apocalyptic future after a nuclear war into the past before the war, stop the war, and then return to your destroyed future. The past that you changed would continue on without war, but the future you go to is the same - alternate universes.

The last bit I will give you in a newer one based on Audrey Niffenigger's Oprah's Bookclub selection "The Time Traveler's Wife" which makes the traveling through time biological and based on his Chromosomes. In this instance, the time traveler has no control of this trips. They are involuntary to an indiscriminate time. In the story he has a range of 50 years prior to his birth and after his death, but he mainly just appears in parts of his life or the lives of his loved ones (ie the first time he meets his wife is when he is 30 and she is 25, but the first time that she met him was when she was six and he was 43). The involutary aspect is rather interesting, but the strangest version of this time travel interpretation is that he cannot change the future.

In situations where he knows what has happened, where he remembers being with his future self, but now he IS the future self, he is physically incapable of warning the past. He tries to talk and instead has to watch mute, as the same things happen again.

PS - I have read this book three times and it is kind of amazing. A little bit of a sappy love story, but amazing.

Those are the three structural perspectives on time travel that I have. As far as actual scientific explanations for whether or not Time Travel is an actual possibility, I dont know. I think the closest would be the sun-turning references. But I am not too sure.

For Real.

2008-12-12T13:38:00.000-05:00

Bar two

2008-12-02T22:48:00.000-05:00

The tiki lounge. They are doing rock and roll bingo. So I guess I am
too. Whiskey. Smoking. Bingo. Fuck yeah?

Bar one

2008-12-02T22:06:00.000-05:00

The double-wide grill in southside. Two blocks from the apartment.
They are closing soon, at 11 on a Tuesday night. This is my first real
night out on the hood. I am pouring jameson on my broken lungs my
lacerated throat. I am going to smoke as well. I know that this will
probably prolong my sickness. I know this is not a good idea. But I
must do something. I feel domesticated, broken like a wild horse. I am
letting myself wallow, and if perpetuated, I will continue to sink
dangerously. Dangerous. Like a michael Jackson record.

On Whiskey (It don't make you do a thing, it just lets you.)

2008-12-02T11:03:00.005-05:00

So I was at a party in Little Rock, Arkansas for a best friend of mine, a friend whom I have known since birth. It was a monumental occasion, the turning of a decade, the change of the guard. We all drank too much. At least, to my whiskey sodden brain, it appeared that we all drank too much. Everyone else might as well have been sipping tea and discussing the Acts of the Apostles.

I used to believe that different types of whiskey enacted different dispositions when consumed. Evan Williams made me surly, Jack Daniels made me feel invincible, Jim Beam turned me into an asshole, and George Dickel, oh George, how you made me a lover. In my latter day career as a whiskey drinker, I have not found a place for Jameson. I think it might be the trickiest of whiskeys. I have had bouts of love with Jameson, I have felt a little surly. When I was bartending in Manhattan, Jameson was the endurance whiskey, the one that would take you to the dawn. Yet I have had nights with Ben Nichols and Joe Mcmahon where Jameson looked me straight in the eye, punched me in the stomach and disappeared with my wife until the morning.

At this party, for this friend of mine, the Jameson, it made me quite aware of the distances between me and the people that I loved. It made them felt in a hard sort of way. It made me tell them all how much I loved them.

There is still the lingering of my wife’s voice: “Tell me this when you are sober…tell me when you are sober…”

Somewhere in that vacuum of longing, the emptiness was filling with rage, just waiting.

So at the party there was this uninvited hanger-on. He was a friend from high school of varying closeness with the various people there. All night long he attempted to instigate very meaningful, very artificial conversation. He would continually ask me questions while only really desiring to tell me things. He brought up situations that I had no bearing in and disregarded any statements that I had to make on any of them.

My basic and final statement to him, the one that summed up everything he had been arguing about was this: “Just because you feel you would react one way to a situation does not mean that anyone else would do the same.”

As the night went on, I tried to put my self in rooms where he was not residing. Finally I asked someone for a cigarette outside. As it was being handed to me, the aforementioned person snatched it and crushed it. It was the last cigarette in the pack. When questioned, he claimed that he would do it again. I wandered off, shaking my head.

Back inside, we finally came to be in the same room again and for some reason I just wanted to tell this guy what I thought of him. So I did. I think that the whiskey formed some half keeled eloquence and provided an approach that might have even made sense to a sober person. I did not want to fight him. I just wanted to tell him exactly how I felt about him. I tried to explain this to my wife who was dragging me back into the other room by the collar of my shirt. I tried to explain this to my buddy the cop as he was pulling me by the arm. I think somewhere in my mind I knew the defense of my dissertation was being concluded and decided to finish with a concise and summing statement of “Fuck you, buddy.”

I will not abide such behavior .

This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper.

2008-11-16T02:44:00.003-05:00

This city is closing in on me. I feel it as if it were the cold, invisible hand of some wicked Sith lord. The fact that I just used Sith lord as a reference alone makes me happy once again. But even in the humor, there is a sick truth to it.

I have all of my windows in my apartment open to the wet night outside. Mexicans have been painting my apartment staircase all day and the fumes are almost toxic. The chill has finally caused me to find my hoodie and here I sit, amazed. How could my hoodie smell like Courtney Frierson (Who just so happened to have called me earlier tonight). Does it smell like her or in fact Ashley Kielian. Does it smell, really, like the new laundry detergent I used when I washed it at our new apartment in Pittsburgh? Did I let someone wear this damn thing or has it just attained this scent from being squished in the bottom of my backpack and mingled with all the other various smells of mint gum, tobacco, beer soaked work shirts and whiskey soaked after work shirts that together combine the most solid parts of our best memories?

Either way it is making me happy, and for these last weeks, that is saying something.

I feel like I have been moving for almost two months. I feel as if this long drawn out death, this seeping cancer like loss of life is killing me even worse than I could have imagined. Carrie did it right, just like a band aid that one. Pull the fucker off and feel the pain, its there, its done. This lingering about, this perpetual existence in a dream that is already over. This is madness.

I am almost all out of the blue pills. What I have is about four of the white ones left. I have been breaking the blue pills in half and that has been doing the trick. I have one half of a blue pill left. Then I guess I will move onto the white ones which in all honesty I don't know if they will be able to do the trick in halves or not. I guess I will just have to give it a shot and experiment with the dosage.

The reason why I have these pills is due to this fear of flying that I am sure that everyone who has ever even glanced at this opus of mine is tired as fuck of hearing about. I know its an unfounded fear. I know the statistical safeties involved (though like the lottery, I do not believe in statistics). Over time it has just gotten worse and gotten to the point where I am not even so much worried about the plane crashing as I am of being on the plane in this extended state of extreme panic and anxiety.

Its fear of fear. Basic as it comes. How much more lame can you get. I get anxiety thinking about being anxious. I know that I will be anxious on a plane, so before I even get on the plane my chest tightens up, I get dizzy, I can't even fucking breathe.

Everyday has become like getting on a plane.

I have gotten to the point now that I cannot even ride on trains without getting all clausterphobic. When a train stops underground and the announcer comes on in that bored, I hate having to say this shit daily voice to speak:

"This train is being held, please be patient and we will be moving again shortly"

I tighten up. I want nothing more than to break out of that sealed car and tooth and claw my way through the concrete to get on the surface just to breathe again. I stand up, I move between cars, I try and keep myself occupied so I don't asphixiate or whatever has never happened that I think is about to happen.

All this from the guy who used to just ride on trains for fun. For hours. Reading and writing.

I don't know. Its gotten bad. Over a week since I have been on a train. Three days left in the city before I drive over to Pittsburgh and all I am thinking about is how badly I want out. So I have resorted to these pills to get me through until I am back nestled in the Alleghenies. I have resorted to these pills to help me survive leaving a city that I adore but for some reason is killing me.

I just don't get it. But I am ready to go. I feel as though I have been saying goodbye for weeks to people that were hard enough to say goodbye to the first time. I feel like this continued departure is lessening the meaning that each farewell should have. I didn't even realize that last night was my last night working with Jules and I just said something dumb like "Later, Man."

I have so much hope for this new place that I am going. I have hope that I will create once again. That perhaps I will go to Graduate School. I don't know. I just have hope.

I have hope and no clue why this fucking hoodie smells so fucking good.

Oops

2008-10-31T10:38:00.000-04:00

Done

2008-10-23T03:21:00.000-04:00

With around an hour and a half stop time, it was 14.5 hours like the
map said it would be.

Between Louisville, KY and Nashville,TN

2008-10-22T19:48:00.000-04:00

I am nearing nine hours into the trip from Pittsburgh to litle rock
with a bit over five hours to go.

I got heavily loaded ok coffee this morning and now my wracked crashed
system is reacting with it's old fallback: anxiety. The fear of fear,
as fucking dumb as that sounds.

I really want to make little rock tonight, so I am going to have to
recover that good time joy somehow. I am thinking that I will do two
quick shots of the paddys and be on my way, or perhaps mix up some
sprite and whiskey, either way, don't tell my wife or my mother.

Ps - this was written in a truckstop shitter.

Just keeps making me smile, as I get ready for it all.

2008-10-20T14:07:00.000-04:00

Slow Motion Punches to The Face from Eduardo Wydler on Vimeo.

I Live for This.

2008-10-09T08:38:00.003-04:00

So once again my heart was broken by the New York Mets. The Yankees performance this year prepared me for disappointment, but here I am again, far enough in October to not have a team to follow. I am often hassled for the fact that unless they are playing each other, I do adore both New York baseball teams. I see no reason why it has to be any other way. Unless they are in direct competition on a baseball field, I see no reason why I cannot cheer for them both. Yet what is there, really, to cheer for besides some deep seeded sense of local loyalty?

Why do people become fans?

I always felt that I had not lived in New York City long enough to respect the spanning history of the Yankees, that if I were to become a fan, I would be a fraud. So what makes someone look at one team or the other and decide to throw their allegiance in for them.

From what I hear its the same in all the other big cities. Ashley loathes the Cubs and all of their fans while Erin feels the same about the White Sox. I would imagine the same is true for the Angels and the Dodgers.

So why am I going to become a Dodgers fan for the rest of this season?
1) I love baseball too much to just push it out of my life before the biggest series of the year.
2) National League Team. (Pitchers should always have to bat)
3) John Hicks is a Dodgers Fan.
4) I would love nothing more than for Joe Torre to get a World Series Ring the first year out after the Yankees had canned him.
5) The franchise is originally from Brooklyn

On a strange side-note, though many people are very polarized over Manny Ramirez I could care less. If it does actually come down to a Dodgers/Red Sox world series Manny is guaranteed a ring no matter who wins. He has played enough of the season to get one if his Original Sox win, yet if he were on the World Series Winning Dodgers team, he would get one as well. Kind of weird.

The Pitts

2008-10-05T13:46:00.002-04:00

For those of you that have not already been informed, for those of you that actually follow this rubbish, I am moving to Pittsburgh, PA. In nine days we will make the fist trip over there with a load of our things. Carrie starts work on October the 28th, while I will stay in New York until November 19th to work and save a bit of money. The trip that I/we will be undertaking in nine days is going to be quite epic. The detailed itinerary is as follows:

Tues 10/14 - Pack car and drive from Brooklyn to Pittsburgh (8hrs)
Wed 10/15 - Six interviews and showings of Apartments - Lucero show at night.
Thurs 10/16 - Drive from Pittsburgh to Little Rock, AR (13hrs)
Friday 10/17 - Drive to Texas with Matt, Elise, and hopefully Bush (8hrs)
Sat 10/18 - NO DRIVING (Plantersville, Texas)
Sun 10/19 - Texas to Little Rock (8h)
Mon 10/20 - Little Rock to Pittsburgh with load of stuff (13h)
Tuesday 10/21 - Pittsburgh to Brooklyn (8h)
Wed 10/22 - Load cats and last of our stuff, Brooklyn to Pittsburgh (8h)
Thur 10/23 - Pittsburgh to Little Rock (13h)
Friday 10/24 - Little Rock to Texas with Matt (8h)
Sat 10/25 - NO DRIVING (Plantersville, Texas)
Sun 10/26 - Texas to Little Rock (8h)
Mon 10/27 - Little Rock to Pittsburgh (13h)
Tue 10/28 - Pittsburgh to Brooklyn (End Odyssey)

From the 28th I will remain here until the 19th of November alone by myself writing and recording music on my laptop on the bare hardwood floors. Yeah, I know. That is 116 hours in a car in two weeks. Perhaps I can chronicle my slide to madness.

As an interlude between nothing and nothing, a moment of brilliance.

2008-10-03T13:39:00.002-04:00

On Watermelons
by Andrew Samuel

Changez ma maison.

2008-09-25T12:12:00.002-04:00

Fine champagne

2008-09-17T02:35:00.001-04:00

I am in a taxi cab spitting mint skoal into an empty bottle of vueve
cliquot. I promise to the world that I am going to write and record a
ten song record by the time I leave for Arkansas. Hold me to this, I
beg of you.

Sent from my iPhone

What the fuck?!?!

2008-09-09T14:19:00.001-04:00

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0259763/

M

2008-09-08T16:45:00.001-04:00

Classification

2008-09-06T14:08:00.003-04:00

I am continually plagued with matters of classification (for these are the only true ways in which we can move forward in our lives).

In my current instance, it has to do with bands starting with "the." When organizing my music files on my computer, do I put The Reigning Sound in the folder with the rest of the Rs, or do I put it in the folder with the Ts.

Should I leave the full title of the artist as "The Reigning Sound" and just put it in with the Rs, or by doing so am I not giving enough validity to the band's choice of a definite article to precede their title.

Is there a true system for this? I know that there are some who read this who probably take this as seriously as I do, I could use your feedback.

"Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, your my only hope."

R

Toast

2008-09-05T10:18:00.001-04:00

Chainsaw Maid - From Kevin

2008-09-04T18:41:00.001-04:00

Arschlöcher

2008-08-25T13:27:00.000-04:00

Nothing Considered

2008-08-14T14:57:00.005-04:00

You have been a very gracious audience. You all have done very well. You in the back, bravo for your patience, your unadulterated consideration, and perhaps even your faith.

I know I put faith somewhere in the back. I don't know where. I feel like I have lost it a long time ago. By no means does my referencing of faith have entirely religious implications either. For example when Carrie and I went to see The Dark Knight last week, these three thugged out youths sat in the seats right infront of us. I let out a very noticeable sigh. In my head I knew the score.

"These fucking kids are going to sit in front of us and talk the entire time..."
(Let me mention for my own terrible stereotyping, which, however frowned upon, us right more than 80% of the time - That these kids were of a Latino-Puerto Rican - Dominican-esque descent)
"These fucking punks are going to yell and scream, they are going to make jokes at the screen at the most quite moments, the most meaningful moments, they are going to ruin this movie for me..."

Its happened so many times in the city. Movies, twelve bucks each, ruined by some punk kids. Then to my amazement, as the lights start to go down, they take off their hats and one says to the other:

"Yo, Son, turn ya fuckin' ringer off Son, people don't wanna be hearin' that shit."

And there is my faith. There it is ruined. The entire world is not evil. The entire city is not an animal. Only most of it. I have to continually remember that some people are really, really, worth being dragged from the flames when it all burns down.

So faith. Faith in something. A reason I wish I could sleep at night, but I can't. Drifting off to sleep, I wake and my heart is beating fast, much faster than usual. My recognition of it intensifies it, to the point that I am spilling out of the bed/couch and into the bathroom for some reason. I don't know why I always end up in the bathroom. I think its because my mother mentioned something about running cold water over your wrists to calm yourself down. It doesn't really work. So, exhausted, I stay up until Carrie wakes up and then spend the morning trying to trick myself asleep. Its working most of the times.

So I am trying to remove the various aspects that might contribute. Drinking. Smoking. Caffeine. I was pretty good with the drinking, but then when I felt that I had sufficiently kicked the smoking, I was back at it, and the more I drank the more I wanted to smoke. Here we are, almost eleven weeks since, and I have had eleven cigarettes. Its a slippery slope too, the more I smoke the more I do it. That number doubled in just under two weeks. I think I was at five cigarettes at eight weeks. I just have to start over and this time include caffeine.

So here we are, almost through day two without alcohol or tobacco. Here we are and I have begun the decaf project.

I dearly love Gorilla Coffee. Its one of the best and seamless places of business with that edge of style that is usually reserved for bigger places with a much bigger budget. They have branded themselves impeccably and its just all together a great experience to be in there. Aside from that, their coffee is amazing. Truly, without a doubt, the best coffee I have had in my life. The downside is that it is like rocket fuel. A small cup of coffee or an espresso from them will blast my system for no less than 20 hours. Its maddening. Its a leading factor of my anxiety, I am sure. So to get off this stuff would no doubt make everything a lot more friendly and nice. But I am terribly bound to this ritual of coffee and contemplation. So I am trying to go it decaf.

I find it silly to drink coffee without caffeine. But Carrie seems to think that Gorilla's decaf is probably the same strength as the Maxwell house we have above the sink. So this is it. I have had my "Medium, Iced, Decaf, Americano." We will see later on if I am wired or not. I feel good at the moment. I feel like I have a little more juice in my system, but I'm not hot wired. We will see, we will see perhaps.

In closing. I would like to make a confession. I am a tender creature. Any organism more complex than, say, a bug, gives me a certain amount of grief to kill. I try to avoid it at all possible. This does not mean that I do not applaud my cats for killing mice. I love my cats terribly, and anything I can do to allow them to live the life that they were born for, i.e. hunting, I will do it.

They are excellent hunters. Last night I notched their confirmed kills up to four. The original two came almost within 24 hours. Ever vigilant, they take shifts keeping watch for the mice. There is only one place they come in, I think, and one of the two cats will sit there watching it very intensely while the other cat will sleep in the other room. I do not know how they work out the schedule, but they switch shifts from time to time. So I went to bed last night with three confirmed kills and woke up with them going ass crazy.

In the dark, it just looked like another roach, albeit a huge roach. (The last roach was cornered in the toe of one of Carrie's heels until I dumped him out and flushed him. It was driving them mad that they couldn't get to it - for the record, that was the only time I ever felt bad for a roach. That poor little bastard had been torn up and tortured for what looked like hours.) By the time my eyes adjusted to the dark, Myrtle was gone and there was no sign of the roach. I grabbed a shoe and went into the dining room. I didn't see Myrtle, she was under the kitchen table. As I got closer she darted back into the living room and I saw it, its little tail bobbing as she carried it into her mouth back into the other room.

I will say that this one was bigger than the other three. Myrtle was not letting me have at it, and it was still a bit alive, though with no fight in it. She was just watching sit there, punching it with her claws from time to time whenever it moved. Then she bit it, picked it up with her mouth, and slammed it to the ground. She was in total control.

I should have waited until they were done playing with it. But for some reason I shoo'd Myrtle away from it and picked it up with some napkins from Bergen Sub Shop. I didn't want to flush it because it was so much bigger than the others, and I didn't want to put it, half dead in the trash, as the cats will just get back into it and go to town.

For some reason, a drop seemed merciful and well placed.

I pulled down the kitchen window and threw it in the neighbors back yard. Both of the neighbors have dogs, so I figured it would be possible that one of them would have gotten to it. I wanted to get it in the people not directly below us's yard. But it was dark. I was half asleep. it fell straight down. It was there when I woke up so I snapped a picture of it.

And after just checking, it's still there.

Take that 11 year olds.

2008-08-13T17:58:00.002-04:00

Some worth a life.

2008-08-13T07:45:00.002-04:00

I don't know if I was overly prone at 7:33am, unable to drift into sleep due to anxiety, to find something like this terribly funny. But I did. I laughed right hard.

Pictures Taken at the Right Time

ps - And I do thank you for putting up with the Links edition of IR

For John Carpenter? Brilliant. Thanks Lin Swimmer.

2008-08-13T06:47:00.001-04:00

This gets posted again just to emphasize the fact that I watch it daily.

2008-08-13T06:36:00.001-04:00

Anything that has to do with Zombies.

2008-08-13T06:17:00.000-04:00

more cat pictures

Don't feel like you have to watch the whole thing...just Mr. Rogers attempt at break dancing.

2008-08-13T06:13:00.003-04:00

http://view.break.com/549229 - Watch more free videos

For John

2008-08-13T06:02:00.001-04:00

2008-08-12T17:09:00.001-04:00

Nouveau Chic Artiste Film

2008-08-10T01:58:00.000-04:00

Almost to 7 Hours in Line. ATT Problems! 3G!

2008-07-23T22:46:00.000-04:00

In line for iphone 3G

2008-07-23T16:38:00.000-04:00

Brilliant. I think I have always wanted to see this.

2008-07-21T13:31:00.001-04:00

A-Huh.

2008-07-21T13:28:00.001-04:00

more cat pictures

In shades.

2008-07-18T16:44:00.002-04:00

So, the last time that I left my apartment was Wednesday night for dinner with Carrie. I believe we came back around 9pm or so from Lobo on 5th Avenue. But that was it. That was the last time I left the apartment.

I have had the same headache for nine days now. I roughly remember having it wandering around Williamsburg drunk in the afternoon on my way home from the Mets/Giants game at Shea. I thought then that it was just that I had already become hungover from the whiskey samples the distributors started feeding us at roughly 11:30. But the headache has been persistent.

This coming Monday will mark seven weeks without a cigarette. I am, or course, failing to include the cigarette that I had with Kiel as my celebration for three weeks of no smoking or drinking whiskey. So that means, it will be officially only 4 weeks. But that is bullshit.

Smoking that cigarette was one of the best things I could do, as it was no where near as satisfying as I had dreamed that it would be. So I don't count it.

I feel the same about marrying Carrie. It's insignificant to the time that we had been together beforehand. How long have you been married? Two years. How long have you been together? It will be ten years in January. Over one third of my life. The fuck was she thinking?

Anyhow there are a few things in the works. This coming Thursday I will be unveiling a new story as well as a new little photography project. More to come.

Art

2008-07-17T11:32:00.001-04:00

I really love what someone can do when given a camera and a budget.

At daygame with matt.

2008-07-10T13:46:00.000-04:00

Hrmp.

2008-07-09T22:06:00.002-04:00

Yes. I did see Kung-Fu Panda. It wasn't that bad. I went with Matt while I was back in Little Rock for a wee dram of our movie day nostalgias. It was worth seeing in Little Rock where movies don't cost so much.

So there was a little uninterested chatter on the internet concerning the closing credits song, which is a remake of "Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting." As we were walking out the movies I thought to myself: "Well I guess thats pretty cool that Jack Black would record a song for the movie, even though it probably confirms the levels of his selling out. He probably hashed the idea out with Ryan Seacrest over lunch somewhere tres posh."

Then I start reading the internet titter and come to see that its not Jack Black, but is instead Cee-Lo of Gnarls Barkley. The ringer turns out that adding guitar and some backing vocals is Jack White. I was sitting here listening to this terrible, terrible, song, watching this terrible, terrible, video, when I come to the realization. Jack Black and Jack White both recorded a song.

Is that weird to anyone? Does that not sound like some comic-crossover in the making or something? Jack(Black,White).

Who knows. Here it is in all its putrecesecessecance.

Betwixt the Pieces of Mine Broken Heart.

2008-07-09T16:00:00.005-04:00

I would like to start with an apology. Kyle once told me that I had redefined blogging as "Adding captions to pictures." It dropped a bit of perspective on what it is that I am doing here. Now, whenever I find myself polluting this little bit of me with inordinate amounts of videos, pictures, or what-have-you, I feel a little bit ashamed.

Aside from the Brazil(c.1956) post I did while sitting at Otherlands in Memphis, TN last week, the content here has been a bit flat. I would like to thank you, the huge epic mass of my silent readership, for putting up with it.

Since I have gotten back from my skirmishes South, things have been a bit weird. I came back almost immediately to work, at which I found out that I had caused a rather large commotion before I left - the mechanizations and existence of which I knew not. Then there was this rather terrifying dream that I had yesterday morning.

I got home from work early enough to mess around on WoW with Bush and Matt, with even an appearance of Mac, though for a short time. I ended up playing way too late and going to bed just after 4:30am. The dream woke me up around 8:45. I will spare you all the details, as I don't remember most of them. Just creatures, pursuit, and prevalent death.

The dream was shot like a movie. And as I was just waking up, it managed to sum itself up in a single line. I shit you not. This was the last line of my dream:

"The funny thing about the book of Death is that its really pretty short."

It's been in my head for the last two days.

So I was exhausted at work last night. Went to bed earlier than usual. Woke up later than I wanted to wake up. I did not attend that Yoga class I had been thinking of attending, and for some reason all day long I have been terribly sad - apparently with no cause. Just sad all day long.

I figured that such looming despair would make a great background for getting caught up on my Google Reader. It took me near all day and was continually thwarted by Bush Williams, Carrie Patterson, and The Playlist. But I have finally, for the moment, gotten it caught up.

So now I am stuck with this weird feeling of pushed productivity, perhaps a bit fake, but I don't know where it will take me. I will keep you updated.

This is the sound of my feelings being hurt.

2008-07-09T15:55:00.000-04:00

1

2008-07-09T15:42:00.001-04:00

more cat pictures

Past thinking, robots are now creative.

2008-07-09T14:16:00.001-04:00

I'm coming home, boys (PA)

2008-07-06T15:21:00.001-04:00

Appalachia, VA

2008-07-06T11:01:00.000-04:00

Exxon, exit 310, I40

2008-07-05T20:16:00.000-04:00