my head is swirling with possibility & ill-informed ideas. in an effort to bring it on home let's have an old-fashioned give it to the ocean party.*
new media webisodes integration of market & product dignity of creation thoughtful creation worldview collaboration intersection of artist, product, customer, & process consideration of sustainability new ideas beget new relationships beget new experiences improvement of position & a roundness of experiment & thought questioning, but not undermining of values always questioning why mutual beneficial relationships of teacher & student socially minded projects constructive wonder directed reserch enthusiasm & focus for those that trust you enough to work with you and above all passion & fun
*i can assume i am the only person that has ever had a give it to the ocean party, as i invented it. for those of you not familiar it's just a process of putting it out there clearly, in words what it is you want to achieve in an effort to hone in & have more insight about your goals, ideas. it can apply to anything from your whole life, to your trip to the grocery store.
i have a friend, logan antill who is himself an enchanting writer. i don't know him very well other than that. but when you like what someone does & admire them for it i'm not sure if you need to know much else. knowing more can sometimes muddle things.
but as i was saying, logan. i follow him on twitter and he recently brought this to my attention. i love rick moody's work & i look forward to reading the story. as the article says, short stories have a very considered & methodical style. it's short afterall; no need to write anything down that isn't necessary & best to make sure that every word is savory & integral. in this way, when reading a short story i find myself distracted almost by every idea an author chooses because almost always that care is extremely apparent & i wonder about the deliberation. inherently the shorter something is the more aware & sensitive you are to it, & to a point the more removed you are...watching it unfold, taking in every bit, checking to make sure you register it, logging it into your mind carfully. i'm excited to see what story rick has in store, but more interested to see what sort of relationship, response, etc is inspired from this delivery.
i'm surprised this hasn't happened before, formally i mean. i know i do this from time to time, as well as logan, as i'm sure many writers out there. it's a good exercise for vocabulary, style, & creativity. a friend once said: a text message you send to yourself you send to the world. so right, but also a reminder, a note but with the added benefits of some chance feedback.
twitter has also been good for creating fervor. afterall, all anyone ever wants is an eager audience and what better way to get that than a 'to be continued...'? even charles dickens in his time took advantage of the peridodical magazine to create an atmosphere of anticipation for great expectations (i can only dream that the pun is intended).
and with an ever growing need to consume information in small, gratifying, & electric doses it's only smart & self-preserving to hop on board the twitter-wagon.
i saw you become greatness in the palm of surprise. as an awkward girl i watched your grace flow out in the only way your body knew. and did you ever know. never even a half step. like wind through a tree. i saw you rise above the surprise & give a stellar performance at subtle righteousness. your father must have been crying out inside, thanking whatever god had delivered him this amazing, perfect, non half stepping son. you give them not a crack in that smile. flash. on and be gone and done with it. like oil. can't catch on me. there was one you. not 10,000 almond eyes staring at me from every corner, from every story. not a whisper to be had that didn't come from those white teeth. soothing the curiousity with transparency & feigned banality. but what can be less banal than your story? a mix of every corner of the earth. a gift from the future. a lesson. but your persona, like vaseline, clear but foggy, viscous and repulsive in a benign sort of way. push away from here, nothing here but what you know. nothing more to see so stop looking. but what then of the
i stopped writing there. i had enough. even something i wrote of you isn't enough to keep digging. don't you find that interesting? but there's this much: i hope to one day smash my husbands car window to rescue him as well. that is love. that is how i want to show love.
is anyone else breaking their eyeballs when they look at the calendar? i can't believe its almost 2010.
to get into the swing of things (because i've barely had time to let my tan fade, let alone get totes psyched about some fall happenings. i'm sorry where was apple picking this year?) i'd like to count my blessings because it just seems the right thing to do as years come to a close & the winter solstice comes upon us.
1) thanks be to ALLAH 2009 is almost over. am i right?? christ on a crutch what the fuck did the world do, vomit on god's child while simultaneously backing over mother nature's cat?
2) the cycadas this year. there's nothing quite like the sound. an instant slow mo country time lemonade button for my brain, as close as i'll ever be to sitting in buddha's palm.
3) when the internet works.
4) david foster wallace & his words like honey.
5) my sister. hey girl, hey.
6) the rest of my sisters. hey tiny ponies, hey.
7) dan. what a man. i hope to never not be his best friend.
8) dario argento. AH! every single image i want to tattoo directly onto my eyeballs.
9) i've been feeling exceptionally sexy since about...july. not much more to be said.
10) raspberry hot pepper preserves. i just...there aren't words.
11) my dad. there's always a story to tell about something. an anecdote, a word of caution, a prescription, something. he's like a living fortune cookie. except you can't learn any chinese from him.
12) this really sweet fake fleece blanket my grandmother got me last christmas. you wouldn't believe how nice synthetic fiber is.
i mean, you can practically hear the whispered pleas for decency.
13) my roommate. she put a photo of pasta bread bowls on our fridge.
14) singing karaoke. singing in the shower. singing at all.
15) the newly reopened & restored monument in ft. greene park. it's just such a fine looking place to be.
UFC fighter was eating ketchup and rice before UFC 104 By Steve Cofield
If anyone needed a huge postfight bonus at UFC 104, it was Pat Barry. The heavyweight out of New Orleans, scored Knockout of the Night and Fight of the Night for his victory over Antoni Hardonk. That was good enough for $120,000. Good thing, Barry needed the infusion of cash in the worst way. He confirmed to MMAScrapsRadio that he was completely down on his luck before the fight, agreeing that he had little to eat in Los Angeles the week of the fight.
"I still had my apartment but if something would've happened and the fight had been canceled, I would've been evicted six days later."
Barry, 30, said he didn't even tell his trainer Duke Roufus for fear that he would think the fighter had the wrong motivation going into the fight. Barry said he didn't ask anyone for money including his mother:
"I could ask someone but then at the same time, how hard are you going to work for something if everytime you get in trouble somebody catches you? I did something to put myself in this position I have to work my way out of it."
Barry got his $120,000 bonus check last Tuesday. He couldn't believe it. When he went to deposit the check, his truck wouldn't start. Barry got a jump and hit the bank sporting a black eye and pink striped shorts.
"I go to the bank, I'm sweaty, I've got the black eye, I haven't shaven in two days, I'm strung out because I haven't slept, I have green circles under my eyes so I'm like 'Can I have a deposit slip mam?'. She gives it to me, I fill it out hand it to her. She looks at the deposit slip, then the check, then looks at me and says 'Excuse me I'll be right back.' Then a manager comes out, a guy in a suit and says 'What seems to be the problem?' I was like 'Well I have a black eye, that's the only problem I know this looks really ridiculous.' So he asks me for my ID, I hand him my license an he's like 'Your license says Pat Barry, but this check was written to Patrick Barry.' So I decided to be funny and tell him Pat Barry is in my trunk right now. He didnt laugh. So I told him take your time man do whatever you need to do because I have no where to go and my truck probably wont start when I go outside so you can just do whatever you need to do. An hour later he came back and everything was fine, the check was in my bank account."
as usual i'm torn. of course the story made me cry & i'm happy he's not starving anymore, but clearly he has poor money management skills & i can only wonder how long this paycheck will last him, but also...what about PRACTICALLY EVERYONE ELSE in the country going through the same or worse times.
can i get in the ring & throw down for my rent? last night in LA people were actually paying to fight the kardashians, proceeds went to the Dream Foundation. i'd be more than willing to get in the ring for my own dream foundation.
discovered this interesting painter while googling. his work is very sexy to me. i really love the cinematic idealism...makes him seem like he has no idea about nothing.
i have a thing for male sexy realist painters. a motherly thing almost. i equate it to an extremely adept med student who could be in any field of medicine, yet chooses gynecology because he loves women & doesn't know a thing about them aside from what he's read. it's a very sweet combination of thought processes.
its such a theme among men. degas, munch, sheile...all were so pained & mystified by women. painting them in contorted positions, awkward proportions, to somehow communicate to the world the demons they saw. helmut newton, brandt, guy bourdain took it further for their ability to take a medium of truth & reality & yet manipulate the subjects themselves into becoming the characters they saw. when even your subjects submits to your vision of truth...how successful & satisfying for the artist. how terrible for the feminists out there. how deceitful.
there's a good amount of sexuality, yes but i love how there are some moments, some paintings that are 'innocent' yet when i consider him as a whole there's a whole sexist/sexy/misogynistic/macho/outsider cast on my overall impression. play, play, play.
and then of course there's just the fact that a good deal of them remind me of v.c. andrews book covers.
today & the entire weekend has been one helluva. no need to end that sentence.
when people say 'i feel like i've been walking around in a fog', yes. i feel like that. but in addition to the fog, i thought it would be good to wrap blackout fabric around my head, spin around 35 times, & cut off my arms for good measure.
i just haven't been participating in my life. it's as simple as that. i've chosen to sit down and take a breather in the form of putting my head completely underwater. and god am i angry at myself for that.
this post won't make much sense, well...yes it makes sense. i'm sure everyone has at some point in their life been 'there': your relationship with your partner is dwindling before your eyes & all you can think to do is push further away in the most unhealthy of ways possible, your body feels foreign & tired & just generally mutinous, books are like eating chalk, t.v. is worse, the simplest communications becomes the bane of your existence, & forget about current events. the NYC marathon could run right by your window & you would have no idea.
that last part happened this morning. it took me a full 20 minutes of watching to figure out what i was looking at. i exaggerate all the time. this time i did not.
so when you're "there" what to do? it seems like making it better would be like asking a deaf man to listen up.
what is this big rock that sits in the road of feeling better? better yet how on earth do i always manage to go find the rock & put it there. sadness or confusion is not a vicious place to be. i've been sad before without it being a dark & terrifyingly defeating place. (maybe 1 times) in an attempt to summon the yogini i will be in the future i say aloud that sadness/confusion/darkness/etc is as valuable as anything else. gifts from god to be opened with care. examined. cherished for the knowledge. blessed for the growth.
but i am not there yet because every time i say that, still i turn away from the gift, refuse to see the solution, refusing to move like an obstinate child, insolence & general shittiness imbuing my outlook.
i step back to look at myself and marvel at my isolation. i am dazzled by my momentum & absolutely knocked on my ass at the lengths i run away from help.
perhaps i am missing some self-preservation instincts. 'perhaps'.
i can admit that when i was a bit younger i found it eerily satisfying to surrender to the depression and get as dark as baby wants to. i find no relief in the martyr now. at least there's that. in that state i had found complexity. interest. drama. something to care for. now i find the opposite. i find weakness & kill myself over every moment of inactivity or regression. i find myself boring & tiresome. and then too tired to run..too tiresome to be worth a fight. therein lies the viciousness.
i try to examine the things that pull me back to myself. telling myself that i don't need to run from sadness helps. that i don't need old habits to save me from the bad times, that the bad times aren't monsters & that ultimately i'll always have me.
oh but like the most deadly & efficient of predators, habit creeps back to you like an ugly pet. i feel that i can't look myself in the eye for the foolishness & carelessness i've brought into my life lately. if it's the hard times & how you react that define who you are, i am truly sad. i have come to such a hard bend in the road & man, did i mess things up. i thought i could face a challenge boldly, with conviction & trust in myself. instead i decided to sit down & not participate in the slightest.
you know when a child is upset about something, say getting in the stroller, & they sit down? so you go to pick them up but they've suddenly become, as if backed by all the forces in the universe, 20 lbs heavier & infinitely more cumbersome?
that about gets it.
ill leave you with this clip from one of my most cherished movies. life is about balance & using your brains, stephanie.
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