Throb

That suspicion you're forgetting something

General insanity, like there's any other kind.

Frustrated because we're all acting like this will work.
We're all acting like it's raining gold, not magma.
We all seem to think that if we keep throwing bodies on the pyre eventually we will smother it.

Got a place for myself so I can scream without waking people up, then I had to get a roommate.

I interact with a world of ghosts. I try to say something nice or interesting or shocking to them everyday, but sometimes I'm distracted. Today I was lost in thought and completely forgot to flirt with the mexican lunch lady.

Must sleep with ex-girlfriend to get some kind of perspective. Or go on a vacation.

omgomgomg

Thinly veiled sexual poetry

bouncing dreams
wander through colors under covers
smothered

this whole place clothed in canvas breathing, listen:
perfectly good people riff on ripping each other in half
minds roam discovered rooms
in black and white and red all over

with delirious clarity we drown
until the morning rapes our sleep

Blood, body-snatching and the birth of modern surgery

Every thing t'was going smoothly
Every thing was going well
Every thing t'was flowing truly
When you kicked him down the well

He'd such a lovely, lovely body
Such a lovely soul
T'was such a lovely dance he did
A hangin' from the pole

Oh, t'was such a darling dance he did
A hangin' from the pole

de doop de doop de doop de doop
de doop de doop de dole

He'd promised that he was your man
He said he'd love you true
He'd seemed like such a wholesome boy
Before you ran him through

Such a whitebread wholesome boy
Before he hanged with you

You kicked and kicked and kicked and tripped
You tripped because you fell
You fell because you kicked the crip
You kicked him down the well.

The difference between love and "I'm trying to impress you"

Tonight I went to see the Salon of Shame, a public reading of embarrassing journal entries, poems, and frank diary bits from the adolescences of strangers. I've participated in this show in the past (I have no shortage of embarrassing creative effluence from my past) but I'm always stunned by the hilarity which exists in the archives of the pasts of my peers. A girl got up and read the "romance novel" she wrote after reading her first at the age of 13: "My Flaming Desire," starring a girl who can "speak to animals with her mind" and a "handsome," "romantic" protagonist fireman Captain Jack.
My sides split and shall never mend, tho' how I long they will.

Selections from Mexico

Idea for symbol meaning "search for this (in Google or other search engine)" for use in printed academic papers and/or poetry.

The invisible scar.

Sitting there taking notes in the form of:
- the playing of the piano
- waterpolo
- sexual innuendo
- the introduction of pleasing smells, so as to influence the memory

Cannot influence the mind without some part of it suspecting what you're up to.

He knew enough to put it in technical terms.

Every couple of minutes some infinite series would interupt the otherwise mundane structure of everyday life.

"Do you know what they DO in the Ganges?"

A) A guru named Crazy Baba cut an inch off of his arm every year.
B) People who are genuinely afraid of you probably should be.

He's a mustard-cutting joke-making cup taker
who sits in the Ritz drinking six packs and routing for the Rams

With plan in hand he stands as man

Living like a six-figure stickfigure
drawn on a man sized swath of sloth

Crack-caller caws keep me crazy
CAW! CAW! CAW!

American Male - A Guide Book

- Tomb-raiding wife beaters
- Self-styled gadget mongers
- Sprawl-dwelling bumper stickers
- Inky toke-takers
- Traning wheel assemblers
- Old farts in golf carts
- Doors fans

The story of the creation of the perfect mental postcard to yourself.

Community radio stations.

Hello World

I've decided to start blogging more again. At the very least, blogging is therapeutic and forces concentration on one thing for longer than I've had a chance to think about anything over the last month or two. Work has been almost torturous as we ramp up to launch a new video service. When a friend commented today on my "boyishness" I almost choked on my tongue: been feeling stern, strict, stressed, sour... anything but boyish. I suppose it's nice to know that total relief is only one letter of resignation away, but I think I'll stick it out instead and see this puppy through.

Everytime I get excited talking about my job I think it's because I've realized a dream to see big ideas through to their completion. But man, these labor pains suck.

Anyway, of all things to focus my brief blog concentration on I had to choose work. Wish I could find the attention span to notice more than the fizzy bubbles at the top of the rest of the world for a while, I miss it. I have been almost completely single for, like, months. I don't even remember how to smile shyly at strangers. I considered it a personal success to get my gym shoes to work, even though I haven't used the gym there in months.

Sometimes I do a kind of exercise which involves slowly manipulating a 25lb weight around while doing a kind of yoga/butoh/tai chi - my own invention. It is totally more fun if you are stoned.

Plan of record on this blog going forward: I may correct less typos. I might blather on about meaningless things. I might post crude, offensive or downright stupid things. But I'm going to post more often and I think generally you'll like what you see, unless you think the above is lame, in which case you won't.

Dear Universe,

What I'd like for Christmas:

• One (1) Danish contortionist/masseuse/model/stripper girlfriend who makes her own whiskey, grows flowers, herbs and marijuana, plays banjo, likes to talk about technology while seducing me and can help me conquer trivia night.
• Bill O'Reilly's head on a silver platter.
• One (1) stick of shiny red lipstick so I can write funny slogans on forehead of above.
• An all-expenses paid trip to visit Matt when he gets to Thailand, if he's going there, and Corinne, who will give me:
• One (1) month of naked scuba diving lessons.

Sincerely,
Rob

Tomorrow

I had this terrifying vision of the future:

Unrest in the mideast, fomented by the Bushist war in Iraq, leads to a dramatic increase in Islamicist terror events in France and Turkey. Driven by the ensuing chaos, Europeans shift to a more anti-eastern stance, tightening boarders and immigration standards, thereby causing protests among Muslim populations of the world. Further terrorist attacks follow, including dramatic bombings in Paris and Barcelona. Europe and America align together somewhat with Syria as the known enemy. Internal protests in these countries are increasingly handled with force.

An American political situation leads to a staged pullout of American forces from Iraq, eventually leading to civil war and genocide. Ironically, democracy prevails.

In a rational decision following recent history, Iran refuses any international investigation into its nuclear energy and weapons efforts and moves successively to the right politically. Iran invades the decimated Iraq and a new government rapidly emerges that holds power over both lands. The United Nation of Islam is officially unrecognized by the UN and the US, however it quickly finds powerful trading partners in some of the former soviet states and Russia, as well as some developing nations in Africa.

Syria, the UNI, a freshly royalist Saudi Arabia, and a few smaller islamic countries join in a collective under the leadership of a powerful Islamic cleric to protect conservative Islamic culture and further the economic power of member nations. All member countries formally withdraw from the United Nations, leading to a crisis in that organization. The UN forms a new structure consisting of 11 "premier" nations, including the US, Russia, France, Germany, China, Japan and Brazil. These nations can veto UN measures with a majority vote among them, a 2/3 majority of them can essentially control the UN's increasingly powerful military powers.

Increasing polarization in the world leads to strategic plays for Africa. The United States, lead by a powerful Democrat president, gives billions of dollars in food and medical aid to larger countries in that continent, with the requirement that large numbers of the population of "donor" countries join and train as members of the UN "peace-keeping" armed forces. A populist uprising occurs across Africa, islamicist ideas spread among the general populous, creating revolutionary wars against pro-UN governments.

Bird flu erupts in southeast Asia. The general tide of the virus is contained and controlled by an isolation of infected groups, but parallel efforts to create a vaccine unleash an adapting virus which turns out to be much harder to stop.

Corkscrews

terminal illness
[travel]
sound policy
[noise]
dirty mind
[germs]
deadline
[rigor]
open mind
[operation]
moving picture
[ghost]

Rolling with it

Life is like jazz.

I'm tumbling upwards through holymotherofgod rapids like a salmon. But I keep forgetting:

- Friends' birthdays
- What I wanted to do with my life
- Parties/events I'm supposed to go to
- How to talk to strangers
- How to behave around friends and could-be-friends
- Who I was before I became this ridiculous cadaverous rictus of a soulless man-skeleton
- Why I decided it was a good idea to keep living in this old and out-moded country
- Good lord what have I created?

Now it's clear: I am a hickey on the neck of God's slutty mistress.

Not smoking, anablogging, the big picture, etc.

A smoking ban in public places in Washington is coming. This promises to change my life fairly significantly, probably for the better. Regardless, I enjoyed being the me that I was. I feel the pressures of becoming the person I swore I'd never be gradually encroaching on me and, quite frankly, I'm almost terrified. I know this might sound ludicrous, but I feel like I'm about to shed a tired old skin and emerge some new and more frightening monster... and the simple prospect of not having my good old after-work retreat into bad habits is only the latest part of it, but it's a kicker. Some days, it's like I'm stuck swimming across a canal that's wider than it looked from the shore. Some days I'm swimming toward a mirage. And the prospect looms: you could be just like the jerks on jetskis who are getting there faster.

Well-established rungs are well-established for a reason, and I hate them.

You know when you have to poke your head up out of the water and you look around when you're in the middle of something, how that breaks your concentration, how you get into the new groove of drowning before you realize you're not swimming anymore? You get your internet connection cut off because you forgot to set up automatic billing and were too pathetically disinterested to pay the bills that came in. Or you aren't dating the woman you might completely love because you're too big of a pussy to upset the statis quo. And you're getting older and wiser and sadder and happier, all at the same time. You aren't sleeping like you used to. You aren't becoming your heroes, you're mocking them, diverging into complexity. How oxygen brings clarity.

Last night I went to an event at a bar and read a few chunks out of old journals. Journals on paper: anablogs. If you ever want to realize how ridiculous you are, read a poem or a letter you never sent or a list of goals from the past to a crowd of strangers. I think quitting smoking has been on every one of my goal lists for the last 4 years. See also: exercise more, stop this pattern of short passionate relationships, master something though focus, discipline, instead of constantly searching, messing around. Be better. I'll tell you what: writing a list doesn't matter if there's some primal-seeming reason you're not going to make that list disappear in a mess of checkmarks. Life to me is sometimes a way to stay interested, interesting.

Poke your head up out of the water you're swimming in, you know what you get? A picture that will haunt you. Something to wake up to every morning every day when you're wondering what to spend your moments on. The seeds of strategy. Information culture fosters a data-driven, plugged-in, I-know-too-much-to-do-much thing that's starting to feel like seaweed caught in my feet or, perhaps, a log I have to push as I swim so I can scan the infinite horizon.

In short, everything I'm doing is in need of a more developed plan. Everything demands to know where it's going, what it exists for, why I allow it to inertiate, grow. Everything requires a requirements document. A plan. A new list of better, more reasonable goals. I need to create a second to take it all in and think.

The future is busy being born. The guy in the speed boat next to me is telling me to just keep swimming. My friends and allies are smiling at me from the sidelines.

I intend to streamline the hell out of the information raft I'm pushing. I'll let the viscous shit of my tired lifestyle slide off my skin like afterbirth. And I'm going to find the neck of the son of a bitch on my ankle and leave him floating facedown behind me.

Thank You

At the start of the traditional month of thankfulness, I'd like to offer my warm and sincere thanks to the following people and things for making the world a better place:

• The porn industry
• Both of the girls who have slept with me
• The people who make and distribute free filesharing software
• The person who puts Adult Swim episodes up on that server I know about
• Food
• Your girlfriend and her healthy breasts, for her generous loving attention whenever I need it
• The inventor of gummy bears
• Corinne and Corinne's Fabulous Ass, just 'cause
• Drugs and alcohol
• Henry Rollins, the homeless, the Disney corportation, conservatives and other people and things who generally get too few pats on the back because everything they do is so damn annoying.
• Ninjas, because they're awesome
• Hell, for not existing

Hahaha. Ok, I'm in a strange mood today.

Cat's Cradle

I've been dreaming up a powerful new way to communicate. Imagine that everything in the world is at some point along an infinite series of strings (which represent sets) stretched between outer extremes. That is, if a line existed between, say, the information entities Dada and BobRoss you could quickly and deeply describe something if it lined up at about point NormanRockwell on that scale. Everything fits on the Dada/BobRoss string. If you could also say that the thing in question was Corona of Pabst to Guiness you'd know much more about it. Adding Madonna of Twiggy to Dolly would just about define it. Maybe.

Actually, I'm not sure I know what I'm talking about. Hm.

Stuff I really need to do and I'll try to get around to

• Outline new art project idea along with a schedule and see if I can figure out how to do it and retain some kind of sanity at the end.
• Call the parents and remind them of my name and that I am the middle one and that I miss them.
• Ask gym for refund for last few months of rare attendance. Remedy previous.
• Replace smokes with shots of liquid vitamin supplement I purchased recently. Replace whiskey with... organic ginger beer or something.
• Start doing a wry weekly cartoon to keep sense of humor and creative output polished and productive.
• Figure out why the Washington Ferry system thinks I owe them $176
• Start attending mobile conferences everyone else seems weary of instead of just losing sleep over building the stuff that my colleagues will be talking about.
• Become more of an expert in music rights, mobile media and delivery, project management, providing creative direction.
• Generally deal with stress better. Blog as catharsis. Run for freedom. Inhale, exhale deeply. Smile more. Be thankful.

Seattle

The sky here looks like this right now:

The New Philosophy

Meme jump to freedom.

Be outrageously giftalicious.

ATD - Attention To Details. God is in them.

What you focus on will grow or fester, depending on your intention.

If you can't control it, be persistent, but patient.

The medium is only an important part of the message.

Communicate/connect/interface with style.

Document! Publish! The future will (likely) thank you.

You can do anything you set your mind to, provided you are willing to do it enough times a day for a long enough period of time. If the glove doesn't fit, you mustn't commit!

Prayer and meditation and dreaming are, for most intents and purposes, the same damn thing. But they're good for you.

There are plenty of good excuses to do an interpretive dance and/or propose an outrageous idea.

Don't allow other people to apply their morality systems to your own thinking unless you are their neighbor or are trying to sell them something.

Horoscopes are an example of something that is both worthless and interesting. Breasts belonging to married women are another. See also: politics, cats, the entire continent of Antarctica, People magazine.

Don't show up on first dates drunk. Also, you shouldn't be blogging right now.

Choose your own adventure

1) You wake up in a blossom of light. The backlit silhouette of an angel is stroking your head. She is the Mona Lisa.
You realize that you are lying on a cloud bank during a sunrise; the gentle poinks of harps titilate and surround you, lifting your body in time to the music. You are a marionette with thousands of stroking strings.

Do you:

A) Freak out and demand freedom and free will (Go to 2)
B) Relax and go with it (Go to 2)
C) Sing in the shower, tell The Aristocrats joke, give Mona a kiss, have a chortle and slowly make love to her (Go to 2)

2) Nothing changes, this is heaven.

The End

As the thing I love in my head grows due to the healing energy I emit from my love buttons

Let us pause to take a good look at it:

Look how wonderful it is.

Man, I wish I could frenchkiss that. I am the humping dog to its couch. I prostrate myslef before it. My dancing echoes its energy. I think I get it, am gotten by it.

Shaking, helpless

Gaining control of self, looking around

Oh God my devious glowing love buttons are white hot as hell.

Tendrels of super-heated gas, and I'm tripping on my feet while I juggle.

Where did these curious things come from?

This IS Normal

Among other things, I'm designing a hammock and framework to be slung between two bikes. It's really nice to be working on something you can tell your friends about, even if the response generally involves a cocked eyebrow or a straight up chuckle. The idea is that we can give nice people (read: lithe young semi-naked hotties and their beers) rides across the desert in style. We also want to be able to take the contraption off the bikes and use it as a nice stationary hammock stand back at the camp for our (read: us) personal use. I'm not sure that any of the current ideas I have are workable, but it's been really fun bringing this up with people and getting their takes. Everything about this calls for reasonable changes in scope (it would be much easier to make a trailer with a seat in it) but I'm convinced that sometimes sanity is just another name for lack of vision.

I had a dream that I was watching a surreal dadaist theatre production staring John Malkovitch. There were moments of nudity, masks, an actress with faces on both sides of her head... but the interesting part was that I slowly discovered that the other members of the audience were part of the show. Occasionally they would leave the room, play musical chairs, flirt with me, appear on stage, etc. Playing the part of an audience member requires very discrete acting, and I think the starlets played their roles admirably.

Maybe I was part of the production too, I'm not sure.

I think I'm going to spend a week keeping a video log. Two or three updates a day to point out interesting or funny finds. Something for the grandkids, something for me. We'll see.

Reboot

Feeling tilted. Clumsy bastard, somehow I dropped and broke a big chunk of my social life. Waking up nauseous, shaking, as I ride out a rare bit of serious turbulence and self reflection. I've been finding inspiration in making lists, re-learning how to be creative, pulling away from my old work/bar-centric lifestyle, getting exercise and generally running more than ever on instinct and drive. I hope to be on firmer grounds very soon. In the meantime: I'm sorry I missed your party, sorry I've been a bit edgy, sorry I left early last night, sorry I can't just be a chipper little camper. Rebooting and will be back to good old ecstatic self soon.

Woohoo!

Got a promotion at work. Right on. Having strange the-world-can-be-nice/stress/I-need-one-of-those-Japanese-fake-girlfriend-laps moment.

Also I want to buy yards and yards of this stuff.

Dentist's chair

I bought a dentist's chair for my apartment. $50 for 500 pounds of sweet adjustable sweetness!

Gratuitous me-ness

Obligatory my name in Flickr letters post:

Bad dog. No link for you.

Lalala

I had this song stuck in my head from childhood and called my brother to figure out what it was, whereupon I promptly forgot it. I was, however, able to describe the light blue 8-track tape it was on and, since we only had one 8-track tape, he remembered it: Toto, Crazy Horse. Need to buy it to include in aggregated video of summer adventures (after I receive my video camera from recent short video contest win and after I have sufficiently recovered from said upcoming summer adventures).

I've succeeded in remembering a joke about pirates, which means I've told it to every person who has come near me with a joke in the last week. This is a surprisingly large number of people. I must look like I need a laugh.

I don't feel like I need a laugh though, any more than usual at least. Things have been incredible. Tonight I will have german sausages, for example.

A random person at work stopped me in the hall to say that he and a colleague saw one of my pictures of my fun time at Seattle's Gay Pride parade show up in a Flickr screensaver for Mac. I had the strange desire to confirm my blatant and well-expressed hetero status with him - but restrained myself, instead flirted coyly, batted my fake eyelashes and massaged my undeveloped breasts quite girlishly.

meh

Falling Girl

Apparently everybody in the world has already seen this, but I like it too much not to host and post.

Bigger original version here.

Horned Beast

A funny drawing I made with some friends at the bar. I made all the cool parts.

Unfortunately notable

RNWK hits the mythic 7.22 valuation...

Hahahahahahahahooooo weee

I'm so damned grumpy all the time, I'm turning into my grandfather. I'm going to make a concerted effort to laugh my head off at anything remotely funny for a little while and force myself to lighten up. Starting.. now. Maybe I should start hanging out more with my team at work, the funniest people I know. Maybe I should just invest in a bunch of recreational drugs and hookers. Are hookers funny? How could they not be?

On rollerskates

Girls naked on rollerskates
Cups that overfloweth
Courtship nudes
I am their damn you man

Melting smooth you bare
Strawberry reality bruises
Empty judgement hurts
Pulse you cannot hear

Limber betrayal girl smarts
Make my friends wet
Leave me waiting
Bastard wallfighter

Peanut
Hello?

goobledegook

I've been checked out, busy as hell. Forgetting to take care of the baby. I can't even hear him. That screaming, incessant... has that always been there? I can't remember. Joy, that's what's causing those tears, that's what I think.

Gasoline is uncomfortable on your skin. It feels cold, evaporating... but does it actually do damage? Does it eat at you? Absorb? I can't remember that either. It doesn't matter.

These people, these little rambling people with their little rambling lives and their goddamn documents: these mongrels all look the same - but I think some of them know. It's out, your little secret, and it won't be long 'til they begin emulating what works. Adaptation, survival of the fittest, music of the spheres.

You know what? When they do... some of us are going to try so hard to change and the power just won't be there. The dry heaves, they call it. Unsuspended disbelief.

I was in a book of some sort. Cheap paper, mid-sixties or so, the ear of the dog. Smelled like a bitch too. But published, at least, and good for a few nights of solace for its creator, I remember that much.

Some of us gave up our precious lives to check behind that damned comet. Can you guess what was there?

Not a goddamned thing.

This Love Which Sustains Us

I don't know if the story illustrated in my previous post is a hoax or not, honestly. It was posted on the web at 3/31... but I think it's kind of irrelevant whether this really happened or not. The logic and the pictures on this page have been haunting me regardless.

One of my favorite short stories is Steven King's Survivor Type, out of his collection Skeleton Crew. A guy is stuck alone on a desert island equipped with (rather convieniently) a pound of cocaine and a surgical kit. After he breaks an ankle he amputates his foot, and ends up eating it. The wound starts getting infected so he amputates a bit more. He's still hungry. So on and so forth. In the end he's a legless torso eating the fingers of one of his hands, thinking about the wonders of modern prosthetics and singing the theme song from McDonalds...

I had the idea for a short story or poem, a mashup of Survivor Type and my previous post, in which a couple amputate and consume each other bit by bit, becoming more and more committed with each bite. Maybe at the end their mortal kiss becomes a mutual gnawing of each other's faces.

What a horrible vision. Contrasts nicely, though, to the image of the old couple sharing a bottle of wine as they rock together on the homestead porch. Corporate, kind of.

CANCEL!

Uh oh

I just sent my parents the link to my blog. Probably they already know, but I'm outed now. Make nice comments to say hello.

Carpooling

I've been too busy to blog much, and my laptop is broken, so here's a chunk of IM:

me (10:08:09 AM): http://broken.typepad.com/b/2005/03/sight_in_carpoo.html
millty (10:08:24 AM): good morning
millty (10:09:39 AM): what am I reading here with this carpool stuff? I'm still tired.
me (10:09:58 AM): it's funny. it's a hearse in the carpool lane with only a driver
millty (10:10:13 AM): AH! It's a hearse! That is funny.
millty (10:10:28 AM): The picture is tiny. I thought it was an old surburban
me (10:10:39 AM): yeah, me too at first. I had to click to get it
millty (10:11:11 AM): Next time I get pulled over for driving in the carpool lane I'm gonna say I got a corpse in the trunk.
me (10:11:59 AM): or you should actually have a corpse in your trunk! say, pat.
me (10:12:18 AM): I wonder if you need a whole corpse for it to count?
me (10:12:29 AM): just having a head would save you so much room..
millty (10:12:50 AM): I think this line of thinking should possibly not be written.

RoboPope

As we respect Life almost to the point of ridiculousness, it would be out of the question to simply let the Pope die. Our earlier efforts to ventilate His Holiness, followed by outfitting Him with a set of artificial Lungs, were successful in pushing him beyond the natural extent of His Life, but as he approaches more general systems failure we believe that more drastic measures are in order. We have decided that it is God's will that we remove the Pope's Brain and Spinal Column and install Them in a bio-enhancement unit, which we expect will continue to extend the Life of His Holiness almost indefinitely. Said bio-enhancement unit will be incorporated into a larger Blessingbot/Popemobile, which will directly take instructions from His Holiness via his Brain and Spinal Column, so that the Pope can continue to bless things and make speeches and go cruising and crush all who oppose him and stuff.

Got Web?

Suhhhweeeet! Robby's got a domain name again, and a new apartment...

I just signed up for the ridiculous domain name of slipperyshudder.com (which isn't anything interesting yet, so I not linking to it here). I think the name is kind of extremely sexy (which is nice) and also might work well as a way to host pictures (shudder, shutter hurhurhur...). It came from an automatic random domain name generator, which I think is a just pretty basic PHP refresh script thingy, but it did well by me. Anyway, it's kind of nuts for a guy who is at least partly a web designer to not have a place (besides our beloved Throb) to show off his work. So yeah...

Also moving to an uber-hip retro brickish thing on Second Ave here in Seattle called the Humphrey. Embarrassingly, it's a studio, but that actually works pretty well for me, because my computer IS my entertainment center. Also it's likely I'll be able to have sexual intercourse overlooking the Crocodile. God I've been in this city too long...

I (heart) the ellipses baby!

Pretty much...

Oh, also, to all the people who are finding my blog because I like the using the word "porm": You either can't spell, are ESL, or you are an extremely strange creative weirdo like me. In any case, welcome, and I hope you find something you like. If you can't find good porn, try here.

Knocking at my chamber door

I have to ask you to help me. I remember reading something in the last month or so, and it's been sneaking into my thoughts and I need to appeal to my web buddies to help...

It was something about ravens in the Northwest. Basically, I read somewhere that the characteristics of the calls of ravens in different regions of the Northwest match up nicely with the characteristics of Native American languages from that region. Sounds specific to a given tribe of Native Americans can be uniquely found in the ravens (and crows?) which inhabit that region today.

I'm fascinated by this, but haven't found the right googlestring to lead me to the source researchers. Help? A prize to the winner!

thanks,
Rob

Update: Found it! Just some guy's theory, from the What I Believe, But Cannot Prove site.

Dancing Matt Breakdown

Here's how somebody reviewed my friend Matt's dancing video, scene by scene:

My review of the video location by location, on a scale of 1 to 10:

Beijing: 5/10, Matt displays good moves, but the poor camerawork brings down the overall quality of the scene
Hanoi: 6.5/10, Good camerawork but you can tell Matt is distracted by the oncoming traffic
Delhi: 8.5/10, Great scene, loved it when Matt turned to the ox kind of trying to get it to dance with him somehow
Moscow: 24/10, Matt displays some of his best moves here youcan really tell he's getting into it; add to that the location of the shot in Red Square... simply amazing
Bangkok: 7/10, Speaking of Bangkok I wonder if Matt got any from that Thai hooker
Agra, India: 11/10, The only thing bringing this scene down is the camera work (shaky/tilted), Matt looks great though, showing good moves and a greater range of mobility, moving back and forth along whatever it is he is standing on
Prague: 4/10, Probably my least favorite scene, being shot in Europe, it lacks the exoticism of the other scenes
Angkor Wat: 10/10, Matt loves it, I love it, we love it
Bengal Jungle: 6/10, Dancing in circles with his head down... dance goes from endearing to, um, not as endearing but still bizarre in a cool way
Los Angeles: 6.5/10, Los Angeles, Shmosh Shmangeles; extra points awarded to Matt for again danicng in traffic (sort of) for the sake of art
Suhbataar, Mongolia: 3.5/10, Watch Matt dance, at this point of the trip I think even he's thinking, "Why the fuck am I in Mongolia?"
Mount Kilimanjaro: 43/10, The first time I watched it this scene gave me goosebumps, I swear. I was amazed that he was going to all these exotic cities but now I see him dancing on the top of a fucking mountain? Wow.
Siberia: 19.5/10, Another favorite, points for doing his thing in such a small space; for some reason this is another one of those locations tha made me say "wow."
Monte Alban, Mexico: 8.5/10, Loved the wide shot and it looks like Matt is showing off some really good moves but it makes it hard to see Matt's expression of joy. The look on his face while he's dancing is part of what makes this so great
Tsavo, Kenya: 31/10, Running giraffe=hilarious; I was going to dock points becuase it looks like Matt almost fell but when he recovers he gets going like a maniac, like he's showing that giraffe who's the boss
Impenetrable Forest, Uganda: 20/10, Tremendous shot; even though all you can see is a head and an arm bobbing around through the jungle it's one of the best scenes in the video; another indescribably "wow" location.
Yangon, Myanmar: 15.5/10, Since I have no idea where this is exactly, it was originally my least favorite scene, but I love Matt silouhetted against the building all lighted up at night, he's actully showing some semblance of rhythm in this scene too
Westport, CT: 10/10, Matt is happy to be home, so are his dogs. I don't know if this is following the timeline of his journey or if he edited the pieces into any particular order, but if he did I think this scene should've gone last
Seattle: Dancing baby=awww=10/10
Times Square: 9/10, Good location but nothing spectacular about the scene, what I found hilarious though were the people who walked by and didn't give Matt a second glance, as if this guy dancing like a jackass was nothing out of the ordinary

Final score out of a total 200 possible: 258.5, making this the best movie ever made. If Citizen Kane, Jurassic Park, The French Connection and The Godfather (parts 1 and 2, but not 3) were all somehow combined into a 3 minute film, this is what it would look like.

The Pheonix

You.

I really can't help myself when we're like this.

The tension. The torture.

I am a trembling, whirling pervert. You are a perfect thing of nature, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Inside you is a world of young and ancient beauty.

I hope it doesn't hurt too much.

Every emotion I make cuts you deeper.

With each stroke you are less yourself and more a thing I have created.

Our love burns and burns and burns you up.

There's a whole bunch of these things here. I didn't make the pictures, that's the idea. Via BoingBoing, I think.

Hardcore Porm

so
once

it began
not misfocused
nonoverworn
antilistless

uberblissful
a river eddy
and the normalcy paradigm
when it works best expands my circle of friends and
"darth" could be said to be a word that's southern accent bliss for "death"

a world full of limitless delicious brilliant dark and light and wonder and
yet for me it's difficult to blossom anything that I think matters to anybody but myself

- poor
- as
- king

a blip
of arrogant
bliss

Voodoo Lady

Voodoo Lady
Ween
(Chocolate & Cheese)

Voodoo Lady
Shakin' that stick and drivin' me crazy
Your eyes look red and hazy
Doin' that stuff that you do
Messin' me up with your voodoo

You drive me crazy with that
Boogie oogie oogie oogie oogie oogie oogie oogie
You drive me crazy with that
Boogie boogie boogie

Your lips are hot and spicy
Servin' up red beans and rice
At midnite she's a-howlin' and stompin'
Makin' love to the gators in the swampin'

[chorus]

I feel you now inside me
Never once did you deny me
Doin' that stuff that you do
Knockin' me out with your voodoo

(Repeat Chorus)

Voodoo lady, shakin' that stick, drivin' me crazy
Voodoo lady, oh yeah

Boogie boogie boogie boogie
[repeats]

(Repeat first verse)
(Repeat Chorus)

Animated glyphs

In the future written words will be replaced by successions of short animated loops. For example:

I quit (soon).

I'm quitting smoking with the help of nicotine patches on 1/22/05. I'll blog my dreams. I've started early to provide something of a control experiment.

The last time I used the patch I dreamed that I killed Jesus (and lots of people like him) in a previous life and that the big bad wolf is absolutely terrifyingly real. This should be good.

Did you mean...

Victim

I want to cut a small chunk off of you for my collection.
In return you can have a small chunk of me.
I can only accept a chunk that is equal to or smaller than the largest chunk I myself am willing to part with.
If you feel you need to give me a bigger chunk, and it's too late to change your mind, I will compensate by giving you a few chunks out of my collection, at my discretion.
Once you get your chunk or chunks you can do with them as you like, but please respect them: These chunks used to be chunks of people. If you don't know what to do with your chunks I suggest crafts.

There is also another thing.
For a limited time I am willing to conduct an experiment in which a full chunk exchange takes place. You can have all of the chunks off of me in exchange for all of the chunks off of you.
Naturally a proper courtship period is required before we make this commitment. A comprehensive chunk valuation is par for the course.
And since I'm not sure chunks can be reassembled, as the sum is greater than the whole, all decisions are final.

I have some fairly nice chunks, and eagerly await your response.

This damn thing

I've been such a rare-posting bastard. I've got a strange case of the holy-crap-look-how-life-turned-outs, a minor bit of reflective depressive deliciousness and a bit of a cold to boot.

I've been keeping up on the world, I picked the winning pub quiz team again and learned that the capital of Namibia is Windhoek.

I've been meeting interesting and wonderful people.

I've been thinking about what to get my family for Christmas. In fact, I've been thinking about announcing outright that I would rather celebrate Festivus instead and forgo gifts and stuff altogether. I think maybe I like it too much though. Giving up Christmas is kind of like quitting smoking, only it's probably worse for society.

I have to rent a vehicle to visit my parents in North Central Washington. I should probably just get one of my own. I fantasize about an old Jag or Cherokee, depending on what I want to be when I grow up.

I've been thinking about becoming a professional craftsman or something. I want to chop or sculpt or machine stuff again. Maybe I just need a shop. I want to make more stuff that would last should the apocalypse occur in the next few years. I see visions of goddamned rabbits all the time.

Square boxes from the future

It's raining flat
Square boxes from the future
quantum bitmaps
children for sale
A blue state of mind

Exact happy bounces
the seduction of a ripple
captured moments of meaning
for someone who isn't me

This aching life is born of
Square boxes from the future
dimensionless time
echoless voices and
emotionless sadness

Soundfree falling ashes
betrayed by their existence
the will of the people
the average man
and someone who isn't me

Things to do instead of getting all bummed out if you live in the northern hemisphere and you have Seasonal Affected Disorder or otherwise get depressed as the holidays approach

• Cook something delicious you've never made before
• Kiss someone delicious you've never kissed before
• Go dancing at a gay bar
• Masturbate to the 1812 Overture
• Get a tattoo or other body mod
• Drink yourself silly at a dive with strange alcoholics. Goal: Get a ride home on a stranger's Harley.
• Learn how to knit, or cross-stitch, or paint like Jackson Pollack
• Write a poem. When you're done, show it to no-one, rip it up into little pieces, put the pieces in different trash cans around your house. Kurt Vonnegut suggested this to me one time. It works.
• Start wrestling around with one of your friends the next time you're sharing a couch together
• Invite your friends to a party to make Things in a Jar.
• Shave your head, or something else
• Learn how to Butoh. Do it every morning when you wake up.
• Get a beer with the ex you don't call enough
• Learn the rules of cricket
• Ask the hottest friend-o'-the-opposite-sex you've made recently to loan you her favorite book
• Create an annotated list of groceries. Why do you need that. Are you sure?
• Go to a cemetary to take pictures
• Speak in tongues
• Levitate. I know you can do it.
• Update your website
• Go to a random church or mosque or temple. You probably shouldn't tell them about the 1812 thing.
• Do something obsurdly romantic for the person who gets your rocks off
• Wear a nicotine patch just for the hell of it. Sleep with it on, you get really cool dreams.
• Make a porn collage
• Listen

A long fall into darkness

I need to do something dangerous and/or life threatening and/or life affirming. I want to taste fear without necessarily getting hurt or dying and to walk away laughing my ass off. This is a call for suggestions.

Tin Foil Hats

Elaine and I had the idea to spend some time making tin foil hats to protect ourselves from the government's mind control beams. Looks like we sat on this one too long: BoingBoing reports on some college students at UW who beat us to the punch while satirizing LaRouche supporters.

Belltown Pizza

Rebecca is Dan's ex-wife!

Lame Prank Du Jour

I signed up at a conservative singles site while bored this weekend. They kicked me out, maybe because my catch phrase was "Have fun being a soccer mom." We all need our little bits of revenge.

Email Nonsense

Jason and I tried to come up with a list of funny email addresses after he hired a woman named Flora Wu. Her email is fwu@fakeurl.com.
Fwu. Funny huh? (I made the "fakeurl" part up, turns out there really is a crappy site there.) Truth (maybe) is stranger (and funnier) than fiction.

Happy Deliciousness - Choose Your Own Adventure

For Millty, who thinks I'm depressing:

You wake up and discover you can fly. You levitate off your bed and, slightly chilled, discover you also have the power of psychokinesis: Your bathrobe gets up and jumps onto your outstretched arms, wrapping itself tightly around you and giving you a loving hug of warmness. Your cats are yowling at this craziness.

Do you:

A) Open your window and fly out? Go to 1.

B) Call the cutest person you know? Go to 2.

C) Work on your painting? Go to 3.

1.

You open your window with the briefest thought and fly out. You roughly miss your target, but you discover that the physical world kind of melts around you and you slip through the window sill. It feels electric.

Once you're outside, the world explodes in color. You can see infrared, ultraviolet, superblue and transcendental transparency. A crystaline city grows up around you and spectral angels orgasm symphonies from saxophones made of rare African hardwoods. A polyspectrum warmth eminates from your body. Flowers burst to attention and focus on your raging sexual genius. The very air ripples with delicious energy. This continues forever.

The End.

2.

The hottest person you know shows up at your door and sings you a love song. The air reverberates with pulsing responsive lifeness in fractal rhythm. The world quakes and shifts like falling sand, revealing a utopia you always knew was there. Your beings intertwine in modulating fields of color. Republicans explode into ripples of warmth and acceptance. A seed, part of you, part of itself, finds roots between you and expands rapidly to encompass the universe.

Do you:

A) Introduce a jazz subtheme? Go to 2A.

B) Frolic? Go to 2B.

C) Just continue making love? Go to 2C.

3.

You lift a brush with your mind and a flock of birds issues forth. Flicking your wrist causes an army of bare-breasted Tahitian girls to dance across your universal canvas. You draw your hand across your space and a multitude of galaxies are born. Your can easily handle the freakishly limitless possibilities.

The End.

2A.

The core music of the Earth subsumes you. All of the discrete physical elements of the world ecstacy like the musical segment of a Pixar movie. The molecules that make you up tango and salsa and backflip and the entire world freaks out and blossoms and grows forever.

The End.

2B.

Terrorists eat psychedelic mushrooms. Handlebar mustaches are made illegal. Mean girls dissolve into warm puddles of puppies. If you are male your penis is a rippling oak tree. If you are female you defeat everything you ever hated about yourself. Everything you look at becomes simultaneously more simple and more clear and more complex and more beautiful. Your parents are bookends around the greatest collection of stories ever told. You watch yourself and your children evolve around you to be better than you will ever be.

The End.

2C.

Your sense of self doesn't go away exactly, it becomes a spinning quark, as does that of your lover. Your anuses are filled with a divine light. You rain delicious scrumptiousnesses from Aegean cookbooks on the world's no-longer starving children. The sky becomes one hundred thousand humping vaginas. Everything tickles because you are so alive.

The End.

Post election random conversational word-grab

Got short?
It's along the curveline...?
Jimmy's gonna dig this.
This is continuous.
It's not chuck.
I've been thinking about you.
I really don't want that popping into my brain.
See you later.
You know, and then you're there and I'm not there.
I can't even describe it.
Never.
I'm paranoid now. I'm totally uncomfortable.
It's uncool, you know?
Concubine.
Did you get a call from work? 'Cause that's what just happened.

Seneca warned Nero

"However many you put to death, you will never kill your successor."

Random burst of negativity

Some nonsense:

Screw the Floons,
the nasty fucks,
they cannot burst
their empty worlds.
They won't amount to much.

They have no umph
they have no verve
they have no sense of love.
They have no problem wearing lies,
their hands are wearing gloves.

I died a day an hour ago
when time was bloomed in flower
when all the Floons, the fertile Floons
lived empty dreams in power

Screw the Fl