Moving from one scary bathroom to another
our American journey continues AS IF it never began
Awaiting decisions about time and place
the girls have come out to play
But I wait still
and it seems like forever since I knew myself
Thursday
[Post Originally Untitled]
actually, nothing much to say, but here goes:
- belts are addictive
- puppies were a hoax
- belts are addictive
- puppies were a hoax
Monday
What I have learned is that when Anne has something to say, it's always worth a good listen and a serious consideration. She's the most thoughtful (full of thought) person I know. Thus, she's often spot on with the important stuff. I cherish her opinion even when my own stubborn personality results in bad personal decisions or foolhardy gambles. And, she's never said "I told you so."
Where have we gone? If the senate flips and the house holds, we've got serious problems as Americans. In Maryland, democratic voters outnumber republicans 5-to-1 and Ehrlich is out-polling Townsend. And, Connie, dear Connie will probably win the 8th district...again. Where are we going? The saddest part is we, as Americans, have given up. We have numbed ourselves to the obvious and have taken the easy route to our own demise. Most of the educated world look upon us, collectively, as suicidal idiots.
I've said many times during Bush's (Bush Jr.) tenure that I wish I were dumb and didn't process all the mayhem. But, I ain't and I do. It's a mess and it may get a whole lot uglier. The beautiful thing is, experts project the lowest voter turnout in 60 years - since World War II, when the voting population was but a fraction of those eligible now.
I cringe when I think of Junior flying all over the country, poorly reading buzz phrases to cheering and adoring audiences or zealots and hand-picked campaign stooges. I cringe when I think of how my taxes are spent. I cringe when I see the little man on the TeeVee and I hold my breath and hold my nose while I listen to random words and phrases that make no sense to me or to him. I want to cry as much as I want to laugh.
It may not be in my lifetime, but the big karma pendulum is bound to swing back someday. At least, that's what gets me through the day.
Where have we gone? If the senate flips and the house holds, we've got serious problems as Americans. In Maryland, democratic voters outnumber republicans 5-to-1 and Ehrlich is out-polling Townsend. And, Connie, dear Connie will probably win the 8th district...again. Where are we going? The saddest part is we, as Americans, have given up. We have numbed ourselves to the obvious and have taken the easy route to our own demise. Most of the educated world look upon us, collectively, as suicidal idiots.
I've said many times during Bush's (Bush Jr.) tenure that I wish I were dumb and didn't process all the mayhem. But, I ain't and I do. It's a mess and it may get a whole lot uglier. The beautiful thing is, experts project the lowest voter turnout in 60 years - since World War II, when the voting population was but a fraction of those eligible now.
I cringe when I think of Junior flying all over the country, poorly reading buzz phrases to cheering and adoring audiences or zealots and hand-picked campaign stooges. I cringe when I think of how my taxes are spent. I cringe when I see the little man on the TeeVee and I hold my breath and hold my nose while I listen to random words and phrases that make no sense to me or to him. I want to cry as much as I want to laugh.
It may not be in my lifetime, but the big karma pendulum is bound to swing back someday. At least, that's what gets me through the day.
Thursday
For the very first time
I am not enjoying my birthday
Historically it has been
A month-long celebration
With giddy anticipation beforeward
And
Giggly memories afterhand
I do not mind the getting older aspect
I cherish that
I am blessed with good friends
And a wondrous family
I have no private complaints
But I am weary
So worn and weak
My mind sleeps in the day
Any my body fails in the eve
This birthday floats with resentment
It would be wholly selfish
To celebrate things only personally
relevant
Sharing only my joy
Taking without giving
A life spanned by anchors
Leeuwenhoek to Robinson
Naked between the ears
Deaf to the rumblings
on earth
Happy birthday to me
Will we ever learn
Tuesday
So It Must Be True
I read it on the BBC
So it must be true
Our universe is doomed to collapse
Dark energy surviving
In place of all that ever…was
In a mere ten to twenty
Billion years
So I must say my goodbyes and I-love-yous now
Because I have many to say
They say the Nazis built an anti-gravity device
During World War II
Its absence from present science
Implies vast black worlds of secret aircraft
That might explain the UFOs people see
Over Area 51
Or the hidden tunnels under the White House
Full of lizard-men disguised as Freemasons
And a sniper is hunting me
For sins long ago committed
Stuff I swear was prayed away
In past lives
But as long as I keep running
No one will catch me
No one can catch me
An Abt colleague asked me the following three questions:
1) Why would I want to be on the EAC?
2) What makes this [EAC] different from any other well meaning, but ineffective committee?
3) Is the management so out of touch with the company that it needs to form a committee to report to it or is it just another bone from uncaring bean counters?
I open this question to all candidates. I'll begin:
1) I am nominating myself because I would like to actually see this council work (literally and figuratively). People have to believe that it will work. The council needs to lead. I maintain a healthy skepticism about many things in our world and I believe EAC will work if the appropriate effort is expended. This committee needs to be diverse in many ways and possess a collective goal-oriented ethic.
2) It is important for representatives to remember who they have been elected to represent. They are the voice of many. We have seen far too often, representative bodies (congress, for example) misrepresent their constitutes or only represent especially vocal special interests. I see it as my duty to move beyond dead-end, wheel-spinning committee work.
We need to make an effort to re-engage the employees of this company. The EAC representative - and I will do this if elected - must make an effort to meet and discuss concerns with each and every employee in their district. Surveys are great but one-on-one interactions provide the most robust data. Surely, some people will not want to participate, and we cannot force this, but it is our duty to make an earnest attempt to thoughtfully invigorate our telecommuting employees and the staff of the DC and Bethesda offices.
3) I've seen people roll their eyes and voice that we really don't need more committees. People sometimes take the time to complain, but not the time to learn or change. We need to make Abt more than just a place to work. I envision Abt as an intellectually stimulating, cross-pollinating, hotbed of pragmatic and progressive thought - the kind of place that is attractive to employee candidates and to potential clients. I've felt that the company has always had pockets of community, but we need to truly become more inclusive.
People see "management" as a sort of all-knowing (or un-knowing), unapproachable enigma. We are all people and we need to engage management as people first - not as a group that is fundamentally different. We are all working toward the same goals. As employee-owners of Abt, we must synthesize our attitudes and our behaviors as such. Participation, and I cannot emphasize this enough, is essential. We need to remain pragmatic while striving for higher goals.
1) Why would I want to be on the EAC?
2) What makes this [EAC] different from any other well meaning, but ineffective committee?
3) Is the management so out of touch with the company that it needs to form a committee to report to it or is it just another bone from uncaring bean counters?
I open this question to all candidates. I'll begin:
1) I am nominating myself because I would like to actually see this council work (literally and figuratively). People have to believe that it will work. The council needs to lead. I maintain a healthy skepticism about many things in our world and I believe EAC will work if the appropriate effort is expended. This committee needs to be diverse in many ways and possess a collective goal-oriented ethic.
2) It is important for representatives to remember who they have been elected to represent. They are the voice of many. We have seen far too often, representative bodies (congress, for example) misrepresent their constitutes or only represent especially vocal special interests. I see it as my duty to move beyond dead-end, wheel-spinning committee work.
We need to make an effort to re-engage the employees of this company. The EAC representative - and I will do this if elected - must make an effort to meet and discuss concerns with each and every employee in their district. Surveys are great but one-on-one interactions provide the most robust data. Surely, some people will not want to participate, and we cannot force this, but it is our duty to make an earnest attempt to thoughtfully invigorate our telecommuting employees and the staff of the DC and Bethesda offices.
3) I've seen people roll their eyes and voice that we really don't need more committees. People sometimes take the time to complain, but not the time to learn or change. We need to make Abt more than just a place to work. I envision Abt as an intellectually stimulating, cross-pollinating, hotbed of pragmatic and progressive thought - the kind of place that is attractive to employee candidates and to potential clients. I've felt that the company has always had pockets of community, but we need to truly become more inclusive.
People see "management" as a sort of all-knowing (or un-knowing), unapproachable enigma. We are all people and we need to engage management as people first - not as a group that is fundamentally different. We are all working toward the same goals. As employee-owners of Abt, we must synthesize our attitudes and our behaviors as such. Participation, and I cannot emphasize this enough, is essential. We need to remain pragmatic while striving for higher goals.
Friday
Today's best illegally posted sign:
"Can I use our Army for my personal grudge too."
"Other countries of course, bear the same risk. But there's no doubt his hatred is mainly directed at us," Bush said at a political fundraiser in Houston, Texas. "After all this is the guy who tried to kill my dad." - September 27, 2002
"Can I use our Army for my personal grudge too."
"Other countries of course, bear the same risk. But there's no doubt his hatred is mainly directed at us," Bush said at a political fundraiser in Houston, Texas. "After all this is the guy who tried to kill my dad." - September 27, 2002
Monday
MIDDLESPACE - the space between
So, I am routinely bombarded with "funny" forwarded e-mailings (from "friends"). For some reason people think I find this stuff amusing. Sadly, sometimes I do. Often, I delete these messages before even I read it. I cannot summon the words to ask well meaning people to stop sending them.
Today, I received: "things youd love to say at work but can't" [sic]. You know the kind:
>7. I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message...
>15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
>25. This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.
But, one I found particularly poignant and thought provoking for some odd reason; one that sums up my experience is:
>38. I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.
How interesting. You never know what route inspiration will take. What the hell is career?
Career: The general course or progression of one's working life or one's professional achievements.
We've been somehow trained to find one thing in our lives, focus on that and do it forever. No diversity, no change. In some corners of our culture it's still admirable to work for the same organization until retirement. Loyalty is a virtue - then we die. We should all have careers and be professional, right? We can be career professionals. That's what I will tell people I "do" when I am asked, "so, what do you do?" I am a career professional! My college major was: Professional Careerism.
Professional: Engaging in a given activity as a source of livelihood or as a career.
I am sitting here because they pay me to sit here.
All I want to really do is make things. Call it art or a calling or my passion, but I just want to spend most of my time making things. I want to make more records - recordings with sounds and songs, I want to take photographs. I want to paint, film things and built odd or useful objects. I want to integrate all medium while ignoring the conventions and cliches of medium. I want to write. I want to juxtapose. I want to think.
In return, I am not really interested in selling any of it or really having much exposure. I know enough people that may or may not enjoy my work. I know enough people to push it on. Most people won't get it anyway. Uh, the questions, "what does it mean?" Hell if I know. What does your nose mean? I just want to do what is already trying to squeeze from my fingers and from my head. It's like breathing...what does breathing mean? Ask yourself what does meaning mean.
Okay, for the first time I will tell everyone what it all means. Simultaneously, it means everything while meaning absolutely nothing. I am not a career professional in reality interpretation. It means what it means...to you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
I want time. Like fire, we've done a good taming of time; but it is still wild and dangerous when inclined to it's true, feral nature. Where does it go?
Time is my fire.
Thank you for your time.
>>ty.hardaway
So, I am routinely bombarded with "funny" forwarded e-mailings (from "friends"). For some reason people think I find this stuff amusing. Sadly, sometimes I do. Often, I delete these messages before even I read it. I cannot summon the words to ask well meaning people to stop sending them.
Today, I received: "things youd love to say at work but can't" [sic]. You know the kind:
>7. I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message...
>15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
>25. This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.
But, one I found particularly poignant and thought provoking for some odd reason; one that sums up my experience is:
>38. I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.
How interesting. You never know what route inspiration will take. What the hell is career?
Career: The general course or progression of one's working life or one's professional achievements.
We've been somehow trained to find one thing in our lives, focus on that and do it forever. No diversity, no change. In some corners of our culture it's still admirable to work for the same organization until retirement. Loyalty is a virtue - then we die. We should all have careers and be professional, right? We can be career professionals. That's what I will tell people I "do" when I am asked, "so, what do you do?" I am a career professional! My college major was: Professional Careerism.
Professional: Engaging in a given activity as a source of livelihood or as a career.
I am sitting here because they pay me to sit here.
All I want to really do is make things. Call it art or a calling or my passion, but I just want to spend most of my time making things. I want to make more records - recordings with sounds and songs, I want to take photographs. I want to paint, film things and built odd or useful objects. I want to integrate all medium while ignoring the conventions and cliches of medium. I want to write. I want to juxtapose. I want to think.
In return, I am not really interested in selling any of it or really having much exposure. I know enough people that may or may not enjoy my work. I know enough people to push it on. Most people won't get it anyway. Uh, the questions, "what does it mean?" Hell if I know. What does your nose mean? I just want to do what is already trying to squeeze from my fingers and from my head. It's like breathing...what does breathing mean? Ask yourself what does meaning mean.
Okay, for the first time I will tell everyone what it all means. Simultaneously, it means everything while meaning absolutely nothing. I am not a career professional in reality interpretation. It means what it means...to you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
I want time. Like fire, we've done a good taming of time; but it is still wild and dangerous when inclined to it's true, feral nature. Where does it go?
Time is my fire.
Thank you for your time.
>>ty.hardaway
Wednesday
Monday
Google
"It's true that a certain caution had crept into my life. Because of the penury that my slacker ways had brought me, I had been disguising myself as an adult in order to make money. The disguise had been getting better and better. For a period, I wore ties and slacks and leather shoes. In an epic gesture of accommodation, I had cut my hair. But even though I no longer looked particularly young, I thought my pedigree of youthfulness shined through."
- Cary Tennis, Salon
"It's true that a certain caution had crept into my life. Because of the penury that my slacker ways had brought me, I had been disguising myself as an adult in order to make money. The disguise had been getting better and better. For a period, I wore ties and slacks and leather shoes. In an epic gesture of accommodation, I had cut my hair. But even though I no longer looked particularly young, I thought my pedigree of youthfulness shined through."
- Cary Tennis, Salon
Wednesday
9/11
because of the anger unwarranted
the frustration boils over
the pot steaming, red and bitter
if everyone were like me
i would be one of them
so my positions hold - guarded
i cared because i do
without ally nor foe
only the raging, one-sided
debate waged between temples
the lust of power is the lust for death
winds heavy with clinging summer
the ache imagined more hurtful than
the pain realized
no answers no questions
only lies and perceptions
if i hate them perhaps i hate myself
Blind Date - Don't fetishize Sept. 11. By William Saletan
Alvaro,
William Saletan at Slate eloquently writes what I was feeling about this weepy, groveling "moment of silence" business:
"When we fetishize anniversaries, we risk squandering their lessons. We focus on the kind of attack we suffered that day—a massive strike by a nation-state, a plane hijacking by Arabs—losing sight of different enemies and methods more likely to follow. We imagine that the problem we face began on the day we were struck, forgetting the years beforehand in which it plagued other regions. And we foster an illusion that the story is over. Sept. 11 threatens to do for terrorism what Mother's Day does for motherhood: liberate us from thinking about it 364 days a year."
No. It’s not that I am "cold" to this situation. I recognize that it is my obligation as an American to persevere, not roll over and urinate all over myself with grief. I don't need Wendell or Bush or anyone else telling me how and when to mourn. I have that covered. This "war on terrorism" is not over. The domestic war on freedom is not over. Let's not turn September 11 into a made-for-Hallmark holiday. Next year, we'll all give cards and gifts, perhaps put our 9/11 presents under our 9/11 tree.
I grieve and reflect on "nine-eleven" all the time - every day, in fact. This world, my place in it, my child's place is something I take seriously and thoughtfully. This paltry, "minute of silence" disgraces the memories of the slaughtered. And, this American flag nonsense? Where do I start? This is exactly the problem. Us against Them. It's not about America. It's about all of us; the entire world. I do not have to wear a flag pin - or, worse: put a flag on my Arab oil guzzling SUV - to be a patriot.
In fact, by not being a lemming, I exemplify America.
Your friend,
-ty
Alvaro,
William Saletan at Slate eloquently writes what I was feeling about this weepy, groveling "moment of silence" business:
"When we fetishize anniversaries, we risk squandering their lessons. We focus on the kind of attack we suffered that day—a massive strike by a nation-state, a plane hijacking by Arabs—losing sight of different enemies and methods more likely to follow. We imagine that the problem we face began on the day we were struck, forgetting the years beforehand in which it plagued other regions. And we foster an illusion that the story is over. Sept. 11 threatens to do for terrorism what Mother's Day does for motherhood: liberate us from thinking about it 364 days a year."
No. It’s not that I am "cold" to this situation. I recognize that it is my obligation as an American to persevere, not roll over and urinate all over myself with grief. I don't need Wendell or Bush or anyone else telling me how and when to mourn. I have that covered. This "war on terrorism" is not over. The domestic war on freedom is not over. Let's not turn September 11 into a made-for-Hallmark holiday. Next year, we'll all give cards and gifts, perhaps put our 9/11 presents under our 9/11 tree.
I grieve and reflect on "nine-eleven" all the time - every day, in fact. This world, my place in it, my child's place is something I take seriously and thoughtfully. This paltry, "minute of silence" disgraces the memories of the slaughtered. And, this American flag nonsense? Where do I start? This is exactly the problem. Us against Them. It's not about America. It's about all of us; the entire world. I do not have to wear a flag pin - or, worse: put a flag on my Arab oil guzzling SUV - to be a patriot.
In fact, by not being a lemming, I exemplify America.
Your friend,
-ty
Friday
four
Nothing chokes all the blood from your spirit like a little baby, your little baby, your one and only newborn daughter, crying her eyes out - tears pooling in her eyes and dripping down her little, chubby cheeks. Her eyes shimmering in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital lab - lucidly staring into yours as if begging for help. As she bawls, her outstretched hand shakes and her body stiffens. As the phlebotomist feels around for a vein through the baby fat in her bound arm, she assures you that your progeny is only crying because she's being held still; not because the procedure causes her physical pain. We all know needles hurt but the "big comforting lie" actually relieves. The wails penetrate every cell of your being. You hurt - ache - sear for her. You'd take pain a thousand times over to spare her this moment. You tell her everything is fine and remind her that she is a fearless, tough and wondrous girl even though she cannot understand a word you say.
Then it ends. And life continues. She'll never remember it. I will forever.
Nothing chokes all the blood from your spirit like a little baby, your little baby, your one and only newborn daughter, crying her eyes out - tears pooling in her eyes and dripping down her little, chubby cheeks. Her eyes shimmering in the fluorescent lighting of the hospital lab - lucidly staring into yours as if begging for help. As she bawls, her outstretched hand shakes and her body stiffens. As the phlebotomist feels around for a vein through the baby fat in her bound arm, she assures you that your progeny is only crying because she's being held still; not because the procedure causes her physical pain. We all know needles hurt but the "big comforting lie" actually relieves. The wails penetrate every cell of your being. You hurt - ache - sear for her. You'd take pain a thousand times over to spare her this moment. You tell her everything is fine and remind her that she is a fearless, tough and wondrous girl even though she cannot understand a word you say.
Then it ends. And life continues. She'll never remember it. I will forever.
Thursday
Jeff Harris
was having problems with the hall smell in my old apartment. old obese cat-owning neighbor is a slob. so found a solution in moving a floor below.
newer carpet, more closet space in the new apt helped make the desire to move more resolute.
was having problems with the hall smell in my old apartment. old obese cat-owning neighbor is a slob. so found a solution in moving a floor below.
newer carpet, more closet space in the new apt helped make the desire to move more resolute.
Friday
trapped in this dense and prohibitive world
like duct taped into a burlap sack
after a severe and most violent beating
limp and lifeless pre-corpse
waiting for the splash or bang
of the beginning of the end
waiting
sleep walking through years of
cognitive poverty and sensory underwhelm
conserving resources until necessity diminishes
alone in vision of world satisfaction
and greed abatement
eyes crusted shut with loath of it all
Thursday
Growbag...
Rats rotting on the streets of Bethesda
Guts hurting with desires
Mood as ill as night in winter
As I hurl face-first into a sort of madness
Unknown
Alternating like current between
Not caring and caring too much
We bet our reputations on
Our integrity and merit
Or so we are led to aspire
The risks taken include
The possibility of relationships
Exploding like land mines
Crippling and killing indiscriminately
Que sera
Just when I began to settle into this place
I discover no rugs – or even floors below
Just empty spaces to hover in
Dead and alone again
Desperate from necessity
Rats rotting on the streets of Bethesda
Guts hurting with desires
Mood as ill as night in winter
As I hurl face-first into a sort of madness
Unknown
Alternating like current between
Not caring and caring too much
We bet our reputations on
Our integrity and merit
Or so we are led to aspire
The risks taken include
The possibility of relationships
Exploding like land mines
Crippling and killing indiscriminately
Que sera
Just when I began to settle into this place
I discover no rugs – or even floors below
Just empty spaces to hover in
Dead and alone again
Desperate from necessity
Monday
Ty, my fellow Californian-
Thanks for the great lunch, the multiple CDs, but most of all for just being you. Having a Claremont guy around to keep the east coast in prespective was extremely helpful and comforting.
Give me a buzz if you get out to LA for a visit, work or otherwise.
Peace. "You check out anytime you like, but you can never leave..."
Mike B.
Ty Hardaway
08/16/2002 12:45 PM
To: All HCR Bethesda
cc:
Subject: Thai Time
To those this applies: now
>>ty.hardaway
>>301/347.5636
Thanks for the great lunch, the multiple CDs, but most of all for just being you. Having a Claremont guy around to keep the east coast in prespective was extremely helpful and comforting.
Give me a buzz if you get out to LA for a visit, work or otherwise.
Peace. "You check out anytime you like, but you can never leave..."
Mike B.
Ty Hardaway
08/16/2002 12:45 PM
To: All HCR Bethesda
cc:
Subject: Thai Time
To those this applies: now
>>ty.hardaway
>>301/347.5636
Thursday
The Village Voice: Hot Spot: Dirty Pornos: Doing the Robot! by Johnny Maldoro
at some point, can't you just call it? i think there's a mercy rule or something.
this week has been a total bust. nothing gained. no output.
anne: sick sunday and monday.
b: 4 month check up on tuesday plus shots.
me: sick on wednesday and thursday.
oreo: old, cranky but, loving
have to reschedule car, doctor, dentist and housekeeping appts. also, several work meetings postponed or cancelled.
it's as if the week never existed. maybe it's the heat or the humility.
and let me tell you, i haven't been sick in a very long time; not like that. perhaps since i was a teen. it was like getting hit by a VW microbus. the bug should be called the '24 hours of hell' flu.
i can't think. i can't act. i cannot do.
i have no revelations. it's like being dead for a week except there's no rest.
at some point, can't you just call it? i think there's a mercy rule or something.
this week has been a total bust. nothing gained. no output.
anne: sick sunday and monday.
b: 4 month check up on tuesday plus shots.
me: sick on wednesday and thursday.
oreo: old, cranky but, loving
have to reschedule car, doctor, dentist and housekeeping appts. also, several work meetings postponed or cancelled.
it's as if the week never existed. maybe it's the heat or the humility.
and let me tell you, i haven't been sick in a very long time; not like that. perhaps since i was a teen. it was like getting hit by a VW microbus. the bug should be called the '24 hours of hell' flu.
i can't think. i can't act. i cannot do.
i have no revelations. it's like being dead for a week except there's no rest.
Arts & Letters Daily - ideas, criticism, debate
So ephemeris is simple
and coverture is hard
But contrary to the old
is-the-root-is-all-evil moral
money is everything
Unions taken as measures
of vanity appeasement
are destined to confuse
the naive and the simple
amongst the hordes
Some work some sacrifice to
thus earn their leisurely entertainment
both free and not -
values internalized from lessons learned
minds wide open from birth
Without spirituality
confidence and imagination lapse
And no bid buys peace
We bear our responsibilities
to ourselves to each other
Unfortunately our heavens
only exist in the fairy tales of
whiny baby minds
Friendship among earthlings
and the Earth is unconditional
So ephemeris is simple
and coverture is hard
But contrary to the old
is-the-root-is-all-evil moral
money is everything
Unions taken as measures
of vanity appeasement
are destined to confuse
the naive and the simple
amongst the hordes
Some work some sacrifice to
thus earn their leisurely entertainment
both free and not -
values internalized from lessons learned
minds wide open from birth
Without spirituality
confidence and imagination lapse
And no bid buys peace
We bear our responsibilities
to ourselves to each other
Unfortunately our heavens
only exist in the fairy tales of
whiny baby minds
Friendship among earthlings
and the Earth is unconditional
Monday
WFMU-FM 91.1/Jersey City, NJ; 90.1/Hudson Valley, NY
i just received the prints from my New Orleans shoot
i am finding them so deeply moving and intimate
some two, three and four image sequences
are perfect in juxtaposition and in context and in composition
but, i am hopelessly depressed - heartbroken even
the shots are boldly blurry, distorted and obtuse
wholly as intended - as close to perfection as i've ever realized
but who will understand?
the first viewer declared
"you take shots of anything, huh?"
i could die
i could cry
i could quit
can i take a juried rejection
or critical misinterpretation
or the simplistic conclusions of untrained?
if they live in only my world
do they live?
i just received the prints from my New Orleans shoot
i am finding them so deeply moving and intimate
some two, three and four image sequences
are perfect in juxtaposition and in context and in composition
but, i am hopelessly depressed - heartbroken even
the shots are boldly blurry, distorted and obtuse
wholly as intended - as close to perfection as i've ever realized
but who will understand?
the first viewer declared
"you take shots of anything, huh?"
i could die
i could cry
i could quit
can i take a juried rejection
or critical misinterpretation
or the simplistic conclusions of untrained?
if they live in only my world
do they live?
I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up
MIDDLESPACE - somewhere not here
3:00 a.m. - Doylestown, PA. I have to pee something fierce. We're in the basement at Jim's because Mike's room was too warm, too bright and too noisy for the baby to sleep. In fact, she was up every hour or so the night before. The basement solves all of the sleep issues and she's sleeping beautifully tonight. And, she's been sound asleep since around 9:30. So I fumble over the wifey, rocking her all over the place on the air mattress, but being dutifully careful not to disturb the bassinet. God, I have to pee and the bathroom is all the way upstairs.
Using a borrowed mini-flashlight, I find my way up the stairs and into the guest bathroom. It's at least 20 degrees warmer up here and am I happy we chose to sleep in the basement. It is such an opulent facility.
Soon, I have an impressive stream going, and the sound of the water is soothing. But, I'm still a bit sleepy so I lean my arm against the wall for support... for...just...a...mom...ent...
I awake to the most horrifying crash I've ever experienced in my life. The shattering sound is nothing compared with the blinding white flash of light. Have I been shot? Bludgeoned? I must be dead, because no one survives such traumatic crashes. Why am I looking at the ceiling? Why is everything blurry? Why am I on the floor?
Fortunately, my equipment is put away (even though my fly is still open). I am sore in many places and everything is still very blurry. My glasses are somewhere. I check my skull and feel for broken bones. I look in the mirror. I flush.
And everyone in the whole house--all eleven people, 'cept the baby--are staring at me as I exit.
Somehow, I have fallen. Or passed out? Or just fallen back asleep? What on earth was that about? But, I didn't have to pee anymore.
"Sometimes there's mystique, and sometimes there's nothing but the pitiful tackiness of violent death. And none of this, of course, means a damn thing to the people who die."
- Patrick Smith, Pilot
3:00 a.m. - Doylestown, PA. I have to pee something fierce. We're in the basement at Jim's because Mike's room was too warm, too bright and too noisy for the baby to sleep. In fact, she was up every hour or so the night before. The basement solves all of the sleep issues and she's sleeping beautifully tonight. And, she's been sound asleep since around 9:30. So I fumble over the wifey, rocking her all over the place on the air mattress, but being dutifully careful not to disturb the bassinet. God, I have to pee and the bathroom is all the way upstairs.
Using a borrowed mini-flashlight, I find my way up the stairs and into the guest bathroom. It's at least 20 degrees warmer up here and am I happy we chose to sleep in the basement. It is such an opulent facility.
Soon, I have an impressive stream going, and the sound of the water is soothing. But, I'm still a bit sleepy so I lean my arm against the wall for support... for...just...a...mom...ent...
I awake to the most horrifying crash I've ever experienced in my life. The shattering sound is nothing compared with the blinding white flash of light. Have I been shot? Bludgeoned? I must be dead, because no one survives such traumatic crashes. Why am I looking at the ceiling? Why is everything blurry? Why am I on the floor?
Fortunately, my equipment is put away (even though my fly is still open). I am sore in many places and everything is still very blurry. My glasses are somewhere. I check my skull and feel for broken bones. I look in the mirror. I flush.
And everyone in the whole house--all eleven people, 'cept the baby--are staring at me as I exit.
Somehow, I have fallen. Or passed out? Or just fallen back asleep? What on earth was that about? But, I didn't have to pee anymore.
Wednesday
"Fuck" is an interesting word, linguistically speaking. It has the virtues of brevity, adaptability, expressiveness, and is understood universally. It has a huge number of synonyms, ranging from coy euphemisms to acceptable jocular equivalents to coarse vulgarities.
Oddly, it has very few polite equivalents. Strictly speaking, no single English word in current use bears the same primary meaning. It may be thought that "copulate" is an exact synonym for the verb to fuck, but "copulate" has a broader meaning: "to couple, conjoin, link together; to become conjoined or united." In its sexual meaning, it is primarily confined to zoology.
In order to refer to the activity that "fuck" describes, it is necessary to engage in circumlocution or periphrasis. Thus we get "make love to," "sleep with," "engage in sexual relations with," and the like.
It was not always so. "Fuck" is recorded as being used in more-or-less respectable literature as early as 1500, and it is found in Florio's Italian-English dictionary (1598). "Fuck” appears in Nathaniel Bailey's dictionary (1730), but not in Johnson (1755).
Although the following words all describe the same thing, they have won acceptance, if not in the salon, at least in the outer-rooms of polite society: "play mothers and fathers," "go upstairs," "make babies," "get one's jollies," "play hide the sausage," "get into one's pants," "have a tumble." And then there are the earthier monosyllabic inventions: "stuff," "screw," "pork," "poke," "bang," "bonk," "root," "hump." Note that these can be used both as verb and noun. Interestingly, it is easy to see that some of these synonyms are more acceptable than others, but all are more accepted than "fuck." Generally, the more humorous the construction, the more acceptable it is.
Looked at solely as a lexical unit, "fuck" is a very good, sturdy, versatile, and descriptive word. If our social masters could reconcile themselves to the idea that sex is a legitimate part of human existence and is here to stay, it may be that "fuck" will eventually be accepted in polite use.
- Julian Burnside, vocabula.com
Middlespace
Oddly, it has very few polite equivalents. Strictly speaking, no single English word in current use bears the same primary meaning. It may be thought that "copulate" is an exact synonym for the verb to fuck, but "copulate" has a broader meaning: "to couple, conjoin, link together; to become conjoined or united." In its sexual meaning, it is primarily confined to zoology.
In order to refer to the activity that "fuck" describes, it is necessary to engage in circumlocution or periphrasis. Thus we get "make love to," "sleep with," "engage in sexual relations with," and the like.
It was not always so. "Fuck" is recorded as being used in more-or-less respectable literature as early as 1500, and it is found in Florio's Italian-English dictionary (1598). "Fuck” appears in Nathaniel Bailey's dictionary (1730), but not in Johnson (1755).
Although the following words all describe the same thing, they have won acceptance, if not in the salon, at least in the outer-rooms of polite society: "play mothers and fathers," "go upstairs," "make babies," "get one's jollies," "play hide the sausage," "get into one's pants," "have a tumble." And then there are the earthier monosyllabic inventions: "stuff," "screw," "pork," "poke," "bang," "bonk," "root," "hump." Note that these can be used both as verb and noun. Interestingly, it is easy to see that some of these synonyms are more acceptable than others, but all are more accepted than "fuck." Generally, the more humorous the construction, the more acceptable it is.
Looked at solely as a lexical unit, "fuck" is a very good, sturdy, versatile, and descriptive word. If our social masters could reconcile themselves to the idea that sex is a legitimate part of human existence and is here to stay, it may be that "fuck" will eventually be accepted in polite use.
- Julian Burnside, vocabula.com
Middlespace
Tuesday
(Originally Untitled)
MIDDLESPACE - the space between
Moving mouths of flapping words
Surround my head opaque and surreal
Without meanings or inspiration
Heavy eyelids on bobbing head
Sloppily pretending to take notes or write poetry
Vapid [of] content
Sleep - the attractive whirlpool of the moment
Fading blurry cross-eyed attention span
Images and dreams undulate in and out
Scattering perception bugswings
Falling forward and again towards
an end
Moving mouths of flapping words
Surround my head opaque and surreal
Without meanings or inspiration
Heavy eyelids on bobbing head
Sloppily pretending to take notes or write poetry
Vapid [of] content
Sleep - the attractive whirlpool of the moment
Fading blurry cross-eyed attention span
Images and dreams undulate in and out
Scattering perception bugswings
Falling forward and again towards
an end
Monday
MIDDLESPACE - the space between
Haunted by detailed and vivid adventure dreams
Inescapable warrens of mystery and chaos
Wake plans muted by inevitable attentions
Prickly porcupine thistle sticking like magnets to exposed iron boxes
Two hours is never enough sleep time
For parents of prodigious progeny
But all is forgiven upon sunrises when
We muster all we have remaining and continue our hike into
The woods of the imagination
Evacuation plans never so un-smooth
Dream detectives never so coolly behaved
Amid impending boom, doom and gloom
Again the world is safe from evildoers and idiots
"There isn't really much else that [Ralph Nader and] the Greens can hope to achieve. Whatever their utopian platforms may say about renewable energy, corporate responsibility, diversity rainbows or frogs in top hats, the ruin of the Democratic Party is their only feasible aim. The first Democrats to be taken down, if the tiny party's plans are effective, will be the most progressive."
-Joe Conason
[middlespace live]
Haunted by detailed and vivid adventure dreams
Inescapable warrens of mystery and chaos
Wake plans muted by inevitable attentions
Prickly porcupine thistle sticking like magnets to exposed iron boxes
Two hours is never enough sleep time
For parents of prodigious progeny
But all is forgiven upon sunrises when
We muster all we have remaining and continue our hike into
The woods of the imagination
Evacuation plans never so un-smooth
Dream detectives never so coolly behaved
Amid impending boom, doom and gloom
Again the world is safe from evildoers and idiots
"There isn't really much else that [Ralph Nader and] the Greens can hope to achieve. Whatever their utopian platforms may say about renewable energy, corporate responsibility, diversity rainbows or frogs in top hats, the ruin of the Democratic Party is their only feasible aim. The first Democrats to be taken down, if the tiny party's plans are effective, will be the most progressive."
-Joe Conason
[middlespace live]
Friday
From New Orleans:
Artificial overly-grinning floating torso
Curious about how it relates back
to them
Local flavor yawning over wonders
Acted anew by visitors with notions
about here
Gaping staggeringly blind
About self and about life
and love
Observations include lessons
Learned through the details
closely captured
So much the same behaviors
Personalities distilled into one
black mass
Artificial overly-grinning floating torso
Curious about how it relates back
to them
Local flavor yawning over wonders
Acted anew by visitors with notions
about here
Gaping staggeringly blind
About self and about life
and love
Observations include lessons
Learned through the details
closely captured
So much the same behaviors
Personalities distilled into one
black mass
Monday
Fools are people who spout off on topics for which they are wholly unqualified. Delusional fools use language to format their nonsensical words in a manner which replicates sensible, cogent thought. Manipulative predatory fools are fully aware. They fool no one but themselves.
Even though they realize how much they piss and moan, they really only just spin wheels; gratifying only themselves. Upon close inspection, they reveal much more than they will ever know. Blinding naivete and insulting immaturity do not make one in any way credible.
Merit is earned through much hard work. Luck is simply probability; it all evens out.
middlespace
Even though they realize how much they piss and moan, they really only just spin wheels; gratifying only themselves. Upon close inspection, they reveal much more than they will ever know. Blinding naivete and insulting immaturity do not make one in any way credible.
Merit is earned through much hard work. Luck is simply probability; it all evens out.
middlespace
Friday
MIDDLESPACE - somewhere not here
Interesting digression. i've known/know bulimics...not a fun cycle indeed.
Instead "working" I'm exploring Latin.
I'm working on my connection between LIGHT, ART & PEACE:
lux ars pax
august might be best. tomorrow, we have visitors coming and we're gonna visit our neighbor's new baby. sunday, our neighbors (different) are cooking for us. it's a nice community.
lux ars pax
that says it all.
Interesting digression. i've known/know bulimics...not a fun cycle indeed.
Instead "working" I'm exploring Latin.
I'm working on my connection between LIGHT, ART & PEACE:
lux ars pax
august might be best. tomorrow, we have visitors coming and we're gonna visit our neighbor's new baby. sunday, our neighbors (different) are cooking for us. it's a nice community.
lux ars pax
that says it all.
Bonus
Flying apart at the cliques
Theme-to-theory
Mind boxed with fear and fatigue
Simple hoops to successes
a dime at a time
Before sleep for the chores
Relative wonders of season changes
Shirts or skins?
yin to my bang
So tired to die soon
But won't we all
Time, after all, proceeds
Biology determines
Psychology varies
We are all the same still
go to middlespace
Theme-to-theory
Mind boxed with fear and fatigue
Simple hoops to successes
a dime at a time
Before sleep for the chores
Relative wonders of season changes
Shirts or skins?
yin to my bang
So tired to die soon
But won't we all
Time, after all, proceeds
Biology determines
Psychology varies
We are all the same still
go to middlespace
Thursday
[Previously Untitled]
Hungry. Cold. Eyes hurt. So this is the 21st century.
Bs, Ls & As
A good day for all three
If you take care of your feet
your feet will
take care of you, they say
To the hilt dressed
for success implied
or offered or as expected
War & terror
Congo & Zaire
as carefree as love & lust
on a seven hour drive
to the black market money changers
A woman's woollen cape
of navy and striped of gold
tiny mirrors adorn miniature tic-tac-toe boards
and all I can think about is
selfish, savage, sensual
It will all get better though
As soon as the river comes back
Until then there is nothing to do -
- except wait
and eat our bitter root mush
No snakes no game
but rats galore
A month out with kids
back home with plenty to eat
And from the front she looks tough
and funny and all together
But her profile reveals her sad
and lonely inner-self
Look under the tiny little mirrors
go to middlespace
Bs, Ls & As
A good day for all three
If you take care of your feet
your feet will
take care of you, they say
To the hilt dressed
for success implied
or offered or as expected
War & terror
Congo & Zaire
as carefree as love & lust
on a seven hour drive
to the black market money changers
A woman's woollen cape
of navy and striped of gold
tiny mirrors adorn miniature tic-tac-toe boards
and all I can think about is
selfish, savage, sensual
It will all get better though
As soon as the river comes back
Until then there is nothing to do -
- except wait
and eat our bitter root mush
No snakes no game
but rats galore
A month out with kids
back home with plenty to eat
And from the front she looks tough
and funny and all together
But her profile reveals her sad
and lonely inner-self
Look under the tiny little mirrors
go to middlespace
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
