Saturday, October 09, 2004

barbie sucks

Whilst driving today I saw a photo shoot in progress in front of a large, lime green apartment building. The worn, windowless wall provided a perfect backdrop for a cute little blonde with bouncing curls peeking from under a demin floppy hat. She was sporting jeans and a white tank top with a purple, sequined flower on the front. The camera man was shooting away, while she smiled seductively and skillfully moved her body into all of the standard 'sexy poses' you'd expect to see on a glam magazine cover. She couldn't have been more than 8 years old. Am I nuts to be disturbed by this?

Monday, September 13, 2004

The world...

is a wondrous place.

People are fascinating kreatures.

And life, at the very least, is an endless opportunity for new experiences.

You're here anyway... go blow some bubbles!

If you're not familiar with the importance of bubbles (or play with bubbles on a regular basis and would enjoy a reminder anyway) go rent Harold and Maude.

Yes Mike - if I reach 80 candles that'll be me ;-)

Sunday, September 12, 2004

multi-colored, pliable time continuum

Perpetual self-awareness - my life's work.

Loyalty to the moment breeds lack of direction.

A chaotic, sometimes deceptive flow of time.

Shifting my retrospective focus - weeks feel like years, years feel like days.

The mind's ability to shape, mold, deceive - fascinating.

Tearing off tiny pieces of playdoe and placing them safely in little yellow cans...

Friday, September 10, 2004


Well, my mom turned out to be the first to comment on this blog stuff. She is a wonderful woman :-)

Ok, this is your "Mother" speaking. 2 positive and 2 negative.

Positive: #1: NICE, NICE writing

#2: Sharing your thoughts with others.

Negative: #1: nice writing until I got to f___. Turned me off, but I am your mother.

#2: concern about putting yourself out on the net. Photo, bio ( but not really personal, personal stuff)

Sharing my thoughts. Breathing beings rather than my anthropomorphized journal. Has potential.

Getting to the point... with absolutely no disrespect toward my mother's opinion... that F word.

You'd think I would've thought about what she'd think about that word. I didn't. I'm good at the whole thoughtless expression thing. Profanity? Where did we come up with that linguistic category? 'Tis a word. Sound waves traveling through the air, or in this case a few digitally imposed grey marks on a monitor - carefully placed in order to convey meaning to those who happen to view them. But what did I mean? A Mind Fuck ---> series of thoughts that lead one into a confusing, often circular mental state? Sounds good, but a little wordy. Hence, mind fuck. We all understand what it means, yes? So the 'F word' is being put to good use... effective communication. But, my mom's discomfort with its use is valid. It's a tiny piece of the etiquette structure developed within her during childhood. It is woven through the fabric of our culture. Then again, I am an example of the fraying, increasingly dissapated ends of that fabric. Catch a strand in your zipper and run ;-)

"Unfuck you!"

- George Carlin

Some interesting/fun links (ignore the spyware ads ;-)

Testing testing...

Monday, September 15, 2003 (Recorded from Handwritten Ramblings)

How often do people stare at themselves in the mirror and marvel at the reflection? Mind you... I'm talking about true pondering, thorough inspection... connecting the reflection they see with the mind they reside within during the moments of the day. Perhaps they don't... perhaps its only me. This morning I did... stood there for at least 5 minutes which is a very long time when engaged in such an activity. It reminded me of times spent stoned... contemplating, fascinated, in seemingly suspended time, by little things like grasshoppers. I was particularly focused on my eyes... its like a circular question of metaphysics... looking through the things that facilitate your visual perception of the world to see those same things looking back at you. I found myself trying to peer past my pupils as if I might find 'myself' behind them. What a mind fuck. Again, maybe its just me.