Jesse and elephants both love the fall.
I love happy elephants!
Photo Credit TreeHugger.com
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
*gag* cough* *gag gag* *cough
So Kate Moss was feeling oh-so angst'y when she was in a relationship of sorts with heroin addict/musician Pete Doherty. She made some art. Her medium of choice? duh....lipstick.
Her xbf also decided to throw in some of his artistic inclinations with an inscription at the top of the print: Who needs blood when you have lipstick? His medium of choice? duh....blood.
This being said, it was "purchased" from Kate by an "anonymous collector" and then "they" sold it to an auction house.
Yea. Right. Sure. Uh huh. No! No! I totally believe you.
So the auction house was trying to sell it and the shit-on-canvas actually got up to $25,000 pounds, which is like, waaay far under 40 P.D.'s reserve price, man.
Her xbf also decided to throw in some of his artistic inclinations with an inscription at the top of the print: Who needs blood when you have lipstick? His medium of choice? duh....blood.
This being said, it was "purchased" from Kate by an "anonymous collector" and then "they" sold it to an auction house.
Yea. Right. Sure. Uh huh. No! No! I totally believe you.
So the auction house was trying to sell it and the shit-on-canvas actually got up to $25,000 pounds, which is like, waaay far under 40 P.D.'s reserve price, man.
It didn't sell. (insert shocked expression here)
I sware to GOD I would have registered as a buyer at that auction house and the minute- the very fucking first second!- I would have screamed, "THIRTY NINE THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE POUNDS AND NINETY NINE CENTS FUCKBAGS!" And then just wait- because no one in their right mind would have done shit. The next bid would have won it. And who really wanted to do that? Aaaaand, thats what I thought.
Seriously, though. Who the FUCK bid 25,000 pounds? Who? Stand up. Go on. Get your stupid fucking ass out of the chair and make yourself known. You need to be shot.
Take it like a super model.
I sware to GOD I would have registered as a buyer at that auction house and the minute- the very fucking first second!- I would have screamed, "THIRTY NINE THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE POUNDS AND NINETY NINE CENTS FUCKBAGS!" And then just wait- because no one in their right mind would have done shit. The next bid would have won it. And who really wanted to do that? Aaaaand, thats what I thought.
Seriously, though. Who the FUCK bid 25,000 pounds? Who? Stand up. Go on. Get your stupid fucking ass out of the chair and make yourself known. You need to be shot.
Take it like a super model.
Photo Credit AFP/HO London
Friday, September 26, 2008
I wouldn't trade you for anything either.
Jesus Quintana: What's this day of rest shit? What's this bullshit? I don't fuckin' care! It don't matter to Jesus. But you're not foolin' me, man. You might fool the fucks in the league office, but you don't fool Jesus. This bush league psyche-out stuff. Laughable, man - ha ha! I would have fucked you in the ass Saturday. I fuck you in the ass next Wednesday instead. Wooo! You got a date Wednesday, baby!
One day, we'll be stoned watching the Big Leibowski.
Whats better than that?
Heaven.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
the Priest
a friend of mine wrote to me today
every time he does i can't help but wish i could see him speak instead of read him write
for some reason he is in paris through the winter
i dont know why and i dont plan on asking
he just is
details have always been of little consequence to either of us with regard to us
instead of watching him smile i have to fucking interpret ":)" in a paragraph
but because these:
:) happy
;) wink
:/ shucks
:I chubby
:* whistlin'
:( sad
:& sick
:# hungry
: blank
make me cry it may be easier to not read him anymore
that goddamn war is enough to make anyone crazy
:O screaming
Ask the high rising spears, of our aspirations
Bring witness the swords, did we lose hope
We are a band, honor halts our souls
Of beginning with harm, those who won’t harm us
White are our deeds, black are our battles,
Green are our fields, red are our swords.
every time he does i can't help but wish i could see him speak instead of read him write
for some reason he is in paris through the winter
i dont know why and i dont plan on asking
he just is
details have always been of little consequence to either of us with regard to us
instead of watching him smile i have to fucking interpret ":)" in a paragraph
but because these:
:) happy
;) wink
:/ shucks
:I chubby
:* whistlin'
:( sad
:& sick
:# hungry
: blank
make me cry it may be easier to not read him anymore
that goddamn war is enough to make anyone crazy
:O screaming
Ask the high rising spears, of our aspirations
Bring witness the swords, did we lose hope
We are a band, honor halts our souls
Of beginning with harm, those who won’t harm us
White are our deeds, black are our battles,
Green are our fields, red are our swords.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Family In Between
My brother- my step brother...wait, my former step brother...
Fuck it. Crazy fucking family issues belong on the the pych chair, not the Internet.
I'll call him "Aa" - he passed a message to me today through our uncles. His uncle is friends with my uncle. And somehow, despite the fact that I only knew him for a brief time when I was very small, he is a very distinct, permanent fixture in my memory.
Fuck it. Crazy fucking family issues belong on the the pych chair, not the Internet.
I'll call him "Aa" - he passed a message to me today through our uncles. His uncle is friends with my uncle. And somehow, despite the fact that I only knew him for a brief time when I was very small, he is a very distinct, permanent fixture in my memory.
In fact, he is the center of both my earliest memories.
One is a few flashes of a snow fort we built in Nashua, New Hampshire. I think I was four. Something bad happened- I think the fort collapsed. Whatever happened, I remember being terrified that he was hurt.
The second memory is my earliest- from when I was about three. It has two parts. The first is a flash of him helping me onto a little pink plastic swing in my front yard. I couldn't seem to get my second leg on it the right way. I can see him running across the grass and me, trying not to cry in frustration. He was smiling and so animated while he showed me how to put my leg on the swing the right way. When he was done with his instruction, he got off the swing, helped me on, and gave me a huge push. The most vivid part of the memory is when I turned around, so proud to show him I was swinging. But he was already running away, satisfied with his Big Brother performance.
I was thrilled to finally be on the swing, but a little sad that he had left. I wanted him to come back and swing with me.
The same could be said right now.
One is a few flashes of a snow fort we built in Nashua, New Hampshire. I think I was four. Something bad happened- I think the fort collapsed. Whatever happened, I remember being terrified that he was hurt.
The second memory is my earliest- from when I was about three. It has two parts. The first is a flash of him helping me onto a little pink plastic swing in my front yard. I couldn't seem to get my second leg on it the right way. I can see him running across the grass and me, trying not to cry in frustration. He was smiling and so animated while he showed me how to put my leg on the swing the right way. When he was done with his instruction, he got off the swing, helped me on, and gave me a huge push. The most vivid part of the memory is when I turned around, so proud to show him I was swinging. But he was already running away, satisfied with his Big Brother performance.
I was thrilled to finally be on the swing, but a little sad that he had left. I wanted him to come back and swing with me.
The same could be said right now.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Oro & Plata
Grizzlies are making thier comeback. Yes, thats a picture of a buffalo at left, but we're talking about bears right now. This past Tuesday the United States Geological Survey announced that there are 765 Grizzly bears in northwestern Montana- way up from previous estimates of 300ish not so long ago.
Funding for the US Forest Service to introduce protective measures and revise the Grizzlies embattled habitat came from an ear-marked federal grant of a little over a million dollars. The USFS, once again, under extreme odds- and next to no national support- made it happen on very, very little dollars. They are an impressive group of highly committed, creative folks that understand this Earth lightyears beyond most.
When I was out in Montana I didn't see a Grizzly. I didn't, for that fact, see any bears. I did, however see a Buffalo. Ever seen one? Don't they look look like a downsized Mammoth?
About three days after one particularly bad blizzard, I wrapped up, strapped on some 1970's snow shoes and dug my way out of my snowed-in house. The snow shoes were amazing things. So amazing, in fact, that I decided to see if I could walk up to the gas station about a quarter mile away. I ventured out, throwing black soot behind me to find my way back. I felt like Grizzy Alice.
About 100 yards from the gas station, I smelled the worst smell I have ever...just trust me it was bad. I saw about half a dozen people hovering around and I picked up my steps. As I got closer, I saw a Buffalo propped up against one of the gas pumps. The gas pumps, you see, are temperature controled, so theres a little heat emanating from them. This poor Buffalo didn't feel good, so he came into town to take the edge off his chill. He was exhausted, terrified, and felt too damn bad to do anything but lean against a gas pump. My heart hurt for him.
Everyone waited at a safe distance for the US Fish & Wildlife Service to show up. We wrung our hands, and watched him with hawkish eyes. If he made one flinch, we all took a few steps back in fear and cried in helplessness. He was obviously hurting. After four hours, we had four Rangers, half a dozen cops, a couple Vets and a huge crew from the Park Service. They helped that Buffalo, and by all accounts on-scene, he was going to be just fine. As the Rangers drove away, we all clapped and cried some more. Our Buffalo was safe.
There isn't anything better than working for the Red Cross and seeing everyday people volunteer countless man hours and make immeasurable sacrifices for other people. The next best thing is to see us do it for the other greatest creatures on earth. We live in a wonderful Country.
Funding for the US Forest Service to introduce protective measures and revise the Grizzlies embattled habitat came from an ear-marked federal grant of a little over a million dollars. The USFS, once again, under extreme odds- and next to no national support- made it happen on very, very little dollars. They are an impressive group of highly committed, creative folks that understand this Earth lightyears beyond most.
When I was out in Montana I didn't see a Grizzly. I didn't, for that fact, see any bears. I did, however see a Buffalo. Ever seen one? Don't they look look like a downsized Mammoth?
About three days after one particularly bad blizzard, I wrapped up, strapped on some 1970's snow shoes and dug my way out of my snowed-in house. The snow shoes were amazing things. So amazing, in fact, that I decided to see if I could walk up to the gas station about a quarter mile away. I ventured out, throwing black soot behind me to find my way back. I felt like Grizzy Alice.
About 100 yards from the gas station, I smelled the worst smell I have ever...just trust me it was bad. I saw about half a dozen people hovering around and I picked up my steps. As I got closer, I saw a Buffalo propped up against one of the gas pumps. The gas pumps, you see, are temperature controled, so theres a little heat emanating from them. This poor Buffalo didn't feel good, so he came into town to take the edge off his chill. He was exhausted, terrified, and felt too damn bad to do anything but lean against a gas pump. My heart hurt for him.
Everyone waited at a safe distance for the US Fish & Wildlife Service to show up. We wrung our hands, and watched him with hawkish eyes. If he made one flinch, we all took a few steps back in fear and cried in helplessness. He was obviously hurting. After four hours, we had four Rangers, half a dozen cops, a couple Vets and a huge crew from the Park Service. They helped that Buffalo, and by all accounts on-scene, he was going to be just fine. As the Rangers drove away, we all clapped and cried some more. Our Buffalo was safe.
There isn't anything better than working for the Red Cross and seeing everyday people volunteer countless man hours and make immeasurable sacrifices for other people. The next best thing is to see us do it for the other greatest creatures on earth. We live in a wonderful Country.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I went a bit overboard for Alicia Brock
Uhm, lets just say I found Alicia Brock's work after scouring Etsy for half an hour for some decent (and inexpensive) photography. I clicked on her page and now I want just about everything she has. I actually had to edit the list below to make this blog not-so-long. You can order large sizes too for just over $100 which is AWESOME considering how much I would love to have a big ass one right over my bed. I didn't copy/paste because I dont want to have to write for permission and wait. I'm too excited.
Check this out:
I love 'Connected'.
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/frontpage/products/connected
"Pure and Simple".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/homecoming/products/pure-and-simple
"Return to Summer".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/homecoming/products/return-to-summer
I love "Flock".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/abstract-and-texture/products/flock
I love "Yellow Koi".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/abstract-and-texture/products/yellow-koi
"Soul Mates".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/polaroids/products/soulmates
AND they come on Fine Art Canvas for like an additional $100, but ooooooh! Wants and gimmeee's! I'm going to wait...maybe I'll give it to me for Christmas...but oooooooh!
Friends, for goodness sake, don't start buying 'em up before I can get one. She might jack the price up and that would make me sad. Let the Alicia Brock savings fund begin.
Check this out:
I love 'Connected'.
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/frontpage/products/connected
"Pure and Simple".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/homecoming/products/pure-and-simple
"Return to Summer".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/homecoming/products/return-to-summer
I love "Flock".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/abstract-and-texture/products/flock
I love "Yellow Koi".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/abstract-and-texture/products/yellow-koi
"Soul Mates".
http://www.shop.aliciabock.com/collections/polaroids/products/soulmates
AND they come on Fine Art Canvas for like an additional $100, but ooooooh! Wants and gimmeee's! I'm going to wait...maybe I'll give it to me for Christmas...but oooooooh!
Friends, for goodness sake, don't start buying 'em up before I can get one. She might jack the price up and that would make me sad. Let the Alicia Brock savings fund begin.
While I usually have a pretty good idea as to the meaning of some of the more unusual, high end words I use (that's how I make nerdy sound unique, and lengthy sound cool)...the meaning of some common phrases often escapes me and leaves me wondering.
For instance, last night I used the term "wig out". As in, "I almost freaked". And then I thought- where the hell does wig out come from and why does the word wig seemingly replace freak...as in "freak out"?
That's where etymologists come in. They study the origins of words. Linguists, kinda, but not really. But they do hang out with linguists, so they're cool. Careful not to confuse them with Entomologists- they study bugs.
So I was looking through 'Dawg Speak', self described as a Slanguage Dictionary, from the University of Georgia and ran across this:
Wig out 1789 British; the noun wig refers to verb 'a harsh scolding or reprimand'; 1955 American; perhaps from verb wig 'to scold, rebuke'. From the idea to flip one's wig (British elite).
So wig means to scold, rebuke, etc...
Now I can say "Why do you wig me man?" You can say it too! Bet it will wig some people out.
For instance, last night I used the term "wig out". As in, "I almost freaked". And then I thought- where the hell does wig out come from and why does the word wig seemingly replace freak...as in "freak out"?
That's where etymologists come in. They study the origins of words. Linguists, kinda, but not really. But they do hang out with linguists, so they're cool. Careful not to confuse them with Entomologists- they study bugs.
So I was looking through 'Dawg Speak', self described as a Slanguage Dictionary, from the University of Georgia and ran across this:
Wig out 1789 British; the noun wig refers to verb 'a harsh scolding or reprimand'; 1955 American; perhaps from verb wig 'to scold, rebuke'. From the idea to flip one's wig (British elite).
So wig means to scold, rebuke, etc...
Now I can say "Why do you wig me man?" You can say it too! Bet it will wig some people out.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
cAR wOES
Spent the night with C.L. All was lovely.
Wake up- tear myself out of bed- drive to 7/11 for coffee-get a flat-put on the spare-drive away from 7/11. Spares flat. Call AAA. Wait an hour. Miss my morning class. Tow the car to Kramer Tire. Alignment, bearings, a CV joint, break pads and two tires- all bad. Miss my afternoon class. Spend lots of money. Drive to home to Mam's. Catch the mailperson while walking in. Read mail. Cobra eligbility runs out October 1.
Fuck.
Me.
The good news? I didn't cry.
K- I did for like 10 seconds, but it wasn't a through-and-through boo'hoo session. Just a lil misty.
Thank the Goodness (i.e. my father) that I have AAA. I have no idea how many times they have come to my rescue. They dropped me off at Kramer Tires on Independence Blvd in Virginia Beach. And while Kramer's seemed a bit high, they also seemed relatively straight foreward and didn't make me feel like a dumb bitch. Isn't that always nice?
I want to live somewhere that cars are "optional". Washington. Boston. Chicago. Bum-fuck-ride-a-bike. I don't care. Just no car. I want to walk to the grocery store, to coffee, to dinner. I want to take the Metro, Underground, T.... whatever to work. I want to catch a cab to the bars and home from from shopping. I miss 13th and U - all within 5 blocks:
My favorite thai.
CVS
Whole Foods
Mexican, Maggie Moo's, Subway, Pizza Hut, Mediterranean, Harry's
Dupont
Barnes and Noble
Star Bucks
17th Street "gayville"
*sigh.
I whining. Which I am actually finding much more annoying than just crying.
Pardon me for a moment...
Wake up- tear myself out of bed- drive to 7/11 for coffee-get a flat-put on the spare-drive away from 7/11. Spares flat. Call AAA. Wait an hour. Miss my morning class. Tow the car to Kramer Tire. Alignment, bearings, a CV joint, break pads and two tires- all bad. Miss my afternoon class. Spend lots of money. Drive to home to Mam's. Catch the mailperson while walking in. Read mail. Cobra eligbility runs out October 1.
Fuck.
Me.
The good news? I didn't cry.
K- I did for like 10 seconds, but it wasn't a through-and-through boo'hoo session. Just a lil misty.
Thank the Goodness (i.e. my father) that I have AAA. I have no idea how many times they have come to my rescue. They dropped me off at Kramer Tires on Independence Blvd in Virginia Beach. And while Kramer's seemed a bit high, they also seemed relatively straight foreward and didn't make me feel like a dumb bitch. Isn't that always nice?
I want to live somewhere that cars are "optional". Washington. Boston. Chicago. Bum-fuck-ride-a-bike. I don't care. Just no car. I want to walk to the grocery store, to coffee, to dinner. I want to take the Metro, Underground, T.... whatever to work. I want to catch a cab to the bars and home from from shopping. I miss 13th and U - all within 5 blocks:
My favorite thai.
CVS
Whole Foods
Mexican, Maggie Moo's, Subway, Pizza Hut, Mediterranean, Harry's
Dupont
Barnes and Noble
Star Bucks
17th Street "gayville"
*sigh.
I whining. Which I am actually finding much more annoying than just crying.
Pardon me for a moment...
Sunday, September 7, 2008
John Mayer's Say. Aaaaaaaawwwww!
Take all your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all your so called problems
Better put them in quotations
Every little past frustration
Take all your so called problems
Better put them in quotations
Say what you need to say.
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living up the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead
If you could only
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living up the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead
If you could only
Say what you need to say.
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You better know that in the end
Its better to say to much
Than to never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
And say what you need to say.
Have no fear for giving over
You better know that in the end
Its better to say to much
Than to never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
And say what you need to say.
Family is whoever you say it is.
Told ya we'd be ok.
Oh, ok, fine.
So you had to tell me too.
You can get your "I told you so" when you get home.
More Viewers - More Meaning
Since hyper-linking this site to my new MySpace I've had a lot more friends, family and...none of the above, read this Blog. For a very long time, by ASL number Viewer Count in the upper left hand corner was at zero,zero,zero,zero. Now its got almost 40 hits. Which isn't that much but...enough for me to have gotten some responses.
"Whats this mean?"
"Whats your motivation for posting that picture?"
"Was that me you were referring to?"
"Are you mad/sad/angry/frustrated with me?"
"Did you mean to come off so angry/happy/concerned/dorky/in love?"
I guess I should let ya'll in on my motivation behind writing on here. Its just for me. I think it - write it - post it- forget it. I shove my baggage into CyberSpace, and the last place I want it to land is on the people I love. I don't even want it to come back to me- so I don't even read the damn thing.
The pictures and the words have no hidden meaning for you, the reader. They have meaning for me, but if I try to explain the meaning- after you've read it- I have a hard time articulating it very well. It comes off wrong. I feel shy. I fear that you won't love me as unconditionally as I probably love you.
If you choose to read, and by all means go for it, please take everything with a grain of salt. This web page and a buck wouldn't buy you a cup of coffee. That means that while it's a peek- and I emphasize peek- at my scrambled, rapid fire thought- its not worth upsetting anyone.
I love you all and loving you is my life's meaning.
"Whats this mean?"
"Whats your motivation for posting that picture?"
"Was that me you were referring to?"
"Are you mad/sad/angry/frustrated with me?"
"Did you mean to come off so angry/happy/concerned/dorky/in love?"
I guess I should let ya'll in on my motivation behind writing on here. Its just for me. I think it - write it - post it- forget it. I shove my baggage into CyberSpace, and the last place I want it to land is on the people I love. I don't even want it to come back to me- so I don't even read the damn thing.
The pictures and the words have no hidden meaning for you, the reader. They have meaning for me, but if I try to explain the meaning- after you've read it- I have a hard time articulating it very well. It comes off wrong. I feel shy. I fear that you won't love me as unconditionally as I probably love you.
If you choose to read, and by all means go for it, please take everything with a grain of salt. This web page and a buck wouldn't buy you a cup of coffee. That means that while it's a peek- and I emphasize peek- at my scrambled, rapid fire thought- its not worth upsetting anyone.
I love you all and loving you is my life's meaning.
Annoying.
If your girlfriend is Deaf, for the love of FUCK, learn sign language.
If your too stupid to learn ASL then don't date her.
I got a phone call last night from someone who is dating a Deaf woman- they we're in the emergency room, and the hospital had yet to get their interpreter in. SO, in the middle of an asthma attack, a young, scared woman was forced to *write everything she needed to convey to the endless stream of doctors and nurses caring for her because no one was there that could understand her.
Learning Sign isn't hard. Its a visual language which makes it more entertaining than say...picking up Arabic in your spare time. There are free classes everywhere. I, myself, took classes from the Mormons in the MLK Library in Washington D.C.
Weird? Sure. Quality education? Most def. Pun intended.
Point: If you care about someone and you profess to want to devote your life to them, it might be a good fucking idea to learn how to communicate with them in a complete, efficient manner. Asking someone who is Deaf to lip read for the rest of their life is exhausting. And no matter how "great" they claim to be at lip reading the fact of the matter is that if your in a stressful situation i.e. the EMERGENCY ROOM, having a fight, buying a car, giving a speech, sitting with her parents for the first Christmas dinner- lip reading wont cut it.
She bought you a fucking BMW.
She cries when you go out of town for the weekend.
She sucks in her stomach, worried that you will notice that she's missed the gym for a week.
Give a little back. Twerp.
If your too stupid to learn ASL then don't date her.
I got a phone call last night from someone who is dating a Deaf woman- they we're in the emergency room, and the hospital had yet to get their interpreter in. SO, in the middle of an asthma attack, a young, scared woman was forced to *write everything she needed to convey to the endless stream of doctors and nurses caring for her because no one was there that could understand her.
Learning Sign isn't hard. Its a visual language which makes it more entertaining than say...picking up Arabic in your spare time. There are free classes everywhere. I, myself, took classes from the Mormons in the MLK Library in Washington D.C.
Weird? Sure. Quality education? Most def. Pun intended.
Point: If you care about someone and you profess to want to devote your life to them, it might be a good fucking idea to learn how to communicate with them in a complete, efficient manner. Asking someone who is Deaf to lip read for the rest of their life is exhausting. And no matter how "great" they claim to be at lip reading the fact of the matter is that if your in a stressful situation i.e. the EMERGENCY ROOM, having a fight, buying a car, giving a speech, sitting with her parents for the first Christmas dinner- lip reading wont cut it.
She bought you a fucking BMW.
She cries when you go out of town for the weekend.
She sucks in her stomach, worried that you will notice that she's missed the gym for a week.
Give a little back. Twerp.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Can we just skip this step? No? I didn't think so.
Trusting, in any relationship, can be highly disconcerting.
Illustration, see right.
Illustration, see right.
YOU COME HOME RIGHT NOW YOUNG MAN!!
When he was 10 years old the sound of me screaming that from the front door would have set him running for home. From down the block I could see his big ears and clumsy feet hauling ass for his Sissy.
So, I'll try again.
You come home right now young man. I miss you.
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