Tuesday, October 31, 2006
If your butt tingles...scratch it
Or don't. Makes no difference to me, I'm not trying to judge here.
this blog is a complete mess
Unfortunately due to my poor spelling and typing, along with my usual lack of editing has resulted in some strange sentance structures which read rather awkwardly at times. Combine this with my lack of labels and difficulty with longer posts means that things are a bit in shambles as far as my anal-retentive mind sees it. I will at some point in the near future be going back to do some minor editing. And why am I even bothering to post this for the love of .... It's late, I should be going to bed. I just felt like there might be something interesting forthcoming. I'm really a cup-is-half-full type of guy.... really.
OK... to bed then.
Adieu
OK... to bed then.
Adieu
Monday, October 30, 2006
good times... good times...
Well, I was just sitting here in my apartment trying to think of something to poke fun at. Poking fun....hmmm..... like with a stick with something on the end of it. Fun... I suppose, or doo-doo. Either way I was looking at some Minneapolis websites not only because it gets me excited for the move, but also gives me a clue as to what is happening around town. Speaking of which I always thought a good gag gift would be a small box with "Clues" printed on it all professional like and perhaps a clever, yet obvious tag like "You know you need to get one." The box would be empty of course, but... ok whatever.
So I happened to click a post about loft apartments and ended up reading the vitriolic lambastings that constituted the replies to it. Apparently lofts are the subject of much contempt and ridicule in the Twin Cities as are, people that build lofts, people that live in lofts, people that would like to live in a loft someday, or people that just like interesting and creative interior design.
The original post was itself innocent enough, but what really seemed to spark some controversy was the use of the words "creative class." I believe the prase was coined by writer Richard Florida in his book, "The Rise of the Creative Class." I've never read the book myself, but judging by some of those response posts, the creative class is not necessarily something to aspire to. But the subject many Minneapolitans seem to take as their favorite verbal punching bag is the hipster. Again, I'm not really sure what qualifies a person as a hipster, but it seems it is a universally negative thing to be. I sure hope I'm not a hipster. But if I were to take a stab at what might consitute such a person I'd have this to say. The hipster is apparently some kind of person who pretends to be cool.... but isn't? Or dresses unconventionally but deep down.... is a conformist? Judging by some descriptions the hipster is very concerned by their own superficial "look" and goes to great lengths to cultivate it, including reading "deep" books or obscuritan poetry that isn't really obscure (to the truly educated). In fact the hipster, it seems, is so involved in crating a personal "image" that they don't make decisions based on self-motivation but on aesthetic veneers that they believe will indicate to others that they are cool. Oh, and they regard non-hipsters (and possibly each other) with distain, when they regard others at all.
I guess what I'm getting at with all this is that while much of the commentary surrounding the creative class, hipsters, and so many other labels is tongue-in-cheek I can't help but feel that deep down there is some sort of real chaffing going on. That our own insecurities are what usually give rise to such criticisms. I'm not saying all these people want to be hipsters in some way, they just feel some compulsion to view their own lives as more authentic than those whom they consider to only be posturing. But then again maybe it's just me who is the intellecually elitist prick. At least I'm not a hippy.
So I happened to click a post about loft apartments and ended up reading the vitriolic lambastings that constituted the replies to it. Apparently lofts are the subject of much contempt and ridicule in the Twin Cities as are, people that build lofts, people that live in lofts, people that would like to live in a loft someday, or people that just like interesting and creative interior design.
The original post was itself innocent enough, but what really seemed to spark some controversy was the use of the words "creative class." I believe the prase was coined by writer Richard Florida in his book, "The Rise of the Creative Class." I've never read the book myself, but judging by some of those response posts, the creative class is not necessarily something to aspire to. But the subject many Minneapolitans seem to take as their favorite verbal punching bag is the hipster. Again, I'm not really sure what qualifies a person as a hipster, but it seems it is a universally negative thing to be. I sure hope I'm not a hipster. But if I were to take a stab at what might consitute such a person I'd have this to say. The hipster is apparently some kind of person who pretends to be cool.... but isn't? Or dresses unconventionally but deep down.... is a conformist? Judging by some descriptions the hipster is very concerned by their own superficial "look" and goes to great lengths to cultivate it, including reading "deep" books or obscuritan poetry that isn't really obscure (to the truly educated). In fact the hipster, it seems, is so involved in crating a personal "image" that they don't make decisions based on self-motivation but on aesthetic veneers that they believe will indicate to others that they are cool. Oh, and they regard non-hipsters (and possibly each other) with distain, when they regard others at all.
I guess what I'm getting at with all this is that while much of the commentary surrounding the creative class, hipsters, and so many other labels is tongue-in-cheek I can't help but feel that deep down there is some sort of real chaffing going on. That our own insecurities are what usually give rise to such criticisms. I'm not saying all these people want to be hipsters in some way, they just feel some compulsion to view their own lives as more authentic than those whom they consider to only be posturing. But then again maybe it's just me who is the intellecually elitist prick. At least I'm not a hippy.
Friday, October 27, 2006
the way
a ninja understands that achieving an objective is a matter of patience and agility.
-???????
-???????
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Kids
When my sister was younger, about twelve (12) years old, her and some of her friends wanted to form a Riotgrrrl band called "Little Girls' Dirty Sunday Panties." I find that funny. Personally I have toyed with the name "Cocksleeve and the Boner Ponies" but now I kind of like "The Intrepid Pubes." I think the later makes sense too because "little black curlies" are probably more ubiquitous than cockroaches. Of course this 'pubic migration' if you will, is often helped along by real princes of the food service industry who see it as their mission to pass along their DNA by adding it to the orders of rude customers. But even without the hard work of these classy fellows it's quite evident that these little buggers would get in our food anyway. That's just how they operate. And while I'm certain that no one has actually documented the mating habits of pubic hairs one has only to use the toilet in some hippy's apartment to understand that these things reproduce. You've been warned people, I'm doing my best to look out for you. So while mankind may have been to the Moon, I bet if you looked hard enough you could probably find pubes there too. These magnificent hairy explorers put Vasco de Gama to shame. Shame on you Vasco de Gama.
Wow, the thought-poopies are providing some real brilliance, which goes to show that toilet humour is.... like pubes.... here to stay.
Wow, the thought-poopies are providing some real brilliance, which goes to show that toilet humour is.... like pubes.... here to stay.
Another Story
Just to clear things up, or perhaps for some, make them more complicated, I have a few things to say about this small and crowded bit of former swampland that I live on. I say swampland because the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and Belgium are collectively known as the low-countries, lands that have been reclaimed from the sea by draining off all the agua. That is of course the reason there are so many canals throughout this country. Aha, I can see the lightbulb is starting to glimmer, isn't it twinkeltits? Hamster gaining a little ground in his Sysiphean enterprise of moving that little wheel? Hmm.... here's where it gets complicated. So complicated in fact, that when I've tried to give small geography lessons to mistaken friends and relatives their eyes usually glaze over. Go figure. Incidentally I quit doing it when: a) I got tired of explaining that the country is not called Amsterdam, and I don't live in that city anyway, and: b) I felt like the glazed look may have been a reaction to my possibly pretentious and pedantic accounts.
Where was I? Oh yes, the Netherlands..... it's the name of the country. The people and the language are to English speakers: Dutch. In their own language it's Nederlanders and Nederlands respectively. Holland is actually a specific region. There is a north and south Holland, and Amsterdam is in the North, the Hague in the south. So, I am living in the Hague or "Den Haag" which is the simplified version of "s'Gravenhage" which is not to be confused with the suburban town near here called Scheveningen. For extra credit, this last town is so difficult for non-Dutch speakers to pronounce that it was actually a code-word during WWII. So to recap: Amsterdam does not equal Holland which does not equal The Netherlands. Capice?
Where was I? Oh yes, the Netherlands..... it's the name of the country. The people and the language are to English speakers: Dutch. In their own language it's Nederlanders and Nederlands respectively. Holland is actually a specific region. There is a north and south Holland, and Amsterdam is in the North, the Hague in the south. So, I am living in the Hague or "Den Haag" which is the simplified version of "s'Gravenhage" which is not to be confused with the suburban town near here called Scheveningen. For extra credit, this last town is so difficult for non-Dutch speakers to pronounce that it was actually a code-word during WWII. So to recap: Amsterdam does not equal Holland which does not equal The Netherlands. Capice?
Left foot... Right foot... Kick 'em in the Dink!
A friend told me once that work annoyed him so much that he was going to go home and masturbate into a pile of his own pubes and then sculpt it into an exact replica of Michaelangelo's "David" except with a bigger penis. I laughed so hard I cried, because I'm pretty sure he was just joking. Anyway, I actually get to see the real "David" when I go to Florence next month. Of course, anyone who's interested in art and architecture cannot miss seeing Florence so I'll have approximately 3 days of actual sightseeing. Then having been to Italy I will have seen a pretty good selection of European countries. There is so much more to see but for now I'm going to have to put on hold my dreams of a month long car trip around France and A good week or so in Turkey. I'm also a bit sad that I still haven't seen Greece, but them's the breaks.
Italy, I'm sure it's going to be good but I'm not the biggest fan. K has been to Milan and besides the center of the city (the old part, I'm told) the place is a real toilet. I'm not trying to judge here people, I'm keeping an open mind. That's just what I've heard.
Speaking of living in Europe, I think I'm really going to miss the trams here the most. Bicycles are probably the number one mode of transportation in Dutch cities, but I'm fond of the trams. I can't say enough about public transportation in Europe. Well, I guess three sentances is good. Seriously. The trains here.... awesome. I love jumping on the train and reading the newspaper while munching on a croissant and then washing the whole thing down with a nice cappucino. 45 minutes later I'm in Amsterdam. The city, not the country.... but that's another story.
Italy, I'm sure it's going to be good but I'm not the biggest fan. K has been to Milan and besides the center of the city (the old part, I'm told) the place is a real toilet. I'm not trying to judge here people, I'm keeping an open mind. That's just what I've heard.
Speaking of living in Europe, I think I'm really going to miss the trams here the most. Bicycles are probably the number one mode of transportation in Dutch cities, but I'm fond of the trams. I can't say enough about public transportation in Europe. Well, I guess three sentances is good. Seriously. The trains here.... awesome. I love jumping on the train and reading the newspaper while munching on a croissant and then washing the whole thing down with a nice cappucino. 45 minutes later I'm in Amsterdam. The city, not the country.... but that's another story.
Just puttin' it out there
Writing also gets my panties in a bunch. My original blog was supposed to be a place where I practiced my writing. I'm not really sure what I've been practicing this last year, but I have a hard time actually calling it writing. From what I've read it actually takes writers several pages sometimes of writing before they actually get something they can use. You just keep writing and writing, or typing and typing and apparently the mind turds majically transform into something that passes for good writing. Can't say it isn't so myself because after pages of writing my wrist usually starts cramping up and the whole affair goes up in smoke. But since I still have time to bash my brains out for something interesting to say I'm shooting for the moon. Yup, I'm just going to keep posting mindless blather until it crystalizes into interesting and topical writing. Ok, how long has it been?
Oh yeah, that's right, I'm freaking lazy
My big problem is not having big dreams, but with finding the motivation to achieve them. I sometimes wonder if I am the least motivated person on the planet. Even people that sit around and say... smoke pot all day. They are at least motivated to smoke pot. Me, well, I don't know why I even get out of bed somedays.
Practice... lots of fucking practice
I'm thinking about careers in art at the moment. It's really a tough thing to consider because while I've wanted to study art for over a decade now, I've always been a little too chicken shit to give it a real chance. Back in the college years I was faced with a choice, I had narrowed down my major to two possibilities: art and philosophy. In the end philosophy won out because I figured that art was something I could teach myself. Perhaps I am right to some extent? I don't know, but while I don't regret the decision to study philosophy, I sometimes feel that a career in art may have been somewhat easier to persue when I was younger and had more drive.
On the other hand, I do have a BA. I've considered graduate schools on a couple of occassions but my grades have kept me out. The irony is so palpable it hurts. So I've continued to tumble down the road of life without really doing to much to stear myself and I am having a hard time mustering up the courage to change all that. Like a fool I keep waiting for something to happen that will equate to some epiphany, some sign that there is something on this earth that I was meant to do.
But I'm now starting to learn that you have to take risks in order to succeed, you have to be able to fail to make progress. I'm certainly not at the end of my rope, but I would like to know what's going on a little bit further up.
On the other hand, I do have a BA. I've considered graduate schools on a couple of occassions but my grades have kept me out. The irony is so palpable it hurts. So I've continued to tumble down the road of life without really doing to much to stear myself and I am having a hard time mustering up the courage to change all that. Like a fool I keep waiting for something to happen that will equate to some epiphany, some sign that there is something on this earth that I was meant to do.
But I'm now starting to learn that you have to take risks in order to succeed, you have to be able to fail to make progress. I'm certainly not at the end of my rope, but I would like to know what's going on a little bit further up.
Then again????
I don't think bile is truely my medium. I'm still going to reserve the right to use expletives and write about poo every now and then, but being a pissed off dude is not a sustainable persona for me. I just can't get behind it.
You see, my life is going through a lot of changes right now, and thankfully they are for the better. But be that as is may, the process can often be pretty stressful. But as I've said before, I'm not really sure who I am anymore. Or to put it another way, I'm on the road to self-discovery. I'm scared shitless, that's for sure, but I also have a lot of hope for the future, my future anyhow. I guess I'm just rambling now but it does feel good to get this stuff out.
OK.
You see, my life is going through a lot of changes right now, and thankfully they are for the better. But be that as is may, the process can often be pretty stressful. But as I've said before, I'm not really sure who I am anymore. Or to put it another way, I'm on the road to self-discovery. I'm scared shitless, that's for sure, but I also have a lot of hope for the future, my future anyhow. I guess I'm just rambling now but it does feel good to get this stuff out.
OK.
Monday, October 23, 2006
What's the Point?
It's such a fantastic experience having a blog, especially when you have absolutely nothing to say. And let's be honest. the vast majority of blogs out there are the chronicles of banal occurances of mundane lives. I'm not attempting to exclude myself from those ranks. On the contrary, I find my stuff pretty boring. I've been inhabiting this body for nearly 33 years now and I can assure you that I very rarely find anything interesting going on with it.
But perhaps that's just the point. It only freaks me out because I have this unnatural fear of being mediocre. For me, it's better to suck in the worst way than to be... middle of the road. Maybe some people find it comforting being surrounded by the rest of the herd, complacent in their long march to the middle. But I suspect that is not the case. I suspect that many, if not most, people have blogs or myspace sites becasue it's the same fear of averageness that complels people to want to reach out to those around them in the digital world, to add users as their friends for no other reason than to not feel like a loser. Well, I would much rather be a loser than like everyone else. At least, being a loser is being something.... something that for me is infinitely more acceptable than mediocre.
But what do I know? Truth is for the time being I'm stuck in the middle with you.
But perhaps that's just the point. It only freaks me out because I have this unnatural fear of being mediocre. For me, it's better to suck in the worst way than to be... middle of the road. Maybe some people find it comforting being surrounded by the rest of the herd, complacent in their long march to the middle. But I suspect that is not the case. I suspect that many, if not most, people have blogs or myspace sites becasue it's the same fear of averageness that complels people to want to reach out to those around them in the digital world, to add users as their friends for no other reason than to not feel like a loser. Well, I would much rather be a loser than like everyone else. At least, being a loser is being something.... something that for me is infinitely more acceptable than mediocre.
But what do I know? Truth is for the time being I'm stuck in the middle with you.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Fly.... fly away... little bird
It is a bit strange that i redeposited a former post about my life that is all but out of date at this point. However, since Minneapolis will soon be my new home i'm getting excited. I feel like rockin' out harder than a coke boner...YEAH!!!
Free cheeseburgers for everyone!
Free cheeseburgers for everyone!
Say wha'!?
So JC, looks like the old well of creativity is drying up like dog turd on a warm summer sidewalk. Well, since I'm not an attractive young female with a lithe and supple body, but rather an unemployed bald dude who is now beginning his approach on runway middle age, I cannot rely on pictures of myself prancing about in lingerie or or giving a seductive glance to drive people to my blog (....hold on a minute).
No, I have to utilize my stregnth of wit, and talents as a wordsmith. Hmm.... perhaps I am doomed to remain in the dustbin of obscurity. Regardless, I do find some small shred of comfort in the fact that I won't lose any dignity points by plastering my tiny scrap of cyberspace with advertisement, nor will I ever devote my site to all things Lohan, or martini recipies, or Martha Stewart-esque tips on how to create tacky looking holiday decorations from worthless shit. Here you shall never need to worry about being confronted by those annoyances. That is unless I decide that they are worthy topics of my verbal karate chops.
Moreover, should my blog find it's rise in popularity less than meteoric, this demonstrates nothing other than my long held suspicion that the vast majority of the herd lacks the ability to appreciate genius. Should you be one of these tasteless cro-magnons, feel free to leave at once before your brain is confronted by the possibility of...... thinking. If however you like witnessing the flower of brilliance bloom from the manure fields of mindless drivel then I invite you to walk with me as I travel the road of enlightened being.
Get bent nerds!
No, I have to utilize my stregnth of wit, and talents as a wordsmith. Hmm.... perhaps I am doomed to remain in the dustbin of obscurity. Regardless, I do find some small shred of comfort in the fact that I won't lose any dignity points by plastering my tiny scrap of cyberspace with advertisement, nor will I ever devote my site to all things Lohan, or martini recipies, or Martha Stewart-esque tips on how to create tacky looking holiday decorations from worthless shit. Here you shall never need to worry about being confronted by those annoyances. That is unless I decide that they are worthy topics of my verbal karate chops.
Moreover, should my blog find it's rise in popularity less than meteoric, this demonstrates nothing other than my long held suspicion that the vast majority of the herd lacks the ability to appreciate genius. Should you be one of these tasteless cro-magnons, feel free to leave at once before your brain is confronted by the possibility of...... thinking. If however you like witnessing the flower of brilliance bloom from the manure fields of mindless drivel then I invite you to walk with me as I travel the road of enlightened being.
Get bent nerds!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Skills: Smoke Ciggies (+3), Irreverent S.O.B.(+1)
Fuck it all. I have not been as brave as I would like to be. I'm changing that, I'm not going to worry about what people think about whatever the fuck it is that I talk about on this blog. My old blog is nice, quaint, and flat out just fucking boring. Sure, being a respectable human being has i'ts benefits, no one is offended, no one gets their feelings hurt, no one cares. Fuck that. If there comes a time where I need to have a inoffensive, happy time blog, then I will create a new one. Right now I need to explore some previously untrodden paths like spewing thoughless bile and bullshit, freely distributing my opinion about the internet, and shamelessly engaging in ego masturbation. I have found that the utterly suffocating practice of self-censorship is not only metally dangerous but has the tendancy to suck the creative "juices" completely dry.
So I say let go of the inhibitions, feel free to liberally use words like: cock, shit, fuck, motherfucker, bullshit, retard, and fuckwit. Let the cathartic influence of mental regurgitation cleanse the pathways of the mind.
Like all skills crafting one's linguistic effluent into humorous turd-nuggets of surprisingly high-caliber does take practice. But time + effort + true to yourself + a bit of cumin powder = success, and I'm starting now.
-toodles
So I say let go of the inhibitions, feel free to liberally use words like: cock, shit, fuck, motherfucker, bullshit, retard, and fuckwit. Let the cathartic influence of mental regurgitation cleanse the pathways of the mind.
Like all skills crafting one's linguistic effluent into humorous turd-nuggets of surprisingly high-caliber does take practice. But time + effort + true to yourself + a bit of cumin powder = success, and I'm starting now.
-toodles
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