This blog is about to get awesome.
New Title Proposal:Slash official patent idea for a website
A thorough Goggle Search, led me to believe this website is, in fact, unique.
Things they really said last night.com ......
One post per day limited to users.
So it doesnt get abused
coming soon....
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, October 16, 2010
memo to the :
We hate those who don’t follow the rules of society. This hate is represented, and outlined by words and sentences to form laws. Laws that are loosely defined, yet tightly binding. Separated as outcasts, those who don’t choose to follow these rules are sent to jails contained and labeled as the menaces to society. As if all the degrees of the harmful minds of humanity can be contained together. Yet at the same time, remove them from the society that separated them in the first place. We are all, in a jail cell. We all however, don’t choose to admit it. The price of freedom, is held so high that safety now determines this freedom, and freedom no longer becomes safe
Then how can a woman or man, proceed to assimilate back into a society that once took them away? Permanent safety, but a false sense of freedom, because redemption served in jail time grants you freedom, but you are forever labeled as a criminal. This binding negotiation of free will, is stripped, and replaced with a cooled out sense of what a life means. They were already out casted before entering jail. Out casted by an unequal place in the institutions surrounding.
My argument is that, the inequalities within the social justice system, denies the equal representation of all human misjudgments. I do not oppose the laws that we follow, because order is necessary to a sustainable society. Nor do I appose that all criminal acts can be avoided. However, I do appose the false sense of control, and categorization of criminals. I further disagree with the systems in which this occurs. Instead of creating institutions to lock people up quickly, why not take that time to create institutions that help all children, to an equal education, equal health benefits, equal opportunity, to succeed. Until our society recognizes that this system of perpetuating inequalities only promotes criminal activity, it will continue. If we are all granted the same opportunities, then the system to regulate crime, will be equal as well. Unfortunately it is not, and crime will continue, until the misguided futures of individuals is actualized and safe again.
The criminals are not the ones we should fear, it should be those who decide that a capitalistic mode of representing opportunity, grants power. That power is dangerous because it doesn’t acknowledge the poor misfortunes of being born into a designated class of society.
Then how can a woman or man, proceed to assimilate back into a society that once took them away? Permanent safety, but a false sense of freedom, because redemption served in jail time grants you freedom, but you are forever labeled as a criminal. This binding negotiation of free will, is stripped, and replaced with a cooled out sense of what a life means. They were already out casted before entering jail. Out casted by an unequal place in the institutions surrounding.
My argument is that, the inequalities within the social justice system, denies the equal representation of all human misjudgments. I do not oppose the laws that we follow, because order is necessary to a sustainable society. Nor do I appose that all criminal acts can be avoided. However, I do appose the false sense of control, and categorization of criminals. I further disagree with the systems in which this occurs. Instead of creating institutions to lock people up quickly, why not take that time to create institutions that help all children, to an equal education, equal health benefits, equal opportunity, to succeed. Until our society recognizes that this system of perpetuating inequalities only promotes criminal activity, it will continue. If we are all granted the same opportunities, then the system to regulate crime, will be equal as well. Unfortunately it is not, and crime will continue, until the misguided futures of individuals is actualized and safe again.
The criminals are not the ones we should fear, it should be those who decide that a capitalistic mode of representing opportunity, grants power. That power is dangerous because it doesn’t acknowledge the poor misfortunes of being born into a designated class of society.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Gonzo
Hunter S. Thompson
Excerpts from his book, of collected writing, Gonzo.
“The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.”
“Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested…
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll. “
"There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die."
Excerpts from his book, of collected writing, Gonzo.
“The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.”
“Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish — a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow — to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested…
Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll. “
"There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die."
Monday, July 19, 2010
5th and Madison, behind the glass
I saw two men dressed up like the Mario Brothers, walk across the street. It's almost the end of July, so Halloween is ruled out. Ill confirm the reality of this story by mentioning that it is but one, of many strange things seen. I was not surprised, only curious.
Two men carrying an old television uphill on a wheely, reminded me of the opening scene of the movie Requiem for a Dream. (Why do they have a TV @ 8 o clock on a Monday night?) Hence, should I stop staring?
Two people came in side my work and shared a bottle of wine or maybe more over the course of my shift. They arrived separately but stayed until late and left together. Its romantic at first, until my dropping ears leak into the dialouge. I can almost taste the nectar of sweet juice coming from the conversation as they discuss the pains of being married, and the annoyances of there spouses. As in a family, as in, not each other. They usually share the same bottle every time.
Another two people wait at a table on the window. For about forty five minutes they sit, silent, and bitter for the other two guest to arrive. During that time, each moment I pass they look at me directly hoping I have a topic of conversation to provide. But I dont. When the other couple arrives they are the most vibrant and giggling pair, the loudest in the restaurant. I smirk at the opposite pairs together at the same table, wondering how the rest of dinner went.
Then I see a regular, not a regular diner, but a regular passer by. He lives in the apartments above us. I remember him vividly because of the blue silk button down top, with dragon imprints all over he seems to wear everyday. I'm not sure if he has anything else to wear. But these are expensive condos, and quickly I rule out affordability. I also remember him because of his girlfriend. At first she looked like his grandma, and quickly a goodbye kiss was more than enough needed to distinguish the extent of the relationship. They make dinner together frequently, walking to the store, but never coming inside.
How do I know this family walking across the street are tourists? Maybe its because they look up a lot. The large American flags sequenced on their matching shirts makes me question it.. But I have no idea why that would make me think so....
A party of young...not yet lawyers collect at a large table for a formal dinner party. Infact they are all still students of law dressed up well enough to fool me. As the wine settles in and marinates in justices hand, I see her slap her superior violently, but meant to be friendly, across the face. They both laugh. I am sober, and I still laugh inside. I wonder if secretly they were both mad.
The corner of 5th and Madison is never a dull moment if you choose to look deeply the details which surround it. This city is full of insects who rush from place to place with a purpose. I know it is getting late at night because the tops of the buildings next to me lose the vibrant glow of the sunset. It's time for me to start lighting some candles and improve the ambiance.
Two men carrying an old television uphill on a wheely, reminded me of the opening scene of the movie Requiem for a Dream. (Why do they have a TV @ 8 o clock on a Monday night?) Hence, should I stop staring?
Two people came in side my work and shared a bottle of wine or maybe more over the course of my shift. They arrived separately but stayed until late and left together. Its romantic at first, until my dropping ears leak into the dialouge. I can almost taste the nectar of sweet juice coming from the conversation as they discuss the pains of being married, and the annoyances of there spouses. As in a family, as in, not each other. They usually share the same bottle every time.
Another two people wait at a table on the window. For about forty five minutes they sit, silent, and bitter for the other two guest to arrive. During that time, each moment I pass they look at me directly hoping I have a topic of conversation to provide. But I dont. When the other couple arrives they are the most vibrant and giggling pair, the loudest in the restaurant. I smirk at the opposite pairs together at the same table, wondering how the rest of dinner went.
Then I see a regular, not a regular diner, but a regular passer by. He lives in the apartments above us. I remember him vividly because of the blue silk button down top, with dragon imprints all over he seems to wear everyday. I'm not sure if he has anything else to wear. But these are expensive condos, and quickly I rule out affordability. I also remember him because of his girlfriend. At first she looked like his grandma, and quickly a goodbye kiss was more than enough needed to distinguish the extent of the relationship. They make dinner together frequently, walking to the store, but never coming inside.
How do I know this family walking across the street are tourists? Maybe its because they look up a lot. The large American flags sequenced on their matching shirts makes me question it.. But I have no idea why that would make me think so....
A party of young...not yet lawyers collect at a large table for a formal dinner party. Infact they are all still students of law dressed up well enough to fool me. As the wine settles in and marinates in justices hand, I see her slap her superior violently, but meant to be friendly, across the face. They both laugh. I am sober, and I still laugh inside. I wonder if secretly they were both mad.
The corner of 5th and Madison is never a dull moment if you choose to look deeply the details which surround it. This city is full of insects who rush from place to place with a purpose. I know it is getting late at night because the tops of the buildings next to me lose the vibrant glow of the sunset. It's time for me to start lighting some candles and improve the ambiance.
Friday, April 2, 2010
ANOTHER SCENE
EXT. HOME TO MAIN CHARACTER. BLUE GREEN WITH WHITE TRIM CORRESPONDING WHITE WOOD FENCE, HAND PAINTED AND ASSEMBLED. HAUNTING LIKE THE ALICE IN WONDERLANDS HOLE. HOMEMADE BEER PONG TABLE ON OUTGROWN LAWN. RED KEG CUPS PEAK OUT OF THE GREEN. GRAFFITI SCRAPS OF WOOD ARE SCATTERED AGAINST THE HOUSE AND AROUND. IN THE WINDOW IS A SIGN THAT READS "STAY CLASSIC SEATTLE". SUN BRIGHT. BLUE SKY. PERFECT FOR A CIGARETTE.
Fade In
..Intro song plays in the background..
Door opens to the front house, the main character steps with an unlit cigarette in her mouth and frowns with displeasure. Its really fucking bright out.
main character exhales deeply with relief and closes her fists together with angry relief. The cigarette automatically lights in the heat of the morning.
MAIN CHARACTER
(She inhales a large and long drag of smoke while muttering loudly
"that feels so. good..."
(assertively switches from relaxed to formally collected like an adult. to her right was the neighbor for his morning smoke.)
"Morning"
EXT. DAYTIME. NEIGHBORS HOUSE, ECLECTIC WITH MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS. USUAL FOUNTAINS, ROLLING MARBLE BALLS, NO GNOMES....BUT IT LOOKS LIKE ONE VISITS FREQUENTLY.
NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR:
LATE 50's,STANDS TALL WITH CONFIDENCE BUT LOOKS SHORT FROM A DISAPPOINTING LONG LOST LOVE NEVER RECOVERED FROM. HIS SLIGHT HUNCH IS FROM MOST LIKELY FROM HAVING A SEXY SWAGGER IN HIS YOUNGER YEARS. MORE THAN LIKELY THE FATE OF GRAVITY UPON THE BEER INFUSED BELLY BUT HIS FRAME STILL APPEARS INTACT. HE HAS GLASSES THAT TOUCH HIS HAIR JUST LONG ENOUGH WITH A CURL TO GRAB AND SLIDE HIS HAND THROUGH BACKWARDS. HE WAS A LADIES MAN NO DOUBT, THE SILENT TYPE. HIS SMOKE BREAKS ARE FREQUENT BUT HIS DRINK CHOICE VARIES NIGHTLY. THE ASSHOLE. THE ONE THAT YOU ALWAYS LET GO. HIS PAST EXPERIENCES OF ENTREPRENEURSHIP AND FREE LIVING MAKES HIM PERFECT FOR ADVICE THAT SUPPORTS RANDOM LIVING. HE IS WHO THE CHARACTERS REFLECT THROUGH.
EXT. HOME TO MAIN CHARACTER. BLUE GREEN WITH WHITE TRIM CORRESPONDING WHITE WOOD FENCE, HAND PAINTED AND ASSEMBLED. HAUNTING LIKE THE ALICE IN WONDERLANDS HOLE. HOMEMADE BEER PONG TABLE ON OUTGROWN LAWN. RED KEG CUPS PEAK OUT OF THE GREEN. GRAFFITI SCRAPS OF WOOD ARE SCATTERED AGAINST THE HOUSE AND AROUND. IN THE WINDOW IS A SIGN THAT READS "STAY CLASSIC SEATTLE". SUN BRIGHT. BLUE SKY. PERFECT FOR A CIGARETTE.
Fade In
..Intro song plays in the background..
Door opens to the front house, the main character steps with an unlit cigarette in her mouth and frowns with displeasure. Its really fucking bright out.
main character exhales deeply with relief and closes her fists together with angry relief. The cigarette automatically lights in the heat of the morning.
MAIN CHARACTER
(She inhales a large and long drag of smoke while muttering loudly
"that feels so. good..."
(assertively switches from relaxed to formally collected like an adult. to her right was the neighbor for his morning smoke.)
"Morning"
EXT. DAYTIME. NEIGHBORS HOUSE, ECLECTIC WITH MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS. USUAL FOUNTAINS, ROLLING MARBLE BALLS, NO GNOMES....BUT IT LOOKS LIKE ONE VISITS FREQUENTLY.
NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR:
LATE 50's,STANDS TALL WITH CONFIDENCE BUT LOOKS SHORT FROM A DISAPPOINTING LONG LOST LOVE NEVER RECOVERED FROM. HIS SLIGHT HUNCH IS FROM MOST LIKELY FROM HAVING A SEXY SWAGGER IN HIS YOUNGER YEARS. MORE THAN LIKELY THE FATE OF GRAVITY UPON THE BEER INFUSED BELLY BUT HIS FRAME STILL APPEARS INTACT. HE HAS GLASSES THAT TOUCH HIS HAIR JUST LONG ENOUGH WITH A CURL TO GRAB AND SLIDE HIS HAND THROUGH BACKWARDS. HE WAS A LADIES MAN NO DOUBT, THE SILENT TYPE. HIS SMOKE BREAKS ARE FREQUENT BUT HIS DRINK CHOICE VARIES NIGHTLY. THE ASSHOLE. THE ONE THAT YOU ALWAYS LET GO. HIS PAST EXPERIENCES OF ENTREPRENEURSHIP AND FREE LIVING MAKES HIM PERFECT FOR ADVICE THAT SUPPORTS RANDOM LIVING. HE IS WHO THE CHARACTERS REFLECT THROUGH.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Gypsy Rose Lee
"Men aren't attracted to me by my mind. They're attracted by what I don't mind."
Recognized as the mother of burlesque an overtime, exploited performance (altough not always focused on sex it was about humor and music). I found this Seattle native searching for famous born locals in a commonly male dominated collective. During the 1920's she is proclaimed to be, although how many young girls wish they were in fact, the inventor of the strip tease. Of course I would want to know more. My interest in this information is the passive aggressive representation of sexuality at hand. Although she was a "stripper," she never actually got undressed and was known for incorporating humor, and flashy outfits, actually talking to the audience which was uncommon for burlesque performers.A voice to the picture.
The walls of her home were filled with pictures by Joan Miró, Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, and Dorothea Tanning, all suggested to be directly from the artists themselves. An artistic muse to them, and myself as well. She is but one, and no I say not the most important, but recognized Seattle native.
Sometimes it is necessary to explain yourself and why you choose to draw certain objects. It seems emotional fantasy and romantic ambition happen within the blink of an eye.
Recognized as the mother of burlesque an overtime, exploited performance (altough not always focused on sex it was about humor and music). I found this Seattle native searching for famous born locals in a commonly male dominated collective. During the 1920's she is proclaimed to be, although how many young girls wish they were in fact, the inventor of the strip tease. Of course I would want to know more. My interest in this information is the passive aggressive representation of sexuality at hand. Although she was a "stripper," she never actually got undressed and was known for incorporating humor, and flashy outfits, actually talking to the audience which was uncommon for burlesque performers.A voice to the picture.
The walls of her home were filled with pictures by Joan Miró, Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, and Dorothea Tanning, all suggested to be directly from the artists themselves. An artistic muse to them, and myself as well. She is but one, and no I say not the most important, but recognized Seattle native.
Sometimes it is necessary to explain yourself and why you choose to draw certain objects. It seems emotional fantasy and romantic ambition happen within the blink of an eye.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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