Saturday, October 16, 2010
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
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
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
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.
..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.
(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.)
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
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.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Pulp: "a soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter" and "a magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper."
the movie then begins.
I think the main reason people enjoyed this movie, and created it into a cult classic was the non linear organization of each scene. Like the books Choose Your Own Adventure, reach word relyies heavily on the next. Each next sequence we hope will reveal more about the story. Finally in the end though, its not like our usual endings, and the neo noir tragic ending and flawed main characters challenge Disney ending comfortability. Instead of satisfying bliss and peaceful endings, reality infiltrated its way into the minds of the viewers.
Here's something real
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
whats good girl?
oh workin on papers you know basically everything that has been put off this week because of my dumb ass
procrastination forces perfection
therefore, better cramming and being stressed only one time instead of spreading it out all week
a million times yes
why sweat it when you can just sweat it once?
yes, and girls don't sweat, they perspire
perspire to achieve?
no like to perspire ......not sweat
did i just make up a word??
no its a real word
i googled it
Thursday, March 4, 2010
I live in Fremont, self proclaimed center of the universe. It's true for I have seen with my own eyes, the very official t-shirt. Fremont is an appropriate environment for this point in life. A left turn to my shoulder is the city, connected by a bridge, but separate enough from the sometimes blocked sunlight in the concrete jungle of Seattle. It is here, I can most likely find the sunlight and soak on the water front. I enjoy the laid back environment and friendly sunshine attitude. But stil has a night life that is alive on the weekends, satisfying my need to relax inhibitions. On Sundays, the farmers market a block away, fills with hippies, and hippie lovers, collectively selling antiques and soon to be treasures along with other valuables.
Needless to say, I am a fan.
When I ride the bus to work every morning, you'll find me in the window looking up. To me the tops of the buildings we all pass are the most interesting. People walk past my windows frequently, and I enjoy watching. We are only a piece of glass away from eye contact. The setting to the movie thickens.
she draws... because she must.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Have you ever thought about the beginning to the movie that was made about who you are, like the scenes that you replay in your head that you connect to why you are you? The first scene is, to some the most important. First impressions are important to our pop culture identity.
I was raised watching movies, have over 200 of my own, and bookmark imdb.com (Internet Movie Database) on my computer…… Hence, I possess a passion for this artistic medium. I expect to be in form, structure less, like the post modern literature movement. I would like to indulge thee, a preview of my own puzzle pieces in screen form…There is no visual representation other than the interpretation created by the words in the imagination of those who read.
save a tree…..
(background noise: slow tapping of drums, increasing rapidly in speed, creating an anticipating rush of sound to build tension... It has a real rat tat style of noise, just the snare alone)for a few measures.. suddenly silenced, by the sound of a lighter failing to ignite. The hands of the lighter holder rapidly attempt to click by antsy thumbs and fail)
Out. Black screen
(noise: a young woman, grunts mildly with a hint of despair, expressing distress).
(she anxiously but slowly cries out)
Close up: two tainted lips hold tightly a cigarette creating a frown in her bottom half of face, as it remains unlit (pause)
Close up: long cigarette with the sun shining down on it brightly. It’s a nice day outside, birds are singing, people are walking by smiling. Her hand holding the lighter has crimson red nail polish slightly chipped, and a thin silver thumb ring that the sun reflects off of blinding and bright. Sometimes the tips get burnt from a final spark, teasing her. The lighter fails helplessly to satisfy its one purpose.
EXT. BUS STOP GOING DOWNTOWN TO WORK. OUTSIDE A LOCAL COFFEE SHOP WINDOW.
Body shot: main character, long dirty blonde hair, messy from last night but has a golden shine to it, maintaining a random but controlled curl in a loose messy bun. She wears last nights makeup fixed up and stands with business casual all back attire. Her apron ties are hanging out of her light brown bag light
Fast Forward. A city bus with the title “DOWNTOWN” is heard before seen and comes turning down the street and instantly stops at the tips of her large and frumpy restaurant style no slip all black clogs. Stop fast forward. The doors open slowly.
Shot. focus on MAIN CHARACTER face. Her cigarette goes limp with disappointment, and unimpressed lips like a bad first kiss, and her eyebrows both raise sharply from irony.
(expecting her fate she calmly cries out)
Shot. Body shot behind the main character and the bus crowds the screen. She quickly puts the cigarette back into her pocket and bends her knees to the right and grabs her coffee to ride the bus. She is facing the bus and sighs largely before entering. Her left foot first.
Shot. Her foot about to step on the last step of the loud buzzing creature of the metro transportation devices.
TITLE FLASHES ON SCREEN IN BLACK BACKGROUND, WHITE TEXT AND A SONG TOO HARD TO PICK OUT NOW PLAYS!
This could take a while. ……but at least it was a try. So I randomly explained myself on the verge of awesomeness, with the cliff hanging view of my screen play beginnings. When it comes to editing, no this scene probably would get moved, changed, and twisted into something different. Obviously, it is seen as nothing great now, but in a complex entirety would be valuable to understanding the truth of the story. Holly, wood is word pair for a reason. The wood, represents something that can be carved, crafted, chopped. A product of something once only beautiful to certain people, now is something all can touch and admire. That’s why they are so good at making movies. Carving products out of generalized and safe notions based on what will be profitable. This is a short but simple idea about why this scene should be seen as not simple, but complex. Apply this short labor of creative thought to the idea of being able to show someone who you are, simply out of replaying, and recreating feelings, even if to others watching it may seem uninteresting.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I would argue then that my experience learning leaves me with one important critique, that half of it may or may not have been facts based upon an equal collective. History, Art, Philosophy, English in the expressive modes are subjective, mainly to the men who wrote them all.... Institutionalized pumping of classes, sometimes works like a machine, pumping student after student to make sure that these books, are understood, generalized, and true with meaning. By the end of the assembly line, a person is expected to be gay, or straight, democrat, or republican, single, or married, a drinker, or not a drinker, sexual or not? Based upon what? what they told us..... This irrational practice of education makes it hard for a widened eye to blink away for a second. The single blink would put them back into a different reality, the abyss of your darkened lids where the mind makes its decisions, without influence except your own bodily gut feeling.
So when I continue on in my further and future education the point of this all is to refect on how not always, is the larger institution safe. Being a small fish in a big sea is not easy, but at least its harder to stand out, which makes you awesome.
This random thought is dedicated to the future projects, goals, plans, for the rest of the year 2010. More to come late, of course.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Two beer stained lips, exhale deeply her last cigarrette to settle thoughts of stress and recreate thoughts about the possibilities within a clear lit night, which as usual, is endless. The drunken call of Friday night echoed against her house from the street, only to remind her of the annoying empty conversations waiting if she should join this stumbling rant of excessive giggling and insecure, uninteresting, intentions.
Her house,which was snug fit in between the HEART of the universe, and somewhere else, somewhere chaotic. The night caught her ears attention like a tear to a cheek, listening to the noise of youthful spirits exploding with lost inhibitions, and alcohol. To no debate, it was just that, a blur of lost souls searching for something and never sleeps till it does, or passes out.. Even if she does decide to avoid the jungle around her, the orchestra of music humming from the venue down the ally, is a predator, to the inner rockstar within and will draw her to the streets immediately...
tap by tap
beat by beat
So she walks towards the noise... we've all seen Jumanji
This is how the story begins, It was all a Purple haze, but a buzz gone right, and a craving satisfied into a swirled hallucination of events that changed the night completely. Resting on the secure notion that her addiction to cigarettes is a mini adventure by a craving to drive late at night and satisfy the demon inside, the lady of the evening drove and crashed right into a random act of awesomeness. Upon entering the gas station nearby, she could not avoid the sound of music creeping its way like smoke into her right ear. Forcing her head to adjust, the instinct of wanting to hear things louder, therefore clearer.
The show was forcing an uncontrollable beat in her hand meditating her heart, tapping her index finger on her thigh to immitate this rare oddity in sound..... It didn't really matter who was playing at that point because it felt good. The night was already in her favor for finding something to satisfy her need to love the moment, and let the music take over, careless, and blind like a rockstar with thick shades on to disappear from the lights of the paparrazi. She went to the concert, and stood right up front, secured herself anti anxiety medication with a few drinks right away. At that point she was just hours away from a different reality, and ready to let the lights turn down low, and the waves of music crash decibal levels from the instruments immortal barrier breaking beats.
Somehow, this calms and smooths tension built up at work. DROID..... The music felt good on her body, and she knew this because they mimicked the lights, and she would swear her heart beat mimicked as well. Maybe it was the other way around and the lights mimicked the music.
After departing the show, she found herself waiting for a friend to get done in the bathroom and stood patiently leaning against a table, reached her elbow up slowly, but effortlessly, embracing her buzzed body upright. As all do, deny non sobriety, her intact eyes widened and ears slowly calmed from a what was seen as en endless ring.
She is a Virgo, detail oriented, observing, naturally acting as such she noticed a man....
who was dancing. Moving so slow, it didn't seem as if he was touching the ground. Then this smooth motion was stopped, he froze, ice, cold. But after for what seemed an eternity the ice shattered and his whole body muscles went limp and motioned back into a rhythmic dance. He was dancing, beautifully..... but, no one really noticed because of the almost empty venue.....
the concert was over,
and the music was gone...
This detail forced a smirk on her face and she then sat satisfied on the ending of a good night, and. But it was not over. It was just the beginning. Someone approached this lone being, not unusual and began asking questions about her night. THoughtul...so she discussed. He was interested in the random fate that drew her to the show..
Ah, the catch. He was the sound guy for the band. But despite a wise first instinct, she gave him the right number.
But that was enough, walk home.
Only to be interrupted by three wise men, with treats full of surprises. Cookies that were special, and transforming to the ora of the evening. Did I mention that these cookies were free... Upon sharing a bottle of champagne on the streets openly, she made new friends, and entertained themselves in the abyss of time, for about an hour.
but before we leave them, a tale of irony.
The lone dancer she saw earlier, passes by. The three wise men laugh as they tell her they are both eating the same magical cookies. Odd that at one point, a large separation had existed between her and the man who was dancing alone. But some how were still connected. But that is not the end. The man from earlier calls her....
In fact there is much more to tell, but I will leave you like the memory of most evenings go. Lost in a black out, somewhere. I wonder where we go when we black out? Because its' not reality. ...
But this random act of awesomeness would have not existed without the trusting condition of randomness, and acts of such as being benefitial. This is why music was created, you were meant to hear it.
A luring mystery lies in my imagination, about the vibrant exotic, crimson qualities within Red HAIR.. To me it is biological, hormonal, chemical, and a predetermined attraction that I can't control, an instant process of synaptic compulsions stimulating lust as I cross paths with someone who has red hair.... Im drawn to the way it mimicks FIRE, my poison apple, tempting to touch with consequences to follow. The curls of passion, stimulates the minds of those who desire to touch, something they once thought was untouchable, in fear of burning. in fear....of hurting.....Fire, is no longer touchable to immortals.
Naturally, the indifferent are characterized as such, singled out, and categorized into a group, associated towards negative and not normal. Critizised for not possessing the same standards of beauty as the public. I speak only in reference to the negative thoughts purely. I do not mean to generalize that all concepts of red heads are always seen in this way. However, I do recognize the following.
I am "Ging Curious" because of conversations overheard, participated, read, and/or seen on shows like South Park, and/or other ridiculous TV shows, internet videos, and You tube....
1. what if all the freckles connected together holds the key to the universe? (Sike, had to throw it in)
2. What would my kids look like?
3. Is the red hair dominant.....all over..... (dont shake your head...everyone has thought this maybe once...eyelashes to...asses.)
4. Why would I not be attracted to something that looks best in the sunlight.... Red hair, in my opinion looks beautiful in the daytime like glass...or a diamond.
5. who cares???
It is time to come out of the cabinet of curiosities, which has forever been sealed by judgments. It is time to recommit to a new understanding of "red heads". I understand why a wandering eye links to hair that shines just as bright as the sun, but yet still has skin soft like a virgin, naturally sensitive, but easily bruised...
Genes can never really go away until all people containing that gene are dead, and no longer reproduce. So there is hope that this recessive genetic wonder will be around forever. But remember that nothing gold last forever, and nothing red headed does either.....
Random Act of Awesomeness, for Red Headed appreciation.....