i sit on unfinished floor, door frame holding me up as i stare eternity in the face. the sun in one room washes the walls in it's soft yellow light which slowly fades to moonlight and back again. the rest of the galaxy beckons through the worm hole in the other room; stardust spiraling toward the middle of the ceiling, disappearing to nowhere. the infinite cold and lack of oxygen make my muscles seize up as i spin outta orbit. the door frame falls to my left and the floor meets me from the right; hurts my head. eternity lays down beside me and reminds me that she knows me as well as i know myself. she looks into my eyes. i look through hers. her gaze stirs my brain into a galaxy of insights+foresights+memories i never remembered or imagined taste so bitter. i pucker. gag. cry. gasp for air. she slides closer to comfort, but her hollow, icy touch only tightens my stomach+throat. i shutter...
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Friday, May 30, 2014
toys : my mid year christmas list
lomo instant camera : i've always enjoyed polaroid photography. so does she. this camera is like those cameras but cooler. it'll be more of a gift for her, but i'll use it.
lix 3-d printing pen : i sketch. and want to in a third dimension.
i would have funded+bought both of these products if i had any idea what my shipping address would be by their releases later in the year... but since i have absolutely no clue i'll just have to wait and buy them once they're available and i have a new permanent home. more on that later.
lix 3-d printing pen : i sketch. and want to in a third dimension.
i would have funded+bought both of these products if i had any idea what my shipping address would be by their releases later in the year... but since i have absolutely no clue i'll just have to wait and buy them once they're available and i have a new permanent home. more on that later.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Thursday, March 13, 2014
the more my insomnia increases, the more episodes of deja vu i experience, the more day dreams i have, the more my mind races from to-do-list to fantasy to tomorrow's decision to now to last week's regret to an idea to reality to my notebook to my needs+desires+wants and back again (at times near uncontrollably, or so i imagine it would appear to any other mind but my own). but this is also when i'm at my best, my most engaged, my most attentive, my most understanding and in tune and confident and thorough. and at my most creative. so bring it insomnia. sleep is for suckers anyway...
Friday, March 07, 2014
fallin' floyd and animated sex
always love sharing animated shorts. here's a new favourite that speaks to my heart.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sunday, February 09, 2014
song+dance (fff#18)
flash fiction friday trigger #18 (inclusion): dance, glance, trance, prance, pants
same song. same dance. a week of physical absence and digital lies before she'd prance in the house looking+smelling like her phenomenally intoxicating self. she'd crack a smile, shoot a wanting glance and my boiling rage would roll to a simmer and shortly evaporate away to soft warm happiness; pleased with her safety, her gaze, her touch, her warmth. same song. same trance would come over me every time she would gently slide her skirt from that playful position on her hips, lay on the bed and grab her perfectly shaped ass with that glance once more. i'd go to her. she'd grab a handful of my member and watch him grow from beneath my pants before revealing him and loving us both. we'd come together for the rest of the night. in the morning we'd share each other again, pushing against the tiled walls of our tiny shower stall like we were trying to remodel. for the days that followed we'd share dreams+ideas+laughs, and we'd cook for each other, and read to each other, and taste+smell+love like home for each other.
and as soon i thought maybe she'd stay, maybe we'd stay this time... she'd be gone.
each spell cast was always followed by another spell of absence and each absence helped me build up a resistance to it; like abusing a good drug. and it had become just that; i slowly stopped looking or asking for further digital lying but instead knew building up a tolerance to her drugging and eventually (i'd tell myself) i 'd be free of her spell.
in her absence i'd keep the house clean and the bills paid and the animals fed and the lawn trimmed. in her absence i'd perfect everything for her impending return, whenever it may be. in her absence i'd keep the fridge stocked and cook meals in case she appeared that night to a hot meal that would surely then have her asking herself why she ever leaves my side. at night in her absence her clothes would hang in the darkness next to mine, her dry towel would hang next to my damp one, her cold pillow would lay next to my head; all redolent with her sweet smell. our animals would do their best to fill her void with their love. in her absence my chest would tighten, i'd lay awake and wonder where she was, what she was doing, even if she was happy, but mostly i'd wonder why she kept me under this treacherous spell and when i would grow strong enough to break it.
same song. same dance. spell bound again.
a few mornings later i awake from a warm sleep to an icy cold room. i know before my eyes open that she's gone. i'm alone again with only the hot breath of our panting beast breaking the chill. the beast, thrilled with my open eyes wets my face with it's rank tongue startling all my senses and lifting me immediately to a sitting position where i would better suited to defend myself from it's aggressive love. it means i'll lift my empty dreams and slightly harder heart from beneath my cocoon and to my feet. i smoke a bit of the emptiness, the tightness, the hardness away before collaring me in cotton, it in metal and wandering out into the deepest blue morning darkness. dawn is minutes away.
me+beast wander. we turn a corner. and another. another. the paperboy avoids our side of the street; beast growls anyway. beast shits in the park; i leave it. another corner and the street lights begin to flicker off; the deep blue skies giving way for greens. another corner and another as we turn back onto our street; our little red brick castle just in the distance cast in increasingly vibrant yellows. i have my eyes on the lines of orange+pink that begin to streak down the clouds southeast edge. beast has it's eyes on the ground, searching and sniffing for every other beast available when it suddenly jerks my shoulder left up a driveway. beast's claws scrape the pavement as i resist. beast's ears tell me to listen. i hear only mumbling and then a car door. i force beast from the driveway and toward our castle despite it's continued resistance but as it fights back i glance to see an all too familiar bumper sticker back out the driveway. her eyes go as big as saucers as beast+me stand dumbfounded, heartbroken and hollow that this betrayal has gone on just four little kingdoms away. she considers words briefly but then decides against it. the bumper sticker beats us home. i close the gate to our/my/her kingdom and send beast for water, returning to my cocoon to find it already tainted with her warm wanting flesh.
she tries to sing. she tries to dance. i cocoon myself away from her spells. its cold.
hours later she strikes with her soft, warm dance again. i resist by my soldier disobeys my orders. she attacks him. he fights the good fight and wins and loses. defenses exhausted, we cocoon together and she whispers to me a new song i'd not heard before: a fable of how her adventure to the other kingdom is over, that she's chosen this castle+king and that our magic potion is now brewing a little prince/ss. i have no response. the realisation of her betrayal in such close proximity had hardened me beyond permeation. her spell is suddenly broken. the rehab over. her banishment can occur tomorrow.
we puff ourselves to sleep...
in the morning i'll sing+dance as she packs her bags.
same song. same dance. a week of physical absence and digital lies before she'd prance in the house looking+smelling like her phenomenally intoxicating self. she'd crack a smile, shoot a wanting glance and my boiling rage would roll to a simmer and shortly evaporate away to soft warm happiness; pleased with her safety, her gaze, her touch, her warmth. same song. same trance would come over me every time she would gently slide her skirt from that playful position on her hips, lay on the bed and grab her perfectly shaped ass with that glance once more. i'd go to her. she'd grab a handful of my member and watch him grow from beneath my pants before revealing him and loving us both. we'd come together for the rest of the night. in the morning we'd share each other again, pushing against the tiled walls of our tiny shower stall like we were trying to remodel. for the days that followed we'd share dreams+ideas+laughs, and we'd cook for each other, and read to each other, and taste+smell+love like home for each other.
and as soon i thought maybe she'd stay, maybe we'd stay this time... she'd be gone.
each spell cast was always followed by another spell of absence and each absence helped me build up a resistance to it; like abusing a good drug. and it had become just that; i slowly stopped looking or asking for further digital lying but instead knew building up a tolerance to her drugging and eventually (i'd tell myself) i 'd be free of her spell.
in her absence i'd keep the house clean and the bills paid and the animals fed and the lawn trimmed. in her absence i'd perfect everything for her impending return, whenever it may be. in her absence i'd keep the fridge stocked and cook meals in case she appeared that night to a hot meal that would surely then have her asking herself why she ever leaves my side. at night in her absence her clothes would hang in the darkness next to mine, her dry towel would hang next to my damp one, her cold pillow would lay next to my head; all redolent with her sweet smell. our animals would do their best to fill her void with their love. in her absence my chest would tighten, i'd lay awake and wonder where she was, what she was doing, even if she was happy, but mostly i'd wonder why she kept me under this treacherous spell and when i would grow strong enough to break it.
same song. same dance. spell bound again.
a few mornings later i awake from a warm sleep to an icy cold room. i know before my eyes open that she's gone. i'm alone again with only the hot breath of our panting beast breaking the chill. the beast, thrilled with my open eyes wets my face with it's rank tongue startling all my senses and lifting me immediately to a sitting position where i would better suited to defend myself from it's aggressive love. it means i'll lift my empty dreams and slightly harder heart from beneath my cocoon and to my feet. i smoke a bit of the emptiness, the tightness, the hardness away before collaring me in cotton, it in metal and wandering out into the deepest blue morning darkness. dawn is minutes away.
me+beast wander. we turn a corner. and another. another. the paperboy avoids our side of the street; beast growls anyway. beast shits in the park; i leave it. another corner and the street lights begin to flicker off; the deep blue skies giving way for greens. another corner and another as we turn back onto our street; our little red brick castle just in the distance cast in increasingly vibrant yellows. i have my eyes on the lines of orange+pink that begin to streak down the clouds southeast edge. beast has it's eyes on the ground, searching and sniffing for every other beast available when it suddenly jerks my shoulder left up a driveway. beast's claws scrape the pavement as i resist. beast's ears tell me to listen. i hear only mumbling and then a car door. i force beast from the driveway and toward our castle despite it's continued resistance but as it fights back i glance to see an all too familiar bumper sticker back out the driveway. her eyes go as big as saucers as beast+me stand dumbfounded, heartbroken and hollow that this betrayal has gone on just four little kingdoms away. she considers words briefly but then decides against it. the bumper sticker beats us home. i close the gate to our/my/her kingdom and send beast for water, returning to my cocoon to find it already tainted with her warm wanting flesh.
she tries to sing. she tries to dance. i cocoon myself away from her spells. its cold.
hours later she strikes with her soft, warm dance again. i resist by my soldier disobeys my orders. she attacks him. he fights the good fight and wins and loses. defenses exhausted, we cocoon together and she whispers to me a new song i'd not heard before: a fable of how her adventure to the other kingdom is over, that she's chosen this castle+king and that our magic potion is now brewing a little prince/ss. i have no response. the realisation of her betrayal in such close proximity had hardened me beyond permeation. her spell is suddenly broken. the rehab over. her banishment can occur tomorrow.
we puff ourselves to sleep...
in the morning i'll sing+dance as she packs her bags.
Friday, January 24, 2014
the dangerous mind of david simon : tales of two cities
as a fan of david simon's work i happened to have the interesting opportunity to live in or at least near the cities he portrayed in his hbo series while they were in production. i have to admit to living near as i lived in washington dc, not baltimore, during the production of the wire though anyone with experience will tell you that living in one means knowledge of and (at least occasionally) frequenting the other.
for those who may not know, david simon worked the baltimore sun city desk for 12years during which time he wrote homicide: a year on the killing streets and co-wrote the corner: a year in the life of an inner city neigbourhood both of which had their own (mini)series and both of which certainly inspired the wire. after katrina, simon worked with part-time new orleans local, eric overmyer to create treme; the tale of nola's recovering historic musician's neighbourhood.
while both shows embodied their respective cities well my experience with both of them is certainly different. i was already living in new orleans when the creation of treme was announced and over the last five+ years i've gotten very intimate with this city. perhaps had i known baltimore in the same way my views of the wire would more closely resemble those of treme. that being said, i remember an excitement in new orleans when treme was initially announced. the producer of the wire was going to come tell a similar story of our beloved city in the aftermath of our abysmal near death experience; how could there not be excitement? simon had wrote some of the grittiest, true characters ever conceived for the wire, he'll surely do the same with his characters of new orleans. but after the first season, treme was getting mixed reviews from the nola natives. i heard critiques about the show's apparent slow pace or the lack of depth; that the characters didn't resonate with the locals though the events the characters experienced did. others, of course, enjoyed it immensely; glad to see simon capture more than simply gratuitous jazz+gluttony.
for me what differs between simon's stories of baltimore and new orleans is that while the wire told of individuals lives through exemplary character development, treme conversely showed how each character served as interactive piece of the greater whole (best embodied in the season 3 finale; tipitina). the main character in treme was the great city of new orleans. her hopes+dreams, her health+well-being, her trials+tribulations were lived out through her citizens; parts of a greater whole like the arteries+organs of her body - each action a felt though potentially not noticed reaction. the music was her heart, the food was her soul, the politics+crime; her brain. treme mirrored the way i've come to see the city over the years; thousands of interlocking pieces of diner+streetcar+bayou+sousaphone. in that way the show became a great success and i was thrilled that hbo allowed it to conclude... albeit rapidly.
.....
simon's work serves as a bitter look at an american reality all too often cast aside or hidden from plain sight by the media, the aristocrat, the government, and the ignorant which sadly includes... the majority. we are, after all, a country of complacency far too satisfied with our instant gratification.
this post was inspired after searching one of my new favorite websites: dangerous minds. i came across a talk david simon gave at australia's "festival of dangerous ideas" in the sydney opera house. his speech was appropriately titled "my country is a horror show." in it david simon proves himself a dangerous mind, and one worth listening to. check it out.
a few other intriguing dangerous minds links:
istvan orosz art
hitchcock's unseen holocaust documentary
houdini exposed
franz kafta's "it's a wonderful life" brought to you by the new doctor, peter capaldi
grant/hepburn : 5-minute version of charade
for those who may not know, david simon worked the baltimore sun city desk for 12years during which time he wrote homicide: a year on the killing streets and co-wrote the corner: a year in the life of an inner city neigbourhood both of which had their own (mini)series and both of which certainly inspired the wire. after katrina, simon worked with part-time new orleans local, eric overmyer to create treme; the tale of nola's recovering historic musician's neighbourhood.
while both shows embodied their respective cities well my experience with both of them is certainly different. i was already living in new orleans when the creation of treme was announced and over the last five+ years i've gotten very intimate with this city. perhaps had i known baltimore in the same way my views of the wire would more closely resemble those of treme. that being said, i remember an excitement in new orleans when treme was initially announced. the producer of the wire was going to come tell a similar story of our beloved city in the aftermath of our abysmal near death experience; how could there not be excitement? simon had wrote some of the grittiest, true characters ever conceived for the wire, he'll surely do the same with his characters of new orleans. but after the first season, treme was getting mixed reviews from the nola natives. i heard critiques about the show's apparent slow pace or the lack of depth; that the characters didn't resonate with the locals though the events the characters experienced did. others, of course, enjoyed it immensely; glad to see simon capture more than simply gratuitous jazz+gluttony.
for me what differs between simon's stories of baltimore and new orleans is that while the wire told of individuals lives through exemplary character development, treme conversely showed how each character served as interactive piece of the greater whole (best embodied in the season 3 finale; tipitina). the main character in treme was the great city of new orleans. her hopes+dreams, her health+well-being, her trials+tribulations were lived out through her citizens; parts of a greater whole like the arteries+organs of her body - each action a felt though potentially not noticed reaction. the music was her heart, the food was her soul, the politics+crime; her brain. treme mirrored the way i've come to see the city over the years; thousands of interlocking pieces of diner+streetcar+bayou+sousaphone. in that way the show became a great success and i was thrilled that hbo allowed it to conclude... albeit rapidly.
.....
simon's work serves as a bitter look at an american reality all too often cast aside or hidden from plain sight by the media, the aristocrat, the government, and the ignorant which sadly includes... the majority. we are, after all, a country of complacency far too satisfied with our instant gratification.
this post was inspired after searching one of my new favorite websites: dangerous minds. i came across a talk david simon gave at australia's "festival of dangerous ideas" in the sydney opera house. his speech was appropriately titled "my country is a horror show." in it david simon proves himself a dangerous mind, and one worth listening to. check it out.
a few other intriguing dangerous minds links:
istvan orosz art
hitchcock's unseen holocaust documentary
houdini exposed
franz kafta's "it's a wonderful life" brought to you by the new doctor, peter capaldi
grant/hepburn : 5-minute version of charade
Sunday, January 19, 2014
lord, help the poor+needy
earlier today i was heading down tchoupitoulas windows down, fresh cool air balancing the warmth of the sun and filled with the sounds of wwoz sunday. slightly lifted i used the particularly perfect blend of sensory stimulation to process+defragment+clear my mind until jessie mae hemphill got my complete attention with this song. simply soulful+hopeful+beautiful. i remained caught in oz's vibe as they went straight into old crow's motel in memphis and i suddenly realised they were praising dr. king. two terrific songs motivated me to want to remember the moment and the tracks to add to a playlist so as traffic backup and i come full stop i pull notebook+pen to jot song titles beneath the others. i drifted a bit closer to the highway before getting to put pen to paper and as i was writing the words "help the poor+needy" i noticed a man approaching with cupped hands outreached. he had no cardboard sign or catch phrase; just a pleasant smile and outreached hands. lord, help the poor+needy. i gave him the 5dollars i had on me and wished him no trouble and safe travels.
while i mention wwoz, it seems that this city's noise ordinance on live music as been postponed once again; if you weren't there the city council protest and mock hearing was pretty powerful on friday. a noise ordinance in the birthplace of jazz? it's as ridiculous as the premise of footloose. dance good while you can.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
time+space
this is what happens with a nearly limitless amount of both in the hands of these guys.
and it's nice to know that someone out there is still working on these ideas. thank you, scientists.
and it's nice to know that someone out there is still working on these ideas. thank you, scientists.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
nolapdbs : an update
nearly 2months after receiving the bs ticket (a warrant is suppose to go out after 1month) and calling nola traffic court for my ticket to post dayaftereveryotherday only to hear the deflating automated service tell me once again that the ticket wasn't in the system and to call back or use '0' to speak with a representative (which i always did); i finally received a tip from one such representative (who i must say were all pleasant each time i spoke with them and were generally always trying to be helpful). the tip; a new # which led me to the clerk's office and a woman who couldn't believe the ticket was issued 2months prior and not yet in their system. fax you a copy of the ticket? surely - against my initial instinct, thinking that if they had lost the ticket i'd be giving it right back to them. a quick phone call minutes later from the voice i'd just left with my faxed ticket; "mr.fool, the officer has been contacted and is on his way in with his books now," she huffed seemingly very perturbed. "the date to deal with your ticket has been extended through december. you'll still need to contact the ticket office to know when your ticket actually gets into our system." i sigh.... "then you can begin payment or get a court date." i sigh again....
"great! because i intend on contesting!"
"okay, well if you keep calling and it still doesn't show up, you call me back."
thanks miss. at least i don't have to worry about the warrant... right?
so i hadn't called back about the ticket. instead i'd just planned to make my way to the courthouse some afternoon in late november to contest for a court date.
5days ago a # i don't recognise hums my phone and i leave to go to voice mail as i do all unknowns. the same # hums again and this time leaves word.
i check.
i have 1 unheard message. first message... a different voice calling from the clerk's office; "mr.fool, i wanted to let you know that your traffic ticket "j7####6" has been voided. you will not have to pay this ticket. missoriginalclerk'sofficeassistant wanted me to call and let you know. i'll be sending a letter to your address informing you of the same. no need to call back. thank you."
yesterday the letter she spoke of was waiting inside on the hardwood when i returned from work.
i assume one of three scenerios. one; that my nagging up the chain led to my good fortune. two; perhaps i flagged an officers lackluster job performance and as a result (or thank you) the clerk's office let me off the hook at a time when 3nopd officers have already made the news for the worst reasons. three; maybe my words to the ticketing officer actually reached him on the day of and he found it within him to void the ticket before turning in his books.
my instinct leans furthest toward one but regardless the reason; i'm pleased and thankful.
drive good.
yesterday the letter she spoke of was waiting inside on the hardwood when i returned from work.
i assume one of three scenerios. one; that my nagging up the chain led to my good fortune. two; perhaps i flagged an officers lackluster job performance and as a result (or thank you) the clerk's office let me off the hook at a time when 3nopd officers have already made the news for the worst reasons. three; maybe my words to the ticketing officer actually reached him on the day of and he found it within him to void the ticket before turning in his books.
my instinct leans furthest toward one but regardless the reason; i'm pleased and thankful.
drive good.
Monday, November 04, 2013
in the rain : acl : queens of the stone age
i sat by the ocean and drank a potion, baby to erase you.
i had lost my friends and pushed forward to stand alone in the crowd 10feet back from center stage. friend1 went to mingle with other music. friend2's energy radiated from further forward to my right, but couldn't be seen, only felt. the sun had completely hidden itself just in time for the stage lights+effects to matter. the darkness meant the band could enter the stage under haze and minimum visibility. lights slowly faded in from behind the drum kit to reveal silhouettes and then proceeded to stream out over the excited crowd. josh raises his guitar pick to the crowd. screams of anticipation. he drops the pick which falls to strike the first note of you think i ain't worth a dollar, but i feel like a millionaire in perfect unison with the fall of the first cool drop of rain on my hand; it's presence infinitely amplified by breaking what had otherwise been a very dry hot day; minus my consumption of costa rican imperial lager+h20. each note seemed to bring with it an extra raindrop until the exponential additions of rain broke into down pour right at the start of track2; no one knows where josh felt prompted to cheer the crowd. "we're here now, don't leave me!" he screamed between verses... no one was going anywhere.
green+yellow flashed in time beautifying the shower. by track4 the energy was lifted to baptismal levels; the rain+sound serving as a cleansing of soul+mind+body. i focused internally a moment, tasting the water on my lips and feeling the kick+bass in my heart. i pulled my heart from my chest and washed it in the energy. i placed it back in it's vacancy and felt restored+rejuvenated+realive.
reunited with friend1, i found myself fulfilled, content, at peace, joyful.
walk good.
i had lost my friends and pushed forward to stand alone in the crowd 10feet back from center stage. friend1 went to mingle with other music. friend2's energy radiated from further forward to my right, but couldn't be seen, only felt. the sun had completely hidden itself just in time for the stage lights+effects to matter. the darkness meant the band could enter the stage under haze and minimum visibility. lights slowly faded in from behind the drum kit to reveal silhouettes and then proceeded to stream out over the excited crowd. josh raises his guitar pick to the crowd. screams of anticipation. he drops the pick which falls to strike the first note of you think i ain't worth a dollar, but i feel like a millionaire in perfect unison with the fall of the first cool drop of rain on my hand; it's presence infinitely amplified by breaking what had otherwise been a very dry hot day; minus my consumption of costa rican imperial lager+h20. each note seemed to bring with it an extra raindrop until the exponential additions of rain broke into down pour right at the start of track2; no one knows where josh felt prompted to cheer the crowd. "we're here now, don't leave me!" he screamed between verses... no one was going anywhere.
green+yellow flashed in time beautifying the shower. by track4 the energy was lifted to baptismal levels; the rain+sound serving as a cleansing of soul+mind+body. i focused internally a moment, tasting the water on my lips and feeling the kick+bass in my heart. i pulled my heart from my chest and washed it in the energy. i placed it back in it's vacancy and felt restored+rejuvenated+realive.
reunited with friend1, i found myself fulfilled, content, at peace, joyful.
walk good.
Friday, August 30, 2013
alan lomax
alan lomax was one of the greatest collectors and documenters of folk culture in the world. for the majority of his life he traveled the planet recording the local music and interviewing the local natives. those 17,000+ recordings have finally been digitised, more than a decade after his death, and absorbed by the united states library of congress and are now readily available online at the association of cultural equity. just start at the beginning. it means you get to start with the calypso anyway.
walk good.
ps. this here sidebar worthy.
walk good.
ps. this here sidebar worthy.
brain games
i'm a science geek, but you already knew that. i always say, even though it's not always true, that my favourite sciences are astronomy and cognitive sciences (eg: neurology) likely because we know so little about each. this post is news about the latter.
two american researchers working at the university of washington have successfully conducted the first human brain to brain transmission (liking cbc news these days). previously successful with rats, these too scientists sat at opposite sides of the university's campus and using the internet, the sender controlled the receiver's hand. swim caps. diodes. video games. yet another instance of the future made present; of science fiction made reality. it's amazing and terrifying as the future tends to be.
in yesterday's future we can implant jaws that were printed in 3-d, grow ears+noses from stem cells, and now brains too. yep, we grow brains. these miniature brains will only grow so large with the absence of blood+oxygen. still, scientists believe these brains may give vast insight into rare diseases and better explain how new drugs affect the brain. again with the amazing and slightly terrifying; the freaky but incredible.
adding these two interesting articles a day later.
insomniacs lose focus. i've experienced that though must say when my brain keeps me up in the wee hours i always seem to be focused+driven.
poverty affects mental ability, influences critical thinking and decision making.
two american researchers working at the university of washington have successfully conducted the first human brain to brain transmission (liking cbc news these days). previously successful with rats, these too scientists sat at opposite sides of the university's campus and using the internet, the sender controlled the receiver's hand. swim caps. diodes. video games. yet another instance of the future made present; of science fiction made reality. it's amazing and terrifying as the future tends to be.
in yesterday's future we can implant jaws that were printed in 3-d, grow ears+noses from stem cells, and now brains too. yep, we grow brains. these miniature brains will only grow so large with the absence of blood+oxygen. still, scientists believe these brains may give vast insight into rare diseases and better explain how new drugs affect the brain. again with the amazing and slightly terrifying; the freaky but incredible.
adding these two interesting articles a day later.
insomniacs lose focus. i've experienced that though must say when my brain keeps me up in the wee hours i always seem to be focused+driven.
poverty affects mental ability, influences critical thinking and decision making.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
nolapdbs
friday morning i headed to work; magazine street becomes camp and with the park on the left and the international school of louisiana on the right i drove the left lane at the requested 20milesperhour with the rest of the commuters motoring to work. well beyond school grounds (100meters+) a sudden smash of brakes and warning red from the suv in front of me had me smashing mine and rather than jam them to a full stop inches from her tailpipe i quick check the right lane, make lane change and proceed to gather speed as to not slow that lane too. just as i was about to cross melpomene, a cop who was already busy writing up another motorist looks up from his ticket pad and jumps out from in front of his cruiser and nearly into the path of my vehicle, banging on the side+trunk; evidently not pleased with his morning or my ability to transport myself about town.
i thought briefly about continuing about my trip to work (and probably should have) but thought better of it knowing that driving off would certainly bring penalty once he checked the cruisers on-board-camera for my plate#, so i obliged the officer and spun my car around to sit on the corner of melpomene+camp. it was about 8:45a. the officer (i won't name him now, but perhaps after future installments to this story) was curt to say the least. "license, registration, proof of insurance." i obliged. "i'll be back," off to his cruiser to check me for warrants. i have none. he returned to my car window with my information and then very plainly informed me that i was driving 30mph in a 20mph school zone, that i was following too closely to the car in front of me and that i failed to signal. he handed me a citation for all three 'violations.'
"sir," i tried to be polite, "you were just writing a ticket. you didn't see all that. the car in front of me smashed their brakes, of course i was close. i did signal. and you certainly didn't clock me from outside your cruiser."
"sign here. you can protest it with the court if you like."
i do like. and i fully intend to. dude shit on my friday morning simply to fill an end of the month citation quota he hadn't yet reached. traffic cops, i've been told, have to meet #s like any other form of solicitation. as he began to walk away from me i said "excuse me sir, you give no favor or grace for the fact that i simply could have just kept driving? i wouldn't had stopped had you not got my attention by banging on my car."
"i didn't bang on your car," he said anxiously and then walked away.
i felt like telling him to get laid.
added 9.43p: initial research+calculations project approximately a $857 fine.
i thought briefly about continuing about my trip to work (and probably should have) but thought better of it knowing that driving off would certainly bring penalty once he checked the cruisers on-board-camera for my plate#, so i obliged the officer and spun my car around to sit on the corner of melpomene+camp. it was about 8:45a. the officer (i won't name him now, but perhaps after future installments to this story) was curt to say the least. "license, registration, proof of insurance." i obliged. "i'll be back," off to his cruiser to check me for warrants. i have none. he returned to my car window with my information and then very plainly informed me that i was driving 30mph in a 20mph school zone, that i was following too closely to the car in front of me and that i failed to signal. he handed me a citation for all three 'violations.'
"sir," i tried to be polite, "you were just writing a ticket. you didn't see all that. the car in front of me smashed their brakes, of course i was close. i did signal. and you certainly didn't clock me from outside your cruiser."
"sign here. you can protest it with the court if you like."
i do like. and i fully intend to. dude shit on my friday morning simply to fill an end of the month citation quota he hadn't yet reached. traffic cops, i've been told, have to meet #s like any other form of solicitation. as he began to walk away from me i said "excuse me sir, you give no favor or grace for the fact that i simply could have just kept driving? i wouldn't had stopped had you not got my attention by banging on my car."
"i didn't bang on your car," he said anxiously and then walked away.
i felt like telling him to get laid.
added 9.43p: initial research+calculations project approximately a $857 fine.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
project be
monday evening i took the opportunity to venture out to the florida housing development deep in the recesses of the 9th ward; abandoned since hurricane katrina unleased her wrath back in 2005. demolition is set to begin soon to make way for new, but before they're gone local artist brandan 'bmike' odums has taken the opportunity to turn many of these empty galleries into project be; a collection of graffiti paying tribute to leaders+motivators+creators, complete with uplifting quote+verse. his work has inspired other artists to join in the creation and this old community suddenly has the new life as a museum of very modern art.
there is no telling when the demolition will begin but in the meanwhile the walls inside this fenced in community are pulsing with +vibes, powerful art, and the words of common.
during the visit i met several good souls braving the broken glass+crumbling steps to either create or admire but most importantly commune with each other and i realised at a point that the art had made this abandoned housing development a safe place to share+express ideas; it is safe place to be.
below are some of my photos from the day. you can find more by following the project be link above.
below are some of my photos from the day. you can find more by following the project be link above.
walk good.
ps. some friends+i are talking to go back to create own. if do, more sooncome.
Wednesday, August 07, 2013
flying lotus videos
flying lotus has this cool sound, but his videos are visually stunning. check this one and then a few others.
putty boy strut.
tiny tortures.
and this short clip about flying lotus' cosmogramma album appeals to me greatly.
putty boy strut.
tiny tortures.
and this short clip about flying lotus' cosmogramma album appeals to me greatly.
Friday, August 02, 2013
years since birth
people have always worried about my earthly age more than i have. for many years when questioned i'd have to figure the math before answering. i seem to have more of a handle on that these days if for no other reason than to avoid a dumbfounded look when i can't answer immediately. as a child i was allowed 3birthday parties at 5, at 10, and at 15years old. i waived the last one; by then celebrating seemed wasteful.
my theory has always been that each day your a year older than you were a year ago so celebrate everyday, not one day.
something is changing though. i'm half way through 30 suddenly and feel as though i'm only now awakening. awakening isn't really the right word. it's a safe word i use to keep from stating the reality. the reality is that i'm only just now beginning to chase my dreams, which isn't quite the truth either. i suppose the truth is that i'm only just now beginning to believe in myself; in my ability to succeed at more than the mundane. i'm only, at 30.5years old, just finding out that what i have to share with the world is real+beautiful+brilliant. my ideas, my art, my effort isn't for not. it matters. but most of all it can make a difference. it can better the world around me.
you see, like many people, i was trained not to chase my dreams but to chase a living. to work toward satisfactory. to survive. a mediocre job and roof overhead was suppose to be enough. and i'm great at that... the surviving part. if everything in this world goes to shit, look for me... i'll be the one thriving through it all; surviving. though being satisfactory and surviving the way i do isn't enough. i'm not accomplishing nearly what i'm capable of.
what i have inside of me can be a light of good+worth+wonder. i can change norms with my ideas. i can expand minds. i can leave a mark. as a friend so wonderfully put just recently, it's about time i become the eye of the storm. i spinning into it just now... hold on. these winds are gonna get strong.
spin strong.
my theory has always been that each day your a year older than you were a year ago so celebrate everyday, not one day.
something is changing though. i'm half way through 30 suddenly and feel as though i'm only now awakening. awakening isn't really the right word. it's a safe word i use to keep from stating the reality. the reality is that i'm only just now beginning to chase my dreams, which isn't quite the truth either. i suppose the truth is that i'm only just now beginning to believe in myself; in my ability to succeed at more than the mundane. i'm only, at 30.5years old, just finding out that what i have to share with the world is real+beautiful+brilliant. my ideas, my art, my effort isn't for not. it matters. but most of all it can make a difference. it can better the world around me.
you see, like many people, i was trained not to chase my dreams but to chase a living. to work toward satisfactory. to survive. a mediocre job and roof overhead was suppose to be enough. and i'm great at that... the surviving part. if everything in this world goes to shit, look for me... i'll be the one thriving through it all; surviving. though being satisfactory and surviving the way i do isn't enough. i'm not accomplishing nearly what i'm capable of.
what i have inside of me can be a light of good+worth+wonder. i can change norms with my ideas. i can expand minds. i can leave a mark. as a friend so wonderfully put just recently, it's about time i become the eye of the storm. i spinning into it just now... hold on. these winds are gonna get strong.
spin strong.
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