Fort Worth Signage
Okay I admit this is a poor homage to Walker Evans. All four signage pieces are. They're rusty and busted and that's what made them interesting too me. This is the poorest of the lot.

Fort Worth Signage
This was my first attempt to islolate the word and I got the door frame as well. I like that you can see the sky but ultimately it suffers because you see more than words.

Fort Worth Signaage
This is my favorite. I have a fller picture of this sign but this one seems more about shape then meaning and seems to hold up without words.

Fort Worth Signage
None of the really achieve that isolation of word that I wanted but this one is maybe second in my list. I like the cleaness of the words, the partial doorway, the pavement and the sky it's just more striking. It could be just the word WAR.

What Smena Saw

I am at odds: this blog started of silly but really isn't even though the title implies it is. I really believe most of the people on toycamera.com find me annoying, I am so not focused on school, this book thing seems pretty dicey being that I don't care for promotion and Alan seems all about promotion (And by the way, it isn't bad that he cares about promotion. It's just that I don't care and that's a problem.), this gallery show coming up is cool but why haven't I told anyone on toycamera.com. There is just so much that doesn't make sense plus I'm a bit wired because some how I managed to let Andy talk me into my second early morning mug of java. I need some Stones, a long road and a week. I need to get out a here.

Easter update: I did my first paid gig today. I shot my friend Carmel's daughter. I shot four rolls of Fuji 400 35mm, one roll off TMAX 400 120, a pack TimeZero and a pack of Spectra 1200. I can do this. I can make a living if I'm willing to wear all the hats. More about what that means later.

Day after Easter: I'm tired and hungry. I have to go to the lady about money which leads me to this:
1) Always get the money up front or at least agree on the number. I need to got this lady and tell her how much I spent on film and how much processing will cost which won't even include the prints she may want.
2) It's good to shoot them where they want to be seen but get them to move around abit more.
3) Remember the lessons of seeing: the tree behind us, her pink tennies but also the rip in her stockings.
4) They hired you, be incharge.
5) If they invite you to dinner or lunch eat first. They'll be looser and you'll know more.

The Polaroid Book

I'm involve in this project to create a Polaroid book. This is my end of the notes:

It starts off as a site.

I have a feeling no one reads this stuff but here goes. The big P is dying. We need to do something and no I don't mean save the company but something like a show, a thank you to Edwin Land and to Polaroid. We need to step up.

We solicited polaroids from every photo site on the web, the good the bad and the ugly, anything anyone can think of, dogs and parties, cars and car key in the fish bowl parties, everything, fine art and low brow crap, and we set it up in a slide show and maybe call it Integral America.

It becomes a book instead.

I think we can keep this to 200 pages. I admit I haven't dug into the publishing material but what I imagine it is a sort of gift to Polaroid. I think there's a lot we can do on the grassroots level to promote the book

I don't know if marketing is where we need to start. I think we should start by deciding on who and how much, not so much in hard limits but well try this on for size:

We create a sort of extended thank you card, each artist has one page to express their gratitude to Edwin Land.

? Even if my idea isn't it, I just don't think we should get ahead of ourselves because I feel like we could get shut down just on that.

We need to set up a clear and easy submission policy and I think a board is a great idea. I think the emphasize should be how the picture succeeds based on the artist’s "project" and that will keep us away from what you or I or Alan "fancy". I think if we're honest with ourselves we'll be fine.

I'll tell you why I said two pages, some artists are better than others and this way we get one set amount of space and can be dead certain that it's super powerful stuff and we can fit a lot of people in the book.

My goal was to thank Edwin but I think people need to understand how many artists work in this medium. I tell people I use Polaroid and their like, "Perv." I have to show them what I can do with it. I think the book should do that. Like you said so many people fancy so many different things, the broader the spectrum the more likely they'll get it.

Now I need some coffee and a self importance enema.

This question is at the heart of this book... "Is this a book to show how far the basic user can push the Polaroid Integral envelope or just to show what a diverse crowd uses Polaroids for?” I mean it's both things. No one's work fits. It's what drives people to Polaroid.

As to how we choose, let the artist chose and if by some weird fluke it's their worst stuff, we asked them.

That leads to this, if we all have two pages, we should ask as many people as possible: we should hit up our site mates, Polarama but that still leaves us short 60 pages so we should reach out. The two page limit makes it easy to get lots of people. Let's bring them in.

Also what about found shots? I just saw some found shots in an Anny (a Diana clone) and they were f'ing brilliant. I know there so some great Polaroid out there. Just an idea.

I did write about a self importance enema earlier.

It was such a great thing to see, such a beautiful way to approach this project, art not as self promotion and cash but for the love of it and education. It made me sigh.

We need to work out a basic structure and start soliciting art. Also graphic design is not my thing. Someone needs to start thinking layout and we need someone to start the cover idea or even better solicited for that. I mean, we should have the best idea on the cover.

The Book becomes a puzzle.

Try this on, what if the book were like a puzzle and the found art was mixed with the "real" art. There would be a way to know that is "real" and who did it but for the basic experience of the book, you would have to find that information, sort out what art is to you the reader. Think about this. This could be great.

I like the cover idea. Have you given any thought to the puzzle concept? I know it sounds strange but the idea of putting the viewer in the position of deciding what's art and what isn't lends itself to the publishing idea and to Polaroid which really so much about crossing those boundaries. Artists would still get recognition. I want to be real clear about that.

I just got the Walker Evans book, Polaroid. It struck me odd, so much of what we do, and by we I mean the Pola community in general, is about color and oddness like artifacts from a Wim Wender movie and his, Evans' stuff, is dark or darker and simple but without the artifice of simplicity like when writers talk about the "stink of poetry" in a bad poem.

Why are we doing this again?

I think the puzzle idea isn't clear because it isn't finished. I know this: We should find a way to mix found Polaroids and "art".

I think the idea that Polaroid is instant and art isn't but sometimes instant can be art is interesting. It's like the teeth shots on the site Alan posted for us, some kind of dental shots maybe put between two artists it becomes a choice the reader makes about the value of images, the arbitrary nature of what most people call art.

Maybe each artist work is titled, maybe not. It avoids the whole self promotion thing, it dismantles it, defuses it because to know the artist you have to look for the information that denotes who the artist is. Like the woman in the museum who decides if she likes a work after she reads the card next to the picture, these readers will not be sure which is art and which isn't so maybe they like it and maybe not but because the name is missing what's art becomes their decision. They have to consider why they like it.

I want to do something more than just sell my work, your work, Alan's work. There's enough of that on the internet already, better venues. Let's make something bigger than book.

Two thoughts: Walker Evans has himself as an old man in a Polaroid frame. I don't remember if it was a Pola he took or even a Pola but it's in the white frame. The book was composed after he died. It's like Zen it's quite. My apologies to Buddhists.

Second thought: I think we should make the kind of book that is itself a thing of art like the toy camera book so that the people who own it will own an artifact so that the Mylar cover, the Pola cover Alan had was genius abet I imagine influenced by the new BIG Taschen book. I think its genius.

That's what I had in mind, sort of hide the details. And I feel like I need to be clear about the other thing. I think your idea is brilliant and I hope I didn't imply it taken from the Taschen book. The taschen book is clever just like "Creme" and "Cock" were clever but your idea is inspired.

Gomek admits other people are working on this also.

Alan I'm torn between two really great ideas. On one hand the emptiness of the frame idea is pretty slick. But I like the idea of putting something actually on the cover also, I think someone mentioned an original print. That sounds pretty good too.

I was, going back to the puzzle idea, imagining the artist info like this (and we will have large involvement) instead of a table of contents something like a page of numbered photos and in the back, a printed index listing name, film type etc. Artist bios should be limited contact info or else be really funny as in found art/made up stories.

I think only instant film should be included.

Maybe I'll add to this, probably I'll just delete it.

Master Yoshizawa

There is nothing I can say to you about the passing of Master Origami Artist Akira Yoshizawa, who passed away March 14th, that is better stated than Joseph Wu's comments on his site. Please visit his site for that reason and perhaps to enjoy origami. Both men are great artists.

The Manure of Experience III

I need approval. I am only happy when someone else says it's good. I am destroyed when they say it isn't and I will feverishly work at improvement until they do say it'a good. Like the thing with Denver. He told me my approach was wrong when soliciting photographs and it wasn't so much that I wanted to fix the promblem as it was that I wanted him see that I "got it". I became a nodding, jibbering monkey.

"Come on, smile why don't ya..."

This will be one of those things I add to over time as it's about that part of photography that no book seems to address and I need to keep notes.

1) Denver said it was in the way I approach them. When I was talking about Diane Arbus, who's intimacy is breathtaking and who I love , I become animated and alive. He says rather then start with, This is kind a weird but can I take your picture? I should step up to them excited like I am talking about Diane. I need to give them my joy not my fear.

2) Lately I think a business card would be useful. I imagine one with my contact information on one side and a picture on the other so that the card would be maybe 4x4. Also a small photo album with portraits and candids, five maybe.

3) I need to get organized.

A Short List of My Betrayals

I thought I would start by listing people by name. I may change the format but for right now that seems to be the easiest way to keep track.

Vincent Ginn: You had been away at college and you came back to visit me. I told you we would meet up or maybe I dragged you out to Langenzelbold but then I left you for hours to go and grope my girlfriend Julie. We never kept in touch after that.
Bill: Okay you were a nazi so I might not have been completely to blame but when we were in the Hague I did tell Vincent and that other kid because the idea of kicking your ass that night sounded good. I think you had thrown me over for some girl you met.
Julie: Yours are simple. I fucked you when you were crying. I fucked your best friend Carrie who I should point out I had fucked just before we met. You got me back with the story you told me about the big dicked filopino dude you fucked. I loved you.
Leigh I lied to you often but you have to understand I was so in love with you. I would have been anything you wanted if you would have wanted me back.
Bob: You had a sweet heart. You were just hanging out. You got fucked by life. I'm sure of that. The whole fucking universe should apologize but I stole your long distance card and ran up a motherfucking huge bill. I did pay it but only after you threatened to beat my ass and I did steal it.
Sean: I got nothing to say about any of the shit I did to you: ditch your ass as a roommate, steal your drugs and your cash, torture you while you were on acid, lock you out when you were on mescaline. You were an evil fuck just like me back then. I hope your not dead. And I still dream about fucking your aunt Helen.
Bobby Blakely: You were cool and the only thing I ever did to you was lose your number. If you're still breathing, e-mail me you motherfucker.
Richard M.: You did drink all our booze to impress some girls who got up twenty minutes later when you started puking but telling Bill to hold up your head while I punched you was way out of line and telling your Dad some German did it was wrong. I was always punishing you for being stupid.
Bill, my brother: Sorry I didn't try to stop you from getting high.

There are a bunch of other people I've fucked over and as I remember them, I'll add them to the list list. And no, this isn't some kind of AA thing. I figure this: this shit has haunted me for a long time and now you can have it.

Everytime I write of these down, with the knowledge that I'm not like that anymore, I let that bad bitch go. Some stuff I've left out because no one needs to know that and shit, I just can't say it out loud yet.

Solid Down With The Devil
This is what he drives. You weren't there Motherfucker.

Shots From Cars

I travel into a lot of dicey neighborhoods, not just white guy too pussy to get out of his car spots but you will get flashed on if you step out a the car type a spots. I shoot from the car. Some days I got no time to stop but I can't help the shutter popping. Frank Horvat might see it as not popping the trigger. Maybe it isn't the tightly composed stuff but it isn't the only thing I do. I figure to collect these shots when their good. I had one to go with this post but I haven't got it post so fuck, here's the description: "This one is seriously amped up. I pumped the saturation to insane levels just because it started looking like I felt when I saw it. I had been awake for two days and had started to get intermittant chills and sweats."

My Gggggggeneration

Okay so I bought these roasted coffee beans from a local health food store, who's name I won't mention because they suck ass when it comes to prices and the way they treat their workers, co-of my ass, anyhow... the beans are roasted and usually they're covered with chocolate but these were coated with sugar free cocoa which I didn't realize until just a moment ago after I ate like fifteen of them see normally that has little to no effect on me because, I mean massive amounts of sugar, if you have paid any Goddamn attention, the sugar counter acts the caffeine and turns everything down to a mild hum that runs through my head like muzak and so I figured well I could eat this stuff and the sugar in the chocolate would wind down and then of course these have no sugar just coffee beans and well cocoa which is practically caffeine in raw powder form oh fuck me... Too nervous to type right now. Must return to shivering in the corner of my office and twitching. I think I hear God's heart beating. I have to go now.

Interior Shot, Jesus' Restaurant
I have an exterior shot too but then you might figure out where Jesus' Hash Joint is and he's on the run from the man. It just wouldn't be cool. There's lots of pictures of his mom inside but you can't see them in this shot. Her name is Graciela. She also makes the tortillas they serve there.

From toycamera.com "sneak preview fish eye toy cam ..." the missing post

I started reading this thread on TC.com because I really love Scootiepye's shots and she had posted some fisheyes and everyone got pissy about her association with Lomography and did she get paid by them, was she a shill etc., really insulting stuff frankly and this was the post I wrote:

"You know you're right, LOMO is a marketing scheme to get you to pay re-dunka-lis prices for plastic crappy cameras and XA2 knock off's which is weirdly similar to buying a certain blue camera on EBAY for say, anything over $20.00.

Diane needs a marketing device like a book or something, maybe a magazine, something to make it more popular and then expensive. I really can't imagine a more elitist thing than forsaking popular convention i.e. digital to shoot with massively obsolete plastic cameras.

Pye, I love your work and frankly if you were getting paid by LOMO to take those pictures I'd say, How do I get that freakin' job? and wow! do I like these pictures."

I ended up not posting this. I just seemed stupid.

The Zeiss Ikon Contaflex IV

I so do not deserve this camera. It needs a cleaning but everything else seems working right. I so do not deserve this camera. It's like holding a little silver chip off God or something. It's like this: you can blame the tools so long until you get that perfect hammer and then it's like well you actually do suck.

So I gotta be a better photographer because this Nordic bitch won't give no slack, ain't got no sweat spot I can stroke on her. I know, macho posing but in the face of the greta flaming sun what else is there but to put up your wooden sheild and charge. Of course, Don Quixote had the good sense to be a charming gentleman. Too late for that I suppose.

Giant Yellow Duck and Flags
Tread says that is close to brilliant, like my ol buddy Darren Felty said, It's the closest thing part of we're the "closest thing to an intelligensia this school has" that bothers me.

It's a Caddie Bitch

Here is a lovely example of the "big dog" theory of Polaroid. I had had my usual six or seven espressos for the afternoon when I saw this pussy red caddie and whipped out the SX-70. I shot a whole goddamn pack of Time Zero at about $1.20 a shot. This is sadly the only one that doesn't look like it was taken by a twelve year old boy after a few whip-its and a stolen joint: a shot of the interior and a rear view mirror shot and the trunk etc. No contour shots or fin shots, no shots showing the power of this mean Detroit bitch. I got one good grill shot. My money shot is a big dumb goofy grinning grill after a blow job, that shot.

Dresses Dreaming
A throw away that I'm in love with now. It reminds me of my wife, all her ethereal girly dreams that never came true or got twisted up into nightmares. This is how I imagine her dreaming, even the light leak at the bottom. Dear Baby Doll: I swear to God I will never let those sons a bitches hurt you. I swear God on that.

A Preliminary Camera List

These are a few of the cameras I own. I'm not bragging. I am sure that there are many larger collections than this, way larger. These are my cameras. I'll add more as I remember and, as I have more to say, I will pull cameras to create posts just for them.

Smena Symbol - This is a very light camera and prone to bouncy multi-image shots but it's hell on color and it jams often so it has that going for it. It also has the shutter release on the lenses just to keep things moving. I so have that I can't put this piece of shit down.
Cosmic Symbol
Smena 8M
Smena Vilia

Fujica Half-Frame - Also muy bounce but you make up for it in that you get two double the exposures which my niece loves to point out would matter if I would just buy a digital camera like her daddy.
Ansco Pix Panorama - This camera has never failed, even when I have, it works perfect although it is not a true pano camera.

Lubitel - You can't see it from there but I've developed a nervous eye tick from this camera
Duaflex II - James Dean used one of these or at least posed with one. I own three. I am not nearly as cool as James Dean.
Vialant 620 - An auqamarine pin hole camera, a real sweety.

Zeiss Tenax (Non-working)
Zeiss Jena Werra (First Model) - Wanna buy this honking peice of shit? Okay, it should be said that I'm pretty much a rank ametuer hack bastard of a photographer and the camera is like over 50 years old. It could be me.
Zeiss Symbolica
Zeiss Contaflex

Bilora Bella 66
Holga - Use this and be hip.
Stellar - Some of my best pictures came off of this camera. I'll post them. You'll see
Clack - For a tiy camera, eerily perfect. It's the german ouija board of cameras.
Ensign Ful-Vue - Like everything British from World War Two, you can break it down and build a bike out of it or a grease gun. It also takes pictures.

SX-70 - Dreamy when I'm paying attention
SX-70 (With Sonar)
I-Zone - Still have twenty paks of film
Spectra - My best Polaroid ever came from this thing.
One LE - My wife says it's better than the SX-70. SHe just doesn't understand.
JoyCam - Eh? Hmm?

Kellogg 110 Cam - A lense placed directly onto the film, throw in a magnifying glass, Voila! pretty flowers.
Velveta 110 Cam

More later. And yes I am giving a shit again.

Too tired to appreciate the differance

Okay here's what happened: Somehow I missed the fact that I booked my flight for 6:45 in the morning and so Wednesday, the day before the flight, I was like, "Crap how am I going to be packed in time" and oh did I mention I had three photoshoots on Wednesday planned: Magnolia Street, a tattoo parlor and and stripper pimp and his bitches so when I found out about 645 I was like crap man how is this gonna work?

So I started packing and then arranged a taxi to get me to Dallas at 4:45 in the morning, not my idea but the guy picks me up and then he picks up this mexi dude who smelled like fried chicken a pack of cigarettes and cotton and wouldn't talk which might have been an effect of the paranoid taxi driver who shone a spot light into the windows of about 15 million Mexican homes at 430 in the morning in the hopes of not getting jump and finding his fare Senor Fried Cigarette who again wasn't talking except to say that he was flying out on ATO which I thought was a college frat...

so we get to Northwestern Air's gate at 4:45 in the morning and that was lucky because their computers where down and the line was fucking-astro fucking-nomical and so I waited about 2 hours, got my hand written boarding pass, got through security after fighting the attendant to hand check my bag with about $200 worth of film in it and ran to the fucking gate, stopping briefly at some shit burger joint for an ass biscuit thing with sausage and then onto my plain to Hell and out light a light...

We get to Memphis, the home of the king of rock and roll and some disgusting red as a dogs dick hot dogs and I have an hour to kill. I get some more food, the red dog dick with relish and a double espresso and I saunter to my gate. I got the Apeture Diane Arbus monograph in Fort Worth and I sink into heaven reading and waiting and then my half hour wait gets stretched to one hour, I put the book away then it becomes a 1 1/2 hours then 2 hours then 3 hours and then we learning, while we will be going to Florida in 15 minutes, our luggage (and I mean everyone's luggage) will being staying for a later flight because the luggage compartments nets, the ones that keep the thousands of pounds of luggage from flying about the copmartment, are not working.

Now have you flown lately? People do this thing now where they try and hand carry their luggage on to the plane, passing off hockey bags as carry-ons. Well this one dude in a brown velour jogging suit with stripers, pot signs, glocks and dollar signs embossedinto it, very hip hop 1984, won't give up his bag which was the point of mentioning the hockey bag thing, you see if you had a jumbo carry-on it would normally just get stowed plane side if it was toooo big and it would be passed off to the gate guy and stowed on that new later flight, or just under the plane on a normal flight, and homeboy was not letting this happen, not letting go and he was definitely not gonna stop hollering at the attendant which I chalked up to angry ghetto rat but later on in the flight (Let me tell you a story: did you see True Romance with Christian Slater, the Tony Scott movie with the Quinten Tarantino script? the scene where Clarence goes to kill his wife's pimp and he's just staring at the dude and the dude says, there been titties in front of you for ten minutes and you ain't even looked once cuz you got something on you mind?) okay so we're on the plane and the pilot says on the intercom "We are really sorry this flight is so late and none of you will have clean clothes when you land so free liquor for everyone" which everyone happily accepted except for me, I don't drink, and hip hop dude in the brown pimp suit cuz he's got something on his mind, doesn't order one either and while it seems a little paranoid now, he did circumanavigate the airport security for the most part and he was met at the airport by some scary lookin dudes with dreads and maybe this is a little racist but I swear to god he was moving weight. I swear to God he was.

I haven't slept much. It seems a lttle shaky now. More when I recover.

Holiday in Cambodia

Remind me to tell you about my long and noisy day in airports all over America. Remind me to tell you about my brother's wedding today and his pregnant bride. Maybe I'll post pictures.

Remind me to tell you how after thirty years, my sister has found a new way to get on my nerves, her fucking kids, all six million of them.

Remind me to tell you all about it when I give a shit.

Kind a LOMO but not exactly,
mosty just La Florida

Because I owe LOMO a lot...

These are some LOMO rules I found on one of the coolest LOMO photographer's, in the feakin' universe man, site. As I learn so will you or something like that. What I mean is, as I find stuff that's useful, I'll post it right here. And so without any ado doo, the rules a la LOMO:

RULE #1 TAKE YOUR LOMO EVERWHERE YOU GO

RULE #2 USE IT ANY TIME - DAY AND NIGHT

RULE #3 LOMOGRAPHY IS NOT AN INTERFERENCE IN YOUR LIFE, BUT A PART OF IT

RULE #4 SHOOT FROM THE HIP

RULE #5 APROACH THE OBJECTS OF YOUR LOMOGRAPHIC DESIRE AS CLOSE AS POSSIBLE

RULE #6 DON'T THINK (William Firebrace)

RULE #7 BE FAST

RULE #8 YOU DON'T HAVE TO KNOW BEFOREHAND WHAT YOU'VE CAPTURED ON FILM

RULE #9 (YOU DON'T HAVE TO KNOW BEFOREHAND WHAT YOU'VE CAPTURED ON FILM)... AFTERWARDS EITHER

RULE #10 DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE RULES

See it really is more than just crazy ADD based marketing. You sould check out their site. It's full of good info and LOMOHOMES, places where people show of their work and do that crazy thing that the WWW was supposed to do for people, it helps them connect. It's quite beautiful.

Does anyone see a pattern here?

Okay, here's the dilemna: I'm a writer. I write stories now but I wrote poems and the like for most of my life. I am also, however, a student and I have a job as a programmer/help desk/tablet manager/factotum which pretty much leaves me no free time to write unless I want to give up time eating or sleeping.

Unrelated to this, although it will relate, I needed a new book bag about four months ago. I had this great safety cone orange bag that I loved. I bought it at Meglo-Mart and it was like 5 bucks and eventually like all 5 buck book bags it died. Now I love to shop so I became an expert on "bags" blowing off all or most of the above responsibilities learning the ins and outs of "bags".

This is when I discovered the LOMO sidekick, a kind of messenger bag/camera bag. It was very cool and, this is most important, it looked cool on the model. I bought. Now LOMO, for the uninitiated, is photography for sufferers of ADD. It's fast, danger driven and out of control snap shot photography and generally one hot marketing scheme.

Okay now back to the lack of time I had. I thought now these LOMO blokes are just like point and shoot and these groovy Russian, did I mention this is all with Russian deadstock which went from cheap to pricey as hell, cameras with their funky lenses that super over saturate the color and I thought, this will work.

See writing takes time, four hours a day at the desk even if you're just staring off into space, you gotta be sitting there waiting on the muse, re-working unfinished stuff. This blog stuff is just for fun. I pop this stuff off like ludes. I thought man, just point and shoot and instant art. I was going to be a photographer. I had studied and loved fine art all my life. It had to mean something. I even started using an I-Zone to prove the point before my 120 Holga showed up. (Whole differant post for later maybe.) I took hundreds and hundreds of shots, spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars and then it hit me:

I wanted to know about depth of field and then I wanted know about f-stop and film types. And then I was buying old cameras and learning about them and then it was taking up hours and hours of time. And next sememster I'm even taking a class in photography and holy crap I might as well be writing.

Next I-Zone and how Polariod isn't just for swingers anymore...

From a Letter to Edward Weston from his Father

You'll not have to change anything about the Kodak. Always have the sun behind you or to the side - never so it shines into the instrument. Don't be too far from the object you wish to take or it will be very small. See what you are going to take in the mirror. You can only take twelve pictures so don't waste any on things of no interest.

Edward Burback Weston

In memory of John White

I had a friend named John who was very old school 1970's gay, very backroom of the bar gay, very cruising behind the highway rest stop gay. And it was sort what I liked about him. He was honest about who he was and he had a heart like a whale. If he was your friend, if he loved you, you never forgot that someone in the world had your back. He gave me a place to stay, he fed me, he conspired with me. That was the problem.

He loved me and that was more than I could handle at that time in my life. I was on the verge of losing my job due to lay-offs. I was lost. I was miserable. And the last thing I needed was this old queen crushing on me. I started missing dinner dates, not returning calls. And then he had a heart attack so massive, that even though he was in the hospital, before the paddles hit his chest he was dead.

I know I didn't kill him. He lived on a diet of cigaretttes and beef. That killed him. But I abandoned him. This wasn't the first time either. I have thrown over most of my friends, the grandmother I loved and the one I hated. Let's not forget all the small betrayals I've committed for the sake of expediency. I have spent my life as one first rate bastard and I, like John, make no bones about it.

This is sort of the rub. A few nights after he died I was in the shower and I thought of him dying alone and then, and I don't believe in heaven, I wanted him to be there seeing me naked in the shower. He would have liked that. I pressed my face against the shower wall. I started crying and slowly I soaped up my cock and balls, stroking and balling, sweating and eventually spraying cum into my fist and against the shower wall. We all grieve in our own way. I make no bones about it.

So if there is a heaven John, I hope your there and I hope you saw.

The Manure of Experience II

Last night my wife said that while I lay in bed asleep, I spoke in tongues punctuating my phrases by spitting. A few nights ago: I got out of bed, staggering and exhausted, unable to walk without staggering, unable to open my eyes. I fell against things: a bed post, a doorframe. I couldn’t get my hands to work.

My dream world is becoming more than I can handle on my own.

The Manure of Experience I

I do sweet things for people. I have an endearing, if slightly nerve wracking, personality. I used to go to the dog pound and coach meaner dogs, growly dogs on how not to be mean and growly. People love that story. I told a co-worker how being busier has given her a real powerful edge to her personality. It perked her up. And I meant it.

I want angry dogs to mellow out and find homes. I wanted my friend to let go of her fear and embrace her power but that wasn’t why I told her. I want people to like me. I want to be accepted and love. I suppose everyone is really like that, I am just keenly aware of how much more what I do has to do what I need than however it’s helping you.

I don't care about you, not one bit.

The Greyhound Station, Hell

A few brief and banal remarks about caffeine

I’m not the same guy I was six months ago. I’m not the same guy at all. I’m busier and lazier at the same time.

My day starts at 5:30 a.m. and ends, that is the work/school part, at around 7:00 p.m. if you average it out. Some days I have no time to eat. Last week, in a perfect daze, I walked into a tree I am passing my classes by sheer will and luck, a 3.8 average thank you very fucking much, but like every roller derby queen eventually I’m gonna catch an elbow to the face and down I will go.

I live on double espressos, two shots with 12 packets of sugar, three times a day. Anything fancier would have milk in it and that would slow me down and at some point in the three or four swallows there is a double shot, you didn’t think I was sipping, this sensation hits me like lightening through my nervous system and my whole body shivers.

Everything before that moment is non-verbal darkness and cold and everything afterward is explosive jabbering light, 12 non stop hours with a monkey bouncing around in my head, and God forbid you talk to me cuz that monkey’s coming out and once he’s out baby…

More on lazy when the buzzing in my ears stops.

A note, maybe even science:
This morning I had a double espresso with 12 packets of sugar and the buzz asted maybe 45 minutes but this afternoon I had a double with 6 packets of sugar and this evening I'm still twitching. Sugar may in fact reduce or cancel out the effects of caffeine.

Leave flowers and take hope, Jef Raskin has left the building

I'm sure this is not the only memorial to this guy and it shouldn't be but when you think of all the benevolent things, the true human growth that the PC should give us in our lives think of Jef Raskin. Aside from being a true adventurer and genius, creating drag and drop, making designing Macintosh like every great teacher, he died working on a project called Archy that will make "it easier to do our work".

"Archy, at present, contains commands that do typical word-processing operations and e-mail, has a calculator, and contains its own Python development system. However, it doesn't work like anything else on this or nearby planets (you can't make something better and still keep it the same). It's extremely easy to use, and very efficient, but to gain this ease of use we had to abandon current interface methods entirely and rethink interface design from the ground up. This means that you won't know how to use Archy (now, there's a challenge!)"

That's cooler than any idea you had today and Jef considered good code a moral duty. He founded the field of cognetics, "the ergonomics of the mind." None of us are worthy.

I coped all of this from a tag at the bottom of the Google page. Even if you see this a million times today, it does matter. This guy was one of the few who cared about the human race and we, as the recipients of his love, need to take up the slack. Even though he died, knowing how he lived gives me hope and makes me want to do more, live smarter. I probably won't.