Friday Five: Learning

1. How and when did you learn to swim?
I learned to swim when my parents put a swimming pool in our back yard -- I was about 8 and I taught myself.

2. How and when did you learn to drive?
I took driving lessons when I was about 17 -- took me awhile to get used to driving; I was terrified of it at first. Too much sensory overload.

3. How and when did you learn to tie your shoelaces?
I don't remember how old I was; probably four-ish. My mom taught me how. I had trouble learning how to tie a standard knot, so she taught me the two-loop knot instead. I still tie my shoes the same way.

4. How and when did you learn to cook?
For as long as I can remember, my mom had always let me help out in the kitchen, so there was never a specific time that I learned to cook, per se. I just kind of grew up knowing the basics.

5. How and when did you learn to type?
I took a half-year of typing in my senior year of high school. I learned the basics there, but I type a hell of a lot faster now (hunting and pecking) than I did when I typed "correctly" during that course.


(Happy Leap Day, muthafuckas!!)

Friday Five - Top of Mind

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you read each of these words and why?

I will answer these with pictures.

1. ice



2. primary



3. dirty



4. green



5. fly

Labor Project follow-up

The event (which had been held on Feb. 16th) went well despite a few relatively minor setbacks. Within a few weeks' time there will be a post-performance gallery which will be open to the general public containing snapshots, a chatlog of the event, and various writings.

More information posted soon!

Woot!

Snow day ftw! ;P

Friday Five - Sensory overload

1. Do you ever wonder if the way you see things visually isn't how other people see them?
Yes, it has crossed my mind quite a few times. One thing I know for sure, I tend to notice a lot of visual details that most people miss.

2. What kind of sounds are the most annoying?
Cellphones (people's ringtones drive me batshit crazy), screaming children, and in general, anything that invades or interrupts my train of thought. I notice every little sound and I have a really difficult time blocking out anything.

3. When walking through a store, do you shop with your hands by touching/feeling the texture of things?
Definitely. My senses are all quite acute, so texture/tactile information is important, too.

4. If you could only smell three scents for the rest of your life, what would they be?
That's a really difficult question to answer -- that's like asking me to pick which 3, and only 3, songs to listen to for the rest of my days. There's no way I could pick just 3. I love a myriad number of scents -- sandalwood; Nag Champa incense; the sea; orange peel; amber resin; patchouli; clean towels; carved pumpkins; autumn leaves; snowy evenings; lavender; strawberries; evergreen trees; vanilla; fresh-brewed coffee; beeswax; ginger; peppermint; scented candles; clove cigarettes; books;... and so on. Too many to list.

5. What sorts of things do you savor when eating them?
Almost everything, if it's something I like. I have a very keen sense of taste and I appreciate good food; I enjoy every bite.

New Numinous logo

... finally.

Want

I'm always wanting more
Anything I haven't got
Everything
I want it all
I just can't stop
Planning all my days away
But never finding ways to stay
Or ever feel enough today
Tomorrow must be more
Drink more dreams more bed more drugs
More lust more lies more head more love
More fear more fun more pain more flesh
More stars more smiles more fame more sex

But however hard I want
I know deep down inside
I'll never really get more hope
Or any more time
Any more time
Any more time
Any more time

I want the sky to fall in
I want lightning and thunder
I want blood instead of rain
I want the world to make me wonder
I want to walk on water
Take a trip to the moon
Give me all this and give me it soon
More drink more dreams more drugs
More lust more lies more love

But however hard I want
I know deep down inside
I'll never really get more hope
Or any more time
Any more time
Any more time
Any more time...

(The Cure)

To elaborate further...

... on what I had been talking about in this post --

Beauty and light has its place, but without the ugly and dark, it is nothing. The pleasure of anything is increased substantially when juxtaposed with its polar opposite. One is meaningless without the other... or at least, very bland.

Friday Five - Hush Your Mouth

1. Do you like the thrill of a chase?
Depends on what (or who) I am pursuing. Anticipation can be fun.

2. What winds you up?
Art (creating and experiencing); laughing; fun, intense, and/or intellectual talks with close friends; exploring; observing; knowledge-absorption.

3. Are you a loud talker?
Not usually; I tend to be more introverted. If I'm feeling high-energy (among friends or whatever), then I can be more outspoken if everyone's chatty and laughing, and if I'm in the mood to tap into it.

4. What comes easy to you?
Empathy; understanding color; noticing small details that most people overlook.

5. What did you dream about recently?
Nothing that I can remember too vividly.

"Political is Personal" SL installation by PleaseWakeMeUp Idler and Sherpa Voyager -- All Too Possible IRL

I rarely write about much art in SL because there isn't much out there that really strikes a chord with me (I'm also a procrastinator; I'm lucky if I even remember to blog about my own work), but I went to visit an installation today that more people should see.

Here's what I wrote on my Flickr photoset of it:

I read about this installation on the SLART™ website and had to see it for myself.

It's an important build about some very uncomfortable topics. This isn't the kind of art you'll typically see covered by most SL art blogs, because:

-- it's not pretty/colorful/full of fairies or swirly things;
-- it's unsettling and disturbing; and
-- it requires you to THINK, not only about others, but YOURSELF as well.

Most SL residents would probably prefer not to deal with those topics, as they come to SL to escape "RL" -- what's the fucking difference, anyway? Life is life.

If you want to go see (and you should), here's the SLurl:
slurl.com/secondlife/Cryphia/50/144/30/

Thanks to ArtWorld Market for leading me to this, and thanks to both of the artists for addressing such tough subject matter.

My photoset of it is here, but you really should experience it for yourself, whether you are American or not. Go alone so you can really think about it. Then talk to someone about it.

It's refreshing to see art like this, when far too many artists focus on beauty, whimsy, and easily digestible subject matter. Sure, there is merit in that kind of art (some of it, anyway), but it's far too easy to create it, and far too easy for the viewer to process it. I love beauty just like anyone else, but it doesn't challenge the intellect, it doesn't require one to think. I'm sick of that kind of art, most of it is shallow or superficial. Beauty is fucking overrated. Beauty is effortless. I want to be attacked by the beauty of ugliness, I want my mind to reel from it.

SLNN deletes comments?

I had seen some comments to recent articles on the SLNN website, and it seems those comments have been deleted. There was nothing offensive about the comments that I could see; why would SLNN's staff delete them? Is it possible that the missing comments are just the result of an error?

Edit - 5:42 pm
Here's an explanation on the site, written by one of the people on the SLNN staff:

On Sunday, we moved the site to a new server for the second time in two weeks (since after the first move was unsuccessful, we had to move it back to the original server. Every time we move the site to its "new home", the comments don't seem to be coming with it. It has to do with spam. While spam is not appearing in what actually appears in comments, the site was full of it. (I can attest to the fact that over the past year, no matter what supposed filters are put on my slnn email account, I get at least 50-100 spam emails to that old account a day. I am hoping we can get the old comments back. I am not as yet sure if we can. Our apologies.
Posted By: Garret Bakalava | Tuesday, February 05, 2008 03:55 AM

Holy shit

I am not into sports remotely, but I had to take a moment to document this because it blew my mind.

For the past couple of weeks my roommate/best friend (who also doesn't know or care about sports) has somehow been SURE that the Giants would win the Superbowl, and that the score would be about 24 to 21. She probably wouldn't have even THOUGHT about it at all, if people at work hadn't been talking about it constantly.

Neither of us watched the game, but on a whim just before I turned in for the night, I thought I'd check the scores, just to see if she came close...

Well, the Giants won (apparently, they were the underdogs), and the score was 17-14.

I'd say that my friend's prediction was pretty fucking close... damn spooky. Giants win by 3 points. She was right. Fucking crazy! Not that she hasn't been known to have her psychic moments, but... wow.

Okay, I am going to sleep now. Sorry, Patriots fans, better luck next year.

Bloggers Silent Poetry Reading

[cross-posted from my LJ]

3rd Annual Brighid in Cyberspace Poetry Reading

WHAT: A Bloggers (Silent) Poetry Reading
WHEN: Anytime February 2, 2008
WHERE: Your blog
WHY: To celebrate the Feast of Brigid, aka Groundhog Day
HOW: Select a poem you like - by a favorite poet or one of your own - to post February 2nd.
RSVP: If you plan to publish, feel free to leave a comment and link on this post. Last year when the call went out there was more poetry in cyberspace than could be kept track of. So, link to whoever you hear about this from and a mighty web of poetry will be spun.

Feel free to pass this invitation on to any and all bloggers.



Here's the poem I have decided to submit.

Let it enfold you

either peace or happiness,
let it enfold you

when I was a young man
I felt these things were
dumb, unsophisticated.
I had bad blood, a twisted
mind, a precarious
upbringing.

I was hard as granite, I
leered at the
sun.
I trusted no man and
especially no
woman.

I was living a hell in
small rooms, I broke
things, smashed things,
walked through glass,
cursed.
I challenged everything,
was continually being
evicted, jailed, in and
out of fights, in and out
of my mind.
women were something
to screw and rail
at, I had no male
friends,

I changed jobs and
cities, I hated holidays,
babies, history,
newspapers, museums,
grandmothers,
marriage, movies,
spiders, garbagemen,
english accents, spain,
france, italy, walnuts and
the color
orange.
algebra angred me,
opera sickened me,
charlie chaplin was a
fake
and flowers were for
pansies.

peace and happiness to me
were signs of
inferiority,
tenants of the weak
and
addled
mind.

but as I went on with
my alley fights,
my suicidal years,
my passage through
any number of
women-it gradually
began to occur to
me
that I wasn't different

from the
others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome
with hatred,
glossed over with petty
grievances,
the men I fought in
alleys had hearts of stone.
everybody was nudging,
inching, cheating for
some insignificant
advantage,
the lie was the
weapon and the
plot was
empty,
darkness was the
dictator.

cautiously, I allowed
myself to feel good
at times.
I found moments of
peace in cheap
rooms
just staring at the
knobs of some
dresser
or listening to the
rain in the
dark.
the less I needed
the better I
felt.

maybe the other life had worn me
down.
I no longer found
glamour
in topping somebody
in conversation.
or in mounting the
body of some poor
drunken female
whose life had
slipped away into
sorrow.

I could never accept
life as it was,
i could never gobble
down all its
poisons
but there were parts,
tenuous magic parts
open for the
asking.

I re formulated
I don't know when,
date, time, all
that
but the change
occurred.
Something in me
relaxed, smoothed
out.
I no longer had to
prove that I was a
man,

I didn't have to prove
anything.

I began to see things:
coffee cups lined up
behind a counter in a
cafe
or a dog walking along
a sidewalk
or the way the mouse
on my dresser top
stopped there
with its body,
its ears,
its nose,
it was fixed,
a bit of life
caught within itself
and its eyes looked
at me
and they were
beautiful.
Then- it was
gone.

I began to feel good,
I began to feel good
in the worst situations
and there were plenty
of those.
like say, the boss
behind his desk,
he is going to have
to fire me.

I've missed too many
days.
He is dressed in a
suit, necktie, glasses,
he says, "I am going
to have to let you go"

"it's all right" I tell
him.

He must do what he
must do, he has a
wife, a house, children.
expenses, most probably
a girlfriend.

I am sorry for him
he is caught.

I walk into the blazing
sunshine.
the whole day is
mine
temporarily,
anyhow.

(the whole world is at the
throat of the world,
everybody feels angry,
short-changed, cheated,
everybody is despondent,
disillusioned)

I welcomed shots of
peace, tattered shards of
happiness.

I embraced that stuff
like the hottest number,
like high heels, breasts,
singing, the
works.

(don't get me wrong,
there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism
that overlooks all
basic problems just for
the sake of
itself-
this is a shield and a
sickness.)

The knife got near my
throat again,
I almost turned on the
gas
again
but when the good
moments arrived
again
I didn't fight them off
like an alley
adversary.
I let them take me,
I luxuriated in them,
I bade them welcome
home.
I even looked into
the mirror
once having thought
myself to be
ugly,
I now liked what
I saw, almost
handsome, yes,
a bit ripped and
ragged,
scars, lumps,
odd turns,
but all in all,
not too bad,
almost handsome,
better at least than
some of those movie
star faces
like the cheeks of
a baby's
butt.

And finally I discovered
real feelings of
others,
unheralded,
like lately,
like this morning,
as I was leaving,
for the track,
I saw my wife in bed,
just the
shape of
her head there
(not forgetting
centuries of the living
and the dead and
the dying,
the pyramids,
Mozart dead
but his music still
there in the
room, weeds growing,
the earth turning,
the toteboard waiting for
me)
I saw the shape of my
wife's head,
she so still,
I ached for her life,
just being there
under the
covers.

I kissed her on the
forehead,
got down the stairway,
got outside,
got into my marvelous
car,
fixed the seatbelt,
backed out the
drive.
feeling warm to
the fingertips,
down to my
foot on the gas
pedal,
I entered the world
once
more,
drove down the
hill
past the houses
full and empty
of
people,
I saw the mailman,
honked,
he waved
back
at me.
-- Charles Bukowski, Betting on the Muse, 1996

Friday Five - Soulmates

1.) Do you believe you can have more than one soulmate in life?
Yes, I do believe that everyone has several soulmates, and that there are different types of soulmates as well. Some are romantic connections, some are deep friendships, others are close family members.

2.) Are you with that soulmate now?
I am definitely with one of my soulmates now, my twin flame.

3.) If not, how long did your relationship with your soulmate last?
I've had other soulmates come in and out of my life; they have been close friends, and my relationships with them lasted for over a decade. Some were karmic soulmates, others companion soulmates.

4.) Do you still think about your soulmate, if you are not together?
I often think about the soulmates who are no longer in my life. I'm sure I always will.

5.) If you're not together, do you think your soulmate still thinks about you?
Yes, definitely.