Archive for March, 2011|Monthly archive page

b bright, not right.

In Uncategorized on 03/29/2011 at 12:01 AM

id say fire is a pretty good way to describe the future. i mean.. yeah because consider your future, its a mystery. and fire has so many freaking metaphors. its definitely one of the best metaphors for mankind and stuff. i like thinking about mankind and stuff and having profound thoughts about human nature. its really useful. haha i sit there being a genius. that’s all i am. just a genius knowin everything about mankind and stuff.

i left my friends that night thinking “i gotta make this famous. i gotta make this big.”

i watched a documentary “this film is not yet rated”, thinkin i could do that. i could control all that junk.

eh, not really. i stared at these white lines toward the end of my day. eff that.

9 am: awaken – class, class, audition, audition, audition, 3 hour lecture.. ugh…

but it was actually great. a great day. my worst grade last quarter? easiest class. so yeah that’s just how i am. punch me. i really do like it.


oh.. but i do love their iced coffee. seriously, vanilla iced coffee is great.

here were these white lines:

something like that at least. i stared at them and they were so bright and blurry. that’s my future i said: my future is blurry. but i feel like it is bright too.

didn’t mean to basically copy cloudcult: but seriously. i wrote a like 8page long poem about trees and the earth and sustainability, wtf? while sitting in a tree. this was after my last final. it was kinda cool. i’ll post it on fiberfibber.


but seriously:

today i really feel like i gave myself to the fire. i met people, was friendly and was happy. but if it’s all just chemicals colliding, is it really living? i learned this week that you can make pissin an optical illusion with the right chemicals. its hard to tell whats right from wrong and what’s fully alive. yet, we live on seeing through light sensitive eyes, a life not as sensible as those dark sensations we somehow sense in our brain.

how can craig minowa’s voice be heard in my brain? how can i think?

the future is bright somehow.

i mean i write poetry about taking shits. more than i should haha. and those are my least shitty poems i’d say.

fire can’t burn without being blurry. how can fire be definite? and can you really track everything? sure you could find out the atmosphericonditions or something.. like the gases, temp, substance burnin, all that jazz.

it’s so hard to take every part apart and be right. the apartheid of parts.

purity is a pure lie.

idealogy is just that, an idea.

idealogies are all about being right and are all wrong. and sure being pro-anti-idealogy idealogy is silly, but stilling.

it reminds you that fortune cookie may have more truth than you suspected and that that hymn is more about the catchy¬†hum than the Him your singing too…

i saw some lady looking thru the trash and remembered my burrito i never finished because i got pissed off not knowing the origin of the words embedded in the title: “del combo”. and it was gross.

so i put the bag on a trash can. on cue, i watched the blonde bombshell of 60 reach her torn tanned hands to find a beef burrito.


lets, turn that frown upside down!

because think about it…

“you don’t have to cry for justin bieber,” “yeah ya do, sometimes..”

is there ever a reason we cry or freak out over this crafty warring world?

i mean some people.. it’s just a problem:

seriously i love 3:20 because it perfectly captures what i mean:

“i have to live in this hell hole”, that scene.

what do you mean? that house is great! there is no objective reason for any emotion.

but him and shirlene. probably don’t have a great life. i saw the plight of blind people in¬†a documentary called “blindsight”, i mean dude, how could you ever cry about justin bieber when people are beat up in public because they are blind?

but there is good things in everything and bad things in everything: after all, it’s everything.

and the rigidity of some peoples life, it scares me, work seems like rigor mortis to my spoiled ass.


i recognize that my thoughts don’t often transfer, i dunno why it makes sense. words are one of the only ways i can express what’s going on in my head. but then i drive by usc and the hot girls putup their asses on those cruisers and i could give a shit about fame or anything like that. or when i met that one dude in an audition makin jokes like me and watchin how the dude next to him reacted. i could see the apathy of normal social paths this guy had.

damn he was annoying… kinda like me over spring break.

it’s just that i dont know what to do, and i think i wanna do something with my word, but i think that i think my thoughts are so important and i think that thinking my thoughts are important is a bad thing to think because think about it…

are your thoughts really creation? no, not really. they can transfer into something substantial but as of now they are just thoughts really. and i devote a significant amount of time to them. but i love my random little thoughts. like a painting with a top hat on the floor. or an art project that uses the heap of trashed ads that builds up at dumps. or a book that has all the stunts that people pull in a courtroom, like the hated larry flynt haha go to 1:05 “coagulated” so many great lines in this…. (watch that film Larry Flynt V. America)

these were just some of the things i wrote down today. 3 of the like 28. they are like alike: thoughts i like.

but i have so many stupid ideas. like thinking about my ideas and stuff.¬†i think it’s funny that circa survive sounds so intense, yet they talk about nothing almost. or that third eye blind sounds so normal but they are talking about lifes big questions.

and i love when this happens:

it’s beautiful.

but then i get to the end of a train and i feel the wind blowing… it scares the hell out of me, cause the end is all i can see. so i run, i jump off something. i conquer a ledge and my heart abounds for the leaps and bounds and for the phenomona of the leap year and everything else that you forget about and are suddenly delighted to have remembered it.

i’m just running away from that blowing wind, jacking off my endolphins swimming through the world of my mind. that is just how i think of it…

or when i see myself doing what im doing and think, oh that’s too much like that. well then what am i? oh shit identity crisis while having a conversation. i love being with my friends because i can sprawl my pride out on the floor and let him shrink into a fetal position and burst out. and i can put that pig hat on in my car when i am being a pig and deflate my large head. and they wont care, they’ll still love me.

and i love them because we all love each other.

that’s another thing, i have settled down and have a new outlook on things.

“come and speak to me my friend, forget the words that you think you were saying, cause your thoughts seem to be thinkin otherwise, cause your feelings seem to be feelin otherwise”

such therapy in honesty. if you don’t ever have to defend yourself to defend yourself, i don’t think you’ll ever understand that that confusion you feel isn’t a bad thing. people in some old time with their morals were kinda like us i’d say. but their life seems more set in stone than mine. and there is some joy in that manifest destiny that they had. but then we have ours too. whether its the old guard of morality or it’s the expanding the rights of minorities in america. we have our own manifest destinies that make us think everything. and then you start to wonder about that superficial layer…

is it really there? is it multifaceted? or is it… a salad, with components, untrackable components.

no lettuce today in the dining hall, so i accidentally made a happy celery salad.

“listening¬†to all the people in this room on fire, i wanna be on fire do you wanna be on fire?”

crap… they are kickin me out.


little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin

In Uncategorized on 03/11/2011 at 11:04 PM

“i have been trying to determine the reason that people can legitimately enjoy certain forms of expression and media that provide a superficial amount of entertainment and enact no appreciation for life, as is the purpose of art.

when one watches “glee” for instance, this is not the fever of any artist affecting the audience. instead, it is a blend of sounds and visuals to represent commonly understood actions that intend to communicate drama, comedy, entertainment, and sexual appeal. this string of media tactics are formulaic and hardly diverting from simple understandings of how the media technology (in this case, television) will affect the audience.¬†

in order for one to enjoy such media, one must temporarily place one’s higher values on hold. there is little creativity in such media, for it relies on stereotypes and expectations that is comparable to racial slurs and bad comedians. in fact, much entertainment is held for this purpose: to remove any higher thought from one’s mind. the idea that this is relaxation is interesting.

in past times, relaxation has been synonymous with recreation. in this case, the television is considered recreation. in what way is the television recreation though? is it not destruction? in fact, is not all of relaxation destruction?

thus, it seems that thought dealing with enlightenment and purpose is not held high one’s list of values.

now, i feel myself winding down from the rampage. i can physically feel my energy decreasing as i realize the pointlessness of adding a tirade against the television and lower media. i might as well hold contempt for generic cereal while munching kashi.

tied to this defeat is the defeat i feel in life in everything. and suddenly a burst of energy will spur me as images of myself with mobility or skill buy my attention like patron. other times, future selfs displaying my potential as an independent identity who defeats the social norms of fear and loathing fly through my head like grey goose.

in both circumstances, getting drunk off dreams that only stick like elmers glue on a summer day leave me feeling invisible and runny afterward.

elementary little lights charging me with minimal energy my dear watson that differ just like the old fashioned differ from the new LED green stop lights.

damn those blondes walking by my eye, i try so hard, but they don’t care that i’m hard and trying hard if i’m trying hard to reason some rhyme from my future self.

problem is that my transistor radio won’t talk to my future self, or my future self must be dead. it’d be a good idea to do my essay or study for finals. but i can’t get myself to do it.

well, yeah i can. i just am pretty much done with a freakin easy essay. so who gives a rip.”

emailed that to myself while i was feeling pretty dead. who knew that music was so inspiring to me. well, i think i did. i’ve not listened to any music since sunday and it is painful.

also, it has brought my attention to the faded clips of songs that play themselves in my head. how does that happen?

how does inspiration grab you by the neck and twist you around. the aftertaste of love is painful. coming down from the cloud. goddamit the view is beautiful though.

i wanna be a director. i want it for the glory. i want it for the distinction. but most of all, i want it because i don’t know what else to want. and it’s the only thing that i feel i could understand. not necessarily even excel at it.

but i’m standing with my feet at the welcome mat. except the welcome mat is this giant red carpet. and what people don’t get is that the red carpet is not the point. the few will leave the house and then walk back into the red carpet. but the red carpet is just a welcome mat where people can gather round and spectate at this castle. the castle is just a backdrop though. the castle, palace, chinese theater. whatever, it’s just this painted backdrop that we all made because no one else has any creativity to really understand. behind the backdrop is little more than a table with a cup of tea.

and that’s what you people don’t fuckin get. creation and art is not some elaborate scheme. place a rando pic among 5 great images and you’ll come up with some meaning about it. all the technique and skill behind art is just us trying to grab your attention because we want attention.

we have established ourselves as the mediators between the two sides of you. you will occasionally look up into the sky and wonder what’s up there. or you’ll play with the rolly polly on your finger and speculate how that got there. or see some man on the street holding a sign and then spout in your mind some phrase that we made up “i wonder what his story is”.

we are the heart controllers. we’ve all got our fuckin problems too. we have business and shit. we aren’t just prancing around taking pictures of our front yards. but we are honing our technique so we can capture some truth or mystery of ourselves and how it is in everyone else.

the framework is phrasing you can understand. i just saw dance, and i hardly understood the phrasing. however, i let myself become engulfed into their movements. i let myself wonder.

the good movies are seem seamless. and they will cut you open for a few minutes without you moving a muscle. don’t do a thing baby, ill make ya feel real good. that’s right, the good ones rape you.

comedy is common, so that’s why entertainment is easy.

but hearing that man explain what it is like to be a director of a dance company. i don’t understand a lot of things in this world.

like my future intentions. i don’t really know if i want to be a director. what does that even mean?

just looked over the post and the goddam comp logged me out. and i don’t even remember what i wrote. but i’ll write something else cause i have a different string dangling some ring from my brain down my tongue.

i just don’t understand if that larynx that descends as we age is random or not, ya know? i have no plan. i see no destiny, but i figure if i live it well then i can write out some memoir that will make my life into some epic story.

but i feel some sort of destiny and coherence. as if the throat is lowered down so that man could make speech and create movies like “the kings speech”. i’d love to make films like¬†that, films about changed people that change people.

i don’t really care about all the glory or the fortune. i wanna get into the film industry and the film program and that track and become skilled and let that define me. it sounds so appealing.

but i know that my life will take a turn and i’ll find some sort of meaning in something else.

i’ll age into the middle class, get a large ass.

and sometimes ask myself, what went wrong?

well what went right? nothing went right. it just went by, oh so fast.

so seize the day blondos. fuck me.

no the cavaliers can suck it. i don’t care about that. i really don’t feel anything but emptiness after sexual encounter. it just leaves pulp in my cup, that fruit juice.

the swirling of paint and chemicals leaves a remarkable stain that makes me want to smile and shake everyone’s hands gently and firmly at the same time.

the little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin? i live for those moments now. i don’t even enjoy life so much as i do making fun of it. and running around. that is how i dance, parkour bitches.

honestly, i tried to do the whole charity thing. if it comes to that, i will use some sort of influence given to me by some magical hand to altruite. on the other hand, that hand has given me more back hand and shakes than a pat on the back or a hand shake.

thus, i must just contribute to justice occasionally and pursue myself most of the time.

and why does art hate religion?

problem is, my body is my only temple now. and it’s not always great conversation. but i guess if i beat my breast i may be able to milk it a bit and meet some people.

but still, i must do what i desire.

and in the end, i desire to be alone and learn and then respond accordingly. the mindlessness of interaction is a joy of human suffering that is a stimulant to my silly side. but my silly side is always stimulated.

oh thats what i said earlier!

“i wanna make a movie about beautiful women. oh that’s porn i guess… hm. i guess i’ll make porn. seems like a stimulating position… filming stimulating positions.



i am technologiless. phone from 8th grade and my mac from 8th grade.

not even kidding. gotta toppled laptop on my table top and the smart phones really smart in the financial region of my buttocks.

i think all that money that’s dusting in my bank account may come in handy now.

the thing is that. i’m not as great as i thought i was. and i’m not as bad as i just thought i was. my view of myself has been a lot like the weather. so i’m looking forward to warmer seasons.

“For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold”

seriously, la dispute is something i want to make. i have already decided, that i am planning on living with a low overhead. traveling and doing rando art with people.

guess what ima major in? Bus. Econ.

seriously, this world is about degrees. i will train myself in the arts just by being myself. the place i need some correctional institutions is in the financial and organizational.

i’m realistic about this whole art thing.

i need a mission statement. that’s my mission: figure out my mission statement.