its not that i'm questioning my sanity...just the rest of the world's...

today...as i was waiting on the street for the bus in the middle of a pretty bad snowstorm, i look up and see a man in sweats riding his bike past me on the opposite side of the street...that he was wearing naught but sweats in and of itself was a bit odd...but as he drew closer to me, i realized that was not why he caught my eye...you see, he was wearing a neon-rainbow clown wig and full facial clown makeup and a little red clown nose! of course, i didn't have my camera...and no one else was around to even notice...so none of my friends believe me...

not that i can blame them...if i didn't know i don't do drugs...i would have assumed i hallucinated the whole thing!

i used to think that the surrealists were just fucking bizarre...but now i understand...shit like that makes you think a bit.

Objectification

Thought i'd practice bullshitting writing artists' statements...

i chose to show her faceless as an example of the
objectification of women in society.
and her pose is oh, fuck it...

its a pretty scantily clad ladee. enjoy. sometimes...despite what the standard pretentious art major wants you to think...pictures are drawn for the sake of being drawn...not to impart some life changing message on the viewer...or to create a revolutionary movement in society...but because the artist started drawing, and it just happened.

the thing i hate about being an art major...is that if you present a piece to a class, or professor and tell them that you just drew it for the sake of drawing it, you are judged...and found lacking. i am not a politically minded person by any means. i don't have a hidden message behind the vast majority of things that i create...but in order to succeed in art classes, i was forced to wear a mask of sorts pretending to have multiple levels of intended meanings in my projects. i hate that. i think that being created with the intention of being aesthetically pleasing is just as important as this other crap that people spew.

the thing that really gets me is that if you sit in on a studio class long enough, you will find that the students simply regurgitate the same message over and over. so in their attempt to turn us into free thinking revolutionaries, our professors have succeed only in creating an army of "liberal-minded" automotons. ugh. it really disgusts me.

/end rant

can i just say...

GLEE!

(apparently) the girl of my dreams.

Have you ever had a dream that came true?
I have...on several occasions, actually. now, i'm not talking of visions of lottery numbers from the future...i'm not clairvoyant...i have just had some dreams in my time of mundane daily situations in settings i'd never seen before that ended up happening later (sometimes years later) in the waking world.

i sense your skepticism. i will elaborate. when i was younger...maybe 13 or 14 years old, i had a dream that i was in a big room made up of stairs, talking with people i had never seen before. i looked up and a girl who was on the lower level of stairs looked up at me and smiled right before turning around and leaving the room. years later, i transferred to a different high school from the one i was supposed to go to...after a few months there, i was in the music room, waiting for orchestra to start and the whole situation replayed itself. the room that the orchestra practiced in consisted mainly of a series of levels for the chairs to rest on (similar to stairs) so that everyone in the back could still see the conductor. before i went there, i had never seen this room. it was bizarre.

that has happened to me a couple times...

last night i had a dream. these dreams i have...the ones that happen later...they all have a certain feel to them...i am seeing things and people that i haven't seen/met yet...and yet i am participating in activities like i am around them all the time...its kinda like i would imagine that fellow from "quantum leap" must have felt...anyway...i won't go into too much detail, as i hate to cheapen one of the happiest dreams i've had with words...but it started out sort of in the middle...like coming into an episode of a tv show halfway through it...you have no idea what is going on...but you figure it out eventually...

i was in a large room...with these benches...really low to the ground and padded (sort of like the ones in hookah bars...) and we were sitting around a table...and i was having a conversation with a bunch of people whose faces i never really saw...but my friend Lauren was there...i remember that...anyway...after a while, i realize that there is a girl using my lap as a pillow...never seen her before in my life, don't know her name, nothing. we start talking and she is very affectionate and...familiar is the only word i can think of...the way couples in love are with eachother, you know? anyway...it was nice. god. i can't explain it. no, it wasn't a "sex dream..." it was just...like i got a glimpse of my future and got to see what everyday life could be like for me if i ever find "someone." i didn't want to wake up...the whole time i just couldn't shake the feeling that this was real. i was aware it was a dream...it was like i was a passenger in my future self...when i woke up, i was so sad.

i want so badly for this to be one of those dreams that happens later on...i want to meet this girl. i can't even remember her face...i just remember how i felt about her and around her...is it possible to will someone into existence? i just can't shake this feeling that she is real. and that she is out there somewhere. i told emily about my dream a bit...she said "wouldn't it be great if you found her, and she was real...and had the same dream...only she remembered your face?"


so this is it. if you are out there...remember me! i exist.

i hope the whole thing wasn't just some freudian view into my inner desire for a relationship or some shit like that...

indecision

blog? why yes i think i shall.

but whatever will i write?
pumpernickel is a good word...i believe i will write pumpernickel.


pumpernickel.

ah. that was lovely. such a fun word.


too bad the bread tastes like shite.

images inspired by words

a visual artist's attempt to paint with words

unprepared for the journey ahead, i sit.
sipping on my caffeinated bliss
testing one
two
three
words flow through the air painting elaborate concoctions of imagery and vocabulary in my mind.
tamed lightning rushes up a cord
spinal cord? electrical cord
the skeletal stand of the microphone enhancing my perceptions as i hallucinate
interpreting the complexity of the english language through the mind of an art major
creating in me the desire to create something more than mundane
a spark grows
years of animated loops
(the visual equivalent of prop comedy)
washed away by a new vision
the desire to design burns in my soul likening to lust
(am i art-horny?)
like the urge to smoke

or fuck

or sing or dance
rushing home at the limit of speed
hoping that my muse will linger til I reach the clicking familiarity of my keyboard

distractions
all
around

avoiding obstacles like the character in some bizarre electronic interactive story,
i rush
relieving myself in front of my cycloptic familiar
i pause
at a loss for words. now all that remains
in the dark recesses of my lust-crazed brain
is an image
that longs to come to life