Borrowed from Waynooooo:
1. If you could do anything you want to tomorrow, what would it be?
Well, as it's supposed to be a nice day, I'd probably head into New York or Philly with my sketchpad, camera, and iPod, and roam. Hit up the MoMA, Met, Whitney... The Chelsea Area... anything art/coffee related.
2. What are your core values?
I value inner strength, not to be confused with hubris. I really enjoy seeing endurance, determination, fighting for what's right in people, and managing one's self through the bottlenecks of life.
3. What are your special talents?
Hrm. Well, people say I'm weird, which I take as a compliment. Weirdness breeds originality... though I've yet to see much of it. :P I of course like drawing, painting, organizing... I'm working on cooking.
4. What do you do better than most people you know?
Manage to keep myself awake? HAHAHA. No seriously, .... improvise on the piano, I think. People have said, wait, you're making that up!? :D
5. What were your dreams as a child?
Hmmm, hard to remember. I clearly remember some NIGHTmares... My first nightmare I can remember was when my infant sister fell off the corner of a file-cabinet, fell through a handlebar, and inverted herself into a jam-covered stuffed animal mouse...
6. What is the thing you are most proud of accomplishing in your life so far?
My sense of self-worth. I've grown accustomed to taking blows in my life, and recovering quickly. For that, I am very thankful. Tangibly, I'm happy to have a BFA in something I love... oh, and winning a type of High School Mr. Universe Pageant. :P
7. What will you regret doing in your life if you continue as you are now?
Not jogging/weight-training... that could be bad, but I intend to get back on the horse, as soon as I can get an hour to breathe... these last couple months have been destructive on my health.... thank you, job.
8. What do you want people to say about you when you are no longer living (your legacy)?
Well, hopefully, when I pass, I'll be in the elderly phase of life, and I can say I've given the world a new way to look, whether it be through a different kind of filming technique, a different kind of look or style for a particular culture or industrial design... something that looks different and amazing... Kinda like Frank Lloyd Wright or H.R. Giger.
9. What do you want to do when you retire?
Have a significant other and I retire in a house built and customized to our liking somewhere in Connecticut or Pennsylvania. We'd host parties every Saturday night, and during the week, I'd freelance illustrations to start-up magazines. I'd also love to have my own private studio where I can explore different art techniques, and have some of that art sold to millionaires in NYC.
10. Outside of parents who influenced your life more than anyone else, who had an impact on your life and what was it about that person that meant something to you?
Not too many in HS, but my friend in college were of the utmost importance to my cultivation as an adult. Even now, my coworkers are amazing people who have been through so many walks of life, and to hear their stories, which influence my own, have provided me much to ponder, and have really helped me grow as a person, both spiritually, and emotionally. I still think college was the best years of my life, though :P
8/25/08
8/19/08
7/18/08
6/28/08
6/16/08
Terabyte Storage
It emerged from the haze
a last testament to a forgotten authority.
Still souls still rested; still hearts eternally frost-covered.
Prisoners wait as the behemoth drifts.
Timeless fortitude lay ground to intoxicating inhumanity aboard.
The iron sails and sterile hallways blink silently
holding fast the nature of evil within its repetitive cells.
the cloud of nothing surrounds a shipment of everything.
6/15/08
Element 125
Discovered: March 19, 2271 - Fan Meng Rui
Primary element defining the core of Venus.
Until Marius Bradley's famous HazeBreaker_012 mission in 2204, no human was able to view the core of Venus in person. It is widely whispered Zerinium is divine in nature, due to it's regenerative and healing properties.
5/26/08
Dirigible
What the hell is up there,
in that attic of yours.
These asphalt sands are keeping me immobile,
along with everyone else.
5/14/08
5/14/08
I remember those drives up Route 1. The soft snowy corporate buildings and junky diners half covered in ice. The drive set to 'Joga.'
From there it went to the lushness of Spring. Touring the Choir college set to 'Unravel.' The Wedding, being Best Man. Driving home set to 'Who Is It.'
It was a quick Summer. Unmemorable.
Then the shit hit the fan. My coworkers were let go, and we were shipped to Lincoln, Nebraska. That golden city, with the ivory tower, and the adventure on the street that Thursday night. Sometimes, it's nice to feel wanted.
Winter came, and I got ... portly. At this point, I've come full circle from my drives up Route 1, and what does this winter bring? A pen-pal. An amazing person.
Inevitable disaster soon follows. Things get hairy, but we pull through, as humanity often does.
-
Epilogue:
But it's different now. Why.
I sometimes look at January, February, APRIL even... and I think, what the hell happened to the person I was. I've changed.
Is it growth? Yes and no. Growth in the sense of a better self-awareness, and in meeting new colorful characters, the self often comes into a better focus. An awakening, lessons learned, a sense of clarity. Continually growing.
But in some ways, I've lost bits of myself I'd had hoped to keep, and now it affects those I care about.
This time of ... change, is not without its pain. Poor Jen lays in critical, yet I feel more alive than ever. I sometimes wonder if someone's having a good day, another person somewhere is getting shit on.
Life is a ridiculous mess. I feel like one of those chemistry sets, where the liquid in a test tube keeps changing colors. It's exhilarating.
Why am I writing this... it's not like anyone gives a flying shit anyway. Just let me PMS for a little bit, thank you. You know I love you.
From there it went to the lushness of Spring. Touring the Choir college set to 'Unravel.' The Wedding, being Best Man. Driving home set to 'Who Is It.'
It was a quick Summer. Unmemorable.
Then the shit hit the fan. My coworkers were let go, and we were shipped to Lincoln, Nebraska. That golden city, with the ivory tower, and the adventure on the street that Thursday night. Sometimes, it's nice to feel wanted.
Winter came, and I got ... portly. At this point, I've come full circle from my drives up Route 1, and what does this winter bring? A pen-pal. An amazing person.
Inevitable disaster soon follows. Things get hairy, but we pull through, as humanity often does.
-
Epilogue:
But it's different now. Why.
I sometimes look at January, February, APRIL even... and I think, what the hell happened to the person I was. I've changed.
Is it growth? Yes and no. Growth in the sense of a better self-awareness, and in meeting new colorful characters, the self often comes into a better focus. An awakening, lessons learned, a sense of clarity. Continually growing.
But in some ways, I've lost bits of myself I'd had hoped to keep, and now it affects those I care about.
This time of ... change, is not without its pain. Poor Jen lays in critical, yet I feel more alive than ever. I sometimes wonder if someone's having a good day, another person somewhere is getting shit on.
Life is a ridiculous mess. I feel like one of those chemistry sets, where the liquid in a test tube keeps changing colors. It's exhilarating.
Why am I writing this... it's not like anyone gives a flying shit anyway. Just let me PMS for a little bit, thank you. You know I love you.
5/13/08
In Traffic
Pot sucker.
Alloy and emerald cage wires
baking in the sun.
Big nose, staring at your bumper sticker.
Drive!
What the hell is up there,
in that attic of yours.
These asphalt sands are keeping me immobile,
along with everyone else.
Metal trees have lost their branches.
The silhouette of a factory glimmers
in the radiating heat waves.
Not New York; not Philadelphia.
Somewhere in-between.
Alloy and emerald cage wires
baking in the sun.
Big nose, staring at your bumper sticker.
Drive!
What the hell is up there,
in that attic of yours.
These asphalt sands are keeping me immobile,
along with everyone else.
Metal trees have lost their branches.
The silhouette of a factory glimmers
in the radiating heat waves.
Not New York; not Philadelphia.
Somewhere in-between.
5/10/08
Lime Wash 2
Blue haze to golden shower.
The blinds filter triangles of light,
which stretch. Curtains in the still life
of another morning robbed
of color. Green passes,
returns, outside the smattered smokey glass.
Twitters outside. It's morning.
Spring, the creator.
Winter knows how to drain.
---
Dribble taste on soft earth.
Fashion heat on sun flare nodes.
Can you feel merry old England
while you're ditching your nephew in Harlem?
The blinds filter triangles of light,
which stretch. Curtains in the still life
of another morning robbed
of color. Green passes,
returns, outside the smattered smokey glass.
Twitters outside. It's morning.
Spring, the creator.
Winter knows how to drain.
---
Dribble taste on soft earth.
Fashion heat on sun flare nodes.
Can you feel merry old England
while you're ditching your nephew in Harlem?
4/27/08
4/4/08
Fortune Cookie Rant ... In Bed.
Everybody in their carpeted fortress.
Caravaggio never knew Warhol
they should have been roommates.
You eye me from the coat room but know this
in that lighting, your eyes are transparent
you're the turpentine satyr I've read about.
Forthcoming glee
a turtle beached
for feelings of snow
he sold his shell.
It began with a crucifix and a carborator
metropolis to the mountain
four-star bag of dreams
subsequently here we are
with audio tapes and fishing rods.
You look at blue
when you want to see cerulean
when you should be seeing crimson
but you can't get past lime.
Uniformed innocence
to missing khakis and Cosby sweaters
nothing much changed in the next two eras
there's a stifle in the hotel
Orlando never saw Rome.
Cut back on the reserves, I said
munition dumps only happen every so often
haze has replaced the marquee lights
better turn to Oprah's god of the month.
Login now
update your profile
forget your password?
Billy plays with the dog
then goes to charge his battery.
I'll sleep when the coffee runs out.
Caravaggio never knew Warhol
they should have been roommates.
You eye me from the coat room but know this
in that lighting, your eyes are transparent
you're the turpentine satyr I've read about.
Forthcoming glee
a turtle beached
for feelings of snow
he sold his shell.
It began with a crucifix and a carborator
metropolis to the mountain
four-star bag of dreams
subsequently here we are
with audio tapes and fishing rods.
You look at blue
when you want to see cerulean
when you should be seeing crimson
but you can't get past lime.
Uniformed innocence
to missing khakis and Cosby sweaters
nothing much changed in the next two eras
there's a stifle in the hotel
Orlando never saw Rome.
Cut back on the reserves, I said
munition dumps only happen every so often
haze has replaced the marquee lights
better turn to Oprah's god of the month.
Login now
update your profile
forget your password?
Billy plays with the dog
then goes to charge his battery.
I'll sleep when the coffee runs out.
3/19/08
3/19/08
I just woke up from a vivid dream...
---
The dream takes place in a neighborhood I've never seen, though I feel I've dreamt about it before. Average sized two story houses lined with tall overgrown trees, and lots of them. I find myself behind the houses in a sort of valley path between the backyards. The entire dream is in a dark saturation of blues and greens and blacks, as could be brought on by the most darkest rainy day at dusk. The dim overcast provides very little light to the ground below the trees.
The backyards are haphazard, and contain evidence of abandoned history: half-chopped log piles, untended gardens, piles of dead leaves, wire fences in desperate need of repair, overgrown sandboxes, drenched toys. Everything is soggy and black with the dampness. No one in site, and apparently the neighborhood is flooding.
I spent a few hazy moments in the company of some panicked people in one of the houses at first, perhaps my own family... but eventually I find myself out in the back in this area between the houses with a self-initiated quest. I'm apparently to find a lost infant out in the rain.
The dream is silent, except for the patter of raindrops on tree leaves. I search and search, no evidence, looking in all the backyards. I finally stumble across one yard, completely overgrown, there is a broken stroller among the knee-high grass, and in it is the child, silent but aware, its face pale white against the surrounding blue. I sink into the mud and attempt to keep the infant warm and dry as best I can, with no one in sight.
---
The dream takes place in a neighborhood I've never seen, though I feel I've dreamt about it before. Average sized two story houses lined with tall overgrown trees, and lots of them. I find myself behind the houses in a sort of valley path between the backyards. The entire dream is in a dark saturation of blues and greens and blacks, as could be brought on by the most darkest rainy day at dusk. The dim overcast provides very little light to the ground below the trees.
The backyards are haphazard, and contain evidence of abandoned history: half-chopped log piles, untended gardens, piles of dead leaves, wire fences in desperate need of repair, overgrown sandboxes, drenched toys. Everything is soggy and black with the dampness. No one in site, and apparently the neighborhood is flooding.
I spent a few hazy moments in the company of some panicked people in one of the houses at first, perhaps my own family... but eventually I find myself out in the back in this area between the houses with a self-initiated quest. I'm apparently to find a lost infant out in the rain.
The dream is silent, except for the patter of raindrops on tree leaves. I search and search, no evidence, looking in all the backyards. I finally stumble across one yard, completely overgrown, there is a broken stroller among the knee-high grass, and in it is the child, silent but aware, its face pale white against the surrounding blue. I sink into the mud and attempt to keep the infant warm and dry as best I can, with no one in sight.
3/16/08
3/16/08
K, WELL..... so here we are.
Bitto' a RANDOM blog here.... A lot of obscure, unrelated things (thank you very much, Add). Lot of things happened this week.
Tuesday was Kate-I-E's Birthday dinner at Bonzai (hibachi-style dining), which is always fun. Kate-I-E was doing well, and she FINALLY was able to land some employment (thank God, cause I really did not want HMM-HMM.... contacting her for any more freelance... (cough cough... uhh hm, what?) ........ (okay I'll stop with the parenthesis).
Also got my haircut..finally.
Wednesday went to Princeton w/ Mike for some 'bucks. Thursday night, went to Triumph in New Hope to meet a coworker of Mike's for his big 36th Birthday celebration. Um... yea.
Okay, crazy story. So, it was a little awkward when the man, 11 years my elder, and drunk as hell, started hitting on me. My friends left, leaving John as my ride, who found it amusing, as I was the only one there who would [ahem] fit the bill. B-day Boy: "Jim.... what do you want?" Jim: "uhhh nothing really, hehe..." I look to John for help, who's giggling as he flirts with some girl. B-day Boy: "NO Jim...what do you WANT??"
That went on for about an hour. Nothing like feeling like a piece of meat, and being TOLD I am one by the very man, who's wasted, and hoping "you, on my bed in 5 minutes, naked" would some how issue out of my mouth in response to his persistent question. John finally saved me at some point, and drove me to my car across the bridge...yea I have no words.
Friday I didn't really do anything. Yesterday was Movie Night with the guys, had some good Pay-Per-View WWF video game action, and then watched... oh god... The Delta Force.... yes that's right, Jason dusted off his VHS box, and pulled out the most remarkable slew of rocket motorcycles and dusty jihad-fused bad dialogue the likes of Chuck Norris could bring illuminating the living rooms of America's finest stereotypes c. 1986. It was painful and oh-so-good at the same time.
Today, did a little bit of research at B&N w/Rich, and returned as we watched with captivation HBO's 'John Adams' 7-part miniseries. I have to tell you, I LIKE where movies are going, and that is in the venue of stark realism. I think it began with Braveheart, and the series of period epics that have come about since, that have come to dictate how much people want to see 'What was it REALLY like?' Films such as Elizabeth I and II, The Last Samurai, Amistad, Cold Mountain, The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and even the extreme of The Passion of the Christ to name a few, in addition to such series from HBO as Deadwood, and Rome, all these bits of cinema, taking obscure little nooks and crannies of history, and NOT dolling them up, as Hollywood has done to films in the past, but presenting them in their raw, desaturated grime and grit of reality, not showing all that you need to show for the time and place. You really feel for the character's involved, and you are truly taken into their world as authentically as possible.
'John Adams' in particular tells an amazing story of love, devotion doused with powerful patriotism, not presenting how America was so confident and stubborn in their earliest birth, but how our founding fathers were scared shit-less at what they were doing, how completely lucky the colonies were in all that they hoped would happen, and how it meant their heads in noose, if it didn't work out. I'm truly captivated, and I consider the American Revolution, and its international relations during the time to be some of the most interesting subjects in history. It often makes me sad that I take for granted the incredible history that has happened all over this area. I've made it my personal goal to invest some time into going to history specific sites, and learn as much as I can, as it's incredibly inspiring.
Other than that, I've delved back into Illustration. It didn't take much to determine, but I firmly believe that illustration, freelance or otherwise, is where I find my passion.
I know, I know... starving artist...God help me.
Bitto' a RANDOM blog here.... A lot of obscure, unrelated things (thank you very much, Add). Lot of things happened this week.
Tuesday was Kate-I-E's Birthday dinner at Bonzai (hibachi-style dining), which is always fun. Kate-I-E was doing well, and she FINALLY was able to land some employment (thank God, cause I really did not want HMM-HMM.... contacting her for any more freelance... (cough cough... uhh hm, what?) ........ (okay I'll stop with the parenthesis).
Also got my haircut..finally.
Wednesday went to Princeton w/ Mike for some 'bucks. Thursday night, went to Triumph in New Hope to meet a coworker of Mike's for his big 36th Birthday celebration. Um... yea.
Okay, crazy story. So, it was a little awkward when the man, 11 years my elder, and drunk as hell, started hitting on me. My friends left, leaving John as my ride, who found it amusing, as I was the only one there who would [ahem] fit the bill. B-day Boy: "Jim.... what do you want?" Jim: "uhhh nothing really, hehe..." I look to John for help, who's giggling as he flirts with some girl. B-day Boy: "NO Jim...what do you WANT??"
That went on for about an hour. Nothing like feeling like a piece of meat, and being TOLD I am one by the very man, who's wasted, and hoping "you, on my bed in 5 minutes, naked" would some how issue out of my mouth in response to his persistent question. John finally saved me at some point, and drove me to my car across the bridge...yea I have no words.
Friday I didn't really do anything. Yesterday was Movie Night with the guys, had some good Pay-Per-View WWF video game action, and then watched... oh god... The Delta Force.... yes that's right, Jason dusted off his VHS box, and pulled out the most remarkable slew of rocket motorcycles and dusty jihad-fused bad dialogue the likes of Chuck Norris could bring illuminating the living rooms of America's finest stereotypes c. 1986. It was painful and oh-so-good at the same time.
Today, did a little bit of research at B&N w/Rich, and returned as we watched with captivation HBO's 'John Adams' 7-part miniseries. I have to tell you, I LIKE where movies are going, and that is in the venue of stark realism. I think it began with Braveheart, and the series of period epics that have come about since, that have come to dictate how much people want to see 'What was it REALLY like?' Films such as Elizabeth I and II, The Last Samurai, Amistad, Cold Mountain, The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and even the extreme of The Passion of the Christ to name a few, in addition to such series from HBO as Deadwood, and Rome, all these bits of cinema, taking obscure little nooks and crannies of history, and NOT dolling them up, as Hollywood has done to films in the past, but presenting them in their raw, desaturated grime and grit of reality, not showing all that you need to show for the time and place. You really feel for the character's involved, and you are truly taken into their world as authentically as possible.
'John Adams' in particular tells an amazing story of love, devotion doused with powerful patriotism, not presenting how America was so confident and stubborn in their earliest birth, but how our founding fathers were scared shit-less at what they were doing, how completely lucky the colonies were in all that they hoped would happen, and how it meant their heads in noose, if it didn't work out. I'm truly captivated, and I consider the American Revolution, and its international relations during the time to be some of the most interesting subjects in history. It often makes me sad that I take for granted the incredible history that has happened all over this area. I've made it my personal goal to invest some time into going to history specific sites, and learn as much as I can, as it's incredibly inspiring.
Other than that, I've delved back into Illustration. It didn't take much to determine, but I firmly believe that illustration, freelance or otherwise, is where I find my passion.
I know, I know... starving artist...God help me.
3/10/08
Lavalamp
As a matter of fact,
there are two constants here.
A gnawing and aching
gutwrenching pain,
which cannot be ignored,
or can it?
On the other hand, there is a right-handed
fist, pushing on, amidst ensuing chaos,
the will to straighten out and optimize.
In one moment we are at our lowest,
an operatic mess of indignant faces and
all shades of the color blue.
The next, determined, resilient,
cool and calculating.
That's just how we do things here in New Jersey.
I had a good time with you, kid.
Special to me.
You connected with me on many different levels.
You ensnared my passions, heightened my drive.
It was not false. Just ill-timed.
I did what I did, not because of you.
but, because of me, quite simply.
Attachment is only so healthy before
we acknowledge the balance that must exist.
I was... out of balance.
Not caused by weakness,
but circumstance.
Never underestimate change,
as I had in my career, and in life.
You became a primary reason
why I woke up in the morning.
Just thought you should know that.
In a lot of ways, you and I
were completely alike in circumstance.
Which is why we connected so well.
Life will change for you. It is definite.
Life must change for me,
in looking at empirical evidence of happiness.
In society, adulthood can be
defined by career, and social status.
None of which is built without a certain
sense of self-dependancy and confidence.
I aim to build on these requirements.
I think I'll start with a couple pairs of jeans,
and a decent run.
I don't know what's in store.
Down the road, gazing from the ol' Civic.
I only hope this is not over.
Until later, Bean.
Thank you.
there are two constants here.
A gnawing and aching
gutwrenching pain,
which cannot be ignored,
or can it?
On the other hand, there is a right-handed
fist, pushing on, amidst ensuing chaos,
the will to straighten out and optimize.
In one moment we are at our lowest,
an operatic mess of indignant faces and
all shades of the color blue.
The next, determined, resilient,
cool and calculating.
That's just how we do things here in New Jersey.
I had a good time with you, kid.
Special to me.
You connected with me on many different levels.
You ensnared my passions, heightened my drive.
It was not false. Just ill-timed.
I did what I did, not because of you.
but, because of me, quite simply.
Attachment is only so healthy before
we acknowledge the balance that must exist.
I was... out of balance.
Not caused by weakness,
but circumstance.
Never underestimate change,
as I had in my career, and in life.
You became a primary reason
why I woke up in the morning.
Just thought you should know that.
In a lot of ways, you and I
were completely alike in circumstance.
Which is why we connected so well.
Life will change for you. It is definite.
Life must change for me,
in looking at empirical evidence of happiness.
In society, adulthood can be
defined by career, and social status.
None of which is built without a certain
sense of self-dependancy and confidence.
I aim to build on these requirements.
I think I'll start with a couple pairs of jeans,
and a decent run.
I don't know what's in store.
Down the road, gazing from the ol' Civic.
I only hope this is not over.
Until later, Bean.
Thank you.
2/26/08
Monkey
A wrenching and roaring sound revved from the deepest darkest part of the chamber, echoing off the steel basins and wired scaffolds. X32008.6_V1 stepped off the platform, encircling the rotating lever. Steam issued in short bursts, as pulleys worked, and iron gears grinded.
Within an instant, a vertical strip, a beam from the east, poured cream and white on V1, and the surrounding pasty platforms and tarnished girders. Verily, it thought, the door needs oil. Within seconds, the fluid bi-pedal proxy silently lumbered to the door, peering into the morning midst.
The frozen hills impressed a realm enveloped in lazy winter, seamed in by brown departed shrubbery, and a few slithering stratus wisps. The full solar flames danced along the medley of rust and plating V1 could only consider its most humble threshold.
A cautious and curious columbiform flapped and frawed overhead, causing V1 logically to imagine biting jealously on its koala bottom lip.
Within an instant, a vertical strip, a beam from the east, poured cream and white on V1, and the surrounding pasty platforms and tarnished girders. Verily, it thought, the door needs oil. Within seconds, the fluid bi-pedal proxy silently lumbered to the door, peering into the morning midst.
The frozen hills impressed a realm enveloped in lazy winter, seamed in by brown departed shrubbery, and a few slithering stratus wisps. The full solar flames danced along the medley of rust and plating V1 could only consider its most humble threshold.
A cautious and curious columbiform flapped and frawed overhead, causing V1 logically to imagine biting jealously on its koala bottom lip.
2/19/08
The Crane Wife
"And all the stars were crashing 'round
As I laid eyes on what I'd found
It was a white crane
It was a helpless thing
Upon a red stain
With an arrow its wing
And it called and cried
And it called and cried so..."
---
"The Crane Wife 1 & 2"
THE DECEMBERISTS
2/7/08
Mappa Mundi
She walks in, and I think of that house.
A smell of antiquity, and Egypt.
She wears rubies from Asia, and curtains from France.
Yet she suffers, what once was tall and worldly,
is now sullen and begging.
To this day, I respect and dare not compete.
I probably should. Casting a shadow in the
recesses of commerce, unknown
and applying henchmen from far away lands.
Geniuses in their own way, yet a mess of
conservative immaturity. Such is the culture of some,
such is the mess of centuries of inhumanity.
But I am not swayed. There is a light, crawling
through the gel-like underbrush
of the dark recesses of my dungeon.
Peeking through the Royal Blue.
It is stark and I dive in searching.
Should have brought a boogie board,
it's disgusting in here.
Somehow I find the boards of retreat and
take refuge in the plastic dust collection. Idle.
In this we find this pauper and the wife of Pizzaro,
strangely detached from each other,
eyes shifting in the hallways of the status quo.
There is only a need to embrace which neither understand.
Thus the two remain.
Cribbed.
Similar minds in endless passing,
which is halted abruptly
with the declaration of a stronger brand efficiency.
A smell of antiquity, and Egypt.
She wears rubies from Asia, and curtains from France.
Yet she suffers, what once was tall and worldly,
is now sullen and begging.
To this day, I respect and dare not compete.
I probably should. Casting a shadow in the
recesses of commerce, unknown
and applying henchmen from far away lands.
Geniuses in their own way, yet a mess of
conservative immaturity. Such is the culture of some,
such is the mess of centuries of inhumanity.
But I am not swayed. There is a light, crawling
through the gel-like underbrush
of the dark recesses of my dungeon.
Peeking through the Royal Blue.
It is stark and I dive in searching.
Should have brought a boogie board,
it's disgusting in here.
Somehow I find the boards of retreat and
take refuge in the plastic dust collection. Idle.
In this we find this pauper and the wife of Pizzaro,
strangely detached from each other,
eyes shifting in the hallways of the status quo.
There is only a need to embrace which neither understand.
Thus the two remain.
Cribbed.
Similar minds in endless passing,
which is halted abruptly
with the declaration of a stronger brand efficiency.
1/20/08
1/20/08
Ahhh.... the LONG weekend! :D
What better way to start it out than with a movie-night. A movie night that turned into a 1 AM adventure drive through Central Jersey.
I think it's funny how everytime I go out, something... unexpected happens. Last night, I'm driving home, and I KNOW Rich is gonna call me to go out. Sure enough, as I'm driving home, Lupe Fiasco's "Superstar" starts playin on my phone, right on schedule.
We end up heading to Burtucci's...delicious. I had a glass of wine.
We head over to the movies to see, oh yes, CLOVERFIELD, opening night.... and opening night for a hyped movie, at the AMC in Cherry Hill... oh you know you're in for a fun night.
First showing we wanted to do was sold out, so we bought our tickets for the next show an hour later. Had some time to kill, so we head across the highway to the mall. Note to all you locals. When they begin to close the shops, don't figure on getting to your car easily if you park near the JCPenny. Take a West Side Exit, no matter where it is. We howerver went out an EAST entrance, and couldn't get back in when we realized in order to get to the car on the other side of the JC Penny, we'd either have to circumvent the entire 1 million square feet of mall to get our car, OR... hop a fence. I was wearing my good shoes for some reason, my good jeans I didn't wanna rip, so I ran down the block to the end of the fence, and back around. Rich hopped the fence. Yes, I apparently was a wuss. But I was not gonna be arrested last night for looking suspicious...or odd in my good clothes and a cozy scarf...
As I'm making my way back to Rich, I find he's on the phone with a friend who apparently has some paperwork he needs for his NJ for Obama meeting tomorrow, he asks me if I can come along with him after the movie. I said fine I guess... then I learn it's in Princeton, 45 minutes north of us. Now, at the beginning of the evening, I was planning on just dinner and a movie. I had a long-ass week, I was tired and wanted to sleep... I expressed my discontent, but eventually caved for the sake of helping him find the damn place.
We head to the movies, and made our way through the teenage sea of emos, freestylers, and teenyboppers into the theater... which was filled, except for the first three rows. Eventually we agreed that seeing 2 hours of shaky camera and jumpy horror was not going to be pleasant at a screen towering 30 feet above us... We exchanged for the next showing and waited in the line for an hour. [there being a reason for everything, had we stayed, I would not have run into my awesome friend, who was back from school in Seattle and gave us her number, she was seeing '27 Dresses']
The movie was... good. I mean it wasn't great, but it certainly held my attention. I felt like 'Aliens' meets '28 Days Later' meets 'Blair Witch Project' meets (say it with me) GODZILLA. BUT the effects were all but priceless. Like I am ACHING to buy this thing on DVD, and would buy it on High Def to get the full real-time feel for the camera work... on a considerably smaller screen. I will say, it almost hurt to watch the technique for so long. I found myself looking off-screen at the heads in front of me just so I wouldn't get queasy. But the creature was fantastic. Yes, the American explosion-loving sci-fi buff in me got all giddy after we left, there was no need for sleep after that. Ultimately, because of the technique they used, I presumed the very act of rotoscoping each shot to match the movement of the camera as perfectly as it looked must have been more fun than actually watching the movie. It was so LONG, yet I actually left wanting MORE. At least more of the cool stuff. More creature shots, more explanation. Hopefully I'll get my wish with a barrage books I can salivate over at B&N :D defining the creature, pics, drawings, making-of's, possibilities of sequels...perhaps shot with a steady-cam this time...? :), etc.
After we left, we began the hunt for this guy's house. It was 12:30 am, and we decided it was best to not call, as he was probably asleep. It was freezing. Somehow, we found ourselves in a section of Princeton I'd never seen before... a dark place with no street-lamps, dark foreboding houses, no fences, tall skinny trees, and only the glow of Princeton on the clouds above to offer any detail of the landscape. I lost my sense of direction immediately. It wasn't a neighborhood. It was a forest with off-shoot driveways. We eventually found the mailbox, the number worn and eroded, drove up, grabbed the stuff, and high-tailed it out of there before any worrisome rich fools had time to alert the night-watchman after staring at our slow car eyeing each house. So, it was a fun little adventure. After getting home and waking my parents, I slipped out of my coat and cozy scarf and into the best night's sleep of the week.
What better way to start it out than with a movie-night. A movie night that turned into a 1 AM adventure drive through Central Jersey.
I think it's funny how everytime I go out, something... unexpected happens. Last night, I'm driving home, and I KNOW Rich is gonna call me to go out. Sure enough, as I'm driving home, Lupe Fiasco's "Superstar" starts playin on my phone, right on schedule.
We end up heading to Burtucci's...delicious. I had a glass of wine.
We head over to the movies to see, oh yes, CLOVERFIELD, opening night.... and opening night for a hyped movie, at the AMC in Cherry Hill... oh you know you're in for a fun night.
First showing we wanted to do was sold out, so we bought our tickets for the next show an hour later. Had some time to kill, so we head across the highway to the mall. Note to all you locals. When they begin to close the shops, don't figure on getting to your car easily if you park near the JCPenny. Take a West Side Exit, no matter where it is. We howerver went out an EAST entrance, and couldn't get back in when we realized in order to get to the car on the other side of the JC Penny, we'd either have to circumvent the entire 1 million square feet of mall to get our car, OR... hop a fence. I was wearing my good shoes for some reason, my good jeans I didn't wanna rip, so I ran down the block to the end of the fence, and back around. Rich hopped the fence. Yes, I apparently was a wuss. But I was not gonna be arrested last night for looking suspicious...or odd in my good clothes and a cozy scarf...
As I'm making my way back to Rich, I find he's on the phone with a friend who apparently has some paperwork he needs for his NJ for Obama meeting tomorrow, he asks me if I can come along with him after the movie. I said fine I guess... then I learn it's in Princeton, 45 minutes north of us. Now, at the beginning of the evening, I was planning on just dinner and a movie. I had a long-ass week, I was tired and wanted to sleep... I expressed my discontent, but eventually caved for the sake of helping him find the damn place.
We head to the movies, and made our way through the teenage sea of emos, freestylers, and teenyboppers into the theater... which was filled, except for the first three rows. Eventually we agreed that seeing 2 hours of shaky camera and jumpy horror was not going to be pleasant at a screen towering 30 feet above us... We exchanged for the next showing and waited in the line for an hour. [there being a reason for everything, had we stayed, I would not have run into my awesome friend, who was back from school in Seattle and gave us her number, she was seeing '27 Dresses']
The movie was... good. I mean it wasn't great, but it certainly held my attention. I felt like 'Aliens' meets '28 Days Later' meets 'Blair Witch Project' meets (say it with me) GODZILLA. BUT the effects were all but priceless. Like I am ACHING to buy this thing on DVD, and would buy it on High Def to get the full real-time feel for the camera work... on a considerably smaller screen. I will say, it almost hurt to watch the technique for so long. I found myself looking off-screen at the heads in front of me just so I wouldn't get queasy. But the creature was fantastic. Yes, the American explosion-loving sci-fi buff in me got all giddy after we left, there was no need for sleep after that. Ultimately, because of the technique they used, I presumed the very act of rotoscoping each shot to match the movement of the camera as perfectly as it looked must have been more fun than actually watching the movie. It was so LONG, yet I actually left wanting MORE. At least more of the cool stuff. More creature shots, more explanation. Hopefully I'll get my wish with a barrage books I can salivate over at B&N :D defining the creature, pics, drawings, making-of's, possibilities of sequels...perhaps shot with a steady-cam this time...? :), etc.
After we left, we began the hunt for this guy's house. It was 12:30 am, and we decided it was best to not call, as he was probably asleep. It was freezing. Somehow, we found ourselves in a section of Princeton I'd never seen before... a dark place with no street-lamps, dark foreboding houses, no fences, tall skinny trees, and only the glow of Princeton on the clouds above to offer any detail of the landscape. I lost my sense of direction immediately. It wasn't a neighborhood. It was a forest with off-shoot driveways. We eventually found the mailbox, the number worn and eroded, drove up, grabbed the stuff, and high-tailed it out of there before any worrisome rich fools had time to alert the night-watchman after staring at our slow car eyeing each house. So, it was a fun little adventure. After getting home and waking my parents, I slipped out of my coat and cozy scarf and into the best night's sleep of the week.
1/16/08
1/16/08
Sarah left this morning for FL. It's weird thinking she will not be in my direct presence for upwards of 4 months. Between her birth, and now, I've not been away from her for that long a period of time. Given the circumstance of her Disney College Program requirements, she will not be able to come back up here for a good-ol' fashioned NJ visit at all. I miss her already.
I find myself listening to "Shadowland" from the Broadway production soundtrack of Disney's 'The Lion King.' The song is a somber choral adaptation from an instrumental melody in the film. The song speaks of departure, and it's kind of funny how I finally stumbled upon it today. Anything that sounds Jungle-y, like Lion King, or Tarzan, makes me think of Florida and the vacations we've taken there. I greatly appreciate the Lion King, as it is probably the only Disney production I've ever felt ensnared by. Everything else by Disney?... meh. What's different about it? Well, to me, it's like trying to compare it to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, you just can't. Nor can you compare The Magic Kingdom to Animal Kingdom within the Disney parks. Animal Kingdom was at least in part inspired by the success of The Lion King, and the incredible resonance it has had with all ages.
It's a completely unique folk story, non-western, dramatic, very adult in its allegories, and I didn't really feel too strongly about it until it became a musical, and with that transition, I felt, a very unique approach on the part of Disney. Incorporating tribal art influences, the stylized craft and African appreciation of color, the woodcarving with the gnarled but simplified shapes and motifs of that genre, not to mention the intoxicating musical instrumentation to help echo those motifs. Apply that to the already-mature Disney animated production, and it's entirely refreshing and awe inspiring. The Lion King was probably the first Disney film to make me cry... and if there's one thing I love, it's tears of joy. The music alone makes me want to create my own folk art, 3D if I have to. It's incredibly inspiring.
When the fam and I had the magnificent chance opportunity to stay at the new Animal Kingdom Lodge last June, I was actually taken aback that Disney could make such an engaging and completely detailed themed resort. Everything, and I mean everything in the place is an African Safari-themed art piece, right down to the tile patterns lining the shower walls in the bathroom. Add that to walking the hallways, passing captioned pieces of real tribal and contemporary African art, peering out the window, and seeing a giraffe or zebra grazing in a near-by tree. They've really outdone themselves with this experience. But then again, that's Disney!
1/10/08
1/10/08
Well, that was the most awkward lunch hour of my life. I never figured myself to be the one with issues, but apparently, I complain too much. Jen just gave me the tough love talk, I'm not sure it helped...
Let me explain...
I need to vent. And it seems I have a lot to vent about. The last time I vented this much, it was into a journal after my second break-up two years ago. And my God, was that a good vent.
I basically bought a journal and tore into it all the frustrations, pains, joys, hate, and guilt I usually unloaded on my friends. It was a wiser choice, considering the fact that a lot of my friends were becoming greatly angered and frustrated with me.
My personal question is, why am I so angry, obsessed, frustrated? Am I getting laid enough? No... maybe that's it. But getting laid only creates more issues to unload about. No... it's something else.
I want to PAINT. I want to paint, and become the best painter I can be. Better than all those who make me insanely jealous on ConceptArt.org. And in ORDER to paint, I need three things:
1) Time - This is probably the most important. Even for digital painting in Photoshop, there is a great need to sit down for endless hours to just express away. I never get time, and it's pissing me off, big time.
2) Space - I need a place for work, for inspiration, for quiet contemplation or music. My room is about 50 percent this. While it holds as a great place to get inspiration, it is not condusive to spreading out and getting comfortable for work. It is NOT devoid of interruptions from parents, friends, the dog...
3) Energy - In order to create energy, one must spend it. Exercise is an excellent conduit for creating energy, it builds energy. Do I ever exercise? I used to. I don't seem to muster enough gusto to do it now, and I'm not sure why. This is a problem. When I want to work, I am always exhausted, simply because I don't get enough exercise...
So in this, I think the real issue is getting exercise. I am by no means overweight, just lethargic. It's a matter of getting up and doing it, which is the hardest part. Why do I hesitate? I don't like dealing with the after effects of exercise, the shower, the sweating, the aching body, the gasping for air... yet somehow I always feel better afterward, and I forget this. I feel good after because it feels like I accomplished something, that I'm actually doing something positive. WHY IS THIS NOT MOTIVATION ENOUGH TO DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?
Well...I guess it's because I don't seem to have enough time, or space...
Let me explain...
I need to vent. And it seems I have a lot to vent about. The last time I vented this much, it was into a journal after my second break-up two years ago. And my God, was that a good vent.
I basically bought a journal and tore into it all the frustrations, pains, joys, hate, and guilt I usually unloaded on my friends. It was a wiser choice, considering the fact that a lot of my friends were becoming greatly angered and frustrated with me.
My personal question is, why am I so angry, obsessed, frustrated? Am I getting laid enough? No... maybe that's it. But getting laid only creates more issues to unload about. No... it's something else.
I want to PAINT. I want to paint, and become the best painter I can be. Better than all those who make me insanely jealous on ConceptArt.org. And in ORDER to paint, I need three things:
1) Time - This is probably the most important. Even for digital painting in Photoshop, there is a great need to sit down for endless hours to just express away. I never get time, and it's pissing me off, big time.
2) Space - I need a place for work, for inspiration, for quiet contemplation or music. My room is about 50 percent this. While it holds as a great place to get inspiration, it is not condusive to spreading out and getting comfortable for work. It is NOT devoid of interruptions from parents, friends, the dog...
3) Energy - In order to create energy, one must spend it. Exercise is an excellent conduit for creating energy, it builds energy. Do I ever exercise? I used to. I don't seem to muster enough gusto to do it now, and I'm not sure why. This is a problem. When I want to work, I am always exhausted, simply because I don't get enough exercise...
So in this, I think the real issue is getting exercise. I am by no means overweight, just lethargic. It's a matter of getting up and doing it, which is the hardest part. Why do I hesitate? I don't like dealing with the after effects of exercise, the shower, the sweating, the aching body, the gasping for air... yet somehow I always feel better afterward, and I forget this. I feel good after because it feels like I accomplished something, that I'm actually doing something positive. WHY IS THIS NOT MOTIVATION ENOUGH TO DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?
Well...I guess it's because I don't seem to have enough time, or space...
1/9/08
1/9/08
It's hard to escape the office around you, and focus on the task at hand. The task at hand currently being writing a blog entry. Granted, I should not be writing a blog entry while at the office, but in some fashion, this is work. It is an exploration of expression, and while my job most usually follows visual exploration, I play the copywriter here and there.
I am frustrated. This simple fact has helped me ruin my own day. Though I am a firm believer in keeping a good attitude, positive thoughts positive things so to speak, I can't help but grouse right now.
Why am I frustrated? Several reasons.
Job Stress
Life Stress
Social Stress
Personal Stress
The Job Stress is nothing compared to Life Stress, which basically puts me in this continual loop of paranoia and guilt. The reason today is this. Mother and Sister are attending a show in NYC tonight. I'm not joining them, much to my happiness, as I can't stand wasting my days and nights with something. To get me out of my own room is a task in itself, and the longer I am out of my room, the more I yearn to get back. Anyway, my mother has decided that they will NOT take the train at the late hour the show gets out, and as a result, they will have to be picked up, by my father, who has to drive 2 hours into the city, and 2 hours back home.
Needless to say my mother wishes me to accompany my father on the long drive tonight, should something happen. The striking guilt of denying such a waste of my time comes in when my father too has requested I go.
Am I so selfish? Am I that bound by my passions to not spend 4 and a half hours in a car tonight, when I could be researching my own art style, painting even, relaxing, sleeping, enjoying a drink and a good movie? The truth is, yes, I am a slave to my own hobbies.
Why the unsocial hobbit-like existance? Mostly because of past relationships. I was an unsocial creature in High School and College. After commencement, I found my first of 4 loves, and after the most recent 4th, two years later, I find myself closing off from the world. Retreating into my small hovel of a room, in the house of my parents, the same room I've had since we moved to New Jersey when I was a child of four. Social Stress.
Nightly, I embrace the warm walls of my room, that sanctuary of a slice of heaven, a place for creativity, entertainment, and luxury, my own private Margaritaville, devoid of the corruptions of a tempting lover, the noisy annoyances of my own friendly banter. Oh sure, I get the urge to go out every now and again... eventually. But the fact remains, I enjoy my solitude. I'm a less grumpy Shrek, enjoying the privacy of his swamp, though seemingly, I continually have annoying donkeys yelling and pounding on the door. My loving family.
To move out would be a timeless gift, I feel. Able to live completely free. I'll worry about health-risks, and hospice when I'm older. Alas, I can't afford it, not with my paycheck. I'd take freelance, but as I avoid my friends sometimes, so too, I avoid clients. If there were something more annoying than friends, it's friends who are paying you to do something.
Is it everyman's dream to completely be devoid of responsibility? I know it's my dream. Able to live spontaneously for my entire existence. I've done the job thing, it has its perks, but I feel living with my family, and having a job where the diversity of projects is as rare as snow in Vegas has sapped me of my motivation. Motivation is built on the notion that you are striving for something, an end goal.
What happens when your goal is just not that enticing? When your motivation is superceded by apathy? When you find yourself completely complacent in life, and your directional compass just spins out of control?
Such is my life.
I write today to try and understand where I'm headed. So far I've not figured anything out in these long-winded beginning paragraphs much more than the fact that I have issues. So let's just move on.
Personal Stress. What happens when I get to the room? First, I drop the messenger bag. In the bag, a sketchbook 90% empty, the iPod, an "Art Journal" a recent investment of mine, which seems to be working out nicely. In which, I write my art thoughts, and list art ideas in a list on the back. I get my nap in usually before dinner. But once dinner is done, I seem to be done for the night. I found that it is good to exercise to promote, not only good health, but a hightened energy when coming up with art. As an Illustrator, it is imperative to have an open mind to new and different concepts... which I can't seem to come up with most of the time.
No, I end up crashing in front of the computer till about 12:00 am when I get up, feel angry at myself for not having done anything. But it is at Midnight that I also come up with the desire to research, and hopefully come up with a good idea. It's strange how this happens everynight after I should have gone to bed. It's as if my body WANTS to work after the hour I should shut it down. So many times at around 12-1 have I just wanted to get up and go for a jog, which I obviously don't, as it's too late, the prowlers and abductees, sickos, and cops are out to kill, rob, maim, stare, beat up... Yea I'll have none of that. Hrm, in hindsight, when I have that energy, instead of retiring to a book or bed and just zone out in front of the TV or computer, I should do the Tae Bo I always speak of.
But needless to say, it's frustrating when I save all that time at night to work, and nothing actually happens. But we know why. Art is not made without actually making art. And in order to make art, you have to swallow your perfectionism, and just hope for the best.
---
It was lunch hour, and I took a small break. I sat in the car on this gorgeous 65 degree winter day, turned on the iPod, cracked open a Monster I bought in the Cafe earlier (cause they didn't have the Lo Cal one I like) and just zoned out for a little while.
I feel a lot better... kind of.
I'm still angry that I have to go on the damn car trip tonight, as I really hate wasting a night. I haven't had one night this week to myself yet, and I feel completely angry. Tomorrow night's booked. I'm doing a bowling thing with coworkers. Ugh, I hate this. I never get the load of free time to really delve into digital painting that I want to.
I guess being an Artist is synonymous with frustration, at least someone concerned with originality. There's a fun word. A fun issue. Originality. Art comes so naturally to those who are hardly original. But for me, at least, I can't seem to do work that's not completely new or different, as I tend to get bored with drawing or painting something that already has been done... which is everything. A conundrum, to be sure.
But there is hope. Monday night, I was reading Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, and basically it said very logically, you can never get bored with you. Like, painting entirely what I hold interesting will... duh... interest me, and will keep me interested. When I think about it, the way I did so many things in the past was because something or other kept my interest. And there were a lot of things that did so, in HS and in College. Now... it seems my interests are limited, but I shouldn't waste my time trying to paint dwarves or robots if they just... don't do it for me.
Nay, I need something completely Jim, something oddball, yet realistic. Something... provocative.
Wow, this entry is a large one. But I feel like half of my adult life story is in here. It was good to let it all out, I feel. Good to rant and rave.
...even though I'm at work.
I am frustrated. This simple fact has helped me ruin my own day. Though I am a firm believer in keeping a good attitude, positive thoughts positive things so to speak, I can't help but grouse right now.
Why am I frustrated? Several reasons.
Job Stress
Life Stress
Social Stress
Personal Stress
The Job Stress is nothing compared to Life Stress, which basically puts me in this continual loop of paranoia and guilt. The reason today is this. Mother and Sister are attending a show in NYC tonight. I'm not joining them, much to my happiness, as I can't stand wasting my days and nights with something. To get me out of my own room is a task in itself, and the longer I am out of my room, the more I yearn to get back. Anyway, my mother has decided that they will NOT take the train at the late hour the show gets out, and as a result, they will have to be picked up, by my father, who has to drive 2 hours into the city, and 2 hours back home.
Needless to say my mother wishes me to accompany my father on the long drive tonight, should something happen. The striking guilt of denying such a waste of my time comes in when my father too has requested I go.
Am I so selfish? Am I that bound by my passions to not spend 4 and a half hours in a car tonight, when I could be researching my own art style, painting even, relaxing, sleeping, enjoying a drink and a good movie? The truth is, yes, I am a slave to my own hobbies.
Why the unsocial hobbit-like existance? Mostly because of past relationships. I was an unsocial creature in High School and College. After commencement, I found my first of 4 loves, and after the most recent 4th, two years later, I find myself closing off from the world. Retreating into my small hovel of a room, in the house of my parents, the same room I've had since we moved to New Jersey when I was a child of four. Social Stress.
Nightly, I embrace the warm walls of my room, that sanctuary of a slice of heaven, a place for creativity, entertainment, and luxury, my own private Margaritaville, devoid of the corruptions of a tempting lover, the noisy annoyances of my own friendly banter. Oh sure, I get the urge to go out every now and again... eventually. But the fact remains, I enjoy my solitude. I'm a less grumpy Shrek, enjoying the privacy of his swamp, though seemingly, I continually have annoying donkeys yelling and pounding on the door. My loving family.
To move out would be a timeless gift, I feel. Able to live completely free. I'll worry about health-risks, and hospice when I'm older. Alas, I can't afford it, not with my paycheck. I'd take freelance, but as I avoid my friends sometimes, so too, I avoid clients. If there were something more annoying than friends, it's friends who are paying you to do something.
Is it everyman's dream to completely be devoid of responsibility? I know it's my dream. Able to live spontaneously for my entire existence. I've done the job thing, it has its perks, but I feel living with my family, and having a job where the diversity of projects is as rare as snow in Vegas has sapped me of my motivation. Motivation is built on the notion that you are striving for something, an end goal.
What happens when your goal is just not that enticing? When your motivation is superceded by apathy? When you find yourself completely complacent in life, and your directional compass just spins out of control?
Such is my life.
I write today to try and understand where I'm headed. So far I've not figured anything out in these long-winded beginning paragraphs much more than the fact that I have issues. So let's just move on.
Personal Stress. What happens when I get to the room? First, I drop the messenger bag. In the bag, a sketchbook 90% empty, the iPod, an "Art Journal" a recent investment of mine, which seems to be working out nicely. In which, I write my art thoughts, and list art ideas in a list on the back. I get my nap in usually before dinner. But once dinner is done, I seem to be done for the night. I found that it is good to exercise to promote, not only good health, but a hightened energy when coming up with art. As an Illustrator, it is imperative to have an open mind to new and different concepts... which I can't seem to come up with most of the time.
No, I end up crashing in front of the computer till about 12:00 am when I get up, feel angry at myself for not having done anything. But it is at Midnight that I also come up with the desire to research, and hopefully come up with a good idea. It's strange how this happens everynight after I should have gone to bed. It's as if my body WANTS to work after the hour I should shut it down. So many times at around 12-1 have I just wanted to get up and go for a jog, which I obviously don't, as it's too late, the prowlers and abductees, sickos, and cops are out to kill, rob, maim, stare, beat up... Yea I'll have none of that. Hrm, in hindsight, when I have that energy, instead of retiring to a book or bed and just zone out in front of the TV or computer, I should do the Tae Bo I always speak of.
But needless to say, it's frustrating when I save all that time at night to work, and nothing actually happens. But we know why. Art is not made without actually making art. And in order to make art, you have to swallow your perfectionism, and just hope for the best.
---
It was lunch hour, and I took a small break. I sat in the car on this gorgeous 65 degree winter day, turned on the iPod, cracked open a Monster I bought in the Cafe earlier (cause they didn't have the Lo Cal one I like) and just zoned out for a little while.
I feel a lot better... kind of.
I'm still angry that I have to go on the damn car trip tonight, as I really hate wasting a night. I haven't had one night this week to myself yet, and I feel completely angry. Tomorrow night's booked. I'm doing a bowling thing with coworkers. Ugh, I hate this. I never get the load of free time to really delve into digital painting that I want to.
I guess being an Artist is synonymous with frustration, at least someone concerned with originality. There's a fun word. A fun issue. Originality. Art comes so naturally to those who are hardly original. But for me, at least, I can't seem to do work that's not completely new or different, as I tend to get bored with drawing or painting something that already has been done... which is everything. A conundrum, to be sure.
But there is hope. Monday night, I was reading Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, and basically it said very logically, you can never get bored with you. Like, painting entirely what I hold interesting will... duh... interest me, and will keep me interested. When I think about it, the way I did so many things in the past was because something or other kept my interest. And there were a lot of things that did so, in HS and in College. Now... it seems my interests are limited, but I shouldn't waste my time trying to paint dwarves or robots if they just... don't do it for me.
Nay, I need something completely Jim, something oddball, yet realistic. Something... provocative.
Wow, this entry is a large one. But I feel like half of my adult life story is in here. It was good to let it all out, I feel. Good to rant and rave.
...even though I'm at work.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
