visual poems
2008-09-13 - 10:49 p.m.
i make little half meaningless films. imperfect as a quasi virtue/bad excuse. i want to take my video camera with me everywhere. i want to make a one man film starring me and most of it is just me looking at things and thinking about things. watching leaves rustle in wind and cobwebbed dusty corners turn rusty nails. i want to read all my journals aloud. i want to make things that i never share just unleash. someday i'll upload everything but for now i will go on carving sloppily as if i spun around and around til i got seasick first, then hand me a pistol and tell me to shoot the apple off your head. maybe my eyes are going because i scowl more. there's a sour look. that age thing. that happiness blankness of unwritten youth. anxieties like wide open kansas. no codes for this one. though i should code entry four times a day. i love lenses. i spoke to nicole about how there will never be a lens that can do what the human eye can. she countered, but the human eye can only focus on one thing at once whereas a hard lens can focus on everything within a frame. touche plus food for thought. the nature of photography, the nature of lost focus. those flashes that seared my consciousness. yes, this shooting star is what life is. this art is what the purest existence is. it is not convoluted or esoteric. it is pure, direct, emotionally available, real, true.
i have one hour to return the movies. i'm going to gear up and motorcycle it, cuz we're almost empty with the car. we used up a tank in roughly two weeks. i admit i liked driving to yoga class straight from drop a few times this week, not having to change into my jeans and boots and wear my ridiculous motorcycle jacket. it was nice to wear flip flops. today at yoga class someone tried to steal a bicycle out front while class was in session.. the adroit yoga instructor, a sub, travis, ran out and after him. 'bring that bike back here.' he called. and the power and purity of his calling compelled the thief, to get off of the bike and walk or run away. he returned to class to a round of applause. it was an exciting dramatic beautiful thing. i do not align myself with thievery.

sarah palin is a worm in my brain. spoke with brother clyde tonight on the phone for an hour. he was at work, late at night, doing finance reports for this school. he was tired and not voluble early on in the conversation, but he warmed up later and made speeches about mccain/palin and their total lack of vision. the cynical choice that she was. he attempted to soothe my worried mind, speaking on the adaptability of obama. a learning leader in the making. i read the nytimes and the wall street journal. when i was younger my dad would send me the play reviews from the wsj and i have some affection for the dpi style portraits that render the scions of finance and business somewhat greek.. the mini, colorless busts. but to read the op pages there. peggy noonan declaring that we learned at saddleback that mccain is normal and that obama is odd. odd in that he thinks things through.. that he educated himself. that he's not falling over himself declaring what he believes but rather always listening, analyzing, learning. realizing that to govern to be an agent of action. to work toward the positive solution that will be most effective. my nerves about the election are raw right now. the vindictive, lookin' out for number 1, repubs need this defeat. clyde told me that if mccain wins it's effectively the end of the democratic party. i don't know what that means or if it is even symbolically correct. i get so emotional i don't know what i think anymore. i posit many many of the nation's constituents feel similarly.. the arguments and tit and tats are just there to inflame the emotions and the decision who to vote for is an emotional one. the truth ultimately doesn't matter except to a few intelligent analytical calculating people who value the the accuracy of their calculations over emotions. but to me, it seems that even those people are wrapped up emotionally in the analysis. i'm ending this paragraph and dropping it.

i should saddle up and go.

btw, our mattress is so lame that it leaves lesley and i waking up with a backs sore top to bottom and we're attempting to pull off a craigslist economy upgrade. picking up a lightly used ikea foam thingee. even if it's a disaster, we have to do something. and the something simply cannot be spending a g we don't have.

martha is at a slumber party.

i'm taking a sabbatical from work in january for yoga training. i'll be gone from the cafe for 10 weeks. why do i already miss it? stockhomie syndrome.

hey everybody... i need money for all kinds of things photographical/filmical.. from location rental to lights to microphones, costumes and eventually, hopefully a new camera (my present cam has 6 big fat ugly dead pixels).

also i've witnessed in the past some people getting pissed off about people putting paypal buttons on their stuff when the internet 'should' be free or something.. and i'm happy as hell to fight with any and all people who think that. cuz i think that idea is bullshit! it's only a donation not a charge for services. be the first to give me two dollars!

p.s. i love you.

ineffable act of prayer by danimal42, on Flickr">

listening to some old song about shadrach, meshach, abednigo. it's louis armstrong. it's tits, man.

work was slow.. overcasty, windy. and they kept us on 8 waiters, not 7 as we have been for all spring into summer. i think we've been set up for 8's for weeks but someone's always getting fired or calling in sick or what have you, but this weekend everyone was there scraping nickels up off the floor. maybe i made a hundred less than i usually do. there'll be no expansiveness this week. but fuck i need to gas up the cordelia tomorrow for my yoga commutes. i even had teh temerity to stash forty bills in my yoga training envelope. i NEED to save that fucking dough if i'm gonna become a yogi... i want to teach yoga not bring iced t. that's my mantra. but it's my scene to embrace the iced t for now. the iced t has its purpose.

we watched legal eagles tonight. lesley has this huge attachment to debra's winger's hair in that particular picture.. and i can admit it is hypnotic. lesley had her hair cut like that in high school.

i had a couple of weird moviestar obsessions where it was almost like i became that person for awhile. one was john cusack in the sure thing when i was in 7th grade. cusack kinda makes me sick these days, but i marshalled all forces at my disposal to bring about my fairest facsimile of his performance in that picture. the other was bruce willis in moonlighting.. i believe that was also 7th grade. a big time for me disappearing inside cyphers i guess. when i went to college i had a whole plan about a new personality i was going to have. i was so ill fitted in my own skin, my own being, my own personality style points. whenever i seem in trouble with my own mind, i double down, throw bad money after good, and search the papers for usurers who lend at unfavorable terms, but all this was so long ago. i'm no longer a new adult.. 36 would be young to die, but it's 14 years since i left college.

laughing and talking while the fire jumping around.

i keep shopping for cameras i can't afford. the dead pixels on my cam are getting on my nerves. i want to send it off so it can get the cowardly lion emerald city manicure and hair curl. that's what i'm investing in after 365.. just some cleaning on old faithful. an slr will come in due time.. after yoga school. it's nice to finally have a little plan that makes sense that doesn't include: and then i become a big star famous for my art and write one check to erase my debt and buy a house in the redwoods and take a motorcycle into town once a month for sundries. one day i won't live in a city anymore. chances are it'll be after living in this city for 20 years.. longer than i've lived anywhere. it's ok.. i'll be going crazy in the wilderness with my huge beard back in full force and remember when i gave my youth to the congealed mass of dust that is this uncaringly horizontal squashed, *pressed* metropolis with architecture that kills me.. maybe the modern stuff, most of it, kills me most, but i can't say that i'd hate a new place.. spankin' new. clean without the dead skin dust of all the sweaty desperates that scraped and hid from bills under their cancerious carpet.. the dust painted over into textures on the walls. hardwood floors. the bad apartments kill me, too. but i love chaos. i love decay. i love texture.. even ones that kill me.

in some ways the materials, for i am materialistic, touch me most.. like salad fingers looking for the soothing. ancient million dog shit carpet ain't peace... but i have problems wishing i was loaded. i went through phases.. maybe in conjunction with my acting desires seeming to spring from desired psychic breaks from own self where i longed for a monastic existence. i still dream of that ascetic aesthetic. but a monk's life is diving within. that's yoga, too.

i'm reading such a crap book. i'm now calling it the hostess.

lolita is calling to me. the library doesn't have it now.. well, i can find it at different branches and all.. but part of me wants a new copy, but fuck that. first off, i don't steal. second off, i shouldn't spend money that should feed my family and placate bill monsters and pave the road to my yogic future, where i pull my dough by spreading peace.

i don't know if i believe in prayer. a mystical mystery to me, maybe it's a block of mine, but i never can quite grasp it. i contemplate in motion, finding that i like bring my palms together over my heart and dip my chin slightly.. and to breathe.. that's all i can speak to presently.

whenever people ask me what it's like to be the number 1 most involved parent volunteer at xxx school i always say the same thing. and it's always a lie.

it's destroying me, i say. i can't organize, literally, without exaggeration, everything *and* make unique, lasting bonds with each administrator, teacher and staff member that positively and crucially elevates the pedagogical barometer of our mission without it exacting a heavy price in my personal and professional life. it's practically like being roasted alive how i manage to charmingly/forcefully encourage our dedicated (skinflint) parents to dig into their lint and button lined pockets in a fiscally irresponsible manner and throw money hand over fist at a school that frankly wasn't all that great to begin with. at least before i got here.

the truth is that it's easy. easy to get and stay involved. easy to do 'more than anyone else'. i'm here to tell you that if you've been reluctant to volunteer your time in fear that once the flood gates open committee chairs will stalk and pounce smelling 'blood in the water', fear not. here's some advice: just say yes. look at me, i've managed to juggle an enormous amount of responsibility.. some people say it's almost like i'm everywhere at once, and yet i don't really feel like i've tapped my full potential.

i don't have hard numbers.. most of my stats are evolving and we won't know for sure the true impact i've had on the school until perhaps decades from now, but the preliminary reports have me improving the fledgling institution in all key categories by an average of 26 percent ( +/- 3 percent margin of error).

here just a few early numbers i can share with you. since i became a recess monitor there is a

- 19% drop in instances of children climbing up the slides the wrong way.

- there has been a 4% drop in rock throwing.

- upon 'making' me coming around the corner, borderline unacceptable behavior has been squelched by means of the children exchanging a series of discrete nods an increased 60% of the time.

-a 40% reduction in need to change muddy clothes since i instituted a 'no getting dirty' policy. the policy has been well received by 89% of hygiene obsessed parents, that number jumps to 99% when we narrow our focus to parents who carry hand sanitizer at all times without fail.

but my positive influence is not just limited to the recess yard...

i helped save the school $30,000 simply by refusing to have my commissioned portrait painted and hung in the yellow school house. i understand the communities' need to thank me in an officious and expensive way, but i'll tell you that right now it's too early. the time for portrait painting and building naming is far, far down the road. i'll let you know when the time is right.

yo, this was yesterday on venice beach.

i'm off to the vet to get stan the mandog's ear checked out.. he's had surgery twice in the last month to cut all kinds of creepy shit off him plus to deflate and quilt his ear. since we ditched the dog space collar and made him a business class traveler on the red-eye with the inflatable donut he's been a much happier hound.

tomorrow, i'm off on the annual big bear snowboarding trip, all expenses paid.. maybe 3 best words in the english language. when did i start to care so much about money? well, maybe i don't care... i'm foolish irishman.

my beard has expanded it's reach to the outer provinces. i may be getting rid of it entirely after the snowboarding. nothing quite like the cheap thrills personal grooming affords.

as an organizer of parent volunteers for recess monitoring, i'm an abject failure. but they can't get anyone else to do the job so it appears that total failure is better than zero effort. maybe it'll all come together, but most parents see me coming and they just say no.

i want to chill and read and sleep and get mellow with 50's jazz, and i will get to do all those things... a little bit. for now, it's off to the vet where i'll sit with cat ladies and my book. thank ye gods for literature....

i have nothing to say of interest. i'm a blatherskite.. which can't be good.

i'll take a bunch of pix on the mountain tomorro and you'll have to peep 'em over at flickr. maybe i'll throw down a few here.

blah.g. over.

i've got a sore throat that i've named slake.

i've got cute kids.

julia named this photo snuggly snug.

i'm going to bed.

i know i haven't written here in awhile... i'll try to stop by soon and blather at the speed of light like i know you've missed.

if you want the link to my *real* blog msg me and i'll most likely be happy to oblige.

night luv,

dan

i've started to feel a little paranoid.. do i look it?

something antsy, like maybe real ants, you know, crawling under my skin. anytime i start to do something physical i break out with the itchies. maybe i need to take a shower. well, that's what tomorro's for.

back to work. btw work sucks. but i do my best to survive. i don't want anyone telling me i look too homeless and it's time to shave my beard so i might actually entertain some minimal manscaping to stave of managerial bearderference.

apparently due to the writer's strike, beards are trendy. my beard isn't about writers in the union getting paid.. it's about me moving to an outhouse sized cabin deep in the woods so i can follow huckabee's example and eat squirrel out the popcorn popper.

at first i was all hill cuz she's got mad experience, but i was swayed by my most influential political advisor.. my brother clyde. he all bama. so after some thought, i jumped the hill ship and am now a bama backer, but really i don't have a super strong feeling about either of them.. i'll prolly go bama when it's primary time and then, acourse, whichever dem wins i'll support. them's just the facts.

kucinich's a vegan tho, yo.. great that the candidate most popular among the tinfoil hat crowd (as described by many a journalistically tenured no account loser hack). i'm not all that political. i have deep dissatisfaction with the human race in general, but no one seems to care what i think.. my thoughts are not changing the world on a grand scale in any case.

which i think is a shame.

i'm melting.