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Home again and the house smells funky

Tue, 22 Aug 2006 20:04:20 GMT

Fresh from the beach...where two days felt like a week-in other news a week is not long enough...pictures soon...

Cleric Show

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 16:20:46 GMT

lament for a dead netflix account

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 14:08:39 GMT

We got rid of netflix awhile back and just upgraded to digital cable for a myriad of reasons, but this has me wishing we still had an account:http://www.flickr.com/groups/notestonetflix/ highly entertaining romp through the world of trash culture as captured by netflix customers and their notes...Which was brought to my attention by the always enlightning podcast http://theunharshedmellow.com/ I hope everyone is well-today is national daydream day btw...use it well:
soundtrack you say? http://www.dickswayne.blogspot.com/
A snapshot of urban art before the building was about to be redone:
http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b126/Courtney68/graffiti%20art%20from%20sam/c5759b26.jpg

Sun, 30 Jul 2006 12:44:49 GMT

The PBS Kids Sprout network has fired Martinez after learning she had appeared in videos called "Technical Virgin." In the two "Technical Virgin" videos _ made before she landed the children's show job _ she spoofs PSAs about how young women can keep their virginity. (AP Photo/Mel Evans, File) (Mel Evans - AP)
It has been awhile since any signs of life have crept up on these pages and to make a long winded headache inducing story sweet and to the point: Electrical storms/lightning and computers do not always play nice with each other. I have lost access to a large portion of my digital media and have been trying to recover from that as much as possible. (As an aside this latest incident makes those new smarmy Apple Computer commercials even less funny) As we try to recoup while simultaneously staying cool under the blanket of hell that has gripped our fair city I leave you with this small communiqué; publicly denouncing the horrid actions of PBS and the firing of Melanie Martinez. Our Son is heartbroken and refuses to watch PBS during the former shows slot. Secondly, whoever dredged up these videos is probably the most loathsome and wretched harpy that has ever graced the human earth. I sincerely hope that someone who produces for television takes notice of the swelling public outcry over these ridiculous charges that these videos (done in a spoof setting years ago) would in anyway corrupt the fine children of America. Days like these a satirical master such as Jonathan Swift would have a heyday. So this collection of songs is my imagined torment, upset, and heartbreak that our young son is enduring over the loss of his evening storyteller-
Sam
As always, you can find the music portion here:
http://www.dickswayne.blogspot.com/

Fri, 23 Jun 2006 11:55:24 GMT

Joe Malia, a second year student at the Royal College of Art in London created this hoodie for "computer obsessives." Using one of these would be infinitely cooler than merely deploying one of those polarized sheets of plastic that stop people from reading your laptop screen over your shoulder. Bonus: renders your screen legible in direct sunlight (if you're willing to be seen in this outfit in broad daylight, that is)
Now that is what every college kid needed for Downloading porn in those overcrowded computer labs back in college....

This Just IN!

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 20:13:04 GMT

Typing with one finger and a squirmy baby on your lap creates typos galore....why did I not have that excuse in COMP101 in college`...

The Oral History of fathers

Sun, 18 Jun 2006 17:00:28 GMT

“The heavens are the most constant thing we know, the skies the most inconstant. Even the Olympian expanse, when blue and cloudless, is an aspect of terrestrial atmosphere in a holiday mood, a sort of gay parasol which the Earth holds up when she walks in the sun, and takes down again when she walks in the shadow; while clouds are veils wrapped more closely about her, and even more friendly to her frailty. Nor are these feminine trappings less lovely for being easily blown about, and always fresh and in the latest fashion. It is a prejudice to suppose that instability must be sad or must be trivial. A new cloud castle is probably well worth an old one: any one of them may equal in beauty the monotonous gold and black vault which conceals from us, and all of them together certainly surpass that tragic decoration in spiritual suggestion. Something in us no doubt regrets that these airy visions vanish so quickly and are irrecoverable; but this is a sort of fleshy sentimentality of ours and not reasonable. In nature, what disappears never narrows the range of what is to be.”-George Santayana Cloud Castles {1919}

When I was a younger, I desperately wanted to write an oral history of the clouds, for what is more majestic in its infinite expanse juxtaposed with the relative weightlessness of its density; an ever-shifting influence of every level of temperament matched with its constant vanishing history. I cannot help but be drawn to a world of parallels and dichotomies when everywhere I look the world and my immediate environment beg me to make an ever-fluctuating survey of the world and change according to circumstance. When I became a father, I returned to this idea of clouds and oral histories because the circumstance demands that a man be able to adapt and thoughtfully explain what ever might cross the horizons of my children’s minds. I hope that I appear to them be to exactly like an ever shifting cloud on a sky that never ends-larger then life yet inviting and safe. A dependable and familiar sight in their vision and dreams but a reminder to the natural order and chaos that the world is capable of throwing our way at any given point in time along the constellation of this universe and life that we have carved out of nothing but perhaps naive notions of love. The excitement and blessings that happen when two can come to together and create a place for our story and unique voice in the universal tapestry that binds us all. So hear me world when I choose these tender souls to watch over from whatever you may care to throw this way. We will not submit without being heard, nor do we intend to just be blown away and evaporated like an oral history of the clouds.

my rawking effing life Lando...

Sat, 20 May 2006 12:20:47 GMT

Hmmmm- well I have been lost in the slipstream of life.....went back to work this week...and in general busy busy boy...I am sorry to hear about some of the tragedy around here...hope to be able to catch up soon....

Wed, 12 Apr 2006 13:55:38 GMT

My ears turn to howling seashells
My eyes burn watery
Lips swollen and useless
When you are away
Prisons in the architecture of my mind
Occupy the {me}
Away from you

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 00:39:12 GMT

Sound of Light

Fri, 07 Apr 2006 15:58:42 GMT

Our most successful collaboration was a light-borne communication device. The heart of the thing was a mouthpiece made out of the lid of a shoe polish can, with the flat section of a balloon stretched tightly across it. Onto this rubber membrane we attached a tiny piece of silvered glass, which acted as a mirror. A light beam was focused onto the tiny mirror and reflected from it. When a person talked into the mouthpiece, the rubber vibrated. In turn, the tiny mirror quivered, and those quiverings produced a shimmering in the reflected beam, like the shimmering of sunlight reflected from a trembling sea. Thus, the information in the speaker’s voice was precisely encoded onto light, each rise and dip of uttered sound translating itself into a brightening or dimming of light. Lightman

I wonder if seeing and hearing my voice in lightwaves would make any diffrence at all....

The Holy and the intranet dead...

Sun, 26 Mar 2006 15:15:54 GMT

My manners, abominable at times, can be sweet. As I grew older I became a drunk. Why? Because I like ecstasy of the mind. I'm a wretch. But I love, love. Kerouac

Stuck away from the box...reception faded, I am but a Judas to the very ideals that brought me here in the first place....anon...

Thu, 23 Mar 2006 14:33:57 GMT

"His misgivings ended abruptly, but not without certain forewarnings. First (after a long drought) a remote cloud, as light as a bird, appeared on a hill; then, toward the South, the sky took on the rose color of leopard's gums; then came clouds of smoke which rusted the metal of the nights; afterwards came the panic-stricken flight of wild animals. For what had happened many centuries before was repeating itself. The ruins of the sanctuary of the god of Fire was destroyed by fire. In a dawn without birds, the wizard saw the concentric fire licking the walls. For a moment, he thought of taking refuge in the water, but then he understood that death was coming to crown his old age and absolve him from his labors. He walked toward the sheets of flame. They did not bite his flesh, they caressed him and flooded him without heat or combustion. With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he also was an illusion, that someone else was dreaming him." Borge

Perhaps we are just splinters of someone's dreams......

Thu, 16 Feb 2006 14:38:24 GMT

I have not abandoned you....I am just burried under the HI-FI
<http://dickswayne.blogspot.com/>

Sat, 11 Feb 2006 22:00:27 GMT

Happy poo poo day fuckareto.....

Thu, 09 Feb 2006 18:58:49 GMT

Yeah thats right...we are tender and ready to riot

Fri, 27 Jan 2006 15:32:22 GMT

Your Band Name is:

The Tender Goldfish

Band Name Generator

Thu, 26 Jan 2006 02:33:20 GMT

This past Friday started much like any other day, but ended in a trip to the emergency room; filled with tension (both metaphorical and very real tension) awash in a manufactured sea of neon lights two roads of my life converged and exploded through one another. My lovely wife gave birth to our son 8 months ago, because of that event the hours seemed filled with a slow motion roll call of everything I have done to this point. As I lay on the thin bed, head swirling in pain, awaiting my fate; I recalled how everything in my life prior to my family meant fuck all. I would not have even sought treatment back in those lonely days of solitude. I would have rode through the pain (that is what they taught us old school types when confronted with pain) There was a very low point during this time, when confronted with a near dance with death; I would have opted for death-wishing to just be done with the whole messy affair. How things change given the circumstance and opportunity to peer through the other side of the veil. I spent the year my wife was pregnant through today collectimg all the music I love and depositing mp3 mixes into cans to save for the boy. I had intended to choose roughly 200 hundred or so of those and share them in mixes with family, friends’ et al. I have decided to share those here as well—welcome to part one, which will start at what could have been the very end, but the fates have smiled and we live anon…. I have a lot more to write about on this subject-but felt I should update a bit of it now...if you want the music that goes with this....visit my audio blog: http://dickswayne.blogspot.com/

pitter patter

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 15:07:54 GMT

I am starting to think that the reason humans are in a continuous flux of longing and wanderlust... has everything to do with the fact, that there is still so much to see.

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 00:32:22 GMT

Is that what I think it is??????

They always return.....

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 13:05:26 GMT

Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you come back to your work your judgment will be surer. Go some distance away because then the work appears smaller and more of it can be taken in at a glance and a lack of harmony and proportion is more readily seen.
-Leonardo da Vinci

Well, I think I am back....maybe I have some things to contribute and add or perhaps not...hope you have all been well (who am I kidding...I have been reading your sappy journals the whole time) I sit behind our very swank new computer and repeat to myself...160 gb HD

Tue, 13 Dec 2005 19:17:43 GMT

I really seem to have nothing to say these days...quiet like a child beat and left to whimper...
I did however find this...so that if my gift of words has truly left me....I can still feel as though I am creative.....
http://www.magneticpoetry.com/magnet/

Snapshot microseconds

Tue, 29 Nov 2005 15:10:25 GMT

“The ocean is the reservoir of blood surrounding the heart; the ebb and flow of the sea correspond to its breathing and the beat of the pulse. The warmth of the human soul is the fire that penetrates the earth; and the seat of the vegetative soul the fire that spurts out of several parts of the globe…” Leonardo da Vinci, Notebooks
“The orator yields to the inspiration of a transient occasion, and speaks to the mob before him, to those who can hear him; but the writer, whose more equable life is his occasion, and who would be distracted by the event and the crowd which inspire the orator, speaks to the intellect and heart of mankind, to all in any age who can understand him.” Henry David Thoreau, "Reading"- Walden
It seems to me that time is just an illusion, no more a concern, then breathing automatically, or fearing the disappearance of gravity. It is human nature to manipulate time; we celebrate the past through tradition, remember it through pictures, video, and sound, we over analyze the present to an extent that the present never really materializes, but rather, floats and wobbles like a seedpod from a high tree before falling out of our grasp. We predict the future, or at the very least, forecast and project inner manifestations on what we hope the outcome might be. The very laws of physics command us to believe that because we have pushed forward a desire towards the future; that momentum will indeed strike the slippery and elusive event causing a reaction of some sort, bending the course of what is about to become. I am seemingly reminded on a daily basis just how closely interwoven the entire realm of the world is threaded through each of us as individuals. We are all connected through both basic levels and high lofty metaphorical ideals which the human race deems to be universal. I think I am lost on the reverse side of a clock makers dream, trying to figure out just why it is time moves so fast in some circumstances (our baby almost a year, death, holidays, the growing distance of family in some circumstances the list is long) yet, so slow and full of detail when the circumstance feels just right. I could stare at a certain glance from any of my tribe and explode that moment outward infinitely for the rest of time given the option. We, as individuals, must pick and choose our battles with time-weighing every moment like a gigantic glass globe; capable of breaking at any moment and affixing us mentally to one spot, one emotion, one conflict…Like clockwork we evolve, every millisecond something happens which is a tiny exploding universe in and of itself; perhaps it is the writers duty to document as many micro-seconds as possible before the thread runs out and we fracture as a species….

Monday...

Mon, 21 Nov 2005 15:22:48 GMT

…And the world will turn without you
And history will soon forget about you
But the heavens they will reward you
And the saints will be there to escort you
So faraway, so faraway and yet so close…Nick Cave

It was a crushing week for all of us this last week, dealing with the gravity of death, life, weddings, children and all the little things that need to be worried about; swirling around my legs and head like hungry chickens pecking away at my thoughts. I awoke today and I feel that my eyes are like frosted bathroom window glass everything in life is visible, yet blurred to such an extent that I feel like everything I am doing is new to me. Why do the damn holidays bring such conflicted thoughts to the surface…it seems that this time of year is always full of heavy thoughts—I am going to make it a point to really think about everything I am thankful for this week….because truth be told-I am a far luckier man then I deserve to be.
Hope everyone’s Monday is swimming along…

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 15:24:21 GMT

That's right: There are days when everything goes wrong...Then you begin to ask yourself questions, maybe even questions that don't make any sense, like for example, what are we in this world for? And if you think about it, you surely can't answer that we're in the world to rig towers. Right? In other words, when you break your neck for twelve days, putting everything you've got into the job, and you sweat and freeze and curse, and then you begin to have doubts, and they gnaw at you, and you check, and the job is crooked, and you can hardly believe it because you don't want to believe it, but then you check again, and sure enough, the dimensions are screwed up, then you want to know what happens. Then a man changes his way of thinking; and he begins to think that nothing's worth the effort, and he'd like to have another kind of job, and at the same time he thinks that all jobs are the same, and that world is also crooked, even if we can go to the moon now, and it's always been crooked, and nobody's ever going to straighten it up, and least of all a rigger. Primo Levi

I am real fucking tired of myself-I can only imagine how you feel....