another year.
22.7.04
18.7.04
modern confusion.
as much as i would like to think of myself as a somewhat cultured person who understands art in some way, i just cant wrap my little head around the idea of modern art.
i went to a modern art museum here while i was in london, the tate modern, and all i can say is they have a nice little cafe on the 7th floor that lets you look out over the thames.
as for the art... i dont get it.
lots of lines and spotty coloring, like they never quite understood their teachers when they said stay inside the lines, well some of them do stay in the lines, but its not technically impressive. especially not the large odd shaped boulders with a coat hanger coming out of it... i never understood what it meant, except that maybe it was meant to confuse all who decided to look and study it. i think it would be fun to just leave something lying around to see if they would admire that as well (not because i think i can be a great modern artist, but because id love to see how these people would respond to that).
but i like dali and picasso.
i just dont understand modern art. it seems like i could make something on canvas and then create a meaning to it and have the same result, except i dont have the pedigree that they do cause they went to college for 4 years to learn how to paint the way they do (is it really art when all it is is a block in a uniform shade of blue? does that stand for anything at all?).
what i will give modern art is that its the type of art that would fit in perfectly in office buildings. but i dont understand any of it, and i really dont care.
i went to a modern art museum here while i was in london, the tate modern, and all i can say is they have a nice little cafe on the 7th floor that lets you look out over the thames.
as for the art... i dont get it.
lots of lines and spotty coloring, like they never quite understood their teachers when they said stay inside the lines, well some of them do stay in the lines, but its not technically impressive. especially not the large odd shaped boulders with a coat hanger coming out of it... i never understood what it meant, except that maybe it was meant to confuse all who decided to look and study it. i think it would be fun to just leave something lying around to see if they would admire that as well (not because i think i can be a great modern artist, but because id love to see how these people would respond to that).
but i like dali and picasso.
i just dont understand modern art. it seems like i could make something on canvas and then create a meaning to it and have the same result, except i dont have the pedigree that they do cause they went to college for 4 years to learn how to paint the way they do (is it really art when all it is is a block in a uniform shade of blue? does that stand for anything at all?).
what i will give modern art is that its the type of art that would fit in perfectly in office buildings. but i dont understand any of it, and i really dont care.
15.7.04
changing pictures.
technically that describes movies...
actually what i want to do is change that picture up there on the top (the eyes of milla) but i dont know what i want to change it to...
so if anyone has any idea now would be a good time to let me know. or submit something, if you feel really daring you could even physically mail me something to put there. like handwritten emails, or attachments that come in brown paper wrapped parcels tied with rope.
blogger has allowed us to be annoying .... how long before all blogs look like that? like some bastardized child of aol and yahoo chat rooms? this is why i hate html posts (as soon as hotmail got one most of the emails i recieved turned to giddy highschool girl diary excerpts all thats missing is the glitter).
actually what i want to do is change that picture up there on the top (the eyes of milla) but i dont know what i want to change it to...
so if anyone has any idea now would be a good time to let me know. or submit something, if you feel really daring you could even physically mail me something to put there. like handwritten emails, or attachments that come in brown paper wrapped parcels tied with rope.
blogger has allowed us to be annoying .... how long before all blogs look like that? like some bastardized child of aol and yahoo chat rooms? this is why i hate html posts (as soon as hotmail got one most of the emails i recieved turned to giddy highschool girl diary excerpts all thats missing is the glitter).
10.7.04
look.
you see it? right there, there they are. they are so very interesting. its the way they move their hand. the exact angle their nose is curved at. just how precisely their lips come together. the subtle movements of the body. their posture. the way they touched their necked just then, and how you followed the small arc made by their hand on its way down to their lap. the subtle color of their skin. they are so very perfect and quietly beautiful.
and then they start to tilt their head just enough for you to notice the color of their eyes and the smooth elegance of their face...
and they have noticed that your staring at them...
do you look away? keep staring? make a motion? pretend to be looking behind them? what?
looking away is implied guilt, because why else would our eyes be averted so quickly if not because we were guilty of the act? and why should we feel so wrong about looking at someone in admiration (not in lust, for that is perhaps an emotion that brings guilt inherently)?
just wondering.
and then they start to tilt their head just enough for you to notice the color of their eyes and the smooth elegance of their face...
and they have noticed that your staring at them...
do you look away? keep staring? make a motion? pretend to be looking behind them? what?
looking away is implied guilt, because why else would our eyes be averted so quickly if not because we were guilty of the act? and why should we feel so wrong about looking at someone in admiration (not in lust, for that is perhaps an emotion that brings guilt inherently)?
just wondering.
8.7.04
underground railways of modern times.
its the subway, or as they say in london the tube.
a massive vein that writhes its way through the city. moving the individuals from here to there and back again.
so many people, so many differences, its amazing to think it but i took the tube from camden to gloucester square (which is the equivalent of taking a subway from the birth of punk to the home of the posh life) and the variety of people sitting next to each other is a sight to behold. the middle aged original punks, piercings intact sitting next to the old lady from the high life, across from the new generation of punk who dont fully realize and understand the impact and revolution the original punk was having. its just a thrill to watch them and try and understand.
but its also a place filled with absolute loneliness and desperation. amazingly nobody looks at the strangers straight on, sights averted eyes looking elsewhere into the bleak nothingness that goes by the windows. nobody looks at one another, glances are thrown here and there but always cautiously always with a hint of fear of being caught. it gives one the impression that despite being surrounded by the mass of people that flow through the city every day nobody really connects with anyone else. they are all just flowing through the city, afraid to contact any others. a barrier is rising between our individual selves.
went to a museum that had an exhibit on the sex pistols... and despite everything they now stand for, the gift shop was selling sex pistols clothing... which is an insult if it is ever bought. punk was a rebellion, a creation of a movement through the destruction of that which already existed, and to purchase punk clothing is the worst thing a punk can do. but in this day of finding a nich for everyone, nobody thinks of doing that anymore, now its purchase this look or that look and give in to the massive marketing that is forced upon us (not that we ever try to avoid it anyway, its present in everything we do now, there is no escape).
a massive vein that writhes its way through the city. moving the individuals from here to there and back again.
so many people, so many differences, its amazing to think it but i took the tube from camden to gloucester square (which is the equivalent of taking a subway from the birth of punk to the home of the posh life) and the variety of people sitting next to each other is a sight to behold. the middle aged original punks, piercings intact sitting next to the old lady from the high life, across from the new generation of punk who dont fully realize and understand the impact and revolution the original punk was having. its just a thrill to watch them and try and understand.
but its also a place filled with absolute loneliness and desperation. amazingly nobody looks at the strangers straight on, sights averted eyes looking elsewhere into the bleak nothingness that goes by the windows. nobody looks at one another, glances are thrown here and there but always cautiously always with a hint of fear of being caught. it gives one the impression that despite being surrounded by the mass of people that flow through the city every day nobody really connects with anyone else. they are all just flowing through the city, afraid to contact any others. a barrier is rising between our individual selves.
went to a museum that had an exhibit on the sex pistols... and despite everything they now stand for, the gift shop was selling sex pistols clothing... which is an insult if it is ever bought. punk was a rebellion, a creation of a movement through the destruction of that which already existed, and to purchase punk clothing is the worst thing a punk can do. but in this day of finding a nich for everyone, nobody thinks of doing that anymore, now its purchase this look or that look and give in to the massive marketing that is forced upon us (not that we ever try to avoid it anyway, its present in everything we do now, there is no escape).
2.7.04
curioser and curioser.
bigbrother-esque
it would be so simple to track everything and everyone then wouldnt it?
why does this worry me so?
demo-cracy
so death penalties are re-established, thats ok i guess... but arent lawyers during trials kind of one of the basics of the american democratic system... what happened to habeas corpus, innocent till proven guilty, right to representation and fair treatment?
something wicked has this way come...
conspiracy fans can have a field day with this.
it would be so simple to track everything and everyone then wouldnt it?
why does this worry me so?
demo-cracy
so death penalties are re-established, thats ok i guess... but arent lawyers during trials kind of one of the basics of the american democratic system... what happened to habeas corpus, innocent till proven guilty, right to representation and fair treatment?
something wicked has this way come...
conspiracy fans can have a field day with this.
letters to word to sentences to complete thoughts.
ive been reading again.
i get away and caught up in minor things. inconsequential little things. and i stop reading.
recently ive retaken this habit. so ive read many letters, words, phrases, thoughts.
love in the time of cholera is rapidly becoming one of my favorite books. i finished that weeks ago but the imprint it left on my mind has not withered away.
100yrs of solitude is my current read, with no label. dharma bums left me feeling like it was a novel trying through something to establish that nothing is nothing, a buddhism lite for the non spiritually inclined dealing more with drinking and sex than any form of actual lifestyle or call to arms.. and yet it inspired an entire movement in its day, perhaps i missed something as i read it among the coffeeshops and hookah bars. the portrait of dorian grey was an impulse buy that didnt leave me with much, it seemed inconsequential in its message, not very easy to read and delving one to many times into mindless dialogues that went nowhere and established nothing but a minor development of characters.
what have i missed in classic readings? i never see or comprehend the greatness of some works and yet clearly understand it in others. i dont think of flowery writing as being the standard for good writing, if there is no major impression left, then why is a book considered a classic? why is it so much better than all the rest?
i feel like i need a mentor at this point in my life, but that system of education died long before i was.
being very still in london at the moment.
i get away and caught up in minor things. inconsequential little things. and i stop reading.
recently ive retaken this habit. so ive read many letters, words, phrases, thoughts.
love in the time of cholera is rapidly becoming one of my favorite books. i finished that weeks ago but the imprint it left on my mind has not withered away.
100yrs of solitude is my current read, with no label. dharma bums left me feeling like it was a novel trying through something to establish that nothing is nothing, a buddhism lite for the non spiritually inclined dealing more with drinking and sex than any form of actual lifestyle or call to arms.. and yet it inspired an entire movement in its day, perhaps i missed something as i read it among the coffeeshops and hookah bars. the portrait of dorian grey was an impulse buy that didnt leave me with much, it seemed inconsequential in its message, not very easy to read and delving one to many times into mindless dialogues that went nowhere and established nothing but a minor development of characters.
what have i missed in classic readings? i never see or comprehend the greatness of some works and yet clearly understand it in others. i dont think of flowery writing as being the standard for good writing, if there is no major impression left, then why is a book considered a classic? why is it so much better than all the rest?
i feel like i need a mentor at this point in my life, but that system of education died long before i was.
being very still in london at the moment.
clarity.
clearing something up real quick.
ive recently taken to aiding a friend who uses a mac (to each their own) and since hello (the free photo hosting service program used by blogger) isnt mac friendly, ive been posting to her blog as a favor to her so that she can have pictures on her blog...
this led to some confusion i think.
because even though its her blog, the pictures carry my name as the author, which might lead some to think that im not who i claim to be (which i couldnt be even if i tried, otherwise i wouldnt be myself, "we do what we do because of who we are, if we did anything else we wouldnt be ourselves") so before anyone starts to believe that i have a personality disorder where i pretend to be one sex while really being the other... and although that would be very interesting, it just isnt the case.
just thought id clear that up a little.
still in london.
ive recently taken to aiding a friend who uses a mac (to each their own) and since hello (the free photo hosting service program used by blogger) isnt mac friendly, ive been posting to her blog as a favor to her so that she can have pictures on her blog...
this led to some confusion i think.
because even though its her blog, the pictures carry my name as the author, which might lead some to think that im not who i claim to be (which i couldnt be even if i tried, otherwise i wouldnt be myself, "we do what we do because of who we are, if we did anything else we wouldnt be ourselves") so before anyone starts to believe that i have a personality disorder where i pretend to be one sex while really being the other... and although that would be very interesting, it just isnt the case.
just thought id clear that up a little.
still in london.
