we have a supersonic toilet.

really, it is. if our toilet magically levitated and oriented itself horizontally in the upper atmosphere, it could literally propel itself, when flushed, to at or above the speed of sound. how do i know this? because when any toilet in our building is flushed, all 6 floors vibrate for about 3 1/2 minutes. the ripples are felt beneath the earth to lord kimbo down in the seventh circle of hell, also known as its capital city, Pandemonium (or Dis), also known as Carteret, New Jersey.

we also have a toaster that beeps.

aside from this news, i am strongly considering quitting my job sooner rather than later. it has no means of vertical ascension and is really far removed from my interests of the moment. i would like to savor any or all time that i have before i go (?) back to school focusing on what creative instincts i have left behind. being that i have never felt comfortable enough here to play music, i hope that some peoples' new presence here will help change that, and i hope to find a space conducive to the exercise of that talent, which many people lately have helped me realise is important to pursue. i feel really unworthy of some of the tremendous compliments i have received and have decided it would be regrettable and malignant to those who lavished them if i didn't at least try to do them justice.

so i guess this is in line with new years' resolutions.

i will get back in shape so i can run another marathon in 2007, in whichever city i end up in this fall.

i hope to take advantage of the creative resources this city has to offer, such as darkrooms and whatnot. i want to consolidate my creative output into one central resource.

i need to get out and meet people. and be more social here.

and i need to take things a day at a time.

Dick says, you can do it. Thanks, Dick.

This post is all about me, me, me.




It is also about toilets.

Retro Parade

i was rooting through the basement and had a typical postmodern family moment - i found a crapload of boxes of old Kodachrome slides that my grandmother had taken in her travels throughout Europe in the 1970s. they provide an interesting glimpse into the continental life of that decade and how it looked pretty much the same as (a) the 1970s everywhere else (as in ridiculous hair and clothing) and (b) Italy and Europe of today.

Some things, thankfully, never change - such as fully stocked bars


of course, i had to drag out the slide projector and screen from the basement as well, and subject my family to an impromptu viewing of mostly blackened slides, where you can tell the difference in the year from my grandmother's well-coifed hairdos. but though everyone was chomping at the bit to toss the treasures in the trash, when the finished project arrived on flickr the nay-sayers were overly satisfied. though it was a complete pain in the ass. but worth it.















the sun sets on a very brown and yellow decade


This post is a recit personnel.

portrait of an all star running back

photo sharing">
portrait of an all star running back
Originally uploaded by stardove07.

went to VA this weekend for some much-needed R&R. we were gonna go camping but it was cold as balls. so instead we made a fire in Alexandria and drank homemade NC moonshine and watched japanese cartoons. then we ate our wheaties and hit the gridiron and pounded each other like men.

grunt.





This post is a recit personnel.

livin it up at the hotel california

i always loved palm trees. i never thought i'd be scared of palm trees. then i came to san diego.

this is a city of abundant good weather. it is also for all intensive purposes a cultural wasteland.

but, the people are swell! especially those of the cooking and coffee drinking persuasion.

in san diego there are no clouds. there are also very few genuine breasts.

they have neon signs over the gateway of every neighborhood. i think instead of using the names they should give the neighborhoods epitaphs. e.g., "the gay one," "the dangerous one," "the drunk one," "the really drunk one," "the [insert minority here] one(s)."


This post is a recit personnel.



This post is philosophical and introspective-y. Except the part about breasts.

grace

there is a woman who works at my office, across the hall from me. she is small and thin and advanced in years. the office she works in is chaotic and often filled with voracious banter. it's not unique - everyone around here complains. yet she always remains quiet and composed. she is mellow and sweet, like almonds swimming in honey. i have never seen her angry, nor complaining, and she has only the most quieting effect on everyone she passes. she would wish well on the devil himself.

yesterday i almost murdered the copier. i had my leg fully cocked and was about to kick my foot into oblivion when she strolled in and smiled and said, "boy, they're keepin' you busy." all i could do was smile, embarassed at the futility of my situation and enchanted by her becalming demeanor.

one day i found out her only son was shot dead by drug related gang gunfire.

i guess, for the least fortunate, with tragedy, grace remains.



This post is philosophical and introspective-y.




This post is also a bitch du jour.

i will be there when you die

returning from japan to new york city is a bit of a reverse culture shock. you go from a country where everyone apologizes, says excuse me, then apologizes again to a city that doesn't give a shit if you're dead or alive. from an immaculately clean subway where nobody talks on the phone to a dingy, piss-riddled mudhole full of self important idealogues and sex-in-the-city divas.

it's funny how things can seem annoying when
you are immersed in them, only for you to miss them when they are gone. even if the excess of politeness does indeed bemoan its disingenuity.

anyway, i am super-jet lagged and it's more about missing the company than anything else. more can be found at my photoblog.






























we visited tokyo, kyoto, osaka, and nara. some highlights included ringing the temple bells on new year's eve, eating fresh hot green tea flavoured machi, downing sake with dissident young locals, getting a heating patch from drunk japanese chicks, arriving at a zen garden after wandering down a highway just as it closes, a lot of empty stares and overwhelming cuteness ad nauseam, cheapass cell phones, most excellent food (including japanese pizza and octopus pancakes), matcha, japanese pajamas, and visiting the oldest Buddhist temple in japan and largest wooden building (and bronze Buddha) in the world.


This post is philosophical and introspective-y.




This post is a personal receipt.

tonari no kyaku wa yoku kaki kuu kyaku da.

or, the customer next to me is eating a lot of persimmons

we are in japan. it is the land of sliding wooden doors and flip-book advertisements on subway tunnel walls. it forms the perfect synthesis of provincial and providential. the toilet seats are heated and they shoot jet streams of water at your butt on demand. the people speak to you as if you fully understand every word because they feel ashamed not to. and they are absolutely obsessed with coffee shops.


i will post pictures as soon as i can.



This post is un recit personnel.

hello blog, i missed you.

tis been a long time. i have been out and about across the country. from san francisco to philadelphia to new york back to washington.
things were swanky in san fran, as you can see (they gave me a bathrobe. i love getting bathrobes.) but i was uber concerned about the social lines drawn in that city. true, they exist everywhere in our new society, but in my experience nowhere are they more visible than in san francisco. the line is clearly drawn. above that line are extravagant estates with swirling spiral staircases, and below that line are slums full of freebasing homeless people. in the middle is union square, a yuppy mecca of designer shops (and some legitimately cool independent shops selling crazy japanese stationery and vintage french tin tin comics). there is a sort of tension between have and have nots that creates an anxiety of impending class warfare. it is a beautiful city, though, and there was a healthy supply of young italians to keep it fun and interesting.

i'm moving to brooklyn. and building a darkroom. but more on that later.

at the urging of a friend i have been delving head first into uncharted cultural territory. i have a love/hate relationship with technology but since this blog began i have become fascinated with how it interweaves into the social fabric. we have a truly democratic encyclopedia (www.wikipedia.org). crazy folks are now integrating this with semacode technology (www.semapedia.org). information travels faster now than ever before. the iPod is both a bane and a blessing. it can completely impede any social interaction as it does on the NYC subway and in the streets of manhattan. or it can be used as a populist communicative tool through podcasts created for specific communities.

speaking of podcasts, you absolutley have to check out the Musical Genome Project:

www.pandora.com

by inserting the name of a song or artist, pandora creates a unique streaming radio station based upon your musical preferences. it breaks music down into components and scours the web for music you would like based upon your selection. the music keeps coming. it's free and, of course, hyperlinks to iTunes and Amazon.com if you like what you hear. you can continually add more selections to streamline your station and you can share it with all your friends. yay. check it out, you will not regret it. it's down right now and i am stark raving mad like an addict in search of his fix.

some random pictures.

have no fear, super paisano is here!

some dude in sausalito with his amazingly still dog wearing matching sunglasses.

This post is philosophical and introspective-y.





Cette poste, mais, c'est un récit personnel

one for the (personal) record books

i am in pain, but it is a holy pain.

my official new york marathon completion time: 4 hours, 19 minutes.

works truly cannot describe the feeling. so here goes.




Cette poste, c'est un récit personnel.