can of lime juice
Thursdays are intense. 5:45 AM to whenever I finish this entry. I am shooting for 11 PM.
Today was 'bike to work day' and it's the first day since i got my bike that i have not biked to work. Fuck that, it was raining and I already got soaked yesterday. A brother can only tolerate the sniffles for so long, know what i mean?
I felt like shit today, like i was washed-out from the moment i woke up. Somehow, though, i got up to go down to Royal Ground and read the paper for an hour or two before work. I didn't absorb shit though. All I remember is that SF bike messengers are in decline and Michael Jackson's cousin testified on his behalf yesterday. The Onion just started an SF edition and I was a lot more into that.
We had a monster day of 3000+ kids at the museum cause the floor has been closed to school groups for the last two days. I didn't feel like doing shit or really even talking to anyone. Besides an orientation for a disturbingly reckless kindergarten and an utterly humorless cow eye dissection, i spent the rest of the day trying to avoid people. If anything I was looking for some misbehaving kids to yell at to help me focus my vague anger [not hard on a slammed day]. I know, i am a terrible, terrible educator. I found a kid whacking around our resonator bars, snuck up next to him, and said "why are you doing that." He didn't really have an answer. That showed him.
After work another explainer, Giancarlo, came over to my place. He's a poet that teaches at SF State and he wanted to try reading some of his work over my guitar playing. He got into a political argument with a guy on the bus and, maybe its just me, but almost any political discussion i hear is useless and makes me want to puke. Fuck everyone. I'm not interested in hearing about Saddam's murderous dictatorship any more than i am in hearing vague insinuations regarding how much the world trade center was insured for. Giancarlo told me he actually believes the whole thing was a conspiracy. No, it's not impossible, but in light of no convincing evidence, what has led a perfectly normal, intelligent dude to choose to believe that such a insanely complicated series of events makes more sense than the simple explanation?
Lets just all radicalize until we can't even remember why we want to be alive anymore.
Anyways, the creative experimenting with him was pretty cool for what it was. There were a few moments when the music and the words combined to create some real mood. Artistically, we are working in totally different paradigms and i can't say i totally understand his. He's good at creating interesting phrases and rhythyms, but I can't really see too much more into it right now. I think he kind of writes first and asks questions later under the premise that anything his brain produces means something on some level. Its an interesting idea and i guess the mind can find poignancy in just about anything if you think about it long enough to think up some connections. I don't think I'm quite in that zone myself. Or maybe just not today. Not that I couldn't benefit from its influence.
Tutored Lucy, the girl with the messiest room ever. Up to Carly's 2002 apartment standards, just about.
And then Documentary workshop. We messed around with some nice video cameras and then watched a few pieces. We saw a 6 minute 16mm film our instructor made a few years ago called 'on the farm,' about...being on a farm, pretty much. He shot the whole thing on a wind up Bolex, hand processed all the stock himself, and edited the entire film with an optical printer. He even did the crossfading in-camera and the whole thing was pretty cool. When you are working like that you are filmaking on a whole different level and six minutes of farm footage becomes a lot more interesting. I mean, if you care.
Fuck, it's 11:30. I don't think I give a shit about this blog. No one is going to read it. There was no point in me wasting 45 mins of sleep for this. Oh well. Mom comes in tomorrow.
Today was 'bike to work day' and it's the first day since i got my bike that i have not biked to work. Fuck that, it was raining and I already got soaked yesterday. A brother can only tolerate the sniffles for so long, know what i mean?
I felt like shit today, like i was washed-out from the moment i woke up. Somehow, though, i got up to go down to Royal Ground and read the paper for an hour or two before work. I didn't absorb shit though. All I remember is that SF bike messengers are in decline and Michael Jackson's cousin testified on his behalf yesterday. The Onion just started an SF edition and I was a lot more into that.
We had a monster day of 3000+ kids at the museum cause the floor has been closed to school groups for the last two days. I didn't feel like doing shit or really even talking to anyone. Besides an orientation for a disturbingly reckless kindergarten and an utterly humorless cow eye dissection, i spent the rest of the day trying to avoid people. If anything I was looking for some misbehaving kids to yell at to help me focus my vague anger [not hard on a slammed day]. I know, i am a terrible, terrible educator. I found a kid whacking around our resonator bars, snuck up next to him, and said "why are you doing that." He didn't really have an answer. That showed him.
After work another explainer, Giancarlo, came over to my place. He's a poet that teaches at SF State and he wanted to try reading some of his work over my guitar playing. He got into a political argument with a guy on the bus and, maybe its just me, but almost any political discussion i hear is useless and makes me want to puke. Fuck everyone. I'm not interested in hearing about Saddam's murderous dictatorship any more than i am in hearing vague insinuations regarding how much the world trade center was insured for. Giancarlo told me he actually believes the whole thing was a conspiracy. No, it's not impossible, but in light of no convincing evidence, what has led a perfectly normal, intelligent dude to choose to believe that such a insanely complicated series of events makes more sense than the simple explanation?
Lets just all radicalize until we can't even remember why we want to be alive anymore.
Anyways, the creative experimenting with him was pretty cool for what it was. There were a few moments when the music and the words combined to create some real mood. Artistically, we are working in totally different paradigms and i can't say i totally understand his. He's good at creating interesting phrases and rhythyms, but I can't really see too much more into it right now. I think he kind of writes first and asks questions later under the premise that anything his brain produces means something on some level. Its an interesting idea and i guess the mind can find poignancy in just about anything if you think about it long enough to think up some connections. I don't think I'm quite in that zone myself. Or maybe just not today. Not that I couldn't benefit from its influence.
Tutored Lucy, the girl with the messiest room ever. Up to Carly's 2002 apartment standards, just about.
And then Documentary workshop. We messed around with some nice video cameras and then watched a few pieces. We saw a 6 minute 16mm film our instructor made a few years ago called 'on the farm,' about...being on a farm, pretty much. He shot the whole thing on a wind up Bolex, hand processed all the stock himself, and edited the entire film with an optical printer. He even did the crossfading in-camera and the whole thing was pretty cool. When you are working like that you are filmaking on a whole different level and six minutes of farm footage becomes a lot more interesting. I mean, if you care.
Fuck, it's 11:30. I don't think I give a shit about this blog. No one is going to read it. There was no point in me wasting 45 mins of sleep for this. Oh well. Mom comes in tomorrow.
posted by Jon at 10:41 PM
1 Comments:
I'll toss you a comment so that you know at least someone read it.
It was actually fairly interesting.
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