n: vb: the spice of imagination
“Ms. One Degree of Separation herself” she says:
haha – I made a folder just for your piks – and I get three?
“Ms. One Degree of Separation herself” she says:
how many strip clubs have you been going to?
I’ve been caught on-line finally by Jeff. I suppose I should have expected a bit of lag, as he’s in Japan, but it’s still a little unexpected. Like having to yell into the internet to boost the signal.
your dictionary of small print
I’m surprised. I give my life to little words like these and later, I find a few that aren’t terrible. Something to grow into.
Inside he is more beautiful than the sound of his own name.
I used to masquerade as twenty-one when I was fifteen because it was always so much easier that way. I could move out and pretend at life. People are still young enough at this age to say utterly useless things. Could you, would you, did you, etcetera et al. She saved my psyche, I think. Caring about all the things I didn’t have to. Self induced, gone now, chemical pliers removed.
If the calm doesn’t kill us, we ourselves will
Lately I feel like my playlist has more to say than I do. I need to learn music again. Tenor – chord, chord, chord. Tying the sound in bondage. Rythym, thum, humming. Thirty minutes of something more than I am. It would be a bit of a casket though. The pain of a sacred song done badly can almost hurt more than a knife. Splintered blades of sound. I don’t need that.
you paint bemusement with your tongue
I will start again for the second time. My lost painter was laughing at himself with me today and it reminded me of something I’d written about him a half decade ago. Nothing delicate and sweet. Nothing good, but I spent a moment to dig it out of the book. “My arrow sang as it hit your breast and now we are smiling” I feel I made a wish somewhere, maybe I left it on a shelf to collect dust, and now it’s come back to kiss me.
Warren Ellis continues to speak with better grace than I.
from http://www.livejournal.com/users/mistersleepless/20538.html?nc=30
This is something I was talking about with a friend on a private forum
last night. It’s been in my head for a couple of weeks. I’m going to
road test the notion here.
Combat big media. Use the web.
Every
day, people release new creative work on to the web. Prose, essays
(often in blog form), art, photography, music, animation, video, spoken
word, whatever. The web, and a bunch of free or cheap tools, gives the
creator access to the full spectrum of media for web broadcast.
LiveJournal
gives you the ability to subscribe to other LJs, which you read on a
dynamically updating page – your own channel of selected content.
Expand that up a bit.
Take Dr Joshua Ellis’ notion of “taste tribes,” small communities connected by a shared aesthetic.
Now,
you and your tribe — and if you’re all on Tribe.net, you can grab a
bit of code from the site that displays you all on a sidebar on your
website — select out the content streams on the web you like. Your
favourite online comics, the internet radio stations you like, the
artists who put new mp3s and art and photography on their sites, etc.
You grab some webspace. Your Hub, if you like.
And
you cause to be created a system whereby the Hub is informed when one
of your selected sites updates. The way a blog puts a new entry at the
top. The way a new piece by a favoured LJ appears at the top of your
Friends page.
You’ve just built a multimedia channel in webspace.
Go take a look. Some very smart people have been commenting.
“I must look like such a preppie. I’m standing outside Lick with an unlit cigarette, talking into a cellphone.” I love that I have a friend who will call me when she’s inebriated at lesbian bars. It’s somehow a sign that my life is somewhere out there clawing it’s way to places I want it to nest. Also – it’s a good counterpoint to the conversation on-line I’m having fitfully with Micheal. “Has anyone lately told you you’re beautiful?” “Yes. A few lately. One, a poet, is quite good at it.” “Good, because you are. Am I creeping you out?”
Here I am. Not on camera, but at my computer. It’s been a day of interesting times. I seem to have hooked up with my first Love, which in itself is slightly insane. No contact for five years or so, then suddenly – I’m visiting Calgary and I can feel him smiling over the internet. The world conspires. We did the internet datey thing and sent one another pictures. *wonders how different self is on the outside* I know I’m taller now, if nothing else. Dominique was on the phone with me and trying to talk me into sending him naughty photos. The last time we saw eachother, I think I was halfway through being seventeen. (How barely legal is that?) I was late to meet Sophie by an hour and forgot to pick up Robin completely.
She had been downtown delivering a portfolio someone had left on the bus. She reminded me right off about Robin and so we headed off to nab him, though he’d left long before. Broadway and Commercial in the scorching heat. It really does beat down, though the ordinary cliche leaves something to be desired. We took shelter in the shade at Grandview park and talked about nothing in particular. Her boy, my neigborhood. There was a juggler there who watched us watching him as he practiced on the unicycle. We talked with him a few minutes, but he was more interesting from ten feet away. Clouds rolled up, promising rain but tauntingly. The heat remained oppresive, with nothing to show but a few feeble drops. We went afterwards to spite the warmth by making cookies. We failed. Ingredients were bought, but nothing came of it. Not baking-wise at least. Ada was visited and we ran into Dan Vie. The Mad Hatters Tea Party sounds to be splendid. I’m sharply disappointed that I’ll be missing it, but at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that some of the costumes are of my design.
Once here I called a few people. Arranged for Ray to come over and Robin. With thier arrival came boxes. Sweet random brown-paper treasures. Mis-labeled and full of unknown items. I cleverly stabbed myself to the bone opening boxes with my filleting knife. Go me. Plus – another birthday present. We now have movie capability! Films must be collected for the christening. A dying television and a Video/DvD player. Now, for the certainty that my video camera isn’t totally hooped and a digital projector to complete the set. It would be simply Jhayneporn. I almost get squirmy thinking about it. *grinning* I think for now I’ll be working on getting myself a digital camera though. Hopefully a better one than the one I gave to Jeff. I don’t know how I could stand a picture stick.
After my brilliant adventures in soaking rags in blood and the gear was set up, it was decided we were in need of an Ikea trip. I felt a bit incongrous. The girl who colour co-ordinated with everything they sell. “New! Young Girl! Special Sale!” I swear – if Ikea sold clothing, what I’m wearing today would be an example. Bookshelves were eventually found. Praise the swedish megamart. Haven of sense and stylized useful. Ray was amazing and built the thing in my room with only one piece going missing. It’s a skill he has. Course, it is the single piece that will be the most painful to tread on, but there you go. He’s my hero for the day. Well – afternoon. Evening. Latter half of the diurnal cycle. A hero, at any rate.