I look up to the Sky,
And the Moon calls my name...
She brings not death--but light.
The puff of my cigarrette
Fills my lungs with smoke.
It is cleansing--
Removing my anger; my doubt.
I feel lost, but the Moon...
She is guiding me--telling me
That I will find home.
Telling me, that I will find myself...
I am not sure
If she is speaking truth,
Though in my Heart
I know
She does not lie.
I cannot ask
The meaning of Her words,
For She uses none.
Her voice
Is thought--pictures
Amongst gathered mist.
I looked up to the Sky,
And the Moon called my name...
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Monday, April 2, 2007
hmm...
I lay here thinking:
“What am I doing?”
“Why am I here?”
“What’s going on in my life?”
Some day I’ll figure it out... All I can think about is how tired I am; both physically and emotionally.
I just remembered -- I need to buy toilet paper.
“What am I doing?”
“Why am I here?”
“What’s going on in my life?”
Some day I’ll figure it out... All I can think about is how tired I am; both physically and emotionally.
I just remembered -- I need to buy toilet paper.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
F*cking cold in LA, and I can't feel my toes...
I went to The Rocky Horror Picture Show tonight...
Every time I go to the one at the Nuart in Los Angeles, I always feel a little down. I'm not saying it's a bad show--it just reminds me how much I miss my "cast family" back in Columbus. As part of the Fishnet Mafia, my second home became Studio 35; a small indie theater with so much history attached to its walls... literally.
Old posters, photo collages plastered on the walls, the slight mildew smell coming from the back room where we changed into our costumes... God it was so much fun.
But alas, I'm out here in Los Angeles, and attending shows performed by Sins O' The Flesh. They remind me of my cast back home; they have fun, they improvise and mix things up, and they are fucking crass.
Well, tonight's experience was a bit of a bother. It didn't have anything to do with the group... it just happened to not really be my night. I pulled up Santa Monica Blvd, parked my car at a meter, and started to walk to the theater. It's cold, but I'm still wearing sandals because I had to cut open my shoes when I had that huge problem with gout in December. Yeah, I know... I need to buy new shoes... or at least wear socks. But halfway between my car and the Nuart I can't remember if I locked my car.
Do I go back and check? Do I keep moving? From my experience, if I don't check, that'll be the day I forget to lock it. Deciding on at least using the remote thingy on my keychain, I start to walk back so I can get in range. As I turn, my trench coat happens to bump over this stray bottle of beer--I hope to God it was beer--which promptly decides to pour its contents onto my very cold and very exposed foot.
It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that the weather in LA decided to adopt Ohio's winter climate and chill down to a very cold 44 degrees. It also wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't think that the bottle might not have been a half consumed beer, but a deposit of some random drunk's piss instead.
I walk the rest of the way to the theater, purchase my ticket, and stand in line. In front of me is a poor girl shaking worse than a chihuahua, doing her impression of a toddler being hushed by a demented German nanny.
But that's not where the fun stops... I know that LA is going through some fucked up weather, but I wish I had an umbrella when a small storm cell happened out of nowhere to pour down raw eggs to those standing in line. I didn't stutter. I may have changed some details, but I didn't stutter. Some jerks decided to throw eggs at us from inside the comfort of their car. I wasn't hit directly, but again, my foot becomes victim to torture as egg-goo ricocheted off the concrete.
When we're finally let in, I buy my drink and a cookie. All is right in the world cause I now have a container of sugar and some chocolate. I can't attest to tonight's audience though... they were a little--well, a lot unresponsive. Between the lame Virgins who didn't want to participate in the Pre-show and the audience that was virtually silent, the energy of the group was low. Maybe it was the weather. There was a definite drop in the normal attendance, most likely because no one wanted to stand out in the cold.
At the end of the show, they announced their offer of an Annual Pass, which means that for a nominal fee I would be able to attend as many shows as I wanted to for the rest of the year. This would definitely be a huge money saver, especially since I was trying to figure out if I could actually afford going as often as I want to. I also asked about becoming part of Security; this would put me back in a cast, and also subsidize the whole "price of admission" thing. Consequently, because I asked about getting the Annual Pass, my picture was taken to be put on one. It just so happens that it's the best picture ever taken of me... but I have no access to the actual file. Poop.
After I got home, I was kinda surprised to find that I'm actually exhausted instead of recharged after seeing Rocky. Usually, the energy is so elevated in the group that you can't help but become hyper. Unfortunately this group didn't understand the experience of Rocky, and didn't help to raise that energy. Oh well, I guess I need to go to bed tonight anyway instead of just staying up.
Speaking of going to bed, I think that's what I'm going to do.
Every time I go to the one at the Nuart in Los Angeles, I always feel a little down. I'm not saying it's a bad show--it just reminds me how much I miss my "cast family" back in Columbus. As part of the Fishnet Mafia, my second home became Studio 35; a small indie theater with so much history attached to its walls... literally.
Old posters, photo collages plastered on the walls, the slight mildew smell coming from the back room where we changed into our costumes... God it was so much fun.
But alas, I'm out here in Los Angeles, and attending shows performed by Sins O' The Flesh. They remind me of my cast back home; they have fun, they improvise and mix things up, and they are fucking crass.
Well, tonight's experience was a bit of a bother. It didn't have anything to do with the group... it just happened to not really be my night. I pulled up Santa Monica Blvd, parked my car at a meter, and started to walk to the theater. It's cold, but I'm still wearing sandals because I had to cut open my shoes when I had that huge problem with gout in December. Yeah, I know... I need to buy new shoes... or at least wear socks. But halfway between my car and the Nuart I can't remember if I locked my car.
Do I go back and check? Do I keep moving? From my experience, if I don't check, that'll be the day I forget to lock it. Deciding on at least using the remote thingy on my keychain, I start to walk back so I can get in range. As I turn, my trench coat happens to bump over this stray bottle of beer--I hope to God it was beer--which promptly decides to pour its contents onto my very cold and very exposed foot.
It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that the weather in LA decided to adopt Ohio's winter climate and chill down to a very cold 44 degrees. It also wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't think that the bottle might not have been a half consumed beer, but a deposit of some random drunk's piss instead.
I walk the rest of the way to the theater, purchase my ticket, and stand in line. In front of me is a poor girl shaking worse than a chihuahua, doing her impression of a toddler being hushed by a demented German nanny.
But that's not where the fun stops... I know that LA is going through some fucked up weather, but I wish I had an umbrella when a small storm cell happened out of nowhere to pour down raw eggs to those standing in line. I didn't stutter. I may have changed some details, but I didn't stutter. Some jerks decided to throw eggs at us from inside the comfort of their car. I wasn't hit directly, but again, my foot becomes victim to torture as egg-goo ricocheted off the concrete.
When we're finally let in, I buy my drink and a cookie. All is right in the world cause I now have a container of sugar and some chocolate. I can't attest to tonight's audience though... they were a little--well, a lot unresponsive. Between the lame Virgins who didn't want to participate in the Pre-show and the audience that was virtually silent, the energy of the group was low. Maybe it was the weather. There was a definite drop in the normal attendance, most likely because no one wanted to stand out in the cold.
At the end of the show, they announced their offer of an Annual Pass, which means that for a nominal fee I would be able to attend as many shows as I wanted to for the rest of the year. This would definitely be a huge money saver, especially since I was trying to figure out if I could actually afford going as often as I want to. I also asked about becoming part of Security; this would put me back in a cast, and also subsidize the whole "price of admission" thing. Consequently, because I asked about getting the Annual Pass, my picture was taken to be put on one. It just so happens that it's the best picture ever taken of me... but I have no access to the actual file. Poop.
After I got home, I was kinda surprised to find that I'm actually exhausted instead of recharged after seeing Rocky. Usually, the energy is so elevated in the group that you can't help but become hyper. Unfortunately this group didn't understand the experience of Rocky, and didn't help to raise that energy. Oh well, I guess I need to go to bed tonight anyway instead of just staying up.
Speaking of going to bed, I think that's what I'm going to do.
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
iPhone
It's everything I've ever wanted in a phone...
Apple page:
http://www.apple.com/iphone
Keynote Presentation/Demo:
http://events.apple.com.edgesuite.net/j47d52oo/event/
Apple page:
http://www.apple.com/iphone
Keynote Presentation/Demo:
http://events.apple.com.edgesuite.net/j47d52oo/event/
Quiz
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The West Your accent is the lowest common denominator of American speech. Unless you're a SoCal surfer, no one thinks you have an accent. And really, you may not even be from the West at all, you could easily be from Florida or one of those big Southern cities like Dallas or Atlanta. | |
| The Midland | |
| Boston | |
| North Central | |
| The Inland North | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The South | |
| The Northeast | |
| What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz | |
To Be Fat Like Me
I just finished watching "Fat Like Me", a Lifetime Original Movie... I don't know how I feel about it. A lot of the movie his close to home: the way society treats those of us who are overweight, and the angst I've had against those who have caused me grief. I'm glad they made this movie... maybe it'll get people to realize prejudice is more than just race or religion.
I don't know what to say about this... There's not much that I have to say, but there is a lot that is going through my mind. It's more like a conglomeration of horrible memories from my childhood; being teased, being made fun of, being treated like shit... It also didn't help that I'm not 100% white. Being this obvious mixture of races just added fuel to the fire.
I was never just the fat kid. I was never just the "Chinese" kid. I was the FAT ASIAN kid that not many people wanted to be around. I wasn't grossly disfigured, nor did I have a flesh-eating disease... I was me. It's just who I happened to be.
I never asked to be fat. I never asked to be Asian. That's just how I was created.
I don't know what to say about this... There's not much that I have to say, but there is a lot that is going through my mind. It's more like a conglomeration of horrible memories from my childhood; being teased, being made fun of, being treated like shit... It also didn't help that I'm not 100% white. Being this obvious mixture of races just added fuel to the fire.
I was never just the fat kid. I was never just the "Chinese" kid. I was the FAT ASIAN kid that not many people wanted to be around. I wasn't grossly disfigured, nor did I have a flesh-eating disease... I was me. It's just who I happened to be.
I never asked to be fat. I never asked to be Asian. That's just how I was created.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Why I do what I do... sorta.
Because of being sick for the last month-and-a-half or so, I've had some time to do some reading and catching up on current affairs. It really pains me to realize what kind of world we live in. Science Fiction movies aren't too far off from what we are experiencing now: poor government, lethargic citizens, environmental chaos, the misogyny and blatant prejudice against ourselves. I'm not too surprised by the coincidence that the Sci-Fi genre has to reality, because it is a comment on reality.
Media is a wonderful thing. It allows anyone to say what they feel, and take action to change what needs to be changed. Unfortunately, it also has the same power to stifle the same thing. Media can also hinder someone, and coerce others to believe in lies and propaganda that fits into the ideals of the current status quo.
A little over a month ago, I completed a project called "City Gallery*", a guerrilla-type outdoor installation in Columbus, Ohio. But before I left to hang the work, I let out a sigh and made mention that "being an advocate is hard work". My father, a lethargic citizen, complained and snidely asked, "Why do you have to do it?"
I've thought about that 10-second conversation many times, and each time I think to myself, why do I do it? Each time I think this, I always get the same answer: Because I have to. Because if I don't do it, who will? How can I be sure that someone else will fight for what I believe in? How can I be sure that things will change for the better if I just sit back and let the current institution continue in the side-winding path of doom that our society has chosen?
Our government is corrupt. It is no longer run by the people it was created for. It is being run by overly greedy corporations that really just don't give a damn about what they are doing to the people and the world around them. Why should they? They're getting money in their pockets...
I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore.... my head is so full of snot and medication, I'm hallucinating. *sigh* Goodnight Gracie.
*for more info on City Gallery, visit http://web.mac.com/rdaulton
Media is a wonderful thing. It allows anyone to say what they feel, and take action to change what needs to be changed. Unfortunately, it also has the same power to stifle the same thing. Media can also hinder someone, and coerce others to believe in lies and propaganda that fits into the ideals of the current status quo.
A little over a month ago, I completed a project called "City Gallery*", a guerrilla-type outdoor installation in Columbus, Ohio. But before I left to hang the work, I let out a sigh and made mention that "being an advocate is hard work". My father, a lethargic citizen, complained and snidely asked, "Why do you have to do it?"
I've thought about that 10-second conversation many times, and each time I think to myself, why do I do it? Each time I think this, I always get the same answer: Because I have to. Because if I don't do it, who will? How can I be sure that someone else will fight for what I believe in? How can I be sure that things will change for the better if I just sit back and let the current institution continue in the side-winding path of doom that our society has chosen?
Our government is corrupt. It is no longer run by the people it was created for. It is being run by overly greedy corporations that really just don't give a damn about what they are doing to the people and the world around them. Why should they? They're getting money in their pockets...
I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore.... my head is so full of snot and medication, I'm hallucinating. *sigh* Goodnight Gracie.
*for more info on City Gallery, visit http://web.mac.com/rdaulton
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