''THE DRY ICE FACTORY'' a good place to get some thinkin' done

Stanley Kunitz's "Touch Me"

2007-09-17T16:31:00.000-05:00

Summer is late, my heart.
Words plucked out of the air
some forty years ago
when I was wild with love
and torn almost in two
scatter like leaves this night
of whistling wind and rain.
It is my heart that's late,
it is my song that's flown.
Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.
What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
and it's done.
So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes
and the house timbers creak.
Darling, do you remember
the man you married? Touch me,
remind me who I am.

What an awe-inspiring poem. It tied a knot in my throat, he wrote it in his nineties. HIS NINETIES!

Forty years ago Today

2007-07-17T13:43:00.000-05:00

Died from liver cancer at Huntington Hospital in Long Island, NY, mostly due to his years of alcohol and heroine abuse one of the greatest musical geniuses of the mid twentieth century.

Long live JC

2007-07-08T15:37:00.000-05:00

2007-07-02T10:09:00.000-05:00

terror
shadows slithering
where is my temple
who is singing/she lost control
again
without concrete joints
our walls
are mere piled up bricks
diffuse
smudged cheap chocolate chips
'yo bitch you have something to say?
'bitch
he spits
on me
and there's no light at the end of this tunnel
eat his face
blood erupting from his cheeks
bite after bite
is the dog that eats dog a hero
or is the hero
one noble dog made of patience
who comes back home
tail between legs
lowered ears
and eats
his own shit?
between a hero that eats when he's hungry
and the one that waits for delivery
which one's the blind
which one's the prophet
neitherone?
which one has a college degree
which one smokes pot religiously
between the hero in the hat
and the bald one
which one is a better lover?
fingering
pride
like one who thought happiness was some sort of harp
and fiddled with expectations
dubba-dub-dub
gloomily out of tune
quotidian one-two one-two
when did this all got tangled up
tangoed up into 5-4?
I can't move my legs fast enough
far enough/fast enough
i can't move my feet
even though I'm wearing
the new shoes
that daddy gave me
but he doesn't know he did

if you squint/it doesn't look that much like havoc
It all boils down to
finding two beams to hang my hammock

summertime
here once more
twenty-four weren't enough
summertime
lunar eclipse
the whole world between you and me
my sun my moon my
satellite

summertime
sweat/tears/moist lips
summertime
apocalypse
psychosis/dementia
the whole world can explode
and
A Who are we
B Why are we here
C Why is everything so hard
A terror
B shadows slithering
C where is my temple
A Believe me/ we’re all
B In this one for the money
C And dying soulless
A We are so fragile
B Alone and nude in stark woods
C And on LSD
no
A I don’t remember
B Who we are/why are we here
C Everything’s so hard
so backwards
embracing life
on stream of consciousness
like hypnotized
one spoonful of shit at the time
staring blankly at the grey concrete creases
that constitute the sidewalk
waiting/mumbling names and messages
and opinions that I should have spat that one time
barbecueing
but I never did
high on life
high on the expectation of stop barbecueing
talking about other people
worrying
of going home/being alive
embracing life
high/on stream of conciousness

continues............

V-VII-V

2007-04-26T12:41:00.000-05:00

Como funciona?
halele la pitita
tápele el hueco
con el pulgar y sople
dele pata al cien
espiche el botón rojo
échele agüita
conecte este con este
púrguele, quiubo!
suba esa palanca a ver!
encloche, encloche!
si oyó? juemadre, el mofle.

HAPPY ENDINGS

2007-04-17T16:15:00.000-05:00

Finally online. I'll post a not-so-f'd-up and bigger version once I bring my hardrive to school. Then I'll be able to save it as a gigantic file that will look so smooth once on the internet it'll make people cry. for now, watch this shitty version and giggle.

Un saludo para mi gente en Churuhaco, wespa people! wazzaaaaaa!!!!!

Countdown

2007-04-14T17:22:00.000-05:00

One zizillion (un millon de millardos mas dos) thanks to Lu!

HAPPY B-DAY WEASEL

2007-03-26T18:17:00.001-05:00

DREAM

2007-03-05T15:10:00.000-06:00

So last night I had the most unbelievable dream. Believe it or not, has to do with britney.

So is Britney's turn to present an award at this award ceremony. She starts her speech and out of the blue whips out an m16 and opens fire into the audience.
Una rafaga rapida.
Silence follows. The audience is bamboozled. Britney pants heavily.

Then, one by one celebrities stand up and open their coats, exposing their real proud chests to brit. Julianne Moore had a green dress to die for! She spread open her arms, the edges of a black chall in her hands, and Britney Spears smoked her. And several other celebrities around Moore who kept chanting 'Me, please! do ME in, Britney!'

I woke up not too long after George Clooney kicked the bucket.

I wonder what it means.

Epiphany

2007-03-02T12:13:00.000-06:00

Mother-in-law, turns out to be an anagram for "Hitler Woman"

Makes you wonder...

Since I haven't posted anything in a long time,

2007-02-27T14:51:00.000-06:00

Below is a waterfall of posts. Enjoy.

HOUSE WHERE YOUNG SARITA LIVED

2007-02-26T17:21:00.000-06:00

PAPAROTZZY

2007-02-26T15:31:00.000-06:00

Ok, first things first.

I abhor Britney Spears. I think the pop she once was the princes of, is the main ingredient for what has our society decaying.

I want to say something, however.

Leave her alone! She's crying for attention, but not MEDIA attention.
The kind of attention that paparazzi's give to celebrities can't be healthy, it is sheer pressure. The extents to which these cretins will go for a $20 picture of the bald child-mother are absurd.
This media attention is inhibiting her from growing up and living a normal life taking care of her children. This objectification of the celebrity will securely kill her, like it did with Anna Nicole Smith.

LET THE CHILDREN-WOMEN REST IN PEACE. DROP IT, GIVE THEM A BREAK!

That's all I have to say.

Christmas#2

2007-02-26T15:20:00.000-06:00

stream of consciousness I

2007-02-26T14:56:00.000-06:00

The road, dunes and I walking hand in hand with a flask of Jim Bean. It’s so hot out here I could fry eggs on my knees as I watch my thighs and shins turn the color of crabs and peel. A curve I turn, and in the other side a pony horse. His eye, the only one I see, reflects the sun and deep in his black pupil I see the one cloud in the sky. His lips, and his yellow teeth, have green stains on them, and he seems to be singing holy songs of the grass to the birds circling above his head like angelical aureole.

All four of his legs, very syrupy with sweat; they end in four stars of the mid-day --bright brand new horseshoes. I stare now at his neck, and the bunch of flies drunk with this pony’s life swarming and whirling above the puncture wound.

I put my hand on his forehead. It is as cold as a penguin’s would.

This pony is dead.

You look ahead, ahead you look. Feathers. Black feathers are your whole line of horizon. All in life are circles; you spawn from an egg, you grow, you lay eggs, you die. Your life is an endless circle. In circles you flutter around. Those ahead of you, flutter too in circles as the ones behind you do too. Circles, feathers.

Above you, always the sky. Under you, always a corpse. If you weren't an animal but a mineral, you'd be dirt. Cemetery dirt, because below you, below your circles and the black feathers in front of you, there's always a corpse.

You look the ground, the ground you look. A corpse. A once horse. But you can't see, all you see is the crimson fountain on his neck.

Blood.

Red is perhaps the only color The Layer Of All Eggs allows you to see, and the only way you'll break the circle; red is by far the only color you know how to taste. You fly in circles, you are black feathers and a long neck and one ugly face. You dive, you break the circle, brave, mighty, decided. You eat cold blood, you lay round eggs.

You are a vulture.

NO PHOTOSHOP

2007-02-26T14:53:00.000-06:00

Nothing in this post was altered using photoshop.
Every picture got recorded like that in the camera after I pushed the button.

NO PHOTOSHOP # 2

2007-02-25T15:44:00.000-06:00

cannibalism I

2007-02-24T15:05:00.000-06:00

But his pathology is a thousand times more savage...

He wants to be reborn, Clarice.

He will be reborn...

-H. Lecter

‘He’s eating Kyle’s face!’

I would’ve screamed for help if there was someone around to hear me. I would have called the cops had Kyle paid the phone bill, now Bill was eating his face for it. And eating it good, no sissy bites, no sir! Big chunks every time and hell can Bill chew like a piranha school.

- ‘Is he dead?’

No answer. Like talking to a cardboard cannibal.

Kyle hasn’t moved for a while now. Bill sucks his left eye out and chews on it. Eyeball juice squirts and drips from the edges of his mouth and he looks at me. Puke and pee cancel each other out and I run to the basement. Why? Beats me. To lock myself in a house with a psychopath, like in every psychopath movie. Movie writers tend to materialize axes, and shovels in basements, granted, but all there is in my basement is four concrete columns that hold the house in place, a light bulb with a string attached to it and a really fancy dentist chair where Bill made the sex regularly making it spin and tilt and vibrate and god knows what else --girls love it-- and I have to admit I was thinking about asking him to let me borrow it and show me some cool features sometime but now, it was just looking at it to comprehend that it was in that chair where Bill Murdock senior had pulled the last wisdom tooth of his career, in that chair where last week Jackie Lorens had given up her long nurtured flower to my anthropophagus roommate, in that dentist chair only item of the basement, I would be eaten.

Panic overcame me and I screamed, but through the spaces between the fear-struck-tight muscles in my upper body only shrieks came out. I started crying and flapping my arms and covering my mouth pointing aimlessly at the chair and pulling my hair and then the shrieks became squeaks and then I passed out. I heard a little voice humming on a silly beat that bats and doves fluttered to. Maybe the flapping of their wings made the humming voice. I’m not sure. Clouds and stars and I want to sing, because is so pretty, and I do, and it sounds so beautiful, creates a harmonious unison with the doves, but fucks up the bats’ sonar, and they go insane and they dive into doves and fly into one another and I start whirling and falling, sky, land, sky, land, and I feel nauseous, sky, land, sky, land…

I open my eyes and the chair is spinning five inches from my face. I puke. I fainted on the pedal.

‘God, where the hell is Bill?’

I listen carefully and I hear him still chomping on Kyle. I walk upstairs slowly and there is oblivious Bill attacking a leg. He severed it with his teeth and is enjoying it laying down, leaning on the limbless body face to the Imac that plays “little Johnnie jewel” by Television.

The visual effects are on.

Bill seems tame; He stares at the Macintosh swirls and splashes of color mostly when he’s stoned.

Kyle was a pothead. Lucky for me, I guess: Don’t smoke pot kids; it makes you tasty or psychopaths. And if you eat it, use brownies, or cookies, people are not food.

Kyle’s last words were “Thief if bowl fit”. He had already taken a couple of good blows to the face, and had lost one or three teeth. After those words, Bill suddenly snatched in one bite the shit out of Kyle’s windpipe. Blood squirted like a red Windex spray into the ceiling and then into the blinds, and then into the cat, staring from the couch now stained too, and then Bill just started taking bites off his face. Kyle shouldn’t have said “Fried or raw like that?” when Bill said “I’m going to eat your face”. He shouldn’t have agreed to play that Russian slapping hand game. Poor idiot, I’m invincible at the slapping hand game, it was like playing Russian roulette with Clint Eastwood, or electric world domination game with 007, a lost cause.

You see, the thing was like this:

Bill gets home. He’s actually happy and tosses Kyle a bag. Inside, there is an ounce of really sticky smelly skunky stuff. Kyle smiles big and grinds and packs the steam roller. Bill says he’s going to call mom, and picks up the wireless and the line is down. Then bill mutates into the incredible hulk. He spills his mind in a thousand fucks and you little pieces of fuck, and I gave you the money fucks. A good thousand, yes.

Kyle then was like we’re sorry, we were watching Blade Runner and smoking pot, and by the time we realized the bank was closed, here you can use my cell phone…. And Bill was like don’t fucking want to use your fucking phone, he wants to use the phone he paid for. And he says he’s going to fucking eat one of us, so we better decide now who will get to watch him stuff and bake an old roommate.

First we pointed each other, then we cried and got friendly and both offered to be eaten, then Bill said “cut this bullshit, draw some straws or something”; “we don’t have any”-said Kyle with this idiotic smile and I swear it was there when I knew he was going to get screwed. Bill looked at Kyle with icy eyes and in a futile attempt to cast away such scary gloom of a gaze the double-family size-moron goes like “I know, let’s play the slapping game”, I ok’d the idea, and Bill thought it would build up the frenzy, so it was perfect. So I Put both hands like a taco, in front of me, and let Kyle go at it and slap his last slaps for a whole thirty seconds, then I felt Bill’s stare and dodged his next slap.

Like he was supposed to, Kyle slapped his hands together in front of him as I slapped him for the remaining of the hour –a good three minutes, then Bill shoved him to the door, and said “I’m going to eat your fucking face”

Bill shoved the ribcage in the oven after stuffing it with raspberry jam and the half-ounce of dankness.

He said after we were finished eating, we needed to burn the house.

“U-huh” –I said and then for Bill’s amusement a bloodthirsty cat jumps at my neck. They say once they taste blood, they are berserkers for it. This feline is no exception, I can’t get it of my neck, I can’t get it off my face! Bill cheers and comes hacking at me with the electric knife. I bought the pink extension cord at the other end of it.

Christmas #1

2007-02-12T15:12:00.000-06:00

The Hand Vs. Feed The Kitty

2006-12-21T19:27:00.000-06:00

A battle of expressions. Jiri Trnka vs. Chuck Jones.
Please vote.

Finally... ONE FROGGY EVENING

2006-12-21T19:02:00.001-06:00


Hello, my baby / hello, my honey / hello, my ragtime gal. / Send me a kiss by wire / baby, my hearts on fire / if you refuse me / honey, you'll lose me / then you'll be left alone / Oh baby, telephone and tell me I'm your own.

First batch of winter pictures

2006-12-06T16:34:00.000-06:00

BRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!

Lo mas frio que se ha puesto es 18 faherenheit, que son como menos ocho centigrados. Y se pone peor, se pone a negativos faherenheit.
Esta es la primera y unica nevada de este 2006. Todavia esta afuera en el anden, y no se va a ir.
Ya no esta tan bonito. La nieve esta toda cochina, y de caminarle por encima, se ha ido comprimiendo y volviendose un bloque de nieve que luce la mar de inofensivo, pero en realidad es mas peligroso que montar en patineta y tocar flauta al tiempo.

Sarita esta cantando y preparando galletas. Ahorita mas tardecito vamos a adornar la casa con las carajaditas de navidad. Estamos oyendo villancicos.

All this reminds me of that episode of TV Funhouse where the anipals extract the christmas spirit out of the host's spine, and then freebase it and begin selling it and snorting it in after-parties. I need to see those episodes again. When SNL bought that show, it screwed it. SNL is tasteless and stupid, the funhouse at least was animated....

Norman McLaren

2006-11-07T12:30:00.000-06:00

This artist drew stuff directly into film, or scratched it to create cool animated effects that might make you have seizures if you stare at them for too long.
This is my favorite piece of his. In here he didn't draw on the actual image part of the film, but in the soundtrack, so the background music sounds very much like smelling a yellow flower with psychadelic powers...
Enjoy.

NEIGHBOURS By: Norman McLaren

Pinky and the brain's new scheme

2006-11-03T13:40:00.000-06:00

With a pair of rats in his hands, a bum robbed a public transportation bus in the Colombian capital while provoking terror among the passengers, who in a mixture of fear and repulsion gave him more than what he demanded, informed the local press on Friday.

"If you don't give me 10.000 pesos (about $4.50), I'll set free this two rats inside the vehicle", assured the threatening individual -in the words of a witness- after suddenly boarding the vehicle covering a route through downtown Bogotá, on Thursday afternoon.

"He was a tall, thin guy, with curly hair and a thick stubble, and even tough he wasn't dirty, he looked quite untidy. And the bus driver didn't even realized what was going on" added the same witness to the local news paper "El Tiempo".

She remarked that the 15 passengers, "specially the women begun screaming and climbing atop their seats. A gentleman pulled a 2.000 pesos bill, and offered it to the derelict, but the man said he wanted 10.000, or he'd release the animals (...)
the thief recieved a lot more than that" because of the general panic, said the witness.

"His shamelesness was such, that after getting off the bus, he showed us the two rats from the sidewalk and made faces and grimaces" concluded the witness, clearing the fact that the episode ocurred in front of a downtown police station.

(gracias Chapawo...)

The Drawing Game Pt. 2

2006-10-20T14:59:00.000-05:00

More fun with 35mm

2006-10-17T21:04:00.000-05:00

The Drawing Game Pt. 1

2006-10-15T14:46:00.000-05:00

I am the man behind the prompts. Yes, they are twisted. Yes, sometimes even lewd.
But the thing is that there is no art like team art, the art institute of Chicago features a series of paintings (exquisite corpses) done by three or four artist at the same time, so say Picasso does the head, Miro the shoulders arms and trunk, and Breton the legs. Now, the cool thing about that game, is that you can chose to not do arms but tentacles, and the person after you, the person who was supossed to draw the legs, turns the few visible lines you left him after folding your part into a pogo stick. The result is a smiley face with tentacles that presumably hops around.

In this game, my radiocative snail friend James gave form to my ocurrences. I guess you can sit down and analyze our brains through the prompt and the aftermath, or you can just enjoy it like people enjoy pop-artists that put three potatoes a cup of brown rice, cranberry juice and meatballs on a blender and throw it on a canvas, making a visual ode to a healthy lunch.

Draw that one, please and submit it.

As a side note, Pandora has gone international. You can make spanish stations and they are pretty cool. I'm listening some Hombres G right now, and before, it was Joy Division. Pandora is just too cool.

without further ado, Voila!

Que es opera?

2006-10-13T19:37:00.000-05:00

What's Opera Doc

Chuck Jones es mi director predilecto en cuanto a la Warner se refiere. No quiero restarle prestigio a los demas, pero Jones era un genio. Este corto es el mejor de todos los tiempos, en mi opinion... sin embargo hay que recordar que el man tambien le dio vida al correcaminos y a muchos otros personajes, la rana que canta entre otros...
Tengo tambien que darle credito a Maltese, por escribir la opera, y muchos otros cortos de Chuck Jones, y a Mel Blanc por las voces, y a Milt Franklin por las adaptaciones de Wagner.

More Silly Faces

2006-10-12T12:51:00.000-05:00

Memories. Old poetry of upside down times

2006-10-09T19:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday started with a mediocre sun raising
hung/over/sexed
by the moon
cold
gloom
small
fall sprung from the east

shy rays of light
shining through
grey flock of floating sheep
of fog and mist in disarray

(I immense inside
Immersed inside your I's
Idiotized indeed brown irises
intrigued by your ideosyncrasies
indulging
in imaginary images
eye to eye
with the curving of your smile
and the rear of my ear
very very near)

How I spent my life, St. Peter?
Romancing, waiting for death.

Anticipation I

My teeth autograph your neck and shoulders
your breasts your belly
your utterly preposterous corners
I zoom into your face
Lip zoom into your lips
The close up of your tongue
Tastes like blue berry kiss
Your eyes
blurry wide pupil shots
bleed wet tears of pleasure
And timid tiny moans
that I inhale to my bones
She peeks He peeks
And then she peeks no more
I'm still peeking We're still peaking
Through the bedroom mirror door
That whishpers the lustmost latin of words
And reflects your Southern give me give me mores
Snap!
Wake up Stand up And step on
Rusty bottle cap
Holy crap Holy nap
You're no longer on my lap
Fucking cat Messy brat
In the kitchen making squat
of god only knows what
‘Gato hijueperra si no dejas de maullar
I'm going to snap your free king back!’
You call You want to talk
and instead of kinky
messy
fruit
sexy
sex,
we sit and talk about your ex.

Anticipation II

I’m tainted
Or so they say
They the others
Who sit through my rants day after day
I want to be the only one biting your lips
I want to be the engine of your hips
An opportunity more than an excuse for a
warm cuddle puddle
The most special noun in your
crosswording puzzle
Let me pierce your clouds with my horizons
I’ll do it for the view
Because there’s so few
Better prospects
Because your looks stun love prophets
Because I’d spend my life making you giggle

But you just want to stay single

Duck Amuck

2006-10-08T20:42:00.000-05:00

"What's opera doc?", this "Duck Amuck" and "One froggy evening" (you know the cartoon of the frog that sings only to its owner [Hello, my baby / hello, my honey / hello, my ragtime gal...] but not in public)
are the three cartoons that the library of congress deemed "culturally significant" and selected for preservation in the National FIlm Registry. Chuck Jones then, is the only artist to have three cartoons recognized.

Reminds me of Eric Clapton, the only artist that appears three times in the rock and roll rock of fame, once with "The Yardbirds" once with "Cream" and once as a solo artist.

Multiplication

2006-09-23T11:35:00.000-05:00

Jesus multiplicaba panes y peces para alimentar la horda insaciable de parabolas, que incansablemente lo perseguian a el y a sus discipulos por desiertos, caminos y praderas del medio oriente. Con cuatro mogollas y dos salmones no almuerzo ni yo, y sin embargo el Galileo saciaba el hambre de cuanto afortunado se arrimaba a oirle hablar de granos de mostaza y buenos samaritanos por alla entradas las treinta primaveras de la mal llamada modernidad.
Enfrentemoslo. Estamos en el 2006 y por todos lados de nuestra humilde modernidad, se nos salen vestigios de cuan arcaicos realmente somos.
Internet, si muy moderna la carajada y todo. Pero 85% de esa modernidad, vende y trafica a precios realmente tristes fotos y videos de jovencitas con minimos autoestima y guardarropa. Lo pone a pensar a uno.
Basta con abrir google y buscar con fe y paciencia, y mas pronto que tarde encontrara el buscador sitios en donde poder comprar una chica rusa. Nuestra modernidad aun acepta esclavitud, aun acepta crueldad, aun acepta la descarada corrupcion y se sienta a vivir en el mismo conformismo de siempre que termino por hacer crucificar al uno y dejar salir al otro para darle mas peso al termino "barrabasadas".
El cine moderno solo conoce el termino "remake", la television moderna nos presenta "reality" como si no tuvieramos suficiente con la crude reality, ahora no la meten por la tele, un medio de distencion que deberia mantener la cabeza del televidente lo mas lejos de la reality hasta la hora de las noticias. La musica moderna esta marcada por una tendencia hacia lo pop, lo basura, lo barato, lo que venda, o mejor dicho lo que compre a la decadente juventud moderna americana...

Estamos prehistoricos en lo que realmente importa, pretendiendo modernizar lo que no importara una vez se nos extinga la vida, que entre otras vainas con la modernidad nuclear no es un panorama irreal. Pesimista, si. Pero no irreal.

Hemos como humanidad multiplicado cual panes y peces una tendencia a la intolerancia y al conformismo.
Hoy me levante con la pata izquierda.

Photoshop Cake in tuperware.

2006-09-21T12:27:00.000-05:00

Juxtaposition I

2006-09-21T10:18:00.000-05:00

'come together
right now
over me'
-The Beatles

It is as simple as putting something side by side for comparison.
Yet, as complicated as having a bunch of transparent layers aligned one on top of the other composing one image, the fundamental principle of cel animation.

I can juxtapose languages, and sometimes, literary ideas; I can make the lives of the people I invent a soup of intertwined anecdotes and fake meaningful moments, I invent words.
Word of the day: Blindfaithedly.
I hate it when Microsoft Word juxtaposes its computer doctrine on my art --the art of creating words (or concepts for that matter) that is, and adorns it with its zig-zageddy red underline. I like it when I clearly messed up, and wrote 'metodically' instead of 'methodically', then it's cool, the computer is helping me, and often times it actually quite methodically changes the typo into its right form.
When I pull a word out of the magic hat however, the machine is unable to understand the artistic value in nouns made adjectives for the sake of sound or effect and naively asks for an explanation with the hard-to-ignore red zigzag line under the word.
Often times, the things I write don't make sense at all.
Often times, the things I write are repetitive.
Often times, the things I write are a bunch of small phrases.
Microsoft word likes to put green under my style, and I don't like that. It makes me want to edit... to satisfy its internal protocols, I suppose, hell, I don't know.
My feet itch.
I'm awfully bored.

Haikus

2006-09-19T19:04:00.000-05:00

antapocalypsis

alone in the grass
silver sliding drops of moon
tsunaminate ants

suicide

directing traffic
fucks with the head of the cop
he swallows whistle

police fruitality

Two fruit cup cakes are
three zizillion times better
than two fruit cake cops

scotch tape 1

inches of scotch tape
across my eyes hard cold bricks
and duct tape around me

scotch tape 2

inches of scotch tape
across my eyes your brown eyes
shine I guess. foreplay.

scotch tape 3

inches of scotch tape
across my eyes in my face
cosmetic surgery.

twins

  gooey drifting pair
swimming inside moans and sweat
drill and filter through

Nuclear Chain Reaction

White dove of peace
choking on world politics

 with alka zeltzer. 

2006-09-19T12:27:00.000-05:00

The long exposure ghosts of Hannah and Andrew were kissing below the Liverpool Quartet one spring night, and struck as they were by the touch of their lips, the soft caress of a fast moving cupid (that moved so fast that the camera couldn't capture it) THEY FU**ING FORGOT TO WRITE EMAILS.

Even though I love the composition of this picture, I can't help but sometimes looking at it and thinking that the kid peed that huge puddle...

Look at him though! Doesn't he look like his holding his.... ok, that's just lewd.

I really miss this place. Mamacita's. Best burrito place EVER.

See those bubbles at the top right corner? I have no idea how they got there.

I also miss this cat. Their owners say that he turned into a peeing machine (like the kid in the picture above...). I find it hard to believe this cute fuzzball forced his owners (that don't write either...) into taking measures.
He lives now exiled in a farm. They say he's happy because he can pee everywhere.

2006-09-03T15:20:00.000-05:00

Meet "Gato" our new cat.

Underneath, we have "Mia" on a catnip binge:

And speaking about cats, Columbia threw a festival for us new students. There were pretty cool cats there.

This cat plays the saxophone,But the rest of the cats were potential film and tv makers, illustrationists, photographers, and feline offer vouching staff. and stuff.
Is funny the extents that the banks will go to have you create an account with them, they'll give you free stuff if you open an account, they offer it for cheap to students, pregnant women, old men on wheel chairs, old men on foot, old women, workers of the bank, workers of the corporations affiliated with the bank, they have all sorts of happy discounts, and devices to capture you and chain your left foot to the bank.
That's the way the cookie crumbles

2006-08-24T19:30:00.000-05:00

Esa ultima es un aula de sistemas. Un Cuarto De Computadores. Soy Columbiano.
Yeah.

I work with the Mexican version of Mario as in Nintendo Mario.
He is awesome. He plays bass for his band and I imagine him bouncing around on a home-made stage with a smily face, rowing with the fretboard as oar through a saucy river of tropical Mexican music.
He chops carrots and tomatoes like no other; he's loyal, noble... a hardworking man.
I work with the Mexican version of Super Mario.
He killed a man in '83.

While waiting at Columbia for the orientation to begin, I drew one of the coolest doodles I've drawn. And it was easy, not like I had to concentrate or anything, it just came out perfectly. I think Columbia has a funky mojo to it, that makes film students SUPER film students, and creative people, creative people times whoa. I think its mojo makes me a superstar.
Speaking of stars, I read that the solar system has twelve planets now. Not nine, like Miss Teacher tought me in first grade. I thought it was a sign. Twelve planets, Twelve apostles, Twelve monkeys, A dirty dozen...

Sweet home Chicago

2006-08-13T18:40:00.000-05:00

Silly Faces

2006-08-13T18:07:00.000-05:00

Sara's B-day

2006-08-13T17:59:00.000-05:00

Mirenla, tan linda, estrenando, contenta, y cumpleañera.

I think she had lots of fun. Here, we are at the apartment towards the end of the night with James, Matt and Carina.

Birthdays should be everyday, I think.

2006-08-13T16:24:00.000-05:00

So this one day me and Sara were walking from the zany home to see this apartment that turned out to be a total disappointment and a little bummed-- to be honest, we kept walking up Wilson Ave., until the divine intervention of the Velvet Underground brought us Over and Over to Wilson and Dover, Over and Over….

This guy Thom was spraying the lawn with a hose and he was all like ‘Hey! You guys looking for a home? (The building behind him had a FOR RENT sign in one of the windows, and I had been staring blankly at it wondering) Yes! I have one, would you like to look at it?’ Are there fish in the Pacific Ocean? ‘Sure,’-Sara said with that smile of hers that leaves all smiles behind ‘which one is it?’

Here it is:

We fell in love with it immediately.

We decided that was going to be our spot that very same day.

So we packed up all the stuff in the old apartment, and rented a truck and moved

This person down here next to Sara, is her brother Jody. He, along with their stepsister Amy and her husband Erin helped us move that big ass cozy couch of ours and all the heavy stuff.

The purple you see behind them was neatly put there by the three of us, but I’d be a liar if I said that the “neat” thing wasn’t all Jody. Furthermore, he was our first guest, and a crucial part in the two-week-transition-up-and-down-running-like-mad-men-extravaganza.

This is Wilson. Clark and Wilson. If the bus right there was to take a right at this intersection, it would reach our home in two blinks.

Sara’s birthday was a couple of days ago (those pictures are on the way) and for her birthday, her mom and step dad sent her this AWESOME digital camera. We took a bunch of silly pictures (on their way also…) already. Sara and I decided to take pictures of our apartment as it looks now with the new camera, so…voila! The fluffball is Mia, the sweetest most bad ass feline ever.

James' Visit

2006-08-10T17:37:00.000-05:00

Glad you came, Don Stickneypher. It was a shame I had to stay at the dungeon for most of the mornings, and missed the shows. I wanted to see Mission of Burma, Os Mutantes and some other bands at pitchfork, but I had to work for bacon.

James es un caracol radioactivo.
Viva James, el caracol radioactivo!

THA BEECH

2006-07-20T19:02:00.000-05:00

I'm very thankful for having been able to go to the outer banks earlier this summer, I had tons of fun, and spent quality time with quality people.
I said for a long time that I was going to put them up, so here they are. Once again, thank you for taking me to el mar...

Abajo del mar
Hay un calamar
Y las sombras
serpentean bailando a la marea

Under the sea
fish and crabs
sea horse back ride
through a rain of sand dollars

A sea
the ocean
waves
foam
sea gulls
sand
sea shells
sun
tan lotion

El sol
agua
olas
Espuma
Surfistas
Bikinis
granos de arena
granos de sal
El sol prende el cielo en llamas
y se hunde despacito en el mar

January 6, 1946 – July 7, 2006

2006-07-11T17:43:00.000-05:00

News were released today, the man who was the mind, the brilliant, shiny, strange mind behind Pink Floyd, has passed away due to diabetes complications.
I cried at work. I made with a sharpie on a piece of masking tape that says "Long live Syd Barrett" and I'm baring it on my chest.
The man that wrote and sung guitar in hand so many unbelievable songs, and gave my favorite band the inspiration to exist-- the crazy diamond- shines now from above.

I will sin now of lack of originality, but in this case, I think is but appropriate:

"Shine On You Crazy Diamond "

"Remember when you were young,
you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter,
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

Nobody knows where you are, how near or how far.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Pile on many more layers and I'll be joining you there.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph,
sail on the steel breeze.
Come on you boy child, you winner and loser,
come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine"

The world, is one unbelievable songwriter and musician short today. But I'm happy as happy can be.

Because this only means than since Friday, heaven is a psychodelic place.

pictures from www.pink-floyd.org

Amber's Sprout

2006-07-05T23:45:00.000-05:00

Say hello and meet my great friend Amber. A-M-B-E-R, Amber.

Clearly, angels, sprout angels. And I

say this backed up by my girl, she says-- and I agree- that Amber is an angel, for bringing us together.

Well... This exceptionally cute person sprouted out of Amber a year , a half and some ago.

and, he happens to be my girl's godson, wich makes him my... um... girl's godson.
Ain't he the cutest thing ever?????

So this post, is a tribute to Amber, for being the absolute shit and nine tenths, and being the bright bright spark that ignited this amazing period of my life, because I could have chosen not to go to a certain bar on a certain day (yes, I'll take the time machine there...) and instead, miss love, oh love... So thank you, dood, for insiting and driving me there and being my friend.

And also, this post is a tribute to Trent, for not being afraid of me anymore, and learning how to say my name, how to summersault, make ugly-ass faces and count to three: Juan, two.....

The Time Machine Part 1

2006-06-29T23:01:00.000-05:00

It is the day before my birthday. Junio 14 2006. Sara y yo estamos manejando por la Autopista 240, y nos pasa este cafre en el camioncito lleno de pescados.

No joke, the guy's carrying a bunch of fish in the tank on the back of his truck. The curious thing though, are the four strange faucets underneath "in" and "transit". Do fish come out of there? if you look carfully, it seems they have hose attachments. weird.

Luego de pasar el camion, vamos rumbo a Brevard, Carolina del Norte a conocer a don Marion, el papa de Sara. Esa mosca estaba ahi queriendo meterse an mi Corona con limon. Don Marion, resulto ser un bacan. Y severo duro para construir cosas, oiga. El señor Marion hace casas de madera. Hoteles, para ser mas exactos. No se si le haya yo tomado fotos panoramicas al sitio, habra que mirar, pero si no, do me a huge favor, go to google and look up Earthshine and in the same line include Boatwright. You'll get a picture for sure, is to die for.

Very, very pretty. After being a little while on Sara's dad house, we went to her aunt's to have dinner. It was absolutely scrumptious. I got to meet her uncle, and this really nice guy who gave everyone bracelets, Sara ended up giving me hers.

We talked about golf, el tio me pregunto por Camilo Villegas, y yo que si, claro, obvio! Villegas, amiguiiisimo de la familia, mi papi juega golf! 'De verdad?' 'Claaaro! en el club! no han oido de Montoya?' 'er...no...' 'NO? la promesa del automovilismo, la proeza del volante, el dueño de las pistas, don F1, no???' 'nope...'

El perrito labrador, se llama Bailey. It is too cute. There was another doggie, Dumont, he had some issues with people touching his face. Very, very shy pooch.

The lady in pink is doña Susan, la esposa de don Marion. Ella es de Nueva Zelanda, y alla es donde viven y estan constuyendo otro lodge, by the ocean. I saw pictures that day, and oh my god is it gorgeous. They rose it from the bare ground with their bare hands, and it's so pretty is absurd. I'd loooove to go to New Zeland some day to visit. Y... quizas, por que no, hacer cine o novelas, o esculturas de arena, o alguna pendejada.

Destination: Chicago, IL

2006-06-28T22:49:00.000-05:00

So me and Sara are driving up to Chicago and I whip out my camera, and take this. Preeeety. A veces, tres colores y una casita dicen muchisimo mas que blanco y negro y la misma casita, o muchos colores y muchas casitas. Y lo digo no en tono de chiste, ni nada, es en serio. Estoy oyendo Love Will Tear Us Apart de Joy Division mientras escribo, y no puedo evitar acordarme de esa escena de 24 hour people en la que muestran a Ian Curtis colgado del techo hecho una piltrafa. Que gran perdida para la historia de la musica. I looked for jobs all day long after eating chicken leftovers and finishing homework. Bleh. Now I'm listening to Duke Ellington, what a change, for Christ's sake. This one was from the road too. Sometimes, listening to Ellington makes me feel in a creamy part of a Hitchcock movie. You know, tuxes, and cocktails, and stuff like that. Not the creepy-ass- crunchy-bloody stuff. El Itunes decidio ponerme una cancionsota. Tb Sheets, de Van Morrison. Ultimamente, y por influencia de la china Sara, (ver abajo) le he cogido como cariño al prolifico artista. A veces --y esto es algo que he pensado desde la primera vez que me puse a carajear con un Itunes con una cantidad de musica decente tirando a apreciable, yo pienso que Itunes tiene vida propia. Sin joder, Itunes sabe que cancion ponerle a uno despues. Es un fenomeno inexplicable, pero Itunes sabia -y de eso no me cabe la menor duda- que yo queria oir TB Sheets, despues de Ellington.
There's Sara, and behind mommy. I love their faces in this picture. That's in "Earthshine" an absolutely lovely lovely lodge in Brevard, where this beautiful lovely lady took me and my family for my birthday, a couple of weeks ago. More pictures of the lodge? Sure thang, in a different post. This post is about me moving to Chicago.La historia es la siguiente:
Empacando todos mis chiros para venirme a Chicago, mis Roomates y yo, oimos al pollito ese chirriar afuera, pero emberracado, furico, histerico. Salimos a mirar, angustiados, pensando que nos habian dejado un mucharejito en la puerta, entre una canasta, como en las peliculas, y que va! el pollo ese se la tiene montada al gato (oscar, la mancha gris a la izquierda en la primera foto) y no para de joderlo. It's an amazing gig. Mainly, because Oscar has a temper, and the shortest fuse available. If you pet him, you'll loose your hand. But here is this bird, pee-tee-weeting Oscar to desperation. And when Oscar goes to the house, the feathery efcker flies away. But if the cat goes out, the bird comes back and harasses him like there's no tomorrow.
A esta hora, ese pollo debe estar dentro del gato. O hecho caca de gato en algun arbol cercano.