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2011-05-19T13:54:00.001-07:00

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A night with My Wacom

2009-12-15T00:41:00.000-08:00

Been goofin' on comics of late.

Don't mess with Texas, lest ye wish to be messed.

2009-10-11T13:41:00.001-07:00

So It’s been since Korea that this blog has been touched. And with good reason. Well, not really actually. Apparently I’m lazy. Bastard of a personality trait.

So let’s you and I talk a little bit about Houston Texas. That’s where I’ve been for the last two weeks, and will be for the foreseeable future. The ‘forseeable future’ being a term heavily weighted with variables like job security, domicile procurement, and general shit-get-togethery.

So what’s on the plate? Somewhere in the midst of being aimless I’ve come up with a few ideas. They’re dependent on the advent of some sort of organizational epiphany on my part, which might very well come in the form of a bottle of designer pills. Now that I look back on it, I don’t know why I ever gave up my prescription for aderall. Oh wait I remember, it killed my appetite, made me feel greasy and cracked out, and essentially rendered my man bits useless. Sort of like whiskey, except with a much speedier crescendo and an inflated fear of social interaction. So not like whiskey at all really. Damn, almost had that one.

My last go at the Houston lifestyle was centered around working on the Climber and so I didn’t really get too far outside the fold of work and hanging out with my brother in his world. This round thus far has been punctuated by a lot of time to ponder exactly what the hell is coming up next. There’s the looming problem of not having a place of my own yet, which is being slowly remedied. Living on a couch is no way to run the backend of a personal business. It’s downright hoboish in fact. No client wants to come to your studio if your studio consists of the three foot radius around the second hand couch in your brother’s 1 bedroom apartment. There’s probably a experimental art project within that situation, but I don’t think I’ll chase that one.

So, there’s some art competitions I’m submitting to, a job I have an interview on Thursday which I intend on nailing like Heysus Kristo for a super sick job working as a photographer/writer cum public school outreach worker. Helping kids learn to express themselves through the mediums of the written word and the picture taking box. Part time, pays ridiculous, and would be pretty fun methinks. It’s really the only job I’ve ever been perfectly qualified for, and it’s a pretty legit excuse to bust out the new suit. No child left behind may have been a ball wrenching failure, but its hangover here in Texas might mean a decent paycheck for yours truly. Thank you George Bush? That felt icky.

Some good friends of mine are getting married next weekend, which will be a mix of stress and good old fashioned fun. I’m the photographer, so it’ll be a work day. It pays though, and once I’m done I can eat nice food and drink with the brides Itali/Peruvian extended family. We’ll think of it as a launch pad for the USS Wedding Photography career. But like any good mission put on by our local outfit NASA, it wont get off the ground. Weddings are stress factories, and I’d really rather be dodging bullets in Afghanistan with a camera, than being constantly berated with the petty complaints of stressed out wedding head cases, self important mothers and overly protective fathers of brides and grooms.

I found a girl who likes to eat almost as much as I do. We drink, dance, and then go find Mexican food at 3 am. There’s something amazingly alluring about a girl who wears stilettos and will put the hurt on a enchilada platter then make out with you in the parking lot. If that’s not special, I don’t know what is. You should all be very jealous. Unless you’re into dude’s, in which case you should be jealous of her. Did that come off as conceited? I sure hope so.

I’m going to end this one for now. It wasn’t that funny, but it’s a shaking off of the dust. I’ll credit my friend the Wizard of Koz for goosing me into writing on this blog again. Apparently I’m very easily persuaded to give a shit.

Skinned Knees and Melted Cheese.

Max HP

2009-09-06T06:02:00.000-07:00

So I could spend a whole paragraph dwelling on the fact that I haven't updated in a long while, and how I generally neglect this blog because I'm lazy blah blah blah. But I wont. I'll just drop the odd hint about my past months and you'll be that much more amazed at how adventurous and worldly I am. It's more pretentious that way.

Just did. Damn. Anyway I bit the bullet and went and got a tattoo here in Thailand. Yep thailand. There's a pretty common tattoo here that a lot of fighters and generally supersititious people might have. Five lines of ancient Kahmer script and buddah symbols that protect the bearer. Traditional tattoos here are sort of a hybrid buddhist, Khamer, hindi magic that can protect the wearer from a diaspora of ailments, dangers, and general bad vibes. It all a bit confused as far as I can see, and in the modern age of tattoos for aesthetic's sake it's bound to get not only confused, but a bit convoluted. That said, I got it as a bit of a momento of a bit of a momentous journey into the big bad world. We could all use a little extra protection sometimes methinks. too bad I didn't get it before I got into that scooter accident. Lesson learned. Get tattoos to ward off a bad future.

Because I'm not a buddhist, I went for a half and half tattooing method. Half being done with modern tattoo gun, the other half being done with a tradtional stick poke method. I thought it a bit more genuine to the way I live my life and what the tattoo means to me. I'm not 100% convinced by the pursuits of purely mystical or esoteric world, but then again, I'm not 100% convinced the modern ideals of the world are doing us any better. there I go being all two sided again. Anyway, I thought if there's anyone still reading this blog, you might be interested in seeing a bit of the stick poke business at work. The video is a bit shaky because the cameraman was being repeatedly jabbed in the ribs by a very sharp needle. He apologizes.

Inky Needles and The Thai Beatles,
Oopey

Fuck Multiculturalism

2009-08-04T03:04:00.000-07:00

I'm going to Outback Steakhouse for dinner, because I want a steak. I think the whole world should speak english. And america wins.

Oh, and don't mess with Texas.

Etc.
Oopey

Korea in 20 mintues or less

2009-08-03T03:59:00.000-07:00

So... Korea. Get it. Not north. Nevermind.

This keyboard has like a one position shift on the bottom row so all of a sudden I'm a really bad typer. I'm sitting in a PCbang which is pretty much all the kids around me have probably gotten as far as loving goes. Computer sex joke, nevermind. I can't string along a clever thought to save my taint today. I've come into this cafe to observe the Korean national sport of Starcraft, as played by the pale masses in windowless rooms. There's a bank of computers in a stantchioned off area labeled "Couples" needless to say it's as empty as a lawers convention after a 60 car pileup. Hmm... still no good, I'll get something funny in by the end. I swear.

So I was in busan for about three days, hanging with my old pal from the AMC huts gig. I didn't get much sight seeing done, as I was fairly strung out from the overnight flight/inflight hangover/ luggage loss/ bullet train ride etc. My internal clock was proper fucked, so we got drunk stayed up late, and ent about as far as the corner store. The corner store served as the launchpad for the next few nights of Soju induced ribaldry and jaw sessions aplenty. So I was mostly a creature of the night in Busan, though a rather unadventerous one. It was entertaining, and a very neccessary decompression from the rigors of indian culture.

Here's what I've noticed about Korea. I wont label them all drunks, but I've certainly seen some amazing displays of sheer wastery and alcohol induced hijinx. After about 7pm the streets are swarming with waves of beligerently trashed middle aged men. Alcoholism is a bit of a problem here I've been told. A high pressure collectivist society and no access to any other drugs means korea's developed a drinkign culture that encourages over doing it as both a way to cope with stress and a method of bonding between other stress cases. Seeing a 45 year old man in a suit crawling throught he gutter at about 10pm is not uncommon, and dustups between friends and foes alike seem to erupt pretty regularly. I saw a guy get as hard as I've ever seen anyone get hit in my life. And while he was out cold on the ground, the champ of the round proeeded to kick him in the face a few times. Brutal.

So. Lots of drinking. Got that covered. A general distrust for the japanese, they've got that covered. Historical issues you understand.

Umm... I've been a hangaround at the incheon womens art bienniale in incheon for the last few days. My brother's GF was showing work, though the building she has her piece in has been locked since installation, including opening day. Shitty organizaiton overall. A lot of sub par shite on the art front, but a few notables that I'll tell you about if you ask. The art world is a strange jam, full of even stranger people. I've never met a group of people so hung up on the details. We'll not the details, but the implicaitons of the details of the details,and so on and so forth. It's a little maddening, but I've been trying to cut the pretension by being my oppotunistically crass self and keeping it generally juvenile. It's fun to pretend to not be sophisticated, and it gets you out of a lot of potentially really pointless conversations. My art degree has served me well, and I still think feminism is sort of a cop out in the modern age.

Today I put in an order for a custom tailored suit. Do I have that kind of money? no probably not, but my brother was getting one, so I had to do my duty as younger sibling. The tailor has met a Bush, and made shirts for the ex governor of Texas. Small world. It's going to be a grayish blue pinstripe with a shiny oxblood floral print lining. I figured might as well get a little flashy for the cashy. Look for it at your next formal occasion.

I think I'm going to go get a burger, korean food is sort of a one trick pony as far as the spice profile goes. Kimchi, red chili, or bean paste. Meh. Bit heavy handed and it makes the foul winds blow. Ha fart joke on the outro.

Bad Arts and Cabbage Farts,
Oopey

Shutdown... or damn near

2009-06-28T06:12:00.000-07:00

We went to Agra yesterday. It was a nightmare. It was hot. It was rushed. It was overpriced.

Agra is the home of the illustrious Taj Mahal. We had about 45 minutes to see it. The bus parked 15 minutes from the gate. The math suggests a rip off.

I don't mean to be unfair or elitist, but make sure your Indian tour is geared towards foreigners. We, and another pod of non-Indians, were misled into taking a tour on a bus full of Indian tourists. The bus was cramped, the AC barely worked (despite the high premium paid), the guide info was mostly delivered in hindi, and we were dragged to sights and places that expected exorbident amounts of money for poor and misleading services. We spent a 45 mintues at the Taj and 45 minutes at a crappy little shop that sold replica Taj Mahal nick-nacks, though we hadn't even been the genuine article yet. The idea of commission is alive and well in India. From the lowliest dope pusher, to most legitimate tourism services, to anything retail. It makes India fantastically annoying. Getting marooned at a handi crafts shop because your tour guide wants a cut from the 400 rupees some sap pays for a Taj replica is a drag.

As frustrating as it all was, it made my photographic mission a bit more succinct. As in I had to get as many decent shots in 20 minutes as possible. It was nice to know that I can, if pressured, compose, capture, and set up good shots in short amounts of time. That's about the most positive thing I can come up with.

I tried to get out of Delhi today. The foreign tourist office at the train station was closed. There were people in the office, but they were watching TV or napping, which exactly what goes on usually, except the door was locked today. Delhi is trying my patience with it's abundance of touts and tourists. The indian notion that we're all friends because were all human has really been honed by the parade of stoney backpackers here in delhi. The commission junkies and minor league scammers tell you what they think you want to hear, or what they think you want to hear. I can dig the one race one planet thing, but when it ends with a blatantly exploitative sales pitch, it just makes India feel cheap and artificial in all it's holiness and canon. Which I have to say, for the most part, it seems to be just that. Holiness and hospitality have taken a very subservient role to the almighty INR. Not that this is only an indian problem, certainly everywehre is subject to the freinds for money gig, but since I'm in india now, it's really all I care to discuss.

I told some greasy hash dealer to fuck off today, and he got all huffy, told me I was an asshole (or the hindi equivalent) and immediately made the same sales pitch to the other white kid walking behind me. I don't recall ever saying I wanted any hash, and the fact that he grabbed my arm at first, and failed to cease when I first told him I didn't want anything from him, I thought was perfectly deserving of a big ol' "Get the fuck away from me." Guess not.

The shame trip is particularly annoying as well. Just because I'm white means I have money. Granted I probably have more money than a large majority of the street people will ever see, but merchants who seem to be doing all right will always make the desperation pitch that, in the big picture, such and such a ripoff is ok because "you're rich ser. We in india are not." Not my fault. I'm not rich when I'm not in india, and I still ahve to live off my money for two more months, so no I cannot afford your crappy scarf.

Hmm.... I'm coming across as a bit bitter. Haven't slept well in days thanks to my sauna of a room, and india will grate on your every nerve if you're not well rested. I need to get back to the hills.

Annoying Touts and Govt Louts,
Oopey

Things that i'm overthinking

2009-06-26T06:01:00.000-07:00

I want to buy weapons. I want to buy belly dancing gear. The order of said purchases and subsequent utilizaiton ofsuch items evades me. I want a pretty girl to make vaguely DnD photo's with. I think I grew up reading too many fantasy novels. Curved blades and jewelry adorned hips and foreheads are cliche, but sometimes things are cliche for a reason.

There's a heat wave in Delhi, which is bananas. Even the Indian's are bitching about how hot it is. I'm not sure they don't bitch anyway, but one would think after enough complaining, they might realize India is not for them.

I bought a pocket english dictionary today. For too long I've been surfing on my supposed vocabulary, but too often I quesiton the meaning of words I absolutely ought to know. It makes me extremely anxious when I need to use a word, but I'm unsure of it's precise meaning but have to use it for lack of a synonym. Gads that irks me.

The specter of Oscar Wilde has been haunting me recently. Not literally, but all manner of Wilde oriented media has been flowing my way. I was also told, by the facebook, that Oscar Wilde is the wacky writer whom I most resemble, whatever that means. So I've decided to abandon all literature that was not penned by Oscar Wilde, get get my Wilde On as it were. I remember "A Picture of Dorian Grey" and I think I dug it, but high school was a strange time. Along with my english-hindi dictionary, my english dictionary, and my lonely planet, I bought three books which ought to help pass the impending 24 hour bus and train rides.

Incidentally I broke down and bought the india lonely planet. I thought I could make it without, but I found myself using the internet to find stuff in india, which is a dilapidated fun-house drag. It weighs about seventeen pounds and has way more info than I should ever need, but them's the breaks.

I have more to talk about, but I'm going to go try some mango sandwich thingy.

Heat Waves and Hindi babes,
Oopey

Shiva be Praised

2009-06-24T00:45:00.000-07:00

I can finally hook my laptop up direct to this here interwebs. I'm even going to do it later, so look forward to some wierd little ditties about titties, or whatever i've managed to type up in teh past few weeks. oh boy.

Direct Connects and Indian Cheques,
Oopey

weezy blog

2009-06-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

I am remiss to post facebook related funnery on here, but i've had a few beers and it's starting to really gain a head of steam, what with the heatstroke I racked up while walking around varanassi all day.

That said, a recent thread on Paul's facebook has tickled me. Status: Paul is laughing at the guy on the skytrain listening to weezy while reading 'how to win friends and influence people'

The subsequent thread read something like.

Oopey Mason at 11:40pm June 15
be weezy. print it, ship it, sell it, profit

Lucas Gallagher at 2:34am June 16
so, the weezy worked and you guys are now friends?

Oopey Mason at 11:21am June 16
chapter one. Listen to weezy. Chapter 2:ride public transit.

Lucas Gallagher at 12:04pm June 16
chapter three: dealing with success.

Genius. India is hot. I'm not posting travel stuff here anymore, just non-sequiters and such. I apologize for this facebook interlude bullshit. Weezy run it.

Monkey AttaCK!

2009-06-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was dang near attacked by a monkey whilst enjoying a rapily warming bottle of water. I was in the rooftop cafe of our hostel, and the golden menace just sort of crept up the drainpipe behind me. Apparently you're not supposed to make eye contact unless you want a face full of monkey fang. The waiter threw a chair at him, preventing him from executing his pounce towards my person. Monkey attacks are no way to get through life.

That said, it's generally a hot drag here. 120F yesterday, 115 today, 120 tomorrow. You'd think everybody would be naked, but nudity is a no go here. All the guys wear skirts, called lungis, which are essentially linnen table cloths magically folded so that even when they're sleepnng ont he street legs spread wide, you don't get a glimpse of any retna scarring homeless indian guy sack.

In other news, David Carradine of Kung Fu and Kill Bill fame was found dead in his hotel room in bankok a couple days ago. He was naked, his hands were tied, and he was hanging from his neck in his closet. They're calling in the FBI. I believe what the FBI will tell his family, is that after enough cocaine, alcohol, and whatever other wierd shit david carradine did whle riding his kung fu fame through the 80's led to him being a bit of a freak in the boudior. I'm guessing there were at least two other people in that room, and both were being well paid to get him close to death, and well on his way to catching some jollies. Shame really, tarantino couldn't have written it better himself. Well, he probably could have, it's nothing all that new. I'd like to see how the rza would score carradine's last night. I still like the one about the priest who they found asphyxiated in his rubber suit hanging in his closet. he was by himself from the get go. That's some dedication. very punny indeed.

Alls well that ends well?
Not David Carradine

Three Thoughts for a Power Outage

2009-05-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

The lights just went out. It happens here. Rain means water, and water means landslides. Our first night it was also raining and the road up to the resort had been effectively negated by a whole tree fallen from the bank above. It sounds rugged, but it really isn’t. People have been here for a long time, and somewhere back there, they decided they’d go for it on the inhabitation front, landslides be damned.

There’s a bat sized moth flapping violently around my room. He’s been here since last night. I thought he might have died due to his kamikaze flight plans and dangerous enthusiasm for solid light fixtures, but alas he survives. He seems especially fond of the candle I’ve just lit. I think it’s a poor choice for him. I’ve named him Iccarus, because in any case, it’s the best possible name for a moth.

Today I went river rafting. The river was pretty calm, so it was more river floating accented with a few moderate drenchings. I floated free of the boat for a good deal of it, because the six year old in our group was being a complete six year old about the whole experience. The girls were wearing burkas. I couldn’t shake the thought that swimming in a burka would be akin to a mild water boarding, what with the water and the cloth over the face. Oh, and the being a Muslim bit. I swallowed some river water, if it gets me sick, I’m going to be upset.

photo test

2009-05-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

Just testing this picasa upload function. Bare with me people, the internet over here is a painful thing at times. More to come. I hope.

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Love,
Oopey

Ode to Daal

2009-05-15T19:05:00.000-07:00

Oh Daal, Daal,
You yellow soupy gruel
Tasting slightly of curry,
You softener of stool.

At every meal I eat you
With chapattis or some rice.
You’re usually served lukewarm
Not so bad, not nice

Love,
Oopey

Muslim Nations and Thai Prostitutes= Solid first Post from the road

2009-05-06T12:59:00.001-07:00

Yep, Dubai. It's a head trip. It's like the biggest strip mall you've ever seen, only they sell mostly Lamboghinis and other high end commodities. I'm booked into this hotel that is apparently located dead in the filipino part of town. My hotel has two bars located between the first and second floor. One is called Gravity and it is dubbeded the "New filipino hangout." I went in for my complimentary beer, and lo and behold there was a 7 or 8 piece live band of filipino's who covered in order, Bob marley, Abba, Lipps Inc.(funky town), begees, and one other disco song tht escapes me right now. There were three smoking hot filipinas gogo dancing/singing these tunes, while a vaguely pimpish looking fellow just sort of danced behind them and in front of the band.

Upon my entrance they immediately made light of my situation by saying over the mic to the other 4 people in the bar "hey, lonely guy! you got no girl tonight?" Then they broke into No Woman, No Cry. It was enough to make me need another 9 dollar beer.

I wandered around the block a bit, soaking in the local fashions and such. Let it be known that the clothing options here in Dubai are either Prayer robes, as I call them Prayjamas, or a really painful mix of euro douche meets persian douche. Between Ed Hardy and DnG, people around here don't stand a chance of being my friends. I had a guy in a ralph lauren shirt and slacks ask me for change. I almost gave him some before I realized I didn't quite know the conversion from American dollars to well dressed beggar change.

Upon returning to my hotel, I decided I would scare up one more beer to celebrate the fact that I now knew my cash card worked. I went up to the nexus between the filipino bar and the other bar and asked teh attendant which was my better option. Incidentally every establishment has a greeter of some sort. The Popeye's down the way has one, no joke. Don't worry the dirty rice is Halaal.

The guy at teh door said "whats up man?" followed by " you see how I said whats up before I said hello? Super cool right?"

"Of course" I said.

Well long story short he suggested the bar to the right called 'The ol' 49er gold rush Saloon' assuring me that it was a really good Russian bar. What the fuck indeed.

I went in orderd my beer and sat in amazement as the international crowd got groovy to the live heavy metal band White night, who covered in ordere, James Blunt, Faith hill, and Joan Osborne. Somewhere near the line 'stranger on the bus' a professionally good looking asian girl took the seat next to me at the bar and asked for a smoke.

Yep you guessed it, prostitute. Thai prostitute. I don't really swing for the whole paying for the bad touch, and I was fairly certain from the get go she was pro, because why else would a hot 30 something thai chick in a hotel bar talk to the wierdo in the cutoff carharts, purple cowboy shirt and ridiculous mustache. After an exceptionally awkward silence of solicitory agony, she asked if A) I was staying in the hotel, and B)If i wanted a massage. I declined with some excuse like, I have a very early flight and I have work to do. I'm new to this, my hooker game will get better. I swear. honestly I really didn't think I had the cash, plus my camera gear is worth more than a bitching handjob for however much she would've charged. Sigh. Prostitutes bum me out, but man if they aint smoking hot sometimes.

But that's about it so far. Tomorrow I go for the total mindfuck flight to Calcutta, where I will ascertain if i can in fact take my camera out without being crushed with paranoia and anxiety. Wish me luck.

Russian Metal and Thai Petals,
Oopey

Very Funny Indeed

2009-05-05T10:07:00.000-07:00

Click the post title.

It is good.

Sleepy white noise

2009-05-03T20:06:00.001-07:00

Two nights, one and a half shows. Last night I went and checked out a boston rock outfit called Township. They were really great. I bought all three of thier CD's and they were even nice enough to sign em all. They were opening for a Montreal band called Priestess, who also killed it pretty well. Considering the final attendance was somewehre in the range of 50 people, it could have been grim. The first band was bitching on the mic about how akward and lame the crowd was being. The lesson here is that you should jsut fucking play, and if you're not being vain and petty, people will rock with you. I brought my camera and subsequently got some of my shots up on Township's myspace, because they're cool like that. Still waiting to hear back from the guys in Priestess, but no big whoop. Scope some select shots.

This evening I attended what was dubbed a "noise show" in a rehearsal space over in the north end of burlington. I drank a beer with my buddy who booked the show, and after the first act, I decided it was time to go. Noise music just compounds fatigue i guess, because now I'm amazingly tired. I got a few shots of that show, but most of it was technical issues with the speakers. I guess the system wasn't into being used for crushing distorted noise. It's funny to watch people head bang to something that is utterly without a beat or recognizable melody. White kids, ha.

This week is the true jump off for the india adventure, and I feel much more prepared for the whole thing. Guess swine flu aint the worst thing to happen. Well, maybe for the dead people, but who's counting them anyway. That third world death just don't quite pack the same wollop as cute young white girl death. Sigh.

In other news my website, or some semblance of my website ought to be up and running by tomorrow. Fingers and legs crossed. Oopeyphoto.com has been stewing for a long while, and honestly it's sort of driving me bonkers. Something about choosing 150 images out of an archive of over 20000 is a bit daunting for an over thinker like myself. Too many options. Fack.

Epidemic Alarmism

2009-04-28T07:51:00.000-07:00

So in the interest of not getting stuck in some far away airport while this Swine flu business works it's wiggles out, my trip has been delayed. It's not an issue of me getting sick, as these things tend to prey on the very young, very old, and very malnourished, but at this point it seems to be enough to have everyone shaking in their tyvec suits and dorky looking face masks (which the CDC says do nothing incidentally). Now that this hyped up pig sick has made its way to the Middle East and parts of Asia, it would be a fair assumption that airports and other travel oriented places will be curbing services, canceling flights, and generally ignoring the humanity within their walls. I'm not down with that, and as over the top as Dubai may be, I would probably not enjoy a week in their airport. Also Calcutta is one of those places where things like epidemics can really feel at home upon arrival, so it may be best to avoid the one of the most crowded and dirty cities on earth until everyone has calmed down, or turned into Pig-zombies. Better clean my boomsticks.

In the meantime, here's a totally bonkers video that I came across this morning. It reeks of seedy hollywood sexuality, and producers who had some serious fun so these girls could get their "schtick in the films." Give it a minute, it gets real crazy a little ways in.

Downward Dogs and Dirty Hogs,
Oopey

Cronchings and Monchings

2009-04-26T19:33:00.000-07:00

Lets all go to India! Inevitable lack of time to prepare looming. Tomorrow is gonna be insane with the errands and last minute scramblings of my inability to manage time. On top of that I'm considering coughing up some serious dough to get a livebooks website, because lets face it, I'm never going to learn web design. The very concept bores me to no end. So in the face of the fervent insanity of tomorrow and the week ahead, lets look back on a week that had some odd turns. Bike rides, Maple Fest, getting drunk, and generally enjoying what was the first real day of spring here in the cold nor' east.

Aren't they just adorable?
Top Shelf VT style

Carnies and their Carni tricks.
Puke Rocket

Goofing around at a Holocaust Memorial (insert indignation here)
Messing around with straight lines.
Yer damn right we're twins.

Freak Shows and Low Blows,

Oopey

Consumerist Boner

2009-04-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

My new camera came in the mail today. It's really something else. New lenses and other accessories also came. They are also something else. I picked up a tiny little laptop that weighs under three pounds for cheap. It is what it is, and what it is is adorable. Nobody cares yet, and I know that, but instead of the light gushing I usually direct to at friends, I shall gush on to the internet where the current will be consumed into the tides of this apathetic sea.

I love life right now, and it's because I bought things. Does that make me a bad person? Probably, huh? Oh well, I'll live.

Love,

Oopey

Here's a picture posted from said Lappy 486, taken on the aforementioned light box. Edit free.

Err

2009-04-21T07:17:00.000-07:00

Does wanting one of these make me a dork? It's a camera case cum gun belt style holster. And yes there is a quickdraw option.

Today Was A Good Day, and other common phrases appropriated by Pop culture

2009-04-16T20:20:00.000-07:00

I had 30 minutes to kill before sweating my nuts off in a Bikram yoga class. There was a junk shop across the street. It made too much sense. I saw the junk shop employee put this on the shelf and it hadn't had a second to collect it's obligatory dust before it became mine. Two dollars later and with the assurance of the till lady that she "Aint sure if it works, untested." It looks to be in working order though. The apeture control is so fucking brilliantly simple. It's beautiful. I read up on it here on the ol interweb and apparently it has a piece of lead (old school metal, when men were men) in the base plate to give the little guy some "heft." It still weighs nothing, but I'll take the slow death to up my street cred.

I really hope it works. It's so sweet looking. I'm getting sick of the sanitary look my digital photos. I've been looking at a lot of dirty pictures recently(take that how you will), and cheapo is fucking in. I'll have the first roll shot by tomorrow sometime and then a day for developing. By monday I hope to be looking into a simpler time on a more genuinely human format.

Time Magazine,

Here I come

In case you want to rob me

2009-04-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

I just ordered my new camera gear. d700 anybody? Been a long time coming. Today will be a good day.

Elimae

2009-04-15T21:17:00.000-07:00

I learned about this site on the briefly lived Christopher Walken twitter page. It wasn't Walken in fact, but some editor from some paper, but he was awesome and it was super funny. Anyway check out this journal/website of creative writing. fiction Poetry and other good snippets.

Elimae

Love,

Oopey

It's a Euphemism, see?

2009-04-15T15:05:00.000-07:00

For some reason, recently I’ve been having a lot of conversations about a peculiar subject. Autoerotic Asphyxiation. For those of you who posses poor vocabularies or are unfamiliar with the internet, it breaks down like this. Auto = self. Erotic =Sexy. Assfix = butt implants. I=the nominative singular pronoun used by a speaker in referring to him or herself. A= the first letter in the alphabet I’m using to write. And tion= which is to ignore something actively, like what I do to ugly children and people who’ve just pooped their pants.

Just kidding it’s way funnier than that. Auto erotic asphyxiation is when you mortally cut off your oxygen supply while shifting your own goodie gears, strumming your banjo, or extracting crotch jelly. In it's most severe practice, it falls under the broader category of auto erotic death, which can include, but is not limited to, breaking ones own neck while trying to bob for the flesh apples of your own tree, falling off a ledge whilst playing a mean boner jam, and/or fatally hitting your head post-blackout during self-strangulation, whilst making sweet love to the terminal members of your hand.

But seriously, dying by accident while your jerking off? how embarrassing for everyone. Not only will they find you pants at your ankles, equipped for the afterlife with only a bottle of lotion and a dirty gym sock, but you’re also fucking dead. As we know from Darwin’s teachings, dying means you’re a wussy.

Dying with your dick lodged in something/someone when you die is either the greatest final send off, or the most pathetic, and tragic end imaineable. You may die in you final joyous embrace, or end up dick down in a sheep.

But dying just for that little extra thrill that asphyxiation provides, that’s just being irresponsible. Some people think god frowns on masturbation. Those same people usually believe killing ones self to be a great way to go to hell. I guess that makes auto erotic- death pretty much the ultimate non-stop ticket to the nether pits.

As the Streets (shudder) say “I want to go to heaven for the weather, and hell for the company.” My bet is some rockabilly guy came up with that first, and that punk ass brit hack stole it.

Love,

Oopey

A Brief Survey

2009-04-15T07:57:00.001-07:00

I put an adult content warning on my blog for a reason. I have yet to really exercise that option though. I came across this site via Fazed.net the other day one of my web pools, and I think it's sort of fascinating. One friend claims he's super creeped out by it, which i guess I can understand. I think being ignorant of the means to the end, i.e. are these women consenting to this display, or is it a rash of ex's and amateur pornographers plying thier seedy trade, helps to curb the exploitive elements. I'm guessing it's a mix of good an ill intentions, married couples spicing things up etc. , but it doesn't make it any less fascinating. Perhaps it's the unbridalded amateurism of the pictures fascinating my voyeuristic mind, perhaps its just my fascination with the female form, but either way I give it a thumbs up.

Guess Her Muff

I also like that the site is not immediately pornographic, and really does encourage the guess. I dunno.

Love,

Oopey

Transition. Period.

2009-04-15T07:37:00.000-07:00

This little snippet of photographic whathaveyou-ery shall stand as my attempt at a transition. Yesterday we rode out bikes along the lake, relaxed at a few choice spots, and generally held ourselves unaccountable on a tuesday afternoon. After spending an hour or so amongst the college going bro-brahs that my friend lives with, it was time to depart from the downtown area. Oh and his roomates like guns, and bongs, and beer. And they have a puppy. so there are pictures of those too.

This is very funny to me.

Love,

Oopey

Great State O' Texas

2009-04-14T19:16:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if I'm watching my country come apart at the seams or just witnessing some good ol' Texas pride. My only thought is this. The Gov. of Texas is claiming that the federal govt. is intruding on the essential rights and privacies of it citizenry. This I believe, as I have a bit of a libertarian streak in me. What seems to be ignored is the fact that a good majority of the intrusion on the individuals rights were pushed and enacted by a Texan, Mr. G.W. Bush, albiet under the super-villinous glare of one black hearted D. Cheny. I'm all for states rights, except for waht most of the ugly bits of the south would be really into (i.e. banning homos, and generally regressing back into biblical law). But if the people of texas are really that pissed off at being a part of an oppressed citizenry, they ought to start in thier own backyard. Better social programs, the ousting of the bush influence, and a little more eco consciousness all around. I love texas, don't get me wrong, but good ol' boyedness is now way to make new friends. Also frying retarded people should probably stop. Look at me, I'm such a nosy liberal.

Keep on Givn'r

2009-04-13T13:13:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day. It's for real now kids.

So in an effort to curb a morning peppered with flakes of general annoyance I thought I'd do something that, while sort of unpleasant, made me feel good. Let your dirty minds riff on that for just a second....aaaaaand were back.

In light of the fact that in the last week my father killed a guy and a friend in texas passed away, both as a result of vehicular mishaps I decided it was time to give blood again. Being O positive, I'm compatible with anyone who has positive blood, so I guess that makes me sort of a walking piggy bank of yummy blood for those in need. So I went and gave my double red, nearly passed out due to nutritional neglect and spent an hour after zombing around town in a temporary anemic haze. I told the lady at the blood bank I was gonna go get a beer after and she told me I'm not funny. But she works in a blood bank so she's not exactly an authority on humor. Vampires are notoriously humorless.

Soon after the blood letting I picked up the Car O' Death from the Police station and drove it to the body shop. I thought maybe it would be weird to drive a car that had killed someone, but it was immediately apparent that cars have no identifiable soul to taint and the only reminder of it's indiscretions was a slight whistle from the dent in the hood. I guess for that sound alone i was a bit weirded out, but then again I'm really not that sensitive.

So call this day what you will, I'll call it my day of human mortality.

R.i.P Leigh Boone. Donations and support go here http://lovingleigh.chipin.com/lovingleigh

I need to go do something happy.

Happy Thoughts and Emotional Knots,
Oopey

Little Nasties

2009-04-13T08:02:00.000-07:00

It's 11am and already my day has been filled with unpleasant things. I was roused from my bed by my father essentially to assist a credit card's trip to the back lot of a police station where my father's car was being processed after he hit and killed a homeless man a week or so ago. Long story, he's not at fault, but it's sad none the less. So within an hour of waking up, and without any coffee or sugar in my system I had already seen the aftermath of a human Vs. Automobile battle. Thankfully they had cleaned the blood off, so the narrative was told only by teh head sized hole in the windshield and the ribcage sized dent in the hood.

I stopped to get some coffee, and it was terrible. Bitter and near undrinkable even with a pantload of sugar. So with a brain only half full of caffine I embarked on my customer service oddessy of paradoxical annoyance. First stop, a hangover from an ill fated internet dating endeavor. They were actually pretty nice and refunded the automatic charge to my CC which I had forgotten about, as they often hope one will. Still a half hour on the phone to deal with something you thought you'd left behind in a dorky and internet fueled head space seems like a waste of life.

Then there's bank of america. The ultimate assholes. The only place I've ever been where they'll say you owe them money for transactions you were not aware took place, that there's no way that they can waive the 35 dollar fees incurred from purcheses of $1.94 and $2.35 you made because you had no idea the woman at continental chraged teh wrong credit card for the ticket you had to buy at the last second. A snippet of dialouge.

BOA: "I'm sorry sir, but this can't be classified as a banking error, therefore you will have to pay the full 150 dollars of overdraft fees assesed as well as the 300 dollars for the ticket."
Me: "I intend to pay for the ticket, but knowingly taking a 35 dollar fee for a 1.94 packf of gum is idiotic and I obviously would not have done it had I known the woman charged the wrong card."
BOA: "That may be sir, but it's not a bank error (read:you are an idiot) and you will have to pay the full fees."
Me: "Well then I'll pay the ticket price and close my account, but I'm not paying any fees to you pirates. It's extortion"
BOA: "In that Case I'm going to have to refer your account to the collections department. Have you considered opening a credit card account to qualify for overdraft protection?"
Me: "Would that negate my fees?"
BOA: "No, but next time it would secure you against such things"
Me: "Bit late for that is it not?"
BOA : "Yes but next time it would help (read: Give us more money and bow before our mighty money powers of financial rape.)
Me: "This is ridiculous, you're not getting any of that fee money. "
BOA : "Well sir I'll refer your case to the collections department. Is there anything else I can help(WTF!) you with today?"
Me : "Apparently not, your bank is awful"
BOA : "Well sir have a nice day and we appreciate your business"
Me: "I don't think you do."

I mean jeezus do these people have absolutely no concept of what they're saying? It's like walking up to a stranger and kicking him in the sweets and while he's doubled over in pain and breathing shallowly, you say "Man you're super nice, it was nice to meet you."

Then there's trying to figure out what accounts to open to travel the world, and realizing every bank in the US charges a ridiculous amount of interest on any sort of money transaction outside of the country. It's almost like our banking system and government don't want Americans to leave the comfy confines of our piss poor economy to maybe get some perspective on jsut how sheltered we are, and the fact that most of the world thinks we're assholes. (Nooo, that's not true!) Luckily I went to school in a foreign country and I already know all this (Oh but it is.). As my rather informed freind put it
EBW "I guess it's the tradeoff for limited liability, fluidity, and access to credit.all things near and dear to capitalists"
Me: "What a bunch of Tools."
EBW:"Word"

Now I'm triyng to find quotes for insurance to cover my camera gear whilst abroad. I think they're gonna be difficult about it, because I don't rent or own a home. As I explained to the agent, owning a home or paying rent, and being employed all cut down on ones ability to travel and be mobile, and really ought not to factor into a plan to pull up your roots and see the world. Plus I can borrow against my investments. For some reason he seemed skeptical that an unemployed 25 year old enthusiast photographer living at home with plans to travel for 5 months has no means of collateral. I would say that in such a situation it would seem to me that that no-good vagabond probably has something somewhere if he's looking for a quote on 10k worth of gear, so you really ought to assume he's not a gutter punk scumfuck.

I just have to keep reminding myself that I'm going to india in two weeks, and it's gonna rock le cock. Or destroy me. Either way I'm into it.

What Is Apparent

2009-04-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

My freind told me that he does not suffer from what he calls "Fantasies of Violence." He implied that I do suffer from this condition. Perhaps it was the three knives I was wearing on my belt for no good reason other than I thought it was funny and awesome. I guess our senses of humor don't quite mesh at times.

I like guns, I like fire. I enjoy learning about military history and the intricacies of human conflict. I recognize teh suffering such conflict has caused and will continue to cause, but I suppose I find it fascinating that although there are no civilizations on earth that have avoided conflict entirely, most still support its agents and perpetuate its causes. Human's are assholes plain and simple. Not every human is an asshole, but Humans certainly are. Nothing ground breaking here, but I really needed to write something simple to get this blog started again.

Now I'm gonna go work on something that I will eventually blast with a shotgun for the sake of art. Good day.

Fist Fights and Cordite
Oopey

Birdhouses for the Soul

2008-02-22T11:24:00.001-08:00

Click this to get to my Flickr

portland day 1 2840
Originally uploaded by Oopey Mason

I love this

2007-11-19T01:24:00.000-08:00

FUCK YEA

Discover that which you have forgotten and reap knowledge anew.

2007-11-11T02:21:00.000-08:00

A meditation on One Edgar Allen Poe
Edgar Allen Poe- I'm currently reading "The Science Fiction of E.A. Poe," and I'm infatuated with its every word. I haven't been reading much recently, as I've let my self dabble in the complacency of Television, to the great detriment of my mental facilities. Poe's work is rapidly driving the stray cattle of my intellect back towards the herd. His inclinations towards the vernacular of Romanticism is refreshing in the glare of much of the edgy contemporary pop-fiction I've been consuming in the recent past. I managed to forget the fact that dexterity with language and an ability to create near poetic prose is often far more fulfilling to the active mind than the hard edged, slang-heavy tendencies of writers like Welsh, Self, and Phallinuck. Granted I think these authors are worthy of a great deal of merit for their contributions to the addressing of taboos and flaws within society, and their presentation in an entertaining and innovative approach to their material. However, they lack a certain grace, aside from the paradoxical grace and beauty found in the exceptionally ugly and violent.

Poe's work in the above collection is gracefully disturbing, whimsically poignant, refreshingly diverse, and brilliantly mischievous. until this book I had ignorantly assumed the majority of Poe's work to be in a similar vein to his Telltale hart, Raven, Pit and the Pendulum, The Black Cat darkness. On the contrary I now see that these foundational works of my childhood exhibit only a select facet of his abilities as a story teller.

Incidentally it gives me yet another resurgence of respect for my Kindergarten, 1st grade, and fifth grade teacher Ed Bianchi who read Poe's work to us during class. At the time most of us were fairly hung up on the plot and the disturbing particulars of the stories. I doubt many of us had a significant mastery of language and sense of style to appreciate the nuances of the narrative. Now after years of writing papers and analyzing the literal and abstract within literature, I am beginning to really appreciate the pure composition of a work without having to painfully dissect bits and pieces that ultimately weren't as intrinsic to the whole as I often tried to make them seem in obligatory thesii.

This is getting long winded. Read Poe. Be Amazed.

Authors note, this was not edited because it's late and I have work early in the morning.

This is Me

2007-10-30T10:39:00.001-07:00

bLoCk PaRtY @ Livestock

2007-10-30T10:22:00.000-07:00

So there was this street party and I brought my 35mm, because I knew everyone else would go digital. Needless to say I ran out of fil quickly and had to buy a whole bunch of rolls of kodak 400 (blech) at rediculous bodega prices. In the end the colors are actually pretty bitching. There's more, I just don't feel like posting them.

A breif statement of style

2007-10-03T14:01:00.000-07:00

so I had to write this BS paper on personal style in art, but it sort of tunred itno something else. It's a fun little glimpse(I love that word) at the way things seem to be going around here. It's poorly edited and full of bad grammar, but it's a rough draft cum final draft due to time constraints.

As a person, artist, and creature of this world against itself, concocting a statement concerning personal style is problematic. At a period of life which is characterized by constant flux and resistance to the barrage of media, social pressures and controls, and an increasingly strategic manner, filtering reality from personal perceived reality is a forest from the trees situation. Gone are the days of angsty teenage emotion and my naïve sense of invincibility. In its place, an increasingly complex web of insecurities, strenghts, opinions of varying degrees cynicism and emotional weight. It’s no longer an option to be neutral in a world that moves forward and backward so tumultuosly, nor would it be any fun.
Life in the city, or should I say, the modern media world which is characterized by the output of cities, is where I find myself, albeit somewhat reluctantly. As a ruraly raised young man, I often long for the mellow laidback pace of home. However, I am not so blind to see that the city has more to offer as far as cultural variety and spontinaety, which I think are essential elements in the game of inspiration. Also as I intermitantly return home for brief spells, that perception of my home as a place of peace and innocence is steadily fading as my awareness is assaulted by friends with drug addictions, the suffering caused by faltering rural industries, and the steadily increasing influence of the aforementioned city culture. So I’ve chosen to immerse myself in the discomfort of side by side living, traffic choked streets, and mass transience in an attempt to harness some of the raw energy that spews from the walls and streets of this city on the grow.
Vancouver is a very stange place, seemingly intune with it’s history on a very human level, but hellbent on progress and the casting off of its frontier town past. Remnants of the city that once served as a recreation spot for loggers, miners, and fishermen are being torn down or destroyed to make way for an image that reeks less of loose women, whiskey, and games of chance. It seems to be constantly spraying itself with an expensive cologne of development that reeks of pretention and money, but hardly covers up the sour stench of it’s soiled pants and festering wounds.
The race to cure the city of its addictions and sicknesses before it’s coming at the debutaunt ball of cities, seems like trying to solve cirosis of the liver with a nosejob and a new pair of tits.
The idea that one may solve one’s deepseeded problems with a series of unrelated and superficial practices is something I see running rampant in the city. Vices like alcohol, vanity, drugs, violence, celebrity worship,and accumulation material wealth. I’m not so enamored with religion that I’ll spew the cliché of the seven deadly sins, because within moderation they aren’t deadly merely human, but walk down granville street on a Friday night and all seven certainly are accounted for.
I’m also not so vain as to claim any immunity to the above vices. I’ll never be the aloof artist, the committed romantic, or the diehard cynic. I pick and choose to suit my mood and that’s the way I like it. That’s pretty much all one needs to understand about my style. An description of myslef that amuses me presently is a gun loaded with whimsical bullets. They don’t necesaarily fly straight and often miss the intended target, but they always hit something eventually. that’s fun.

A rant

2007-10-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

My roomate thought this was funny, so i guess i'll post it somewhere that the flaggers don't roll so deep. Originally posted on the Vancouver CL Rants and Raves section. Enjoy.

Sleazy looking Vancouver post-modern chicks.

Legwarmers, cut out necklines on secondhand T-shirts, and bad multilayered, two colored haircuts. Marilyn Monroe was a bigger girl, but you drink too much and don’t take care of yourself, therefore you’re Monroe piercing is just an awkward metal wart on your lip, hooray for robot herpes. Also remember that horizontal stripes make you look fatter, and those disgusting teal pumps make your big ass stick out and look even bigger.
You probably have a few sweet tattoo’s, maybe even the beginning of a sleeve. Of course you’ve only got the line work done, and are waiting on some elusively exorbitant amount of money to add color, or some bullshit. Undoubtedly your friend, the tattoo artist, did the work on the cheap. I commend you for your bargain hunting ability concerning the future of your skin. I’ve got a friend who does botox, he’s not licensed or anything, but he’s learning.
No doubt your myspace music section is filled with the most obscure band names someone else told you about. You probably consider yourself an artist, though currently you’re a barista by day and a drunk by night. You’re most always looking to pick apart other people’s flaws and fashion faux pas due to the fact that you dress for attention, but secretly know that the only people who may find your outfit acceptable are blind.
You probably have a boyfriend, he may be in a shitty band, though you’ve clamped on to him as he’s a remnant of a time when you weren’t disgusting. He may have cheated on you a few times, but you forgive him because artistic people can’t be expected to be confined to a monogamous relationship all the time, oh and you can’t do any better.
I’ll probably see you at a show or coffee shop. You won’t be smiling, you’ll probably be sucking on a cigarette, edging yourself one step closer to the unhealthy looking future you somehow believe will not await you. Maybe after drinking half the bar you’ll loosen up and hit on me because apparently in the eyes of gross hipster chicks, that’s what I was put on earth to endure. Great, you stink like an ashtray filled with dead wino’s, and that metal thing on your lip keeps catching the lights and blinding me with it’s hideousness.
You live nowhere west of Main street, because obviously the entire west side of the city and burbs are devoid of tolerant artistic people. You definitely go to the legion on Wednesday nights to discuss your favorite zine, or rather get obnoxiously drunk annoy the staff and cool people. The old grisly dudes there inevitably laugh at you and maybe even send a off color comment your way.
See you on craigslist you less than tolerable satires of yourselves.

Caffine is The Silly String of my Metabolism

2007-09-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

Random thoughts:
I play chess like and asshole.
If I don't deal with the 5 pounds of ribs in the fridge today, the meat will go bad.
Getting up at 5:45 on a sunday is out of the question.
Rip-Snortin' oughta be used more often

The Meat:
After reading an article about caffine use in newsweek? National Geographic? The Economist? Juggs? can't really remember, I decided to test my sensitivity to the stuff. I decided to scratch the notion that I could join in the typical Pacific NW institution of drinking coffee. Coffee is out of the question for me for two main reasons. First, after about a half a cup, my urge to find a porcalin receptacle for something the color of coffee pretty much takes over. Second, the whole culture of coffee makes me uneasy at every level. As someone who used to work in a bagel/coffee shop I've seen the beast that is the early morning crowd of caffine freaks looking for a hit. People think heroin is destructive and scary, but at least you know heroin addicts are pushed to the edges of society and therefore can't really stand thier ground or be demanding in "respectable" public spheres. lets face it they're mostly weak phyisically and have very litttle resolve to really fight anything including diseases or thier addiction. Caffine on the other hand breeds combativeness. In a city like vancouver where Starbucks franchises are located literally accross the street from one another, you still get huge lineups throughout the day and god help you if you even think about cutting. 'Cut and be cut' is essentially the attitude i've observed in these situations. I value the impermeabiltiy of my skin and organs, and getting sliced up by some whorishly made up tart wearing uggs and a miniskirt tha barely covers up her caramel frapp inflatied ass while her poorly trained little rat in a sweater barks at me while i'm bleeding, isn't my idea of a pleasant tuesday morning.

Caffine addicts with unhealthy lifestyles and the ethics of coffee production aside, I jsut don't particularly enjoy drinking coffee, nor paying out the nose everytime i'm tired or trying to look cool. It's like smoking, only you can inhale cigg smoke into your lungs for years, but one tablespoon of coffee down the trachea and you're techinically drowning. so I decided to see what caffine pills are all about. One time at boarding school I took a caffine pill and subseqently threw up all day and was sick enough to miss a dress rehearsal for a play in which i was one of three cast memebers. Needless to say the performace lacked a je ne sais quoi.

So after arriving at work today and dealing with the army of recently caffinated corprate drones (cheap suits, bad cologne, and a sheen of mystery sweat) I crushed up a double strength pep-pill and made like a dustbuster. Just kidding, it may be a cheap cocaine substitute, but there was jsut way too much powder to get it all up in one go, and I knew it. I crushed up and mixed the goods into a big glass of water, opting for a gradual and scinetific delivery system instead of jsut swallowing it whole, as with my last stomach destroying experiment with caffine pills.

I'm now shaking like a chihuaua after the apocalypse and havign trouble really pulling the energy in my body and the energy in my mind into some sort of cohesive whole. I can barely wrangle my thoughts into a sentence, and my langauge abilities have gone to shit. i feel like I'm trying to herd house-flies with a drumstick, or something similarly rediculous and silly (if my little analogies don't work for you, jsut blank them out and play madlibs with somone.) the Pweder made the water taste like cancer, so in future trails I'll be using somehting like gatorade as my solution. But now i must fulfill my duty as whatever the hell it is I do and go sit in a different chair in another room and give poor information to stressed out tourists.

Love,
Oopey

p.s. this blog was a poor example, but i've been palying a lot of video games lately (HALO 3) and my mind is beggining to melt a little.

Drinking is pretty much what happens around here.

2007-09-20T13:17:00.001-07:00

Here are some shots from the past few weeks of varying subject matter and quality. MAybe i'll actually start using this damn blog thing.

Vanrandom the Olympic Gnome.

2007-02-15T18:37:00.000-08:00

Some more shots

New Camera and a Sleek new Blog styles

2007-02-15T18:27:00.000-08:00

So I've been without my D70 for a few months now, owing to it being in seattle, my car being dead, and my life being a bit too wacky to get down there, so I ahven't taken any pictures in a while. i've also been spending most of my creative juice designing sculpure ideas and thinking about circuses and stuff. I jsut picked up a new sony cybershot on the cheap which I've found makes people much less nervous than the big man. It's my Derringer, and that's what I've named it. So Derringer and I have been taking walks and on valentines day we took some nice pictures aorund the city, campus, and at work. wanna see em?

A look back to things that have never been.

2006-10-30T22:09:00.000-08:00

Heres a smidge of some older work, stuff that's never been worth much in the long run. Context is irrelevant and theres more where they came from. Maybe I'll post some of the other ish, but right about now i'm content with sitting on my couch and enjoying nothign much at all. If you think I'm being stupid I think you're being a fish.