Monday, February 11, 2008
more erUPtions
having up embedding in things like words or things ppl are saying discretely in video.....hulia!
up videos
PICK UP
SHUT UP...and drive....b/c Rihanna's hot
7 UP ...this is like the best thing ever
F*CKED UP
SHUT UP...and drive....b/c Rihanna's hot
7 UP ...this is like the best thing ever
F*CKED UP
ok....f
i'm dead...and floating up up uppity up up shut
in anti-gravity.
Somewhere
between gray metal and foreign energies,
where plains of collected gas and space gather and
thread,
a soul could contemplate retirement
a million inches above home.
Blinking lights and flying machines
carry us to Chinese places.
Physics and engines, Bernoullian law,
even the sky is permeable to these powers and
visions framed by a square of plastic.
But beyond this clear, closer
to the angled perspectives we crane to see,
the clouds move in quiet herds.
The sun catches their edges,
penetrates their curve,
moistens the throat of a mass that begins to breathe.
In pinks
and blues it salivates and swells, fills with God,
reveals its kept horizon.
A Universe of beginnings.
An ocean where the great whale that is soul can beach.
Here,
where the torrents of wind and weight would crush a
bone,
Here,
where pitches deafen and explode,
Here,
where we'd fall
in a place not meant for man
is where an angel resides,
in anti-gravity.
PUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUP!
God sucking back up the earth...but not a god we know necessarily...more like a black hole, a mouth with cavities, and everyone's being deleted and drinking 7up.
hey zeus -> jesus...pointing up...reflection is pointing down...i'm tired of reflections so it'd have to be subtle...sodom and gomorrah...how the hell do u spell that??? ionno
kind of like how they portrayed hal...some huge close framed thingy that was sucking up everyone...a straw? one big ass straw and god sucks up everyone like a 7up 7-11 slushy....SLURP! big bang reversal
people popping out of their shoes....everyone's migrating up...all that's left is their shoes...a bunch of shoes everywhere and no people...pop
ok...how bout this....: i love words..here's something i wrote on words:
Satisfaction,
I think, for me,
comes with the knowledge of knowledge.
As I wonder through such and such page of such and such book I happen to currently have in my possession, other circumstances can rarely rival the feeling produced upon discovery that an understanding has been reached. In a private club of some education or reader’s thoroughfare, I understand what someone else has said. The velvet ropes open. I can see them and their mark in the pages and know there’s a private commonality. I can track what they have tracked and see the mother of their deduction. Me 2006 and some man of time, history time, anytime, have looked over the same pages and sifted through the same paragraphs, learned the same methodologies. A mention of construct, hypotheses, effect size & p…and there’s a language I can speak, we are scientists maybe. A reference to Orpheus and I know the meaning, the significance, the religion, a past God even. The drop of a name and behold illumination, an ability acquired from the steady pursuit and dedication to the leftovers that many have dubbed “education”. That is the power of a university. In this billion minute history we call humanity, in this temporary book marriage, I can discover and learn and theorize and philosophize with a companion of infinity. Ah what joy is mine to know that despite all things forgotten in time, some rippling word, idea, or memory can find both of us, and what fortune is ours that we can share in each other.
... It rains a lot here, which gives good opportunity for a lot of blank staring, or contemplation. Rain tends to do that, moodiness. It puts you in a mood, renewal or depression, inspiration or utter stupor but it’s a moody thing. Anyway, zillions of raindrops plock against everybody’s windows and drip their way down to holes and find their way back to the sky. One drop decides to suck its way down in front of you, a path that you happen to catch, and it maybe hold’s your attention for a minute. With the bustle of everything you have to do and the busy bustle of rain itself perhaps you don’t give a lot of thought to that one drop. Or maybe you do. Anyway, it doesn’t really last. This is something natural. But that existence applied to people becomes a bit unsettling, or a whole lot unsettling to some. I mean, the crazy egotist who slaps the ground with a heavy boot and like a grizzled 1493 pioneer tries to embed his existence is far from uncommon. But perhaps I’m a bit grizzled because I don’t like the idea of being a nameless bit of infinity either. However, my wish to leave behind a leftover, admittedly not completely selfless act, really comes from a deep desire to contribute to something which I admire above all else and something that is, I believe, divinely beautiful. The words of us. The words of us.
Perhaps now my giddy delirious joy talk up there makes more sense. Literature is the human mind on paper. Psychology of the years. All the keys to our futures and answers to questions lie in what has been said long ago, by somebody else, and what new things you can create come because we listened to something, we experienced, we were inspired by another man’s theory. I feel that many of us are looking for some type of meaning, some type of answer, some feeling, even if we don’t have a question. I have been bogged down by these thoughts. What is beautiful in this world? Although our nature can reach equilibrium, it is overwhelmingly ugly. Too many people give into this, our human nature. Things become pointless, why are we doing things at all?, there’s a million explanations. And conclusions can always be wrong, probably are. Nothing can ever be proven really, only falsified. Is it enough to take pleasure in one cozy thing, and leave something else unfulfilled? Is there really such a thing as reality or is it all our individual perceptions? Does our existence matter? Is it meaningful? Every corner turned is a quagmire, and food for thought doesn’t satiate.
Then one evening in Shanghai I had dinner. And after watching a greasy chef aptly crack the neck of some unlucky duck, and us nibbling its grease, feeling sophisticated that we had experienced something “peking”, I migrated to the deck outside. The breeze was soft, the lights were blinking, and some warm sensation inhabited my stomach circling, something comforting, like Buddha. I let my senses operate smoothly and gather in all that color and twinkling light and let my eyes organize the perspectives of the tall buildings. A boat on the water birthed fire and works and its ringing peaceable broke my air. From above the strolling couples, the striding students, the stumbling toddler all transformed to little electrons pushing their way through a neural highway and like that, on a balcony in Shanghai, drunk on blinking light, a heavy piece of the puzzle gently found its place. They’re all trying. They’re all trying. Everybody was, is, are trying to live. And it was beautiful. And everything thing else, all the other questions, seemed less important and partly answered. And there was a platform in the quagmire. It didn’t diminish it’s monstrous size or depth but lifted you out of it just enough to see it from different air.
We’re all trying, no matter what darkness we’ve found ourselves in, no matter the person we are, have become, or used to be. That is beauty. That is history. That is a simple truth. That is what poetry is. It is my satisfaction, it is what the Book can become.
------------
-so basically b/c i have orgasms over words...all the words of people float UP! and away and maybe there's a junk pile of all the words or something and some fat man is eating them all and getting like a really huge manipulative dictator brain....wow
-someone eats Buddha and gravitates up to nirvana...UP!...hmmm but that could be way too controversial.....eating buddha...how do u eat nirvana? or maybe just like the warmth of Buddha or the holiness of him like consuming his teachings....omg they could eat his words/his teachings! this ties in with the other idea! wooot!
in anti-gravity.
Somewhere
between gray metal and foreign energies,
where plains of collected gas and space gather and
thread,
a soul could contemplate retirement
a million inches above home.
Blinking lights and flying machines
carry us to Chinese places.
Physics and engines, Bernoullian law,
even the sky is permeable to these powers and
visions framed by a square of plastic.
But beyond this clear, closer
to the angled perspectives we crane to see,
the clouds move in quiet herds.
The sun catches their edges,
penetrates their curve,
moistens the throat of a mass that begins to breathe.
In pinks
and blues it salivates and swells, fills with God,
reveals its kept horizon.
A Universe of beginnings.
An ocean where the great whale that is soul can beach.
Here,
where the torrents of wind and weight would crush a
bone,
Here,
where pitches deafen and explode,
Here,
where we'd fall
in a place not meant for man
is where an angel resides,
in anti-gravity.
PUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUPUP!
God sucking back up the earth...but not a god we know necessarily...more like a black hole, a mouth with cavities, and everyone's being deleted and drinking 7up.
hey zeus -> jesus...pointing up...reflection is pointing down...i'm tired of reflections so it'd have to be subtle...sodom and gomorrah...how the hell do u spell that??? ionno
kind of like how they portrayed hal...some huge close framed thingy that was sucking up everyone...a straw? one big ass straw and god sucks up everyone like a 7up 7-11 slushy....SLURP! big bang reversal
people popping out of their shoes....everyone's migrating up...all that's left is their shoes...a bunch of shoes everywhere and no people...pop
ok...how bout this....: i love words..here's something i wrote on words:
Satisfaction,
I think, for me,
comes with the knowledge of knowledge.
As I wonder through such and such page of such and such book I happen to currently have in my possession, other circumstances can rarely rival the feeling produced upon discovery that an understanding has been reached. In a private club of some education or reader’s thoroughfare, I understand what someone else has said. The velvet ropes open. I can see them and their mark in the pages and know there’s a private commonality. I can track what they have tracked and see the mother of their deduction. Me 2006 and some man of time, history time, anytime, have looked over the same pages and sifted through the same paragraphs, learned the same methodologies. A mention of construct, hypotheses, effect size & p…and there’s a language I can speak, we are scientists maybe. A reference to Orpheus and I know the meaning, the significance, the religion, a past God even. The drop of a name and behold illumination, an ability acquired from the steady pursuit and dedication to the leftovers that many have dubbed “education”. That is the power of a university. In this billion minute history we call humanity, in this temporary book marriage, I can discover and learn and theorize and philosophize with a companion of infinity. Ah what joy is mine to know that despite all things forgotten in time, some rippling word, idea, or memory can find both of us, and what fortune is ours that we can share in each other.
... It rains a lot here, which gives good opportunity for a lot of blank staring, or contemplation. Rain tends to do that, moodiness. It puts you in a mood, renewal or depression, inspiration or utter stupor but it’s a moody thing. Anyway, zillions of raindrops plock against everybody’s windows and drip their way down to holes and find their way back to the sky. One drop decides to suck its way down in front of you, a path that you happen to catch, and it maybe hold’s your attention for a minute. With the bustle of everything you have to do and the busy bustle of rain itself perhaps you don’t give a lot of thought to that one drop. Or maybe you do. Anyway, it doesn’t really last. This is something natural. But that existence applied to people becomes a bit unsettling, or a whole lot unsettling to some. I mean, the crazy egotist who slaps the ground with a heavy boot and like a grizzled 1493 pioneer tries to embed his existence is far from uncommon. But perhaps I’m a bit grizzled because I don’t like the idea of being a nameless bit of infinity either. However, my wish to leave behind a leftover, admittedly not completely selfless act, really comes from a deep desire to contribute to something which I admire above all else and something that is, I believe, divinely beautiful. The words of us. The words of us.
Perhaps now my giddy delirious joy talk up there makes more sense. Literature is the human mind on paper. Psychology of the years. All the keys to our futures and answers to questions lie in what has been said long ago, by somebody else, and what new things you can create come because we listened to something, we experienced, we were inspired by another man’s theory. I feel that many of us are looking for some type of meaning, some type of answer, some feeling, even if we don’t have a question. I have been bogged down by these thoughts. What is beautiful in this world? Although our nature can reach equilibrium, it is overwhelmingly ugly. Too many people give into this, our human nature. Things become pointless, why are we doing things at all?, there’s a million explanations. And conclusions can always be wrong, probably are. Nothing can ever be proven really, only falsified. Is it enough to take pleasure in one cozy thing, and leave something else unfulfilled? Is there really such a thing as reality or is it all our individual perceptions? Does our existence matter? Is it meaningful? Every corner turned is a quagmire, and food for thought doesn’t satiate.
Then one evening in Shanghai I had dinner. And after watching a greasy chef aptly crack the neck of some unlucky duck, and us nibbling its grease, feeling sophisticated that we had experienced something “peking”, I migrated to the deck outside. The breeze was soft, the lights were blinking, and some warm sensation inhabited my stomach circling, something comforting, like Buddha. I let my senses operate smoothly and gather in all that color and twinkling light and let my eyes organize the perspectives of the tall buildings. A boat on the water birthed fire and works and its ringing peaceable broke my air. From above the strolling couples, the striding students, the stumbling toddler all transformed to little electrons pushing their way through a neural highway and like that, on a balcony in Shanghai, drunk on blinking light, a heavy piece of the puzzle gently found its place. They’re all trying. They’re all trying. Everybody was, is, are trying to live. And it was beautiful. And everything thing else, all the other questions, seemed less important and partly answered. And there was a platform in the quagmire. It didn’t diminish it’s monstrous size or depth but lifted you out of it just enough to see it from different air.
We’re all trying, no matter what darkness we’ve found ourselves in, no matter the person we are, have become, or used to be. That is beauty. That is history. That is a simple truth. That is what poetry is. It is my satisfaction, it is what the Book can become.
------------
-so basically b/c i have orgasms over words...all the words of people float UP! and away and maybe there's a junk pile of all the words or something and some fat man is eating them all and getting like a really huge manipulative dictator brain....wow
-someone eats Buddha and gravitates up to nirvana...UP!...hmmm but that could be way too controversial.....eating buddha...how do u eat nirvana? or maybe just like the warmth of Buddha or the holiness of him like consuming his teachings....omg they could eat his words/his teachings! this ties in with the other idea! wooot!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Insight into my haikus
Hello All!
OK, so thanks for all the crit about the titles and timing and cheesy effects and all that good stuff...it will be noted for the future. In case you guys wanted to know more about what I tried to accomplish and just what was bubbling around in my head when i made this...I'm going to write about my piece.
OK, my title was Revolutions of 60 and as I explained it was about ways we break time despite being biological creatures that are bound to an existence with time. At the beginning, I breifly titled each haiku in the theme they portrayed about time....bound, infinetly, imploding, remembering, daydreams.
I'm not going to write too much about each haiku because I prefer it when people can take different things from art and when things are open and ambiguous...but...
Bound haiku was about man being bound by time. I think this was pretty obvious...that's all I'm really gonna say.
Infinite haiku represented one of the ways we attempt to break time, attemps at being infinite. The moments in humanity or in individual lives that are infinite, even though we biologically die. This is where the statues tie in...portraits of ourselves that are infinite.
Impolding haiku was kind of the nature of humans coupled with our relationship with time. We are constantly moving forward b/c we have to, b/c we must look to a future to survive. Yet we live so heavily from our pasts that we kind of implode on ourselves. This was kind of the underneath thinking process in my editing but I wasn't really trying to portray this heaviness at first glance. I edited the piece so that the beginning contains the end and the end contains the beginning and the final product is a pop! However, I also wanted to show the personal space of the bus and tie that in with the ride of our lives....blah blah blah
Remembering haiku is probably my favorite and pretty loaded. It's like a flashback, another way we break time. Lose ourselves into a different reality in another time. I tried to tap into some eternal emotions here, and purposefully left it pretty open b/c I want it to represent so many things in different people's minds. Of course I have my preferred interpretation but I ain't sayin! ^_^
Daydreams haiku is similar to the remembering one as far as escaping into other times and making that become ur current reality goes. I wanted to show the breaking and split literally...so you see her revolving with her daydream.....perhaps the effect was cheesy...but i still kinda like it, haha, oh well.
so that's all.
OK, so thanks for all the crit about the titles and timing and cheesy effects and all that good stuff...it will be noted for the future. In case you guys wanted to know more about what I tried to accomplish and just what was bubbling around in my head when i made this...I'm going to write about my piece.
OK, my title was Revolutions of 60 and as I explained it was about ways we break time despite being biological creatures that are bound to an existence with time. At the beginning, I breifly titled each haiku in the theme they portrayed about time....bound, infinetly, imploding, remembering, daydreams.
I'm not going to write too much about each haiku because I prefer it when people can take different things from art and when things are open and ambiguous...but...
Bound haiku was about man being bound by time. I think this was pretty obvious...that's all I'm really gonna say.
Infinite haiku represented one of the ways we attempt to break time, attemps at being infinite. The moments in humanity or in individual lives that are infinite, even though we biologically die. This is where the statues tie in...portraits of ourselves that are infinite.
Impolding haiku was kind of the nature of humans coupled with our relationship with time. We are constantly moving forward b/c we have to, b/c we must look to a future to survive. Yet we live so heavily from our pasts that we kind of implode on ourselves. This was kind of the underneath thinking process in my editing but I wasn't really trying to portray this heaviness at first glance. I edited the piece so that the beginning contains the end and the end contains the beginning and the final product is a pop! However, I also wanted to show the personal space of the bus and tie that in with the ride of our lives....blah blah blah
Remembering haiku is probably my favorite and pretty loaded. It's like a flashback, another way we break time. Lose ourselves into a different reality in another time. I tried to tap into some eternal emotions here, and purposefully left it pretty open b/c I want it to represent so many things in different people's minds. Of course I have my preferred interpretation but I ain't sayin! ^_^
Daydreams haiku is similar to the remembering one as far as escaping into other times and making that become ur current reality goes. I wanted to show the breaking and split literally...so you see her revolving with her daydream.....perhaps the effect was cheesy...but i still kinda like it, haha, oh well.
so that's all.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Friday, June 1, 2007
grrr
i'm very annoyed about my little technological problems on finals day. But at least I finished it on time. I'll be showing my work on Wednesday along with John and Alexis. Ya'll should really come see our stuff! ^_^ Great projects all of you, get through finals, and have a great summer!
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