Sunday, March 31, 2013

Does this inhibit?

I don't know fiction like I could.

Light and that's only the start of it.

I hate 3pm.


Floor Wars 2013 3on3 Break Battle Copenhagen, Denmark YAK FILMS 


Something Different


Beyond Your Imagination

Beyond Your Imagination - Andrea Galvani

Those Were the Days

Those Were the Days - Mark Shaw


ST. KATHARINA Katharina Fritsch

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Zena Darling

Zena Darling - Zena Holloway


Joshua Scott

Let Go


Take a Dip

Take a Dip -- Willy Verginer


1:49 of necessity.

Nokia E71 launch / 6 Billion People, 6 Billion Colours from Universal Everything on Vimeo.


Bright Light

Bright Light by John Armleder

From India

From India by Altamash Urooj


Tea Party

Tea Party by Ronit Baranga



YSL VS. 1999

YSL VS. 1999 by

Hepburn vs Hicks

Hepburn vs Hicks by Tomass

Pass the Fork

Pass the Fork by Tomass

Under the Sea

Amazing how a title can shift perception. Did you think that the colors were smoke rising? Something being pushed down? Focused on the middle. What do you see when you read the title of this piece?

Under the Sea by Mark Mawson


Thanks by

Magic Friday

Magic Friday by Sølve Sundsbø

Hang in There

If you look closely you can see that the hook is not rope and it is not around the neck; it comes from the body's back. The cube around the head emphasizes the head and makes it look as though it is on display. Perhaps speaking to society's insistence that we are to sexualize death. The head is truth but we don't know what is or we don't think to question because we think it's been made easy for us as if we are watching television. The cube also pronounces the head that is hung forward. We think that the person has committed suicide by hanging, however, if this is the case, the person's neck would be upward.

Is the blue meant to illuminate the experience? Add to the creep factor? Reminiscent of the depression of Picasso's blue era?

None of this?

Hang in There by Bernardi Roig

Small World

Small World by Christopher Boffoli


Retro everything? Retro nails with a black and white image of an egg. 50s era? Or does the nail length speak to the early 70s? Why do I push against the 80s completely? Black and white 1950s advertising that features the capitalism of domesticity? Or how about idea that domesticity and child bearing is expected and even pushed in all decades?

Yummy by

From Heidi

From Heidi by Heidi Yardley

Big Apple

Sexually objectifying or appreciation of line and form? Perhaps the bodies aren't meant to be considered, however, the artist knows we will surely do that. Is that the challenge?

Big Apple by Sam Haskins

SPF once.

It's never clear as to what an artist means to say when they present a piece of art: that's the point. Isn't it? We are meant to think, ponder, enjoy and perhaps feel frustrated.

Black face is offensive but I'm wondering if the artist is pushing a question rather than an idea. Is black face as offensive when painted onto a sexualized female image? If not, why is that so? Is the woman on her stomach the same woman who is sitting upright? It seems so. Does that make it any less offensive? Is it no longer black face if the black resembles paint that runs down the neck?

But does that mean the first image where we are unable to see paint running down her neck is meant to be the offensive image? Or are we meant to question the way we perceive the concept of racism. Is the first image no longer a black face image if we have decided the second image is not black face? Can we then ignore that we do not see paint dragging down the neck of the upright image?


From Korea

From Korea by Ho-Ryon Lee

Share If You Stand WIth Survivors Of Sexual Violence


"Keep Goin" by rydye

From the Netherlands

From the Netherlands by Modebelofte


So Wet

So Wet by YAHUH

Bette Davis Eyes

Questioning gender and violence?

Bette Davis Eyes by

From Spain

From Spain by


Open Wide

Open Wide by

Blow Me

Blow Me
From VISIONAIRE by Inez & Vinoodh courtesy 
VFILES via Hop On The Spiral Bitch

From Munich

From Munich

Ruckazoid via Hop on the Spiral Bitch

Out of Step: Faces of Straight Edge by Raymond McCrea Jones

Although I live a drug free life; the label, Straight Edge, fell off my back years ago. No particular reason other than the simple outgrowing of it. I like the idea of Straight Edge, and technically I am still a part of it, but the aesthetic of it and the life of it never went hand in hand for me. As you will see below, it isn't necessary to look the part.

The rules of Straight Edge fluctuate for some and are very concrete for others. This makes sense being that it was never meant to be a movement. Whether you're basic, straightforward Straight Edger, a fair weather Straight Edger or a purist, there is a basic root in common.

Front man of the former band, Minor Threat, wrote a song called Straight Edge which spoke to the avoidance of drugs and manipulative sex. The former front man, Ian MacKaye is currently part of The Evens, and owns his own record label, Dischord Records.

Photographer Raymond McCrea Jones, doesn't stray far from the music as he titles his 2007 book, Out of Step. Out of Step is no doubt reference to a Minor Threat song and album of the same name. The book features every day people, (whatever that means) who live Straight Edge.

I found it enjoyable to see that Johnny of Johnny Cupcakes appears in this book. A man who loves cupcakes is a friend indeed.

 Sporting white X.


Clean couple.

The illustrious Straight Edge tattoos are impressive but they cause me anxiety. A permanent statement of Straight Edge is risky. It is either a true example of hardcore, or it is an example of in-the-moment intensity: in other words, a really stupid idea. All nervousness aside, I do like the public outcry. The qualification is that I can appreciate the aesthetic of it as long it is not a statement of judgement; an attempt to foist personal values onto someone else, or a display of bumpersticker socio-politics.

Photography Credit: ©Raymond McCrea Jones

Out of Step: Faces of Straight Edge - Trailer

I purchased mine last week. To view more photos, to purchase the book and to learn more about Raymond McCrea Jones, visit the website, here.

Fuel Upgrade

Before Barack Obama became president, Ani Difranco, modified the lyrics to this number to include him and cancel out the former.

The original lyrics read: and I wonder who’s gonna be president tweedle dumb or tweedle dumber? Aren't glad that that lyric no longer has a place today.

Ani DiFranco performing Fuel live at Music Hall of Williamsburg in New York on November 18th 2011

Video Credit: Moshcam

they were digging a new foundation in manhattan
and they discovered a slave cemetery there
may their souls rest easy now that lynching is frowned upon
and we’ve moved on to the electric chair

and i wonder who’s gonna be president
tweedle dumb or tweedle dumber?
and who’s gonna have the big
blockbuster box office
this summer
how ‘bout we put up a wall
between the houses and the highway
and then you can go your way
and i can go my way

except all the radios agree with all the t.v.’s
and the magazines agree with all the radios
and i keep hearing that same damn song
everywhere i go
maybe i should put a bucket over my head
and a marshmallow in each ear
and stumble around for another dumb numb week
for another hum drum hit song to appear

people used to make records
as in a record of an event
the event of people
playing music in a room
now everything is cross-marketing
it’s about sunglasses and shoes
or guns or drugs
you choose

we got it rehashed
we got it half-assed
we’re digging up all the graves
and we’re spitting on the past
and we can choose between the colors
of the lipstick on the whores
‘cuz we know the difference
between the font of twenty percent more
and the font of teriyaki
you tell me
how does it make you feel?
you tell me what’s real
they say that alcoholics are always alcoholics
even when they’re as dry as my lips for years
even when they’re stranded on a small desert island
with no place in two thousand miles to buy beer
and i wonder is he different
is he different
has he changed
what he’s about
or is he just a liar
with nothing to lie about
am i headed for the same brick wall
is there anything i can do
about anything at all

except go back to that corner in manhattan
and dig deeper
dig deeper this time
down beneath the impossible pain of our history
beneath unknown bones
beneath the bedrock of the mystery
beneath the sewage system and the path train
beneath the cobblestones and the water main
beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals
beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels
beneath everything i can think of to think about
beneath it all
beneath all get out
beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel
there’s a fire that’s just waiting for fuel

For more information on Ani Difranco or her independent label, Righteous Babe Records, click here.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013


An Alex Winter film. A documentary that speaks to downloading music that was sparked in the Napster era. Musicians weigh in. Billy Corgan, Lars Ulrich, Henry Rollins, and more.

DOWNLOADED from Trouper on Vimeo.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Sunday, March 24, 2013




How can you live with no dimension? Ask yourself.


I don’t even know what it's like
not to go back to you
I don’t even know
who I like less,
You or me
You or me
You or me

Well it’s anyone’s, anyone’s guess…
It’s anyone’s, anyone’s guess…
Stress, stress
Stress, stress
Stress, stress
Stress, stress

~From "Mysteries" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs 

The Evergreen State College at TEDx -- 2013

I'm thrilled to learn that my Alma Mater, The Evergreen State College, has been featured on TEDx. The seminar has yet to be posted, but the teaser is below.

The Evergreen State College 2013 Tedx Teaser Trailer from Finley Mimbles on Vimeo.

Matt Groening Talks About Evergreen at a Comic Con

Simpsons creator Matt Groening talks about the Alma Mater we share. Warms my heart to hear him speak of the school I love. I earned my Master's degree at the hoity-toity University of Southern California, but it was The Evergreen State College, at which I received my Bachelor's that shaped me the most.

Oh Naked Oly Trees, I Remember These

The Evergreen State College.

 Evergreen campus trees; oh how I miss thee. Alumni 2002. Evergreen, I went off to do great things. Thanks for the boost.

The Busy Trap

The ‘Busy’ Trap by Tim Kreider

If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are. It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint. And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”

Notice it isn’t generally people pulling back-to-back shifts in [a hospital's intensive care unit] or commuting by bus to three minimum-wage jobs who tell you how busy they are; what those people are is not busy but tired. Exhausted. Dead on their feet. It’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed: work and obligations they’ve taken on voluntarily, classes and activities they’ve “encouraged” their kids to participate in. They’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.

Almost everyone I know is busy. They feel anxious and guilty when they aren’t either working or doing something to promote their work. They schedule in time with friends the way students with 4.0 [grade point average] make sure to sign up for community service because it looks good on their college applications. I recently wrote a friend to ask if he wanted to do something this week, and he answered that he didn’t have a lot of time but if something was going on to let him know and maybe he could ditch work for a few hours. I wanted to clarify that my question had not been a preliminary heads-up to some future invitation; this was the invitation. But his busyness was like some vast churning noise through which he was shouting out at me, and I gave up trying to shout back over it.

Even children are busy now, scheduled down to the half-hour with classes and extracurricular activities. They come home at the end of the day as tired as grown-ups. I was a member of the latchkey generation and had three hours of totally unstructured, largely unsupervised time every afternoon, time I used to do everything from surfing the World Book Encyclopedia to making animated films to getting together with friends in the woods to chuck dirt clods directly into one another’s eyes, all of which provided me with important skills and insights that remain valuable to this day. Those free hours became the model for how I wanted to live the rest of my life.

The present hysteria is not a necessary or inevitable condition of life; it’s something we’ve chosen, if only by our acquiescence to it. Not long ago I Skyped with a friend who was driven out of the city by high rent and now has an artist’s residency in a small town in the south of France. She described herself as happy and relaxed for the first time in years. She still gets her work done, but it doesn’t consume her entire day and brain. She says it feels like college — she has a big circle of friends who all go out to the cafe together every night. She has a boyfriend again. (She once ruefully summarized dating in New York: “Everyone’s too busy and everyone thinks they can do better.”) What she had mistakenly assumed was her personality — driven, cranky, anxious and sad — turned out to be a deformative effect of her environment. It’s not as if any of us wants to live like this, any more than any one person wants to be part of a traffic jam or stadium trampling or the hierarchy of cruelty in high school — it’s something we collectively force one another to do.

Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day. I once knew a woman who interned at a magazine where she wasn’t allowed to take lunch hours out, lest she be urgently needed for some reason. This was an entertainment magazine whose raison d’être was [rendered obsolete] when “menu” buttons appeared on [TV remote controls], so it’s hard to see this pretense of indispensability as anything other than a form of institutional self-delusion. More and more people in this country no longer make or do anything tangible; if your job wasn’t performed by a cat or a boa constrictor in a Richard Scarry book I’m not sure I believe it’s necessary. I can’t help but wonder whether all this histrionic exhaustion isn’t a way of covering up the fact that most of what we do doesn’t matter.

I am not busy. I am the laziest ambitious person I know. Like most writers, I feel like a reprobate who does not deserve to live on any day that I do not write, but I also feel that four or five hours is enough to earn my stay on the planet for one more day. On the best ordinary days of my life, I write in the morning, go for a long bike ride and run errands in the afternoon, and in the evening I see friends, read or watch a movie. This, it seems to me, is a sane and pleasant pace for a day. And if you call me up and ask whether I won’t maybe blow off work and check out the new American Wing at the [Metropolitan Museum of Art] or ogle girls in Central Park or just drink chilled pink minty cocktails all day long, I will say, what time?

But just in the last few months, I’ve insidiously started, because of professional obligations, to become busy. For the first time I was able to tell people, with a straight face, that I was “too busy” to do this or that thing they wanted me to do. I could see why people enjoy this complaint; it makes you feel important, sought-after and put-upon. Except that I hate actually being busy. Every morning my in-box was full of e-mails asking me to do things I did not want to do or presenting me with problems that I now had to solve. It got more and more intolerable until finally I fled town to the Undisclosed Location from which I’m writing this.

Here I am largely unmolested by obligations. There is no TV. To check e-mail I have to drive to the library. I go a week at a time without seeing anyone I know. I’ve remembered about buttercups, stink bugs and the stars. I read. And I’m finally getting some real writing done for the first time in months. It’s hard to find anything to say about life without immersing yourself in the world, but it’s also just about impossible to figure out what it might be, or how best to say it, without getting the hell out of it again.

Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done. “Idle dreaming is often of the essence of what we do,” wrote Thomas Pynchon in his essay on sloth. Archimedes’ “Eureka” in the bath, Newton’s apple, Jekyll & Hyde and the benzene ring: history is full of stories of inspirations that come in idle moments and dreams. It almost makes you wonder whether loafers, goldbricks and no-accounts aren’t responsible for more of the world’s great ideas, inventions and masterpieces than the hardworking.

“The goal of the future is full unemployment, so we can play. That’s why we have to destroy the present politico-economic system.” This may sound like the pronouncement of some bong-smoking anarchist, but it was actually Arthur C. Clarke, who found time between scuba diving and pinball games to write “Childhood’s End” and think up communications satellites. My old colleague Ted Rall recently wrote a column proposing that we divorce income from work and give each citizen a guaranteed paycheck, which sounds like the kind of lunatic notion that’ll be considered a basic human right in about a century, like abolition, universal suffrage and eight-hour workdays. The Puritans turned work into a virtue, evidently forgetting that God invented it as a punishment.

Perhaps the world would soon slide to ruin if everyone behaved as I do. But I would suggest that an ideal human life lies somewhere between my own defiant indolence and the rest of the world’s endless frenetic hustle. My role is just to be a bad influence, the kid standing outside the classroom window making faces at you at your desk, urging you to just this once make some excuse and get out of there, come outside and play. My own resolute idleness has mostly been a luxury rather than a virtue, but I did make a conscious decision, a long time ago, to choose time over money, since I’ve always understood that the best investment of my limited time on earth was to spend it with people I love. I suppose it’s possible I’ll lie on my deathbed regretting that I didn’t work harder and say everything I had to say, but I think what I’ll really wish is that I could have one more beer with Chris, another long talk with Megan, one last good hard laugh with Boyd. Life is too short to be busy.

- Tim Kreider, June 30, 2012,

Saturday, March 23, 2013

I Love You, But I Think We Should See Other Beds


I remember moons ago, when a friend of mine -- in speaking of her 8 year partnership with a man whom she referred to as a gem -- told me that sometimes she wished she could sleep in their bed alone. I wondered if her boyfriend felt the same way: it seemed that they hadn't had the conversation. At the time I couldn't relate to what she was moaning about, but eventually I got it.

Initially I had resisted her words and thought of them as hurtful and detached. When I entered my next relationship, I realized that her words truly had no bearing on her relationship with her gem.

I'm a light sleeper--I'm also a snorer so, I was grateful that my boyfriend was a hard sleeper. He rarely woke up in the middle of the night, and when did he fell back asleep almost instantly. He literally fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. He wouldn't wake when I'd change sleeping positions but I always feared that he would. That became a strain. Sleeping wasn't supposed to be stressful.

My boyfriend was also a snorer. It was a fact that was miniscule at the beginning of the relationship; it became harder to deal with as time went on. Falling asleep was never a quick process for me. On average it takes between one to two hours for me to settle in. My boyfriend's snoring left me no peace.

I was never a night-time cuddler. He was. I'm well aware that there are many women who are desperate for that kind of affection. Holding and being held is extremely important to me but I reserve that for daylight hours.

At night my boyfriend would outstretch his arm so that my head could rest inside of it. I could only imagine how the weight of my head would become too uncomfortable before long, and result in a sleepy arm: tingled and restricted. I also needed the room to wiggle from my back, to my stomach, to one side, to the other.

I loved that he wanted to hold me after intimate romps and I know he loved it when I spooned him. He told me that when we would take the occasional day nap, he didn't like when we weren't facing each other. Facing him was optimal but sometimes I needed to turn the other way.

I'm reminded of an episode of hit sitcom, Friends, where Ross teaches Chandler a maneuver which he called the hug and roll.

Ross illustrated on a couch cushion. As he held the cushion which was meant to resemble a woman, he instructed, hug for her, roll for you. Wait until she falls asleep and then hug her to essentially turn her and then roll out of the way to rightfully claim your side of the bed.

It is silly and strange, to think that sleeping preferences is now a conversation to be had in relationships, but it makes good sense. 

To be honest, separate beds sounds like a wonderful idea. Sleep together when you want to, and sleep apart when you want to. I imagine there will be some hurt feelings along the way. You don't want to sleep with me tonight? You did yesterday; have I annoyed you today? 

The Good Men Project contributor, Chuck Ross, wrote a great piece this month, entitled, Why We Sleep Together. Ross tells us how his honesty has been received.

I don’t think this is a very controversial topic, though I have received hostile looks and tsks when mentioning in the past that I’m not fond of sleeping next to another person whose body is putting off heat, whom I have to engage in an unconscious struggle for cover, and whose bodily movements jar me out of REM. It’s impossible to ignore that bed comfort is important in our society. We are concerned with the efficient use of time and sleep. We want eight hours of sleep—the more solid the better.

He details some of the interests and barriers of sufficient sleep.

There are the struggles for territory and comfort. The desire to achieve comfort while also not wanting your comfort to come at the expense of the comfort of the one next to you. This limited system requires these two moving parts to be in sync with each other—not only in terms of the sleep cycles but also their “comfort quirks”: their desired temperature, and other environmental factors like background noise or lighting.

Separate beds sounds like a great idea: in fact, separate bedrooms sounds even better. It is possible to be completely devoted and in love, while recognizing that sleeping together isn't always comfortable or necessary. Figure out your own rules.

Ship Cake

Your Irrational Brain - David Ropeik - Big Think Series

Your Irrational Brain - David Ropeik - Big Think series

Published on Jul 26, 2012
That we are not instinctively built that way must be recognized if we're going to get beyond the risks of not being built that way, says David Ropeik.

Ropeik an Instructor at Harvard, a consultant in risk perception and risk communication, author of How Risky Is it, Really? Why Our Fears Don't Always Match the Facts, and principal co-author of RISK, A Practical Guide for Deciding What's Really Safe and What's Really Dangerous in the World Around You.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Ohio Teen T.J. Lane Kills 3, Injures 3, and Shows Us Just How Little He Cares

T.J. Lane is a teen from Ohio that was given a life sentence for killing three students and wounding three in February. The shooting took place at Chardon High School, which he attended. Lane pleaded guilty and received his sentence without the possibility of parole.

18 year old, Lane shot students in the high school cafeteria. In addition to the sadness and frustration of his actions, there is no known motive at this time.


After Lane bolted from the school, Sheriff's Deputy Jon Bilicic found him seated along Woodin Road, about a mile away. Lane told the officer that he had just shot a lot of people. When Bilicic asked him why, he said, "I don't know." 

At another point when asked why, he said, "I don't really understand myself."

On the day of sentencing, Lane unbuttoned his over-shirt to reveal a white shirt with the hand-written and black-marked word, Killer, across it.

Pool/The News-Herald via AP

Lane smirks inside the court room.

Pool/The News-Herald via AP

Per, Lane turned to parents and members of the courtroom to make a brief statement.
Lane uttered the most foul and evil remark I've heard to date. "The hand that pulled the trigger that killed your sons now masturbates to the memory. Fuck all of you."

Killed were Parmertor, 16; Demetrius Hewlin, 16; and Russell King Jr., 17. Walczak, Nate Mueller and Joy Rickers were wounded. Nate and Joy were treated and released shortly after the shootings.

No doubt, Lane is a sociopath, more accurately known as Anti-Social Personality Disorder. Personality disorders are thought be psychologists to be untreatable as they are characterologic disorders, which is to suggest that they are ingrained into who they are. It is not something that can be managed like Schizophrenia, Bipolar and other mental diagnoses.

Lane wanted the fame and he got it. I have no problem posting information about him as I think it is important to recognize that personality disorders exist. Most with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, do not have the insight into their illness and it is not something they seek to treat. How exactly do you treat evil? Yes, that puts a religious spin on it, but sometimes illness is a word that just doesn't cut it.