Sunday, December 31, 2006

Writing And The Holiday

I had trouble writing as much as I hoped this break. Maybe the trouble is that I hoped to write at all. Maybe it's that I tried too hard. I don't know. I've been doing great on a couple of stories, but no poetry has shat forth. I've been reading a lot though. Not as much as Rebecca, but still reading a lot. I love reading anything, but so often in school I don't get a chance. I need to find a way to fix that. Maybe take less school, maybe take better classes. Next semester I'm taking a couple of classes that have a lot of reading, and it's mostly authors I like. And I am actually excited for my architecture courses.

God I am optomistic at the end of the year.

I Am Not A Holiday Person

Christmas isn't my favorite: I love giving gifts, but I don't know what to say when I get one. It sometimes has good food associated with it, but more often it doesn't.

New Years I have never celebrated except by getting my fresh start by going to bed early and sleeping in. That's my style. This year I'll try poker with a few friends.

Call me Ebeneezer, but that's just how I am.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

The Best Street Car Of 2007

This year's Cypress Tree award for the best street car goes to,

Until now, electric cars have been for conspiracy theorists, people who really don't like to drive, and the past. Tesla is changing all that. Working with the same Lithium-Ion battery technology found in your cameras and laptops, not the exploding Dell or Sony batteries, the roadster has got speed. With an open company policy, a quick, personable response is assured by a higher up in the company to any question asked on their blog, over email, et cetera. This public form - and forum of information - has lead to incredible fanaticism and enthusiasm for this car. With styling and handling derived from Lotus engineers now on staff at Tesla, and the car made in England, a lot of people have called this the "electric Lotus." From a technical standpoint that couldn't be more wrong: the car is not only longer, wider, and quicker, but with the small battery block weighing 900 pounds and placed in the trunk, the cars suspension and body dynamics are significantly different even if the styling is similar. The 2008 models are starting at $92,000, but if you want one you'll have to pay an extra $30,000 for delivery in the fourth quarter of 2008, or $50,000 to be next in line. The 2007 1/2 model sold out in four months.

Their Super Secret Business Strategy: Make an electric super car that makes the company tons of money, then make an electric sedan that sells thousands of units and outperforms its gasoline counterparts.

I can get behind this company. There aren't many Silicon Valley based car companies, but this one is innovative, environmentally responsible, and makes a damn good looking car that'll do 0-60 mph in four seconds. My only complaint would be a top speed of only 140 mph. With super cars dipping into the 200 range for about twenty years now, and even one besting 270, 140 is a bit slow. But with the top down, and the electric whine of that engine, I don't think I'd care too much.

Lotus/Tesla Electric Car

BBC Reports

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

The Best Holiday Film Of All Time Is


I love a good ensemble film, and this one is great.

For three years now, the debate has raged: who is the hottest girl in the movie? Most guys I know, including me, say Natalie (Martine McCutcheon), and most girls I know say Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz). Sorry Kiera Knightley and Emma Thompson and Heike Makatsch.

As for the hottest guys, I say Colin Firth but I think I'm alone there. Most people say Hugh Grant or Chiwetel Ejiofor or Rodrigo Santoro.

My favorite cameos are Rowan Atkinson, one of my favorite British actor's ever, and Claudia Schiffer as Carol, but it took me forever to realize that it was Schiffer, and by forever I mean like 30 screenings.


Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Ray LaMontagne - "Trouble"

Ray LaMontagne is awesome. He just feels so good. From his voice to his simplistic melodies and choruses, he puts me in a good mood. His cover of the Gnarls Barkley hit "Crazy" is as good as the original, just like Iron & Wine's cover of The Postal Service's "Such Great Heights" was last year. This is the 3rd and final Winter Music Post.

Yesterday Was The Best Day Of The Week

I got a big box of cigars after sleeping in late. I didn't have to work. I cleaned. I went to the smoke room and got some tea, then proceeded to try two new cigars over the course of six hours spent reading Faulkner and writing writing writing. I sat on a BIG overstuffed couch that was so comfortable I almost fell asleep a bunch of times despite my twelve plus hours of sleep the night before. It was so relaxing and so needed and so beautiful the way the smoke curled around the sconces, the drums, the coloumns. I had a giant gingerbread cookie. I was alone. It was perfect.

Thank You Dillon!

Check this out. Now that's cool. Dillon left it in my comment box earlier.

Monday, December 18, 2006

I Woke From A Weekend Of Heavy Sleeping

To a BIG box of cigars on my front porch. Unfortunately only half of them are mine.

Off to the break of poetry and reading and making lots and lots of money off of daddy's wanting to buy their beautiful daughters things for Christmas, all while watching Love Actually 80 or 90 times.

Seattle is screwed up right now. Over here we have trampolines in trees, but that is normal on the Palouse.

School's out!

I have a cough.

I'm going to see one of my professors today - one that I like. I will give her a box of Christmas tea.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

To The Cult of Architecture

Sun crowns a branch. I send smoke rings
to the window pane, framing the curve of her,
dimming the light of her. I revel in a stare
at her forte light, let my eyes bleed just a little,

then turn back to my compass, the drafting table.
Beer warms in a wineglass on the shelf.
Silent, alone, alive, I put pen to vellum,
follow the triangle’s edge for one more straight line,

surrounded by the mess and light of my flat,
this one black mark makes sense,
I make another, then another, they line up
into a window, a doorframe, a garage.

I take a swig of exhaustion, turn up the heady rush
of Hendrix, make one more line, then another.
I brush a hair off the page, blot my marks
to keep from smearing, shake out my hands,

pick up the pen, pull taunt the T-Square,
the triangle, draw one edge
of the retaining wall, then another,
then another, then another,

Wednesday, December 13, 2006


At 2:00 AM I finished. I clicked Save As PhotoShop PDF, and stared at the computer, wondering what to do. Presentation in ten hours.

Bought Today At The Grocery Store

1. One Floaty Ducky. Watertight so it's mildew resistant. 100% Dishwasher Safe. Expert developed (heart) Parent Preferred.

2. Four cans Monster Energy Drink. Hear me body, hold together, one last night and day. You can sleep all weekend. Except Saturday and Sunday. And Friday there's that party.

3. One Bob's Jumbo Candy Cane. Net Wt 1 Oz. Ingredients: Sugar, Corn Syrup, Peppermint Oil, Artificial Colors (Red 40, Red 40 Lake) Product of Mexico.

The Last Night Of The World

Tomorrow I turn my life in for review. Three weeks of this. Last night I told a friend,

"My blood runs green with Monster, I can't breathe without Hookah smoke coming out, I ain't had more than three hours since Thursday night, and don't ask about the two weeks before that. The skin on my palm is dead from my mouse and drafting table. Good God, why? I'm convinced either friends don't let friends do architecture or all architects die young. I'm hoping it's the former, but leaning towards the latter.

"I think I can honestly say that my favorite thing about architecture right now is the band Architecture in Helsinki, but I'm not sure how much I like that first word in their name."

iloveitiloveitiloveit. I live for these three weeks every semester, the back and forth, the breath, the headiness, the rush - I am where I am supposed to be. Silent. Alone. Alive. Holding on tightly to the thick of it.

Mogwai - Hunted By A Freak

This Glasgow band really has something. I love them. A lot. Everybody I know who has heard them loves them. Their Mr. Beast album is stunning, as is the Kid Loco remix of their song Tracy. This is Winter Music Post #2.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Please Check Off The SketchUp Model

I love it.

My Veryveryveryveryvery Bestest Friend In The Whole Wide World

Architecture in Helsinki - Like a Call

This band is awesome. This is the begining of my Winter Music Posts. Architecture in Helsinki is a great band. Check out their song "It's 5".

There It Is


The Final Section


Monday, December 11, 2006


To see the reaction of reporters in the region, go to the iTunes store and visit the NBC News section, there is a Darfur segment for free. About a half hour show.

Oh The Shadows

With a sparse iron beam structure supporting a window arrangement of tempered glass held by cherry wood, the shadows cast inside the building are spectacular.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Let's Get Those Perspectives Coming

This view is towards the coffee shop.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

The Reading Recap

There were quite a few people there for the reading, and quite a few more for dinner. I read three poems. I love those three poems. But the reaction to all three blew me away! People were so complimenting I didn't know what to do. I never take compliments well, but this was - wow! I was stunned. People I respect liked my poems - a lot. I was there with my girlfriend and somebody I didn't know asked me for a date. I think my favorite part was vT's reading. He read his tango poem and let me tell you, that is the poem I have been waiting to read my whole life. That is poetry. I wish I would've written that poem. He prefaced it by saying, "When Amanda tells you to do something, you do it," which was my favorite quote of the evening. And then Amanda got up and read this erotic tennis poem that blew me away. She called me three weeks ago to read it to me, and when she finished, I felt like I had just had phone sex. It is that good. My girlfriend had not heard it before and she turned to me after it was done and said, "I'm turned on!" Considering how much sleep we architect addicts haven't been getting, that is saying a hell of a lot. R read three short pieces that were awesome, he really progressed well. B read a poem I hadn't heard before that I absolutely loved, and she also read the trochaic poem about, among other things, a Jew who falls in love with a guy who has a swastika tattoed on his arm, and it ends,

"bought a pack of shotgun shells and ate it fucking whole."

J spoke softly but what I heard was very universal. He promised himself that all semester he would write about his latest long-term trip, and he has really gone from making the same poem over and over again to examining the different facets of his trip - and his poems are much stronger for it. The female J read a poem about her father that floored me. She has such control, so much precision, that when she does break out at the end, oh man does she sing. W's rhythm was, as always, awesome. He read a poem he started this morning that opens beautifully. The title is "My Dreams Can Kick Your Dreams' Asses". And then, at the end, JP read one of her poems, called "Dolphins", that was so cultivated, so complete, and breathtaking. I am sad this class is now over, but that was a good end.


"Gentlemen, you may smoke."

King Edward VII of England -- after assuming the throne. His mother, Queen Victoria, had previously banned smoking in court.

I am on my third bowl of Hookah since midnight.

How's About A Floorplan?


Give Me An Industrial Entrance

Let's Get Some Materials On That Beast

The Structure

Tuesday, December 05, 2006


On Wednesday, December 6th, at 7 PM, I will be taking a short, drunken break from architecture to read poems with my classmates at Mickey's on Main Street in Moscow.

I believe I will be reading two humorous pieces, but once I get enough alchohol in me to get on stage, who knows what I will read. Cheers!

PS - Blame a lack of posts from now until the 18th on Architecture. Thank you.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Happy Birthday

And that’s the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, and excessively romantic. Not in the wildest days of his boyish visions could he have seen the alluring shape of such an extraordinary success! For it may well be that in the short moment of his last proud and unflinching glance, he had beheld the face of that opportunity which, like an eastern bride, had come veiled to his side.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Maybe Somebody Finally Hacked Stephen Hawkings Voicebox!

LONDON (Reuters) -

Humans must colonize planets in other solar systems traveling there using "Star Trek"-style propulsion or face extinction, renowned British cosmologist Stephen Hawking said Thursday. Referring to complex theories and the speed of light, Hawking, the wheel-chair bound Cambridge University physicist, told BBC radio that theoretical advances could revolutionize the velocity of space travel and make such colonies possible. "Sooner or later disasters such as an asteroid collision or a nuclear war could wipe us all out," said Professor Hawking, who was crippled by a muscle disease at the age of 21 and who speaks through a computerized voice synthesizer. "But once we spread out into space and establish independent colonies, our future should be safe," said Hawking, who was due to receive the world's oldest award for scientific achievement, the Copley medal, from Britain's Royal Society Thursday. Previous winners include Albert Einstein and Charles Darwin.

In order to survive, humanity would have to venture off to other hospitable planets orbiting another star, but conventional chemical fuel rockets that took man to the moon on the Apollo mission would take 50,000 years to travel there, he said. Hawking, a 64-year-old father of three who rarely gives interviews and who wrote the best-selling "A Brief History of Time," suggested propulsion like that used by the fictional starship Enterprise "to boldly go where no man has gone before" could help solve the problem. "Science fiction has developed the idea of warp drive, which takes you instantly to your destination. Unfortunately, this would violate the scientific law which says that nothing can travel faster than light." However, by using "matter/antimatter annihilation," velocities just below the speed of light could be reached, making it possible to reach the next star in about six years. "It wouldn't seem so long for those on board," he said.

The scientist revealed he also wanted to try out space travel himself, albeit by more conventional means. "I am not afraid of death but I'm in no hurry to die. My next goal is to go into space. Maybe Richard Branson will help me."

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

It Stopped!

The snow has stopped for more than 12 hours. This is the first time in six days it has stopped that long. Please come back snow. Please.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Tonight our low is 8 degrees. Last I checked it was 5 degrees out. It hasn't been in the double digits all day. I love it.

Arthur Fellig

He is one of the best photographers ever. Completely untrained and passionate, Fellig has been impersonated time after time by photographers and actors alike. Starting as a New York Times "squegee boy", Fellig soon rose to become one of the best journalistic photographers ever. He went by Weegee, the phoenetic of Ouija, because of his uncanny ability to get to crime scenes and fires before the proper authorities. The first journalist to have a police radio in his car in New York City, Weegee also had a portable darkroom in his trunk. Relentless and stark, his images mimic his personality. This weather always make me think of Weegee.

Monday, November 27, 2006

Last Night I Said

I want it to snow ten feet tonight!

But it didn't. It snowed heavily for an hour. Covering everything in a few inches. Then the wind, the palouse this region was named for, blowing the snow everywhere so fast I couldn't see anything but stars through the pauses, and house lights through the breaks.

The snow was late this year, by weeks, a month maybe. Nobody knows where it was - in Hawaii for a last hurrah, or in training in the Arctic, or simply waiting above the Rockies and the Cascades - but here, after Thanksgiving, it comes down thick and clean and white. All the ugly of the world swallowed up for the night and day after a big storm. I forget about Darfur. I could care less about Nepal. It's snowing. And hard.

This morning, the clouds retreated East, back to the Rockies, and the sunrise was orange over the snow. Blue sky and fresh snow were everywhere. There was not ten feet, there was not even three, but I have already forgotten everything.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Last night, in the cigar room with a Cusano 18, writing a poem,

the one posted on refrigerators, telephone
poles, spray painted on the side of cars,
tattooed to a tongue, literally,

and editing a poem,

But We Are Bankrupt By The Bland,

by poets who are so into poetry
they drive Nissan Stanzas, buy
only local, organic, overpriced products,
wear glasses that look like dashes
and leather-patched tweed blazers.

I drank an Oregon Chai tea which, by the way, went beautifully with the Cusano. When I came out it had snowed. Not much, just a quarter inch. But it was snowing hard enough to cover my tracks fifteen feet back. As soon as I closed my door at home it stopped. It covered everything. It was expected. It was late.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

For The Little Bit Of Palouse In All Of Us

Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals such as hydrogen and oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a vital ingredient in beer.

-Dave Barry

Happy Thanksgiving!

Radish King F---ing Rocks!

Sunday, November 19, 2006

He rolls the cigar beneath his nose, nostrils flaring in inhale. He does this all the time. It is always the same posture: elbows on knees, lean forward, hold the cigar with two hands, sniff and roll, then sit back and look at it. Only three responses to the sniff, all facial. One, hell, I’ll give it a try: raise one eyebrow and lower the other, cock the head to the side and push out the bottom lip. Two, I didn’t expect it to smell that good: similar to one, but both eyebrows are raised now. Three, Mon Dieu: roll both eyes into the head, raise both eyebrows, smile, and tilt the head back a little, then come forward and sniff again. He never wavers from these three. No cigar is a bad cigar. If he doesn’t like it, he must have had a bad day. If he doesn’t like it the second time, he tries it once more, just to pinpoint why. If, after trying it three times, he still does not like it, he never buys one again unless a trusted advisor says they like that specific cigar, then he always tries it again, within the week.

He has two cabinet humidors at home. One, glass paneled, holds all of his Mon Dieu cigars. The second has glass only for the door and holds all the cigars he is in the process of trying. He buys cigars three at a time, except those in his Mon Dieu humidor, which he buys by the box from his tobacconist in Denver. His favorite five are the Fuente Fuente Opus X, the Monte Cristo No. 2, the Trinidad TTT, the Por Larrañaga, and the Padrón Anniversary 1926. His other favorites are the Punch Double Corona, the Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real, and the Belinda Spanish Twist. No cigar is a bad cigar. If he doesn’t like it, he must have had a bad day.

He comes in here often. He usually wears a tie. One night a week he will ask the man behind the counter for something new. It usually takes three guesses to get something he hasn’t tried, more if it is busy. He buys only one. That night he makes a decision on the cigar, after just one. Only once a week does he do that. If he likes it, he will buy three. If he doesn’t he asks the one or two friends he trusts on cigars what they think – maybe he just had a bad day. Only rarely does he say he likes it, then gets up and walks out. He leaves and buys a box the next day. The last one he did that for was the Macanudo Duke of York. He usually brings his own cigars. He calls himself a cigar collector. No cigar is a bad cigar. If he doesn’t like it, he must have had a bad day.
I get nervous posting my own work - light headed.

Friday, November 17, 2006

It Goes Again

The 2nd bi-weekly (or monthly) Moscow 24 Hours of Writing. I barely get one architecture assignment done since the last one, and it's on again.

Radish King.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

How To Get Breathless

Go to a reading by Rebecca.

The power, surprise, humor, and beauty of her readings are unrivalled. She speaks with more conviction and confidence than I own. And oh God, the poems. The poems are back-alley bullies beating you up in broad daylight. When read out loud by the poet, holding desperately onto your chair is suggested; keep breathing too, it's important you last until the end, at which point you may fall over and stop breathing. Her work is full of fury and beauty. Her readings are truly astounding.

I made the trip to Seattle to see her a day after spending $100 on ten cigars. Actually got a spot in the Hugo parking lot around 6:30. Inside was a nervous poet passing out Radish King matches. She gave me a handful and I promised myself to only use them on the good ones. Then Radish King, the book. I'd seen an earlier form and was in love, also saw the cover once before, but feeling it, opening it up and blowing wind on my face by flipping the pages, scanning just a couple poems before the reading - I only get that excited over fresh pasta and a new racing season. She reads with power, precision, and poise I could never hope for. She named three places: Gold Bar, Ellensburg, and the Lewiston Grade. The next day I drove from Gold Bar, through Ellensburg, to the Lewiston Grade and felt her poems the entire way. They are parasitic and I love it.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Architects Die Young, Or So I'm Told

--Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
ché la diritta via era smarrita.
--Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura
esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte
che nel pensier rinova la paura!
--Tant'è amara che poco è più morte;
ma per trattar del ben ch'i' vi trovai,
dirò de l'altre cose ch'i' v'ho scorte.
--Io non so ben ridir com'i' v'intrai,
tant'era pien di sonno a quel punto
che la verace via abbandonai.


Tonight is Van Sant night instead of Poetry class. We are apparently watching My Own Private Idaho. I love that film. It will be a long, long night after that however. So much needs to get done.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

24 Hour Recap

The 24 Hours of Poetry was just what I needed to get excited about my own writing again. I created a character who, despite only two pages being written about him, has come alive to me already, like no other character has. I realized a couple hours into the write that a reason I have such a hard time with fiction is that I try to write about what I don't know - I need some constraints or else I write stuff that bores me. I think I overcame that in writting the character. I don't think I will ever fully get over trying to write about what I don't know, but I did temporarily and I loved the results. I also started a poem I had been thinking about for a long time and it immediately changed into a sequence of found poems in tribute to Estelo Padrón. I did not get enough editing done, nor did I get a start on the paper, but I am very happy with how the night progressed.


Friday, November 03, 2006

Welcome To The Pre-Game Show

That's right Dave, today is the big day: the Moscow, Idaho 24 Hours of Poetry.

Sure is Steve, and the air is abuzz with excitement as those involved get ready for their big night.

Don't you mean write Dave?

Ha Ha Ha, I guess I should say write. We've watched these authors in the preliminaries, from English 291 all the way up through 491, and their fiction classes, and I think this is shaping up to be a - an - a very exciting night Steve.

Yes indeed Dave. We've also seen them turn out some fairly, well, not good poetry this season, -


- and perhaps this write is just the right thing to get them back to their old selves.

You know, you are exactly right there Steve. Poems like "Alexander" and "Jeff Jordan" really need help, while some like "I Am Sick Of Poetry" -


- yeah, I know, that title - well, "I Am Sick Of Poetry" and "He Passes Away Under A Cloud" really show some promise but just are not quite there yet Steve.

Yes, definately Dave. We can expect to see those come out, but I also wonder if recent poems like "The Male Ophelia" and that piece about hands might get an early start on new drafts tonight.

I think so.

Well, me to, but what is really exciting here Dave, is the prospect of seeing some really great poems -


- well, like "To The Cult Of Architecture" - come out and really be polished up to just that final draft, you know, the one you send off in manuscripts.

I agree Steve, but do you think any of our Poets will ever finish a poem?

No, I think you're right there. I think this group of authors we will see tonight are addicted to experimentation and continual revision, but I think that, after tonight, a couple poems might have enough confidence to fly to a periodical.

I completely agree with you Steve. But what about some of the other contestants, I know CVT lost the flash drive that had everything he'd ever written on it earlier this week.

Yes, that was devastating. He really had some good pieces and ideas, but to lose everything like that - wow Dave. I don't even know what to say.

Well, let's not forget that we haven't heard from him in a while and he may have found it Steve.

That's right Dave.

But even if he didn't, this night will see the first drafts of new poems, stories, assignments, et cetera -

As well as a wonderful William Kittridge reading.

- yes, as well as Kittridge. But we are running out of time for the Pre-Game show. The write starts off at about 2:00 PM today, Pacific time, with the first poet getting home from class. The rest of the authors will join up until they all go, en masse, to the Kittridge reading at 7:30 PM in the Administration Building's Auditorium on the U of Idaho campus. Good luck to all involved with this long, long night.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Global Sex

"There's a misperception that there's a great deal of promiscuity in Africa, which is one of the potential reasons for HIV/AIDS spreading so rapidly," said Dr. Paul van Look, director of Reproductive Health and Research at the World Health Organization, who was unconnected to the study. "But that view is not supported by the evidence." Wellings says that implies that promiscuity may be less important than factors such as poverty and education...

Researchers also found that married people have the most sex, and that there has been a gradual shift to delay marriage, even in developing countries.

"A single woman is more able to negotiate safe sex in certain circumstances than a married woman," says van Look, who points out that married women in Africa and Asia are often threatened by unfaithful husbands who frequent prostitutes.

Because of the diversity of sexual habits worldwide, Wellings warns that no single approach to sexual health will work everywhere. "There are very different economic, religious and social rules governing sexual conduct across the world," Wellings said.

Who says raising awareness doesn't help?

Courtesy of The International Herald Tribune. Article here.

How Fast Can Ten Gallons Of Candy Go?

Approx. 45 min if you give it out at the mall when it is about twenty degrees outside.

Best Costumes I Saw:

1. A Small Child as Mario
2. A Student Smoking a Cigar, dressed as Castro or Che
3. A Pregnant Woman as a Pumpkin
4. Anything from Eclectica
5. Daniel as a Twinkie
6. A Dad as a Hot Dog
7. A Flapper

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Awards! Yay!!!

Best Editing of the first annual Arch 253 Film Festival goes to:

Le Complice Malin by:

ME!!! Yay!
They mocked me on Tuesday, on Thursday they loved me. Ha!


Below are three cool ones from the makeblog, which is one of the coolest blogs ever.

Happy Halloween!

Lego Shaun Of The Dead

From here.

Decapitated Marie Antoinette Costume

More here.

Knit Leia Buns

Free Pattern: The Leia Hat. This pattern is copyright by Ansley Davies and is intended for personal use only.

B-Horror Flicks!

1. Alien from L.A. - Let's just get the premise out there, Kathy Ireland is a nerdy girl who still looks gorgeous but whose father falls down a bottomless pit and lands (stay with me) in a ten million year old spacecraft. She does the same. The spacecraft is Atlantis, which had floated on the surface of the ocean for years, but suddenly sank a couple thousand years ago. It sank so long ago that Atlantians debate whether there is a surface world or not. I give it a C+.

2. I Married A Monster From Outer Space - Interesting. A guy gets anal probed the night before his wedding and looses all taste for alcohol. Then I fell asleep. I give the first half a C.

3. Killer Klowns From Outer Space - Wow. Um. What? Did that clown that looks like a balloon just shoot popcorn out of a gun? F.

4. High Tension - A French Lesbian drama meets compulsive necromancer in plumbing van. Actually quite well done, but takes itself too seriously for my tastes. A-.

5. Return Of The Killer Tomatoes - George Clooney with hair that blows me away. Tomatoes turn into humans. That's it. It is cheesy and stupid, but ultimately mindless and fun. A+.

6. Evil Dead II - This was good! I liked it. There is this mythological element, as well as your stereotypical horror flick elements: man turns into zombie, then gets better with daylight, cuts off his hand and replaces it with a chainsaw, fights the devil and they both get sucked into a wormhole where he saves the world. It was just serious enough for me. A+.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Thank You Tara!

Your music brings me to a place that only drugs can - and much quicker than drugs. Most drug users use drugs to unlock that state, and continually try and get to that stage in their sober lives. You totally get there and never use drugs to do it. This music is chill.

I mixed it, but Mogwai, Robert Frost, Dylan Thomas, and Saul Williams are the soundbytes. Tara f--king blew me away today. Thank you!

Friday, October 27, 2006

Happy Birthday DT

powered by ODEO

This Is Where I End

The author would like to thank Monster energy drink, Delirium Tremens, CPI, Bridgeport Ropewalk, and Layalina molasses-tobacco for helping keep him awake at night, and all his friends and family, especially his girlfriend, for their love and support. He still sees pink elephants.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

The News

Dear Reader-

The film will have its world and international premieres tonight. The world premiere will be from 6-8 PM in the second floor studios of AAN. Feel free to drop by if you are in Moscow. If any of you have been following my progress through this blog, I sincerely apologize – this film took me.

The film's international debut will be here, available for viewing October 27th, 2006, at 10:00 AM. Please let me know what you think. Thank you.




*Don't ask. I need sleep - or more Monster.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

This Is Where I Begin

This is the final piece. One eighteen hour run to the finish fueled by CPI, Monster, tobacco, and confidence. Thrown in there is a poetry meeting and a couple previous sleepless nights. I am a member of the Cult of Architecture. The bags under my eyes are my ID tag. Put it all together and we have the Studio Lifestyle - up all night. God, I wish it was that simple: up all week is much more like it.

Alright, let's go.

File: New

This Is How I Go To Bed (Not When) 5 & This Is How You End

This Is Where You Go

This Is How You Begin


Or what I have left of it is in this picture. You can have it.

I'm not sure I need it anymore.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

War In Sudan? Not Where The Oil Wealth Flows.

To understand Sudan’s defiance toward the world, especially the Western world, check out the Ozone Café. Here young, rich Sudanese, wearing ripped jeans and fancy gym shoes, sit outside licking scoops of ice cream as an outdoor air-conditioning system sprays a cooling veil of mist. Around the corner is a new BMW dealership unloading $165,000 cars. While one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises continues some 600 miles away in Darfur, across Khartoum bridges are being built, office towers are popping up, supermarkets are opening and flatbed trucks hauling plasma TV’s fight their way through thickening traffic. Oil has turned it into one of the fastest growing economies in Africa — if not the world — emboldening the nation’s already belligerent government and giving it the wherewithal to resist Western demands to end the conflict in Darfur. American sanctions have kept many companies from Europe and the United States out of Sudan, but firms from China, Malaysia, India, Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates are racing in. Direct foreign investment has shot up to $2.3 billion this year, from $128 million in 2000, all while the American government has tried to tighten the screws. As long as Asian countries are eager to trade with Sudan, despite its human rights record, the American embargo seems to have minimal effect. The country’s president, Omar Hassan al-Bashir, keeps demonstrating his disdain for the West by refusing to allow United Nations peacekeepers into Darfur, despite continued bloodshed and pressure from the United States to let the peacekeepers in. Business leaders say the biggest danger would be if the United States succeeded in persuading Sudan’s Asian and Middle Eastern trading partners to join the boycott. “The Americans are not a threat, but if the international community lines up against us, ahh, that is a different issue,” said Osama Daoud Abdellatif, chairman of the DAL Group, a conglomerate that owns the Coke factory, the Ozone Café and a number of other businesses. “Everything has been going so well, but Darfur could spoil the party.”

Courtesy of the New York Times article here

Fall Music 2

Electronic music is hard. I think it is harder to create than rock or indie. These are who I feel. This is a total list, including mash-up artists.

DJ Shadow - Thanks Colin. I ain't heard any of his new stuff, but what I have heard is really good.

DJ Dangermouse - I remember Grey Tuesday. That was my introduction. Currently I'm in Demon Days and St. Elsewhere.

CPI - She f--king rocks! "Poetry is for Fairies", download that. She definately takes me away. Free music.

Eddie - That's right. My experimental friend from Wazzu takes mixes to a whole new level. He needs to drop BioChem and buy a couple turntables.

Woven - Technically a 6 man band, but "8 Bit Monk" is one of my top ten CD's right now.

mum - 'nuff said.

The Kleptones - Great mash-up artists. I love "A Night At The Hip-Hopera" and "Yoshimi Battles The Hip-Hop Robots." Free music.

The Silence Xperiment - The one who brought us the Q-Unit. Yes, that is Queen and the G-Unit. Trust me on this one. Free bittorrent link.

MC 900ft. Jesus - I have no idea what is going on here, but I like it.

DJ BC - The Beastles. That's right, the Beastie Boys and the Beatles.

Jimmy Tamborello - The head behind Dntel, Figurine, The Postal Service, Further, and The Tyde is a genius. Dntel is one of my favorite groups, and "Life is Full of Possibilities" is a great album.

This Is How I Go To Bed (And When) 4

Actually, I lie. Sleep has left me, or me it. I can't think.

My Blood Runs Green

Monday, October 23, 2006

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Friday, October 20, 2006

Dear Reader,

Seventeen years ago I fled Darfur.

But not a day goes by when I don’t think of my family and friends who remain in the region – along with the millions of other Darfuris currently suffering at the hands of a genocidal regime.

Yet, despite the devastation, we must not give up hope. There is something we can do to stop this genocide. It begins with raising awareness to help build pressure on our political leaders to act.

That is why I am so pleased to tell you that this Sunday evening the CBS newsmagazine “60 Minutes” will air a story about the genocide in Darfur.

The Sudanese government continues to deny its role in the perpetration of genocide, restricting reporters from entering the region in order to hide the truth.

Yet CBS correspondent Scott Pelley and his "60 Minutes" crew went anyway, putting their lives in jeopardy. Their report on what is happening is both powerful and devastating.

I know because I was with Pelley and his crew when they filmed this piece. It is haunting and evocative – because it is real. There is no doubt in my mind that after watching this segment, millions of Americans will be compelled to act to stop the genocide in Darfur.

Thank you for everything you continue to do.


Omer Ismail
Fellow at Harvard University's Carr Center for Human Rights Policy
Founder of Darfur Peace and Development Organization

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Monday, October 09, 2006


After months of harvest and field burning, the sunrise this morning was pure, the sky a clear blue without its usual scar of clouds. The trees still cling to their green leaves, but not for much longer. Last week was eighty, today my breath is on display. I drove around town as the sun came up, watching the light cascade down buildings, trees, grain elevators on their last legs. The empty sky means there will be wind, a palouse, what this region was named for. Trees will shed their leaves. Squirrels will hide in the lee of buildings, chimneys, thick trees. Today, I will watch as my roof resounds with the feet of animals, coat my throat with hot tea, read Glück. Today, when the Palouse is perfect, I will dream of Seattle, of home. Not because I want badly to be there, but because when I was there, I was without the responsibilities bringing me down here. This fall day will be appropriately somber and breathtaking. I promise.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

One Thing On Writing

Last night I learned what kind of man I want: Chris Abani.

So funny and so honest. He let us see all of him. He work has this sense of being Abani - more than many writers he is honest and personal in all of his work. It floored me. For well over an hour I worshipped him. The lynching scene from Graceland, the fire scene from The Virgin of Flames, the suicide in Becoming Abigail - he stunned me. Christian asked what his take on the relationship between violence and sex was and Abani replied so honestly I was breathles. He also said canibalism is one of the most sexual experiences he can imagine. Abani is obsessed with humanity and the rites of passage in becoming human - the ability of humanity to be faced with pure brutality and come away more human for it. Someone asked if he liked Los Angeles and he said L.A. was the most unnecessary, illogical, segregated, third world city - in the best possible sense - he had ever been in. Anyone can make L.A. whatever they want it to be and for that, he loves it. All of Abani's work focuses on becoming, and last night he showed us his path.

Three Things On Darfur

From the daily newsletter.

1. Some 130km (80 miles) north of El Fashir, the administrative capital of North Darfur, lies Kutum. It is a desolate landscape, and that sense of desolation is shared by the African Union troops posted here. They are sent to patrol the airstrip or ride in convoys through the market, in an effort to be a "presence" and give some reassurance to people who call this home. This is the territory where the Janjaweed - the Arab militia - roam, and 5km (3 miles) north of Kutum is where a handful of militia groups are now fighting for territory. It is a civil war that, since the signing of a peace deal back in May, has grown far more complex. Twenty-one women and girls have been raped in Kassab camp in the past two weeks - 21 of them! It is a staggering figure that gives some insight into the vulnerability of areas where peacekeepers are absent. One of the victims, Hawa, clutching a baby to her breast, relived her ordeal. "I left the camp with two other girls, to get grasses for the donkeys," she remembers. "Along the way we met more than four men with guns. One of them grabbed my arms and another one grabbed my legs. They said they would kill me if I didn't co-operate." She was raped in broad daylight, the way it often happens here.

2. One corner of Sudan's violent Darfur region is green and peaceful in this post-rainy season thanks to a powerful village militia that has kept the fighting around it at bay for more than a year. At the center of a coalition of neutral villages that unites more than 10,000 people, the village of Gusa Jamat's homegrown militia kicked out Darfur rebels more than two years ago and made sure the government forces they are fighting did not come back in their place. On Tuesday, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice made a passionate plea to the international community to persuade the Sudanese government to open Darfur to U.N. peacekeepers. "We're tired of the fighting," said Shaieb. Every man here has a gun and they can be at the ready if alerted by the warning network with surrounding villages, he added. Gusa Jamat is about 60 miles southeast of El Fasher, the regional capital of North Darfur state. The government has mobilized some 8,000 fighters in El Fasher, a move the U.N. says violates the cease-fire. Though Khartoum pledged to disarm the janjaweed, many El Fasher residents say they recognize some of the dreaded fighters among the newly arrived troops.

3. She sleeps less, goes out less, and has reduced her course load to work 30 to 40 hours a week organizing student campaigns. Her goal: to end the suffering in Darfur, Sudan, perhaps the world's worst humanitarian crisis. "If people are still dying, I need to keep working," says Bailey Cato, a University of Oklahoma senior and a regional coordinator for a student antigenocide coalition called STAND. And tomorrow she'll be fasting - along with Don Cheadle, Hollywood star of "Hotel Rwanda," and other celebrities and politicians in a show of solidarity with the people of Darfur. Student fasts are nothing new, of course. But the Darfur crisis has caught on with American activists in a way not seen since the anti-apartheid movement of the 1980s and early '90s. And the big surprise is: They're achieving results. "The grass-roots people have really kept the issue alive and forced the hand of the governments," says Alex de Waal, a fellow of the Global Equity Initiative at Harvard University, who has been advising the African Union on Darfur. He says the UN Security Council's decision in March 2005 to refer Darfur war crimes cases to the International Criminal Court and the US move two years ago to label the conflict "genocide" would not have happened without advocates' pressure. "I think [grass-roots efforts] have made [Darfur] almost a top-tier issue for the Bush administration," says John Prendergast, a senior adviser of the Brussels-based International Crisis Group. "There's no question [President] Bush feels political pressure to respond."

As always, the situation continues with bright little points of hope mixed with utter hopelessness. The UN still can not get in.

North Darfur is an interesting region because the offensive started there, before progressing West, then finally entering the southern region en masse last February. What happens in the North will sonn be hapening in the other two as well.

The Professor

I wish more professors did this. You have no idea how students act today. Professor's need to do this with laptops too.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Thank You AUTODESK VIZ 2007

Please excuse the recent absence of intelligence, I am currently in school.

Poetry soon, probably.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

To Begin With

My name was once Tyler. I grew up in three places, starting on Camano Island, ending up in Monmartre, and living in Spokane in the middle. My mother took the divorce hard even though she got me, my little brother Eddie, most of the money, and the house. Father got away. We only lasted a year in Spokane when Eddie took the fall at eight, crushed by an overturned garbage truck. Mother ODed two days later on my thirteenth birthday. That’s how I ended up in Paris, with dad.


I am losing days. Moving too slowly. The Safe has me now.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Fall Music

This is the start of my Fall Music posts. For this one we have three bands and three seperate CD's. If you like original music that surprises you and affects you emotionally, then these three might be for you:

The Mars Volta - Amputechture

This CD lacks the focus the concept album format afforded their last effort, but there is more of the sense of a journey. The first song is reminiscent of Frances the Mute, and truly, the album can seem B-Sides of that Mute until "Asilos Magdalena" forces it off track. This new direction explodes into "Viscera Eyes" and through the last two songs. The second listen yields less of a Mute feel and retells the album as something wholly new and different. The conversation between guitar solos and Cedric Bixler-Zavala's better than ever vocals plays prominently into "Viscera Eyes", but runs more subtly throughout the entire album. Astounding. Their fourth album is as good as the rest, and still so different.

mewithoutYou - Brother, Sister

I am brimming with teenage glee over the coming of this CD. September 26th. I bought their first CD, [A--->B] of Life, the day it came out on accident: I liked the artwork and happened to be shopping then. Their second CD, Catch for us the Foxes, came out in September 2004 and I remember buying it in Totem Lake the day it came out on purpose, putting it in the CD changer in my car, driving to school in Bothell, and I honestly haven't taken it out since - it has stayed in my car for two years. No other CD has ever come close. They are truly, truly original on the same scale as Clann Zu and The Mars Volta. The powerfully personal lyrics mix well with their originality to provide stunningly savage and soft songs every time.

Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene

An ensemble cast of musicians dig their fingers into the sounds of Canada's Broken Social Scene. Each song is a a a piece of an album crafted with overarching themes and sounds, but varying widely in their uses song to song. That make sense? Didn't think so. Their standard is progression. I think that's all that can be said about them. Also, I can't stop listening to this album - I have it on for homework, parties, cleaning, waking up, and going to bed. It is perfect. It is surprising. It is the only one of their albums that I have heard. It is making me buy the rest of their work.

Lines By Robert Lowell

"The muskrat that took a slice of your thumb still huddles, a mop of hair and heart-beat on the porch."

"All Autumn, the chafe and jar of nuclear war; we have talked our extinction to death."

"Life danced a jig on the sperm-whale's spout."

"But in the silence, some one lets out his belt to breathe, some one roams in negligee."

For The Union Dead

Robert Lowell

Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam

The old South Boston Aquarium stands
in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded.
The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales.
The airy tanks are dry.

Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass;
my hand tingled
to burst the bubbles
drifting from the noses of the cowed, compliant fish.

My hand draws back. I often sigh still
for the dark downward and vegetating kingdom
of the fish and reptile. One morning last March,
I pressed against the new barbed and galvanized

fence on the Boston Common. Behind their cage,
yellow dinosaur steamshovels were grunting
as they cropped up tons of mush and grass
to gouge their underworld garage.

Parking spaces luxuriate like civic
sandpiles in the heart of Boston.
A girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin colored girders
braces the tingling Statehouse,

shaking over the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw
and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry
on St. Gaudens' shaking Civil War relief,
propped by a plank splint against the garage's earthquake.

Two months after marching through Boston,
half the regiment was dead;
at the dedication,
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.

Their monument sticks like a fishbone
in the city's throat.
Its Colonel is as lean
as a compass-needle.

He has an angry wrenlike vigilance,
a greyhound's gentle tautness;
he seems to wince at pleasure,
and suffocate for privacy.

He is out of bounds now. He rejoices in man's lovely,
peculiar power to choose life and die--
when he leads his black soldiers to death,
he cannot bend his back.

On a thousand small town New England greens,
the old white churches hold their air
of sparse, sincere rebellion; frayed flags
quilt the graveyards of the Grand Army of the Republic.

The stone statues of the abstract Union Soldier
grow slimmer and younger each year--
wasp-waisted, they doze over muskets
and muse through their sideburns...

Shaw's father wanted no monument
except the ditch,
where his son's body was thrown
and lost with his "niggers."

The ditch is nearer.
There are no statues for the last war here;
on Boylston Street, a commercial photograph
shows Hiroshima boiling

over a Mosler Safe, the "Rock of Ages"
that survived the blast. Space is nearer.
When I crouch to my television set,
the drained faces of the Negro school-children rise like balloons.

Colonel Shaw
is riding on his bubble,
he waits
for the blessèd break.

The Aquarium is gone. Everywhere,
giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
a savage servility
slides by on grease.


Notes to Myself -

"They relinquished all to serve the Republic"

The transition between distanced, dreamlike images and concrete, concise images makes the latter resonate. The distance comes from his use of a double-adjective tactic coupled with increased assonance. His concise stanzas come through alliteration ("savage servility slides").

I love end-rhyme like Lowell's. It is subtle, often just a repetition of a single consonant, hard to pin down, quiet, unnoticable when read outloud, secondary to his internal rhyme, and most of all discarded when it needs to be. The internal rhyme is breathtaking.

This piece would not stand without the research Lowell put in to it. Writing about a family member often implies the author's self in the character, but Lowell pulls it off stunningly. From quoting the letter to the tidbits about Boston, this poem is whole. Immunity is also impossible: there is shame at the segregation and television. Did Shaw die in vain?

This idea that past progress proved positive before present progress displaced past is wonderfully put. In a time (1960) when Lowell, Bishop, Berryman and other poets were against the mass-production America, Lowell uses this series of images to implicate himself in the mess while still whining about the changes to Boston. Also, the statement here that nothing is physically lost, just changed, is in some ways more hopeful and some more depressing than loss altogether: the fish are transformed into cars, the Aquarium still stands, the monument is moved and placed out of bounds, the Statehouse lacks dignity while propped up so the dinosaur steamshovels can gouge a parking garage beneath it, the ditch becomes the underworld garage, (Shaw's choice to be buried is taken from us as we must park underground and use mass-produced items) respect of the past becomes exploitation of the past, childhood is only a memory. Lowell draws parallels between the Confederate state that buried Shaw without military honors and the mass-production society that forces all people to line up neat.

This piece is an example of Lowell's sometime mastery. I don't like all of his work, but some of his lines are splendid. His style stays very consistent, which bores me a little. But most Poets Laureate bore me because they occupy a political post and therefore cannot be too polarizing - Louise G. being the main exception, but she got lucky. I like Lowell best when he uses this series of short stories to set up a larger theme. The book, For the Union Dead is good, not great. "Fall 1961", "Eye and Tooth", "Those Before Us", and the title poem stood out as the strongest pieces and all of them utilize the same tactics.

(Yes, I do realize I am saying I like variety and don't like it, but what I mean is this format works best for Lowell as I read him - he does not seem quite as confident elsewhere.)

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Man With Wooden Leg Escapes Prison

Albert Einstein

The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.

Man With Wooden Leg Escapes Prison

James Tate

Man with wooden leg escapes prison. He’s caught.
They take his wooden leg away from him. Each day
he must cross a large hill and swim a wide river
to get to the field where he must work all day on
one leg. This goes on for a year. At the Christmas
Party they give him back his leg. Now he doesn’t
want it. His escape is all planned. It requires
only one leg.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Life As A Poetry Major:

So what's your major?

Pharmaceutical Science. What's yours?


Oh. I used to be published for poetry. Some press back in Minnesota. My brother has all the sweet hook-ups. My brother's an author, (Name I can't remember.)

I got nothing.

I am going to make so much more money than you.

You probably will.

I definitely will.

Good for you.

Do you know when M. is going to be free?

Nope. You should ask him.

I think I'll just come back later.


Good luck in school.


See ya.



Flying free of his limbs,
wailing his fate, leaving his manhood
far behind, his young and supple strength,
his helmet flashing, his helmet
flashing, his helmet forever flashing:
the end closed in around him.
This is a found poem.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

What I Find Fun

Birdhouses designed after architects.

Creative statues.


Thank You 3dsMax8

Randall Teal


"I like art where I feel like it's coming for me."


My Favorite Book Since The Bible

The Architect's Brother

Forgive The Stingray

I call on all peoples to forgive this attrocity! There shall be no stingray hunts, no Holy Crusades to the Great Barrier Reef, no inflaming speeches in Times Square about an answer to The Stingray Question. No! I for one will continue on, as he would have wished us too, and furthermore I will let the stingray continue!

Let us now turn our eyes to the more important question: Will Steve be buried in his khakis?

Thursday, August 31, 2006

The Votes Are In!

And the result is:

The UN will finally be sending a peacekeeping force to Darfur! The strength of their mandate will be determined in the coming days. Please call John Bolton at 212-415-4050 and thank him for his efforts in getting the vote cast so quickly and in convincing other nations to back the efforts of President Bush and Prime Minister Blair on this account.

After years of genocide, the UN is finally taking action thanks, in large part, to the lead of Bush and Blair.


Now up to 22,600 people will be walking into hell to protect those living there, "by any means necessary."

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

One Of These Things Is Not True

1. I have no fingerprints

2. I eat pork chops

3. I do not drink coffee

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Poetry Nights...

have begun again. This blog will now return to its normal posts - art, lit, arch. Enjoy!

Friday, August 25, 2006

First Day Of School

I found a man bent over, holding a painter's razor, and talking to his calf. "Oh hey, I haven't seen you in a while."

I found a man nicknamed Christian after bouncing for a Strip Club with his toenails painted BRIGHT pink. Non-Greek.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

It Begins

This term I have two firsts: an 8:00am class and a class on Friday. I think I did pretty good making it through three years of college before having either.

I am now lab manager at the store I work at. It means I take care of the machines, nurse them to health, clean our their intestines. It's true. It also means on days I don't have to work, if there is a problem I have to go in. Like Monday. From Monday off to a six hour day. I do all this for no extra pay. Me Think Smartly One Day.

One of my coworkers snapped. All he has said to me, while no one is around, for the past two days is, fuck you, fuck you dude, or fuck you man. Though he hasn't told me what his problem is. When people are around, especially my girlfriend or her hot roomate, I am his best friend.

There is only one passing in my group of friends. He went home. He doesn't care what happens tomorrow. He used to dream of being president. I am happy for him.

The sun rises through the smoke of burning fields.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

It Begins In Two Days

a) It tried desperately to kill me earlier this year

b) It brings the IQ of Moscow down eighty points

c) It is a pointless exercise of jumping through successively smaller hoops

d) All of the above

e) None of the above

f) Cover head and run at top speed down Main naked and screaming, disobeying all traffic laws for pedestrians, while desperately trying to find a place where there are no Greeks at all

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Darfurian Rebel Leader

I was born under a tree.
I live under a tree.
I am fighting from behind a tree.

I will never compose anything quite like this. For a man who hasn't cried since his pre-teen years, this almost got me. I remember it. I had exited the hospital four days earlier, shouldn't have driven down there, shouldn't have walked, clung to guard rails, blessed my disability permit, swam in clothes too large for my emaciated form. I had planned it. It was something I could point to and say, there, I helped there. I said I wouldn't go, I swore I couldn't. That trip put my recovery back a week. I passed out for a day after that. Oh God it was worth it. Oh God I hated it.

He had one eye. He wore sunglasses. He took them off once to wipe sweat. The sand was blowing. Bombers whined overhead, returning from burned villages. And when we ran to the tree to hide he said it. In the back of the auditorium I couldn't breathe. I blacked out. I was crushed. It was the words, the man, the village he ran from - it was a symphony. Mozart's Requiem knocks me out every time I hear it. This killed me. This was my salvation.

I like poets and poems I can hear. Reading some of my favorites I have composed their voices in my head, I imagine they would stop just where I do, I imagine them sitting on their front porch reading from a beat up Moleskine. Others I have heard - others I know. Their voices conjured up by mere mention. I hear them reading their poems. Both of these I like.

I once thought painting was the least of the arts. Using only one sense is boring. I want to be assaulted. Inundate me. That is where mastery is, breeding one sense into the others. Mastery is the smell Van Gogh's cypress trees, the feel of Venus di Milo's skin, the taste of O'Keefe's milk. True genius is conjuring the second iteration of senses: emotion. Goya makes me want to scream. Chagall makes me want to start a revolution. Da Vinci makes me want to study everything all at once for about five minutes. It is hard to call up senses with just pigment and binder, but even harder to call up actions, emotions. The artwork is the whole. It is not the paint on the canvas. It is not even the philosophy behind it. It is broken. It is the wall. It is the time of day. It is the light. It is the biography. It is the history. It is most of all me.

Art too often forsakes the surround. That which is not the specific piece. Photography has drawn the surround back into the art world. Are installations and architecture the purest forms of art then? No. All forms are equal. Including words. It is just as hard with words. But every so often a single span of time and a set of words, of brush strokes, of walls and windows come together to slay.

I was born under a tree.
I live under a tree.
I am fighting from behind a tree.

(Quote from Darfur Diaries.)