! S•U•R•F•A•C•E•R !

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At night I'm up and i have no secret place

2011-02-03T22:21:00.000-08:00

The typing begins again. Memory into the machine, to unearth at a stranger date. This time with no plans to be read or seen or swallowed.

Just a record. Skewed, detached. Like a dream.

That Dream part 1: the airplane

2010-03-22T08:26:00.000-07:00

Inside it I was. There was: crashing, the knowledge that we would be crashing, or at least, crashing held a tremendous chance. I was told by myself to ball up and become empty. Make a black hole inside myself and then retreat into it. This I did and was comforted by the escape. Comforted as in erased of all feeling, dissolved into that black circle inside myself. Lovely, lost.

And then I was again me. On the road, watching the plane glide above and away. It was a glider, no wonder the engines made no noise. I was me again, on the road, moving towards a massive storm.

end part 1

Another Drawing From the Book of Holy Fuck

2010-03-06T06:25:00.001-08:00

Songs of the Internet

2010-03-03T11:25:00.000-08:00

A new album (by kids for kids).

Tracks

1. We didn't invent this shit
2. All our questions will be answered
3. Let there be light (let there be love)

Yep. Now three tracks. Two played with primary colored shakers, one a cappella.

family man self-portrait

2010-02-24T07:23:00.000-08:00

E escapes

2010-02-10T12:11:00.000-08:00

from the internet.

"Isaac Newton's analysis of escape velocity. Projectiles A and B fall back to earth. Projectile C achieves a circular orbit, D an elliptical one. Projectile E escapes."

If you say so, or if you say so: a poem.

End Divine Time

2010-01-06T08:12:00.001-08:00

With the arrival of a mutilated catalog along with the advent of a new year and sights being lowered I now propose an end to Divine Time. I will tell all about it on my other blog: alls.us.

Begin Divine Time

2009-10-13T14:09:00.001-07:00

In hoping to transcend the physical laws garnishing this body I propose Divine Time.

Blow Out

2009-10-05T15:25:00.001-07:00

Space

2009-10-04T21:31:00.000-07:00

Younger boy says he is going to type the longest story in the world and begins plunking the old Royal's keys but the sound in not your normal plunking it is paced and easy and he says he is not going to use paper for this story (is in fact going to type the longest story right on the roller) because the story is called Space and consists of a relentless pushing of the spacebar with no other keys involved. I have no doubt it is a masterpiece.

Lyrics: Now that I'm born again I can curate & honor then/my past (raw rashness) with mass detachments

2009-09-24T07:31:00.001-07:00

My son's My Book About Me

2009-09-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

Monday, February 27, 2006

2009-09-11T06:47:00.000-07:00

More Words That Will Waste Your Time Beyond a Title That is Capitalized To Seem Important

I am sitting here laughing outloud at my computer and it is indeed because I have just ingested a large amount of a mind specific chemical that has made me loopy I have no numbness now just ka-pow and ramblespit so I'll mark some words for you to hear inside the head that is spinning this narrative for you the one over there away from the the you that is here inside my noggin so I keep on bloggin as my fingers melt into the keys and I can't lift them just slush them around until I've found what I meant to say before the day dissolved away. Simple sliping apart at the seams it seems the dreams of our night ain't nothing more than the stories we tell ourselves when we wake and it makes my happy to know that the sappy dreamspeak we tweak and spin in the morning ain't really how it waz because we're free and the xplosion from which they have risen is derived from the complusion of the livin. Swing low sweet cherry ought. Ima gonna carry myself on home after I pick up my bones and put them back together no matter whether or not you think I clever we got to get going we gotta get outta here if its the last thing we ever do. SO escape the shoe weight and appeal to the god of air and steel and find your soul on some distant beach we control for a small fee they'll love you for a fee they'll steep you in the ways of the fire and clay until you say enough and pull the plug on this stuff the words keep gliding in their rampant pain reader cringes full of dead brain and small spark shame. Unkept but tame with a wilderness flame and a flower garden fuck just wait for the rain wait for the rain wait for the rain to tuck you in it seaps into your skin and pores and pours and pores and pours until the saturation point is reached the dam is breached and you fall out and down and wash around the town in your electromagnetic shield of rainbow steel and bingo halls crying eyes liquor daze humor fades. I I I I I I I I I I I I I try to stay straight and speak easy but the stutters start stuttering and I can't help mutterin that my rambin is in shambles and the need to speak is soon replaced by the horror that there is nothing to say.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006 (Another Old Post)

2009-09-09T13:01:00.001-07:00

the photographs

recovered from the basement are neglected and melting from the heat of your gaze - caustic. You are determined to wash the resin of the images into a pile of colors and non-descript paper shavings. It makes no sense to stare so hard but you do and they die right there, while all the dead people we once knew stare down at us from our lofty memories and condone our actions. I should not take this picture, I should not spend this money. But I do and they die. I do and they die- always always always.

Oh fucka art!

And as if that wasn't enough here I am spilling the habit onto elitist pages for the proper people to soak up and spit out. No he's okay, yes he's not okay- they say, they say. You can't touch this here. This thing I hold like a glowing glass orb above the world is only for my eyes because when you look you ruin. When you look you ruin.

You look You ruin You look
You ruin You look You ruin
You look You ruin You look
You ruin You look You ruin
You look You ruin You look
You ruin You look You ruin

It's okay my mouth is working properly and my eyes gaze at the same stars as anyone else. I just can't believe it could be like this- how can it be like this? How can it be so possible and so hopeless all the time?

if you want me

it's too late

My Cursor

2009-08-14T16:40:00.001-07:00

Thursday, August 25, 2005

2009-08-10T18:14:00.000-07:00

Apocalypso

I was driving down the street talking to the playmobil sheriff on the dashboard asking him to forgive me of my vehicular sins when across the windshield splattered a d minor chord and I knew it was true: the world was falling apart. Soon it was laser beams and satellite bits crashing all about and the road became an obstacle course of splintered sun rays and plastic penis pumps. "This is not happening, not today," I said to Nickyboy (the sheriff), but I knew that indeed it was. "Let's go home," I said.

Through the droppings and swervings we made it home. The car was totalled, but that was not because of the apocalypse, that was because I never took care of it. I jet into the remains of our house and yelled for Family, "Family...Family... where are you Family?" And they replied from the basement, "we're down here... come join the party!" And I thought, "what in the hell," and walked down the white wooden steps.

And low and behold it was a dance party, a retro-1998-style one. Boy was I surprised! And not only that! Look my boys are dancing! I never knew they could dance like that! Good thing the apocalypse was today otherwise I might never have known!

posted by John E. # 10:35 AM

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

2009-08-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

Notes on The Nice-to-Know-You Scene from Our Lives

This is the scene where all the living people (anyone you can think of) go around and introduce themselves and congratulate each other on being here and are overwhelmed by the realization that everyone really is here. Amazing! And because everyone is here, the atmosphere is utterly awash with sound, just one big roar of unity. Hey you there! And you! You made it! Isn't this something? LITERALLY EVERYONE IS HERE!

And then we split back into God's Little Shards and resurface in our own experience and wait again for the day when we will all fall into that wall of sound and (wide-eyed and willingly) tell each other "what a fucking universe this is!"

But until then I will pretend this language is effective and these words do justice, pretend you are listening and pretend what I say is worth saying. I will pretend I am you, a piece of gravel washed up on the shore of Infinity with a mouth moving like a motherfucker from Hell.

some color and image to break up the old blog entries

2009-08-05T09:24:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

2009-08-04T14:33:00.000-07:00

A Brief Teaser On a Current Subject, Namely: The Unfolding Saga of The Space Natives

Fed up goddamnit with The Way The World Works the Natives jet fueled their tepees taking several cultures with them and set sail for the stars, the abyss promising to be something they hadn't seen before (at least). As the buffalo hide flapped and led the cherry flame sparks through the dark, a pattern of burn time appeared and receded for those left to rot on earth. The head of the fleet, Dr. Sick Bird, sent communication to all Tribal affiliates announcing the commencement of the Concerto del Muerto promptly after burn time. The flames were turned back inside the vessels and the speakers spit the first cello quakes. It was during these first resonant quivers, low-frequency tepee vibrations absorbed into the pocket of space, when the team lost complete contact with the cancer that was and is still indeed, our world, the earth, home of the Whopper.

posted by John E. # 7:15 PM

Thursday, July 13, 2006

2009-08-03T13:37:00.000-07:00

Original Idea

The artist in search of an original idea will drive himself to the brink of madness in one form or another. The artist in search of an original idea is not alone, there is collective searching. There are degrees of failure. There is some perceived success. And there is really only the outline of the idea in the head carving a new path once again. The artist in search of an original idea has forgotten everything. And has remembered too much the language of false knowledge. the artist in search of an original idea has forgotten the stacks of drawings paid for by weight in poorer countries around the world. The artist in search of an original idea is fed up with those around him because they are cruising in their rut. They have carved their space and are happy or busy of some sloppy combination of the two. The original idea is always there. The artist, by looking, looks away. The world kills those alone. Be together & live forever.

posted by John E. # 9:25 PM

Friday, August 25, 2006 (perfect dwelling)

2009-08-02T08:22:00.000-07:00

Amen brother be back

Some things we say to our parents just to be angry mad little bitches and shock the hell out of them so as to prove like we really care. We don't. For example, when I get really really really upset upset enough to explode into toxic ectoplasm I say things that are the type of things that people say you should regret having said later on. Like, I hate you. Or, I hope you die. Or, I want to stab music I'm so flippin pissed. So.

When you feel like this do as I do. Eat crappy food and get a stomachache. The next morning when you wake and can't take a crap think of how guilty you feel for having started this whole destructive downward spiral. {It's not really your fault. You're not God's right thumb. You didn't ask to be born. What the fuck do people want from you anyway, right?} Then make some basmati rice. Eat it with the most colorful vegetables you can find. Do this for several days and soon you will be back to normal.

Footnote:
This story has nothing to do with anything that I feel comfortable publishing on this internet site or anywhere for that matter. It is pretty childish and sad. When I started this little ditty I thought I would end up with some profound insight into the offspring dilemma or the parent/offspring clusterfuck. This did absolutely nothing for that argument or for the fact that I should really be above this. That being said, I think I should spend the rest of the night drinking because obviously my brain is already fried.

posted by John E. # 4:30 PM

The ole blog is back!

2009-07-31T17:46:00.000-07:00

So as I alluded to in the last post, by googling my name I stumbled upon two shitty articles I wrote for Associated Content five years ago (paid $16) and embarrassed by them tried to figure out a way to have my name taken off them because it's the first thing people click on when they google john engelbrecht iowa city (as evidenced by my mother-in-law, why is she googling me?) and in the process of doing so I realize I had linked my AC profile to my ole blog Perfect Dwelling (the one I couldn't remember the name of and thought forever lost in the data ocean, only to find it is still out there intact, still stripped of its design, like I left it) and it actually contains some writing I kind of didn't hate upon reading again and so I bringing it back one post at a time starting from the end (well, second from end because I didn't like my goodbye speech).

(Also it should be noted the ole blog ended right when I began graduate school (it has some to do with the frustrations of getting in) and now I'm revisiting it just after finishing 3 threes later. As may be evidenced, my writing may have gotten worse in art school. anyway-)

Here you go EXCLAIMERS! meet DWELLERS!:

Perfect Dwelling

sayonara

Sunday, August 27, 2006

When In Comes Weather!

The day starts with loss. First I lose my dream, then my bed, and soon enough my dwelling and family. The losses continue throughout the days, weeks, years. They all peel apart to reveal layer upon layer of nothing upon nothing.

The sense to make sense of this is eventually lost but not before the frustration of language sets in. That's: The Frustration of Language as in the fuckin thing that makes our lives measurable and common. Common as in interchangeable parts. So when the FoL comes I know how little everything matters and feel bad for not feeling worse about not caring.

Are you still with me? It's a rhetorical mirrorical.

That's what I turned and said to myself in the mirror while the kids splashed and laughed and hit each other in the tub back there somewhere.

I said, "Are you still with me? Who are you?" and I raised my eyebrows for a while before answering and watching myself mouth: "Who are you? I'm still here!"

Alive in The FoL when in comes the weather. Pink slits in the sky and concrete walking blown up. The crisis of leaves and light echoing up and out. Sometimes you hear it coming like sleep, large and silent.

Sometimes.

posted by John E. # 9:19 PM

Yea I found my old blog!

2009-07-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, more raw, and less concerned: perfect dwelling.

Strawman goes to town

2009-07-25T14:27:00.001-07:00

My best interest

2009-07-08T13:35:00.000-07:00

It is in my best interest to not post to this blog anymore.
It is in my best interest to make absence a constant.
It is in my best interest to perform less.
It is in my best interest to withhold.
It is in my best interest to stop.

For now.

Flight Poem (Out Edits)

2009-06-10T07:32:00.000-07:00

Love demands a creative response.

Something like a month long Benzedrine stupor shaken off into a letter-splattered swathe of paper or poorly interpreted Kerouac references (sentences) typed into the glow at five am.

Sorry i mentioned it.

Thinking of planes.

Planes of existence and then a plane with her embedded in it.

A hundred thousand million planes, any planes, and then one specific plane with one specific person in a scene i couldn’t possibly manage to describe.

A scene I’d never seen before until the dream i dreamed right before I wrote this down.

A toughness of inside (so essentially hers) erased in this awkward fold of words.

How she is so easily displaced, as a character sketch, as a long shot from above. Me zooming in on her as the roof makes way for the camera and she remains the unaware center of attention, the subject of my lack of description.

I drew a scale in my mind measuring me and her and then i fell off one side of it.

I was heavier or lighter, either way, she was more, better, beyond.

This was in my mind and in my mind the metaphor is gone before its fully developed but the image stays. Her above fifteen, twenty, twenty-five thousand feet of atmosphere, her above ocean and land, her encapsulated under one cheap plastic light, marking clean white paper on a tray pulled from the seat in front of her, a seat holding one, any, many different people, on a plane of strangers i can’t imagine but try to, one, two, three hundred people of all shapes and sizes, a few, some, most talking a particular brand of talk (greek), and her in the middle of it flying (flying!) in this world and not the one I copy into the computer at 4, 5, 6 am.

flight poem 1

2009-06-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

2009-05-29T07:51:00.000-07:00

boring summer blogging

2009-05-20T14:30:00.001-07:00

i got some big ideas but currently im not sharing them

they involve sound light action and a plethora of vaguities

thats vague + ambiguity in the plural

2009-05-14T11:41:00.001-07:00

post t(w)oo hundred

2009-05-13T09:19:00.000-07:00

so i've got my thesis notes online and i'm finishing up the run of last movies mentioned to me (or those around me) as a art student having watched 1) the killing fields, 2) swimming to cambodia, 3) the man who fell to earth, 4) the year of living dangerously, 5) blow up, 6) even dwarfs started small, 7) the wrestler, and 8) slumdog millonaire (unfortunately) in the last couple weeks

although i found value in most of these, 3, 4 & 7 stand out the most

i would highly recommend avoiding 8, the gap between mainstream good and good good is larger than i thought

2009-05-08T14:38:00.001-07:00

Innocent Inkings and the Future Length

2009-05-06T15:06:00.000-07:00

today i started my full-length album tentatively titled "the future length" and laid the basis for eight tracks none of which will probably withstand the edit process but a few ideas were born and then the red ink pad was abducted by ad and a thumbprint was impressed on the front page image of the newspaper, a strange coincidence, reminds me of those holes in our skulls

Double Blogging The Most Boring Day

2009-05-02T15:27:00.001-07:00

"Double" because I posted this also on the drawing blog. I thought my one and only blog reader would appreciate though so here you go Angela.

"Dead Blogs" Lead Me to "Bloggers Blog"

2009-04-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

As always, right back where I started. Like when I die and all the knowledge and experience I accumulated is returned to dirt.

Here's what I cut and pasted:

"I think a lot of people started blogs because they got excited; the hype was there, but they really didn't have a purpose," said futurist Jim Carroll, whose clients include the Walt Disney Corp., Nestle and the BBC. "There's only so much you can read about somebody else's life before you get bored with it," he said.

For the record, I am also a futurist, in charge of this dying blog.

This is your official thank you.

2009-04-24T15:06:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for participating in the official EEEvent. Through the magic of the zine machine we were able to double some of our donations and if you didn't make the event there might be a few strawmen available for this charitable cause.

This blog will ease back into its normal stream of fodder, becoming once again a foddered blogger blogspot blotter (3x fast). But until then, we will wallow in the fallout of the EEEvent and gather our senses.

Oh and I added a new link today to the bottom of the link list.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

The EEEvent approaches. I hope you will join us. I have no idea if I'm speaking to one or many. I am inviting you to dinner. I am inviting you to art. I am inviting you to take this at face value or beyond. But if you want to eat with us (the EEEntity), come on down to Public Space One (in the basement of the Jefferson building) this Thursday evening at 6PM. The food will be hot and your presence (for however long it is) is all that is expected of you. If you read more on this blog, you would also see that hand-crafted strawmen will be available for a small donation to the gallery. I have made all the strawman during my residency in the PS1 gallery and hope you will find some charitable value in them. If you are here from the zine machine I hope to convince you to come and trade your invitation for a strawman. See you soon?

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-16T08:38:00.000-07:00

A week from today, on Thursday, April 23rd at 6 PM in Public Space One just off the ped mall in the basement of the Jefferson building in Iowa City, IA, there will be a fundraiser/dinner/reading/closing/gathering/opportunity for you to take home a souvenir for a very minimal donation.

I have been teetering between spelling it out and playfully obscuring this said event of April 23rd, but if you're here, reading this, you have earned a spot at the table. The event I am promoting (along with this blog) is the closing ceremony for my art exhibit, Interior Artifacts. I have inhabited this space for the majority of this month and have used this time to create effigies I am willing to sacrifice for a small charity offering to the gallery (sugg. donation $1-3).

In a couple of days I will release the schedule of events for the evening which promise to be fulfilling, enlightening, and succinct (unlike this plethora of rhetoric leading up to the event).

Thank you for your interest and I look forward to a casual and celebratory gathering.

Did you receive something in nature to

2009-04-13T12:32:00.001-07:00

this:

or this:
or this?
Then read on for further information or just forget this whole thing and take the dollar. I'm sorry to have bothered you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Introvert Invitational at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM. The Introvert Invitational is a gathering of strangers hosted by the outsourced individual, John EEE, and involves embarrassing returns. Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving food and words is too out there, too psychically strange, or quite short of amusing, we understand. Please take our dollar as collateral for the sourness we have manifested. We are trying to extend. We are trying to diversify. We are hoping to be present. We will do our best to make your time worthwhile: we will allow you to donate for a strawman. I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-12T08:35:00.000-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Random Reading Feed at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it on your calendar now as a date for which you don't need to cook). The Random Reading Feed is a gathering of strangers hosted by oblivion entrepreneur John EEE and involves chance. Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving food and words is too misguided, weird, or just not your bag, please take our dollar as collateral for the perplexity we have caused. We are trying to develop. We are trying to activate. We are hoping to be present. We will do our best to make your time worthwhile: we will allow you to exchange your dollar for a strawman. I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-11T12:55:00.000-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the John EEE's Casual Dinner & Necessarily Brief Reading at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it on your calendar now as a date for which you don't need to cook). The Casual Dinner & Necessarily Brief Reading is a gathering of strangers hosted by the quite successful blog publisher John EEE and involves chance. Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too ill-informed, too mysteriously arbitrary, or too much like an empty marketing ploy for a dying art exhibit, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to randomize. We are trying to level the playing field. We are hoping to be present. We will do our best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good (& succinct) words. I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:04:00.005-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Strawman's Ball at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to worry about dinner). The Strawman's Ball is a gathering of people hosted by master folk artist John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds formal it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too strange, too mysteriously haphazard, or too much like an empty marketing ploy for a dying art exhibit, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to embrace patterns we don't understand. We are trying to make the private public and the public private. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words (but not too many as I don't want this to be unnecessarily lengthy). I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:04:00.003-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Dirty Money Dinner Ball at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to cook). The Dirty Money Dinner Ball is a gathering of people hosted by master folk artist John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds formal it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too peculiar, too mysteriously slapdash, or so gimmicky you feel nauseous, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to experiment without controls. We are trying to be anachronistically viral. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words (but not too many as I don't want this to be unnecessarily lengthy). I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:04:00.001-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Random Recital at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to worry about dinner). The Random Recital is a gathering of people hosted by master folk artist John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds formal it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too strange, too mysteriously haphazard, or too much like an empty marketing ploy for a dying art exhibit, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to embrace patterns we don't understand. We are trying to make the private public and the public private. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words (but not too many as I don't want this to be unnecessarily lengthy). I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:03:00.007-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Blahgrrrs Banquet at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to worry about dinner). The Blahgrrrs Banquet is a gathering of folks hosted by split persona John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds formal it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for eating and listening is too unusual, too grotesque, or too much like an empty marketing ploy for a dying art exhibit, please take our dollar as collateral for the mystification we have caused. We are throwing caution to the wind. We are amateur viral marketers. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I hope you will donate to a good cause, I will let you bring my dollar back. I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:03:00.005-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Experimental Caveat at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM. The Experimental Caveat is a gathering of people hosted by hopeful professional John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds precarious it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too mind-bending, too conceptually shaky, or too much like a viral marketing ploy for a dead art excursion, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to avant. We are trying to garde. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words (but I am no writer so we'll see). I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:03:00.003-07:00

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T13:03:00.001-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Oh He's An Artist I See Soiree at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to worry about dinner). The Oh He's An Artist I See Soiree is a gathering of people hosted by legendary photographer John Fall and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds formal it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving dinner and words is too developed, too mysteriously exposing, or just operating on the wrong shutter speed, please take our dollar as collateral for the confusion we have caused. We are trying to embrace the zone system. We are trying to fix the print. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words. I can't wait to see you.

This is your official invitation.

2009-04-10T09:31:00.000-07:00

You have been randomly (or not) selected from adrift in the cosmos to attend the Suckerpunch at PS1 in Iowa City, IA on April 23rd at 6PM (you may want to put it in your phone now as a date for which you don't need to worry about dinner). The Suckerpunch is a gathering of people hosted by MFA candidate John EEE and involves the serving of food and the reading of words (and although it sounds dangerous it is indeed not). Please feel free to attend. And if this participatory yet erratic process for serving up grub and words is too ill-timed, too fabulously taboo, or too viral to touch, please take our dollar as collateral for the incertitude we have caused. We are trying to embrace what we don't know. We are trying to make the gallery money. We are hoping to be present. I will do my best to make it worthwhile: I will (try to) bring good food and (try to) read good words (but perhaps they are inane). I can't wait to see you.

Because I posted this on every other blog I'm a part of here you go (naticher; not that I know what that means):

2009-04-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

Back to Bobblehead Blogging

2009-04-05T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm just publishing this post to take a picture of the push-button publishing button icon.

artists on the radio

2009-03-31T02:11:00.000-07:00

not sound artists but visual artists on the radio talking about one artist (casually)

not conceptual but perceptual

Change. Not better. Not worse. Sticky Words. In my head.

2009-03-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

Trying to continue fully as myself: I have a realization about feet being on par with hands as far as entertainment value on video is concerned. If you are here near me you will understand what this post alludes to. If you are far away perhaps it is suffice to say: I use the term "vague" in the worse possible sense. I mean the term "vague" to be a beautiful thing. A nebulous fog in the most seduction manner of your imagination. Three channels and nine phrases, but I'm just guessing here. Everything is written in code you don't know which makes my public blog private.

and now i can't

2009-03-20T08:46:00.000-07:00

stand looking at the blank space" yet find myself with no real time to write a meaningful blog entry which begs the question what is a meaningful blog entry and which I am forced to answer on the cuff saying whatever i blog about is meaningful because i am so able to just click that publish now button and save this deep in the recesses of the human web for the digital now thus preserving my automatic thoughts as raw data for the post human future when some strange creatures will look back and say yes we were right it was right of us to evolve because damnit those humans were nuts just running off at the mouth

HEY I CAN'T LOOK AT THIS TWITTER IMAGE ANYMORE SO I AM JUST BLOGGING SOME BLANK SPACE

2009-03-17T07:51:00.000-07:00

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TwitterThrowDown

2009-03-12T17:21:00.000-07:00

In the Aftermath of the Thesis Draft I Craft an Alternate Path

2009-03-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

Blue Talk

2009-03-12T06:53:00.001-07:00

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