Archive for December 13, 2002

Revisions

I have this strange fear whenever a girl likes me that I’ve found the one girl who loves me out of pity rather than virtue. However, ya gotta write off the little insecure sayings they tag along in conversation that might be applied to you. A girl once told me I seemed like the type of guy who needs a mother, today I heard I need a love in my life. But I wonder do I need the love because she thinks I’m lonely (am I?) or do I need a love because I’m a god amongst men and it’s not fitting that I’m not with someone? I’m going with the later… it feels good =)

Working on selling a few more stories. Got another Botanica article this time for the weekly, this time to promote my own show. I once read that were we to switch those in power with god like slobs such as us very little would change. I’m supposing now that this is true. I see no problem writing a piece of journalism on a show I’m also holding and promoting. Ah well.. wish Jason had taken a piece on Kid 606, I wrote the WPRK article for friends. It’s all favors in this town… my next project is to get up to speed on tech news and start pitching articles to wired news. Also sent a query to art byte today, I wanna review video games for them. Applied for a tech. writer position and read some more Galatea 2.2 along with playing a little Eternal Darkness. Emily is stopping by on the way to Kool Keith to drop off my new foster cat. It’s a cute little female and hopefully Mao won’t get all raunchy with her. Will be nice to have a second cat again…

On the intellectual front I’ve decided (through reading Richard Powers) that I have to become a novelist. I’m not detail oriented enough to do data entry or other B.S. jobs, I take things at my own pace and have a sense of a line. I’ve now begun revising ye olde City of Distance to subscribe to what I finally have come to believe it’s about. I also had a moment where my thoughts on Yoko Ono’s instruction paintings finally came clear. Here’s the little snippet I got down:
In the sense that meaning is a personal construct unique to the individual, Ono’s instructions cease to have an original, the exist entirely in sending.
This isn’t exactly true. If you approach the problem of her paintings from a sensical logical beginning, you can not deduce what I have until you have already come back around and annihilated the origins of your critique with a swift logical kick at their foundations. To put it simply, Ono’s instructions have to start somewhere by logic, but in reality the unique condition they inhabit ensures they lose their origins and deface any sense of their logical historical beginnings. Once you come around in the future to their nature, you realize you couldn’t have deduced their nature from the past. The work is not the words on the paper, the original is the idea, and we can not realize this ideal in an absolute sense, but only impose our own stasis, our sense, a way of becoming with ourselves alongside ourselves with the idea. Ono hasn’t given us an idea of her own, but one which loses part of it’s market value and authenticity as it leads into our thoughts. Less a paradox than a koan, my thoughts here aren’t quite resolving, but are satisfying. With time I think this will become more clear. Well onto more important stuff here’s the revision I’m working on regarding my story:
This time around 1492 we’re in the middle of Atlantic with this guy Columbus salvaging some giant space ark. It’s fucking raining like a bitch, but you can see the ark ploinks out of the ocean like a set of ribs sandwiched between the welkin and the waves. It’s next to this huge oil rig which is strangely kinda comforting. Next to this is the tentacle that’s spung from tide taking my friend Deigo by the neck. It’s lashing him around fifty feet in the air, so we’re all trying to get that god damn thing off him. Pedro One tries for the tentacle first, rushing it with a brute abandon similar to WWF matches, only spiced with a hint of romantic painting in his stance. Next, Pedro Two goes after the damn thing, flailing the only burning torch around at it, soon finding himself clubbing the beast sans fire.
This originally read:

This time around 1492 we’re in the middle of Atlantic with this guy
Columbus salvaging some giant space ark. The thing ploinks out of the
ocean like a set of ribs sandwiched between the welkin and the waves. It’s
next to this huge oil rig which is strangely kinda comforting. When we
were younger we always thought oil rigs, specters shingled on the outer
peripheries of distance.

Well I need to get back to finding money earning things.
Later,
A

December 13, 2002 at 7:15 pm Leave a comment

Revisions

I have this strange fear whenever a girl likes me that I’ve found the one girl who loves me out of pity rather than virtue. However, ya gotta write off the little insecure sayings they tag along in conversation that might be applied to you. A girl once told me I seemed like the type of guy who needs a mother, today I heard I need a love in my life. But I wonder do I need the love because she thinks I’m lonely (am I?) or do I need a love because I’m a god amongst men and it’s not fitting that I’m not with someone? I’m going with the later… it feels good =)

Working on selling a few more stories. Got another Botanica article this time for the weekly, this time to promote my own show. I once read that were we to switch those in power with god like slobs such as us very little would change. I’m supposing now that this is true. I see no problem writing a piece of journalism on a show I’m also holding and promoting. Ah well.. wish Jason had taken a piece on Kid 606, I wrote the WPRK article for friends. It’s all favors in this town… my next project is to get up to speed on tech news and start pitching articles to wired news. Also sent a query to art byte today, I wanna review video games for them. Applied for a tech. writer position and read some more Galatea 2.2 along with playing a little Eternal Darkness. Emily is stopping by on the way to Kool Keith to drop off my new foster cat. It’s a cute little female and hopefully Mao won’t get all raunchy with her. Will be nice to have a second cat again…

On the intellectual front I’ve decided (through reading Richard Powers) that I have to become a novelist. I’m not detail oriented enough to do data entry or other B.S. jobs, I take things at my own pace and have a sense of a line. I’ve now begun revising ye olde City of Distance to subscribe to what I finally have come to believe it’s about. I also had a moment where my thoughts on Yoko Ono’s instruction paintings finally came clear. Here’s the little snippet I got down:
In the sense that meaning is a personal construct unique to the individual, Ono’s instructions cease to have an original, the exist entirely in sending.
This isn’t exactly true. If you approach the problem of her paintings from a sensical logical beginning, you can not deduce what I have until you have already come back around and annihilated the origins of your critique with a swift logical kick at their foundations. To put it simply, Ono’s instructions have to start somewhere by logic, but in reality the unique condition they inhabit ensures they lose their origins and deface any sense of their logical historical beginnings. Once you come around in the future to their nature, you realize you couldn’t have deduced their nature from the past. The work is not the words on the paper, the original is the idea, and we can not realize this ideal in an absolute sense, but only impose our own stasis, our sense, a way of becoming with ourselves alongside ourselves with the idea. Ono hasn’t given us an idea of her own, but one which loses part of it’s market value and authenticity as it leads into our thoughts. Less a paradox than a koan, my thoughts here aren’t quite resolving, but are satisfying. With time I think this will become more clear. Well onto more important stuff here’s the revision I’m working on regarding my story:
This time around 1492 we’re in the middle of Atlantic with this guy Columbus salvaging some giant space ark. It’s fucking raining like a bitch, but you can see the ark ploinks out of the ocean like a set of ribs sandwiched between the welkin and the waves. It’s next to this huge oil rig which is strangely kinda comforting. Next to this is the tentacle that’s spung from tide taking my friend Deigo by the neck. It’s lashing him around fifty feet in the air, so we’re all trying to get that god damn thing off him. Pedro One tries for the tentacle first, rushing it with a brute abandon similar to WWF matches, only spiced with a hint of romantic painting in his stance. Next, Pedro Two goes after the damn thing, flailing the only burning torch around at it, soon finding himself clubbing the beast sans fire.
This originally read:

This time around 1492 we’re in the middle of Atlantic with this guy
Columbus salvaging some giant space ark. The thing ploinks out of the
ocean like a set of ribs sandwiched between the welkin and the waves. It’s
next to this huge oil rig which is strangely kinda comforting. When we
were younger we always thought oil rigs, specters shingled on the outer
peripheries of distance.

Well I need to get back to finding money earning things.
Later,
A

December 13, 2002 at 7:15 pm Leave a comment


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