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posted by Michael on 3/21/2006 11:53:00 PM
The corrected version...create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.
posted by Michael on 12/27/2004 10:09:45 PM
Reading List.Currently, I'm wading through the words and murk of several different books each pulling me in different directions...
-Eyeing the Flash- A book memoir about a carnie and the many cons he pulls.
-Syrup by Max Barry- The first book by Barry, who's like a tamer Palahniuk. Not quite as inspired as his second book "Jennifer Government" but interesting anyways.
-Strangers in Paradise by Terry Moore- I just finished book three, going through one issue a night. The insight into how humanity is excellent, the artwork recalls love and rockets. A+++
-Random aquarium books.
posted by Michael on 12/27/2004 07:37:47 PM
Bone and his Rat Creature Friend
posted by Michael on 11/16/2004 11:18:14 PM
A Robot I bought at the arts vs. Craft Fair.
posted by Michael on 11/16/2004 11:17:25 PM
Sixteen was the beginning of my rebellion years, a direction forged in the flames of one of my first broken hearts. In a pattern certain to continue on, somewhere close to infinity, she left me for someone more outwardly adventurous, more live in the moment. On the other hand, I’m more move like a mountain, excitement rarely boiling over the edge of my mind’s crucible. I seem to be some one you settle for, rather than set your heart on.
This realization lead me into one of those depression cyclones, heart-shaped spirals swirling around unrequited emotions. Woah is me! Had become something of my motto, sighs falling unanswered onto the grill at the fast food restaurant at which I worked.
Alcohol hadn’t befriended me yet, and drugs and I have never quite seen eye to eye. So, I needed something to soothe my pain, or at least reassemble the jigsaw pieces of my looking glass heart.
Rock and Roll, and Radio On, where the answers that poured from the speakers.
If my friends’ words couldn’t help me carry my cross, then music would restore my faith with angst-tainted guitar chords becoming my creed. The wild singer’s shronk my sermon on the mount. The pretentious classical music I feigned love for was tossed aside for the visceral thrill, the lovely simplicity of punk rock.
And that’s where the story begins.
After a Junior year spent first tasting the liberating yet deflating fruits of failure, I was free from the falling confines of the classroom, and somehow found myself holding one of the most beautiful girls in school thanks to my healthy interest in underground music, and a charming outlook on life (or so I’d like to think).
My best friend swore that this girl was an angel, and since he was raised in a strict catholic household- definitely an expert on the subject of cherubim and all things holy, you can take my word that he wasn’t far from the truth.
Maybe she was only a minor seraphim, but she was definitely part of the heavenly choir. The way she radiated warmth was the surest sign.
Instead of embarrassing you with every daily detail of awkward shining star kiss attempts, and tender hugs, I’ll tell you the highlight that I’ll never forget. By this, of course, I mean that I forgot most of the rest.
The town we lived in, not quite metropolis, not quite Lake Wobegon either, would hold a stunning firework show to celebrate Independence Day every year. Sure, it has never been as amazing as the ones along the lakefront, where cars line the entire length of road, and people camp for days to catch a glimpse of a tiny orgasm of light. But, it was ours, and she managed to get us closer to the display than I had ever been before.
We placed our blanket with care, choosing the perfect spot to innocently snuggle while the city prepared for a violent assault against the sky.
Like the hesitation moment that exists right before a tattoo-ist begins his blood ritual, there’s a silent moment of trepidation, fear, anxiety and excitement intertwined just before the rockets’ red glare.
In this moment, only one thought went through my mind. A simple kiss her, an action that wouldn’t be acted upon.
Instead, the concussion from the first blast fell from the heavens, the signal that the display had begun. And there we were, bystanders directly underneath the beautiful gossamer wraith of gunpowder.
The sky’s canvas was covered Jackson Pollack-style, a brigade of hungry light charging. Charging. Reaching for their noble finish. Only to blink. Blink out of existence as they fall prey to the Wiley tricks and charms of the great enemy- Physics.
Spinning and swirling, the black night was, alive with the pulse of explosive glow.
Underneath the charges shine, there was only us. We with the tattered brown and yellow blanket my parents forced me to carry everywhere.
Me. Her. Us. There.
Raining down upon us was the ash of the exploded angels, the expended shells of starry conflagrations. Each speck eagerly treated like a tender kiss upon our cheeks.
As the fireworks burst above, I watched her, watched the ballet of the explosion’s shadow dance across her pure face, framing -in fire- a beaming smile. The display formed halos around her, tiny tableaus of radiance. Reflected in her eyes was a brilliant ten thousand watt future, and a love for all the strange and wonderful things it had to offer.
Sadly, I could never see my reflection in those eyes, but I had hope… Lloyd Dobler style devotion to cause.
But than the finale came and went. The Encore, Applause and Goodbyes. Summer had a funny way of transforming without notice into autumn and class in session.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t learned an important rule of High School. Little of what happens during the summer has any affect on the rest of life. She met other boys and moved on. I devoted my self to flying my geek flag loud and proud.
My life has been a long series of fireworks since then, some happy, some sad, some girls (which were both happy and sad), but it’ll never quite be the same as innocent thoughts on a blanket on my first independence day.
posted by Michael on 11/16/2004 10:40:47 PM
create your own visited states map
posted by Michael on 10/25/2004 10:44:18 AM
One of the frustrating things for me as a videographer is that, despite that many of the people I know who are in school to get degrees in film or video won't seem to let me into their club. Despite the fact that I do it professionally, apparently my work isn't professional enough or arty enough to consult when you have a problem or something.Fuck em.
posted by Michael on 10/21/2004 10:42:04 PM
Anatomy of a BreakupI suppose it's safe know to comment on my break up of a few weeks ago. It looks like Sharon's met someone new, already at the mix tape phase with this new love her life, muttering to him all the things which become nothings in the end.
Good for her.
I probably didn't enough attention to her. I probably wasn't the most terribly exciting person to be around.
But, maybe it's this new swaggering self-confidence, a sort of arrogance as defense mechanism, but I'm going somewhere. Somewhere huge, different, important, magazine cover huge. Now, the ride is mine alone to make.
posted by Michael on 10/21/2004 10:38:00 PM
I had a moment, just afew before this one that made me feel like I was living with my parents again. There I was, sprawled on the floor, huddled over a book about writing comics. A friend calls for me, and my roommate decides to make me aware of this fact.My door was closed. I had a fan on. I had something blocking the bottom of the door. When my roommate came in- he probably thought I was smoking pot or something. Instead, I was smoking a cigarette when I had apparently agreed that there would be no smoking in the apartment. I was trying to hide the fact that I was smoking a clove- a nasty diversion I've been entertaining for roughly two weeks.
When he opened the door, it felt like when your parents catch you doing something wrong.
posted by Michael on 10/19/2004 09:35:49 PM
my roommate
posted by Michael on 10/16/2004 11:19:52 AM
My last night with Sharon...
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 09:32:25 PM
The Red Panda, the cutest zoo animal ever.
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:27:55 AM
Elephants!
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:26:45 AM
Sea lion!
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:26:06 AM
They're like people.
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:25:10 AM
Monkey!
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:24:08 AM
Birds!
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:23:03 AM
a really big frog
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:21:21 AM
Turtles!
posted by Michael on 10/13/2004 01:20:22 AM
The main character for robot dance party (dusty)
posted by Michael on 10/11/2004 12:05:14 AM
from my trip to the zoo
posted by Michael on 10/10/2004 11:46:47 PM
more house
posted by Michael on 10/10/2004 11:29:38 PM
House on the Rock Flower
posted by Michael on 10/10/2004 11:26:57 PM
Probably one of the most frustrating things for me since Sharon broke up with has been how people have tried to discern how I'm feeling. They take a long look at my face and say "you look sad," or "you look like your puppy just died." Then they click their tongue because they think I should be talking about it.At the moment, I don't feel like talking about it. There's not much to say.
I always look like I'm upset- or at least mostly expressionless, but since people know my girlfriend just broke up with me, they're reading far too much into the lines of my face.
P.S. To seperate this from my livejournal, I think I'm going to post mainly pictures here, along ith some things I don't want in the "lj environment."
Regards...
posted by Michael on 10/10/2004 11:00:58 PM
Email me at Mike at MalloryGallery.net
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