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DC Chillen
11 years ago
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Latest Flickr Upload
Got around to scanning a few rolls of film and the fruits of my labor are up on my flickr. Included: Berlin's Festival of Lights and various travel adventures. Go check it out and enjoy :)
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Stories What I Wrote
I wrote some stories.
______________
A former drug-sniffing dog once sat upon a mound of corpulent crawlers. His teeth were as big as marshmallow feces and his laser contact lens squinted against the brush of the hot sun.
"Hello!" he cried desolately as the woods rang with sorrow.
Echoing the consonants of her childhood she sang a joyous song to the heavens and beyond.
Slippery little daisies skipped along the plain, all the while gently but firmly shooing little g-nats off their bodily areas.
Turquoise goats in turtlenecks polished their monocles and uttered "I say" as they lowered their eyes contemptuously.
"I'll have the leaves!" he declared while pointing his finger definitively up.
Raisin Buns for All was their mantra as they chanted and nodded for dear life.
Spreading his wings the cauliflower muffin soon escaped into a popcorn-land of mysterious opportunities.
It was, in effect, stunning.
________________
A woven mat of God-knows-what blocked his way to that distant glowing green.
"Avast-ye, spy-rakers!" escaped from the damp and gnarled maw of the captain whose ship, The Pink Elephant, was said to dance upon the waves like so many dancing elf-shoes.
Penelope Pie sang a song of defeat as she twirled her hair into shapes beyond human consciousness.
His eyes melted in pleasure when first he beheld the sensuous scene.
He studied physics beyond the mortal realm and knew that when he could comprehend her miraculous hair-shapes then she would be his.
Sputtering all the while his faithful sidekick spouted challenge after challenge but could not convince the student that there is no such color as neon brown.
"Eat your pickles, mongrel!" cried the desperately unhinged physicist. "My labcoat can save only one of our immortal souls."
That thought carried him out the window, never to return.
_______________
Sparkling jewel-like leaves studded the filament of purest silver jutting out from within. Goldenrod spikes climbed atop the oft-misunderstood lemon yellow javelins.
"If you only knew what I am capable of," she stated calmly while pondering the acceptability of combining the words 'rock' and 'soccer'.
Berries of all types climbed the cliffs, panting but determined, and poured toward their destination as milk pours to cheerios. Filling every crevice of their cheerio-like environment the gathered orbs of berry crowed into the banana sky.
"Leap onto your scab-ship and away from my extrapolations!" he yelled for the thousandth time. But she, as usual, refused to understand his pleas.
Her magenta confirmation slip flapped for a moment at her pocket's edge before leaping decisively into the evening wind. Grabbing for it could not stop its glorious flight of freedom and she wept as she realized how soon her doom would come.
_______________
When I lept into the lilac-tinted era of mismanaged necks, I decided to create a mandate on the wanton use of different dress lengths. It was a topic dear to my heart and excellently well-thought-out. For example if a passing someone-or-other were to allow for two dress lengths in the same garment.
"Is he single?!?" she squawked at a volume loud enough to disturb others. "I've been into beards lately, except on that dude-guy who is advanced in years."
"What ho lassie" the mustachioed source of her derision suddenly snorted. "I've just caught you a rabbit. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Pink and blue rain couldn't save you now," she muttered, calling forth an image of a loud obnoxious boy almost falling but not quite. Soon enough, the sewage treatment plant was disguised as a children's playground and the purple-threaded fate of humanity descended upon the scene.
______________
A former drug-sniffing dog once sat upon a mound of corpulent crawlers. His teeth were as big as marshmallow feces and his laser contact lens squinted against the brush of the hot sun.
"Hello!" he cried desolately as the woods rang with sorrow.
Echoing the consonants of her childhood she sang a joyous song to the heavens and beyond.
Slippery little daisies skipped along the plain, all the while gently but firmly shooing little g-nats off their bodily areas.
Turquoise goats in turtlenecks polished their monocles and uttered "I say" as they lowered their eyes contemptuously.
"I'll have the leaves!" he declared while pointing his finger definitively up.
Raisin Buns for All was their mantra as they chanted and nodded for dear life.
Spreading his wings the cauliflower muffin soon escaped into a popcorn-land of mysterious opportunities.
It was, in effect, stunning.
________________
A woven mat of God-knows-what blocked his way to that distant glowing green.
"Avast-ye, spy-rakers!" escaped from the damp and gnarled maw of the captain whose ship, The Pink Elephant, was said to dance upon the waves like so many dancing elf-shoes.
Penelope Pie sang a song of defeat as she twirled her hair into shapes beyond human consciousness.
His eyes melted in pleasure when first he beheld the sensuous scene.
He studied physics beyond the mortal realm and knew that when he could comprehend her miraculous hair-shapes then she would be his.
Sputtering all the while his faithful sidekick spouted challenge after challenge but could not convince the student that there is no such color as neon brown.
"Eat your pickles, mongrel!" cried the desperately unhinged physicist. "My labcoat can save only one of our immortal souls."
That thought carried him out the window, never to return.
_______________
Sparkling jewel-like leaves studded the filament of purest silver jutting out from within. Goldenrod spikes climbed atop the oft-misunderstood lemon yellow javelins.
"If you only knew what I am capable of," she stated calmly while pondering the acceptability of combining the words 'rock' and 'soccer'.
Berries of all types climbed the cliffs, panting but determined, and poured toward their destination as milk pours to cheerios. Filling every crevice of their cheerio-like environment the gathered orbs of berry crowed into the banana sky.
"Leap onto your scab-ship and away from my extrapolations!" he yelled for the thousandth time. But she, as usual, refused to understand his pleas.
Her magenta confirmation slip flapped for a moment at her pocket's edge before leaping decisively into the evening wind. Grabbing for it could not stop its glorious flight of freedom and she wept as she realized how soon her doom would come.
_______________
When I lept into the lilac-tinted era of mismanaged necks, I decided to create a mandate on the wanton use of different dress lengths. It was a topic dear to my heart and excellently well-thought-out. For example if a passing someone-or-other were to allow for two dress lengths in the same garment.
"Is he single?!?" she squawked at a volume loud enough to disturb others. "I've been into beards lately, except on that dude-guy who is advanced in years."
"What ho lassie" the mustachioed source of her derision suddenly snorted. "I've just caught you a rabbit. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Pink and blue rain couldn't save you now," she muttered, calling forth an image of a loud obnoxious boy almost falling but not quite. Soon enough, the sewage treatment plant was disguised as a children's playground and the purple-threaded fate of humanity descended upon the scene.
Edith Zimmerman
I just found a link today to a column on The Awl called 'Letters to the Editors of Women's Magazines'. The hilarious Edith Zimmerman posts actual letters and then some of her own versions. They are so funny I literally smashed my head into my keyboard. Then I read her blog and some of her many very short stories and continued to crack the eff up. Not to mention this amazing article for the Huffington Post, 'How to Make Your Husband a Nice Dinner'.
On her blog she also recommends Tom Oatmeal, who's pretty freakin funny as well.
Read it!
On her blog she also recommends Tom Oatmeal, who's pretty freakin funny as well.
Read it!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Detroit
About two years ago, I went to Detroit, Michigan to do some research at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Though my topic really had nothing to do with Detroit, other than that a very rich man had once lived there and bought a painting I am very interested in, I was instantly struck by the empty decay all around me in that city. It was the middle of winter, cold and barren, and the walk between my little bed-and-breakfast and the museum was strewn with huge old mansions, boarded up and abandoned, on still and empty streets. It was kind of magical, in a way, and certainly fascinating. I found myself dreaming of buying or squatting at one of these mansions and starting an artist collective.
I wasn't able to do so at the time, but it seems I wasn't the only one with the idea. An article in today's NYT, "Wringing Art out of Rubble in Detroit," discussed the growing creative community that has colonized Detroit's wide, empty avenues and broken-down buildings. Transplants from the hipster havens Portland, San Francisco, and Brooklyn as well as random places like Montana are banding together to come up with creative ideas, from installations to urban agriculture to selling a plot of land one inch at a time, which seem somehow easier to bring to fruition in a city this barren. One quote in particular describes this phenomenon to a tee: "There’s an excitement here...There’s a sense that it’s a frontier again, that it’s open, that you can do things without a lot of people telling you, ‘No, you can’t do that.’” This sensibility really reminds me of why creativity and creative lifestyles seem to flourish so well in Berlin--and also why that may soon not be the case, if the uptight German police continue to crack down as they were beginning to do during my time there. In a city that is "left behind," artistic types are free to create in the empty spaces. As one artist put it, "I'm really interested in the idea of our relics."
I couldn't have said it better myself.
PS. I found the image on this short post about Detroit from a couple months before my visit there.
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