Untitled
sweet, sweet, open wound kiss
for us lucky, rocky beings
left forth without food or water.
I send you stamped approval
for your thighs against the illusion
that is New York
or somewhere far from
Midwest autumn ambiance.
What's left of you I shall
lick and take like a dagger
with shredded skin
perhaps strung between two nimble teeth.
A sap, a morning dew
remains under the guzzle
of gravel and grizzle
which master momentarily
while I spread and stretch
for you.
I speak for you,
dear illusion of an ocean rise.
I put together a natural binary for you.
what's left is no fortune told,
instead, me and cut toenails.
Where are you?
I call, I call, I seep
wildly under rainy ducts
and ravish with a hollow chest
while you tremble.
I wait for your back arch
to rise
from quiet slumber.
8.30.2009
Colder than a witch's hooha
"I grew up in Kansas, where it is hotter then the fires of hell in the summer and colder then a witch’s hooha in the winter. As a young lad, my folks would take us fishing/swimming to Fall River about 90 miles northeast of Wichita in the summers. After an hour and a half in the car, when we arrived, the doors would fly open and there would be a trail of clothing on the ground between the car and the water. Mom used to make us keep our underwear on, but decided when the mud wouldn't wash out, it was better to have us skinny dip, rather then ruin underwear with every weekend trip to the river. So, I grew up skinny dippin" - Nudist man in Kansas
LOL!
An email I just received, what a deal!
"BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY/YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED
Mr. Bernard West I am an investment consultant working with Bank UBS AG Zurich at their offshore department Zurich Switzerland . I will be happy to work this deal out with you if you have a corporate or personal Bank Account and if you are capable to keep TOP SECRET. I need strong Assurance that you will never let me down, if I transfer this money to your account. During one of our periodic auditing I discovered a dormant accounts with holding balance of US$ 232,000.000.00 {Two hundred and Thirty Two million US Dollars only} Sometimes a person will open a bank account, deposit money, and then disappear into the tin
air. Banks are not always able to find out what has become of these silent customers, or to know whether they should follow up on requests from people who claim to be heirs to the accounts. The main problem is that the customer resides abroad and, due to bank secrecy, the bank cannot publish notices in the international press to locate the depositaries. This has led the majority of Swiss banks to refrain from opening small-deposit accounts for foreign customers; for fear that they will forget that the account exists.
It has happened in the past, however, that customers pass away and their heirs can neither prove the death, nor their heir ship. This was a frequent occurrence during the wartime periods, and the banks have now set up a simple, rapid resolution procedure operating to their
customers' advantage. Dormant assets are defined as any assets deposited with a bank (i.e. an account, a custody account or a safety-deposit box) for which there has been no contact with the customer in the bank's files for the last ten years or more. I am constrained to issue more details about this business until your response is received. If you know that you are capable to handle large or small amount on trust and can keep secret and ready to take 40% of any amount I transfer to your account from the dormant account and I will take 60%, send your account information's by return mail. Tell me more about yourself, while I look forward to receive the above information. Please you can write me to my most private email address
(westbernard99999@gmail.com)
I want to re-assure you that this business is risk free and you can send an empty account to receive the funds, provided that the account is capable to receive incoming funds. Thank you for your time and attention.
Warmest regards,
Mr. Bernard West"
One of my favorite scam emails yet.
"BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY/YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED
Mr. Bernard West I am an investment consultant working with Bank UBS AG Zurich at their offshore department Zurich Switzerland . I will be happy to work this deal out with you if you have a corporate or personal Bank Account and if you are capable to keep TOP SECRET. I need strong Assurance that you will never let me down, if I transfer this money to your account. During one of our periodic auditing I discovered a dormant accounts with holding balance of US$ 232,000.000.00 {Two hundred and Thirty Two million US Dollars only} Sometimes a person will open a bank account, deposit money, and then disappear into the tin
air. Banks are not always able to find out what has become of these silent customers, or to know whether they should follow up on requests from people who claim to be heirs to the accounts. The main problem is that the customer resides abroad and, due to bank secrecy, the bank cannot publish notices in the international press to locate the depositaries. This has led the majority of Swiss banks to refrain from opening small-deposit accounts for foreign customers; for fear that they will forget that the account exists.
It has happened in the past, however, that customers pass away and their heirs can neither prove the death, nor their heir ship. This was a frequent occurrence during the wartime periods, and the banks have now set up a simple, rapid resolution procedure operating to their
customers' advantage. Dormant assets are defined as any assets deposited with a bank (i.e. an account, a custody account or a safety-deposit box) for which there has been no contact with the customer in the bank's files for the last ten years or more. I am constrained to issue more details about this business until your response is received. If you know that you are capable to handle large or small amount on trust and can keep secret and ready to take 40% of any amount I transfer to your account from the dormant account and I will take 60%, send your account information's by return mail. Tell me more about yourself, while I look forward to receive the above information. Please you can write me to my most private email address
(westbernard99999@gmail.com)
I want to re-assure you that this business is risk free and you can send an empty account to receive the funds, provided that the account is capable to receive incoming funds. Thank you for your time and attention.
Warmest regards,
Mr. Bernard West"
One of my favorite scam emails yet.
8.29.2009
Whatever you want me to be doing, I'm doing it. Whatever I should be doing, I'm doing it.
I am living in two black holes
The first hole a product of everyone's pinholes and perceptions of my character
The second being average city
putting them both together, I am just a baby maker with messy style and silent film eyes.
The first hole a product of everyone's pinholes and perceptions of my character
The second being average city
putting them both together, I am just a baby maker with messy style and silent film eyes.
8.28.2009
The double dare coat
I asked myself to remember my dreams last night before I went to sleep, hoping that they would shed some light on my disastrous waking life at the moment. But all I had images of was a rainbow jacket. This jacket was made out of yarn and went from one arm to the other. It was just yarn tied to each arm's end. The yarn then wrapped around the back in some fancy, knotted fashion and fluttered around. This coat did not cover up any bit of my body, which is normal for any piece of dream fashion that appears in my brain. If I were to be a fashion designer, clothing would barely be an option. The dream woman who showed it to me started singing a song,
"The double dare coat, the double dare coat, the coat for everyone's double dare!"
"The double dare coat, the double dare coat, the coat for everyone's double dare!"
8.27.2009
8.26.2009
8.24.2009
Flood gates open:
1.
I am tired of crack heads, bus stops and motorcycles at night. I'd rather just watch love water sunflowers in the afternoon.
2. On a short ride home:
Fog rises above me
shadowed like morning sun
behind Main's red brick & crumblestone
buildings after an earthquake
and two or three spacious aches
hunch
to a solid hum that taps,
Red bricks break foot
hums interrupt seasoned sirens
A last gap of nineteen's air,
I have to go home again.
3.
She's a new madrigal
on her old stomping grounds.
I am tired of crack heads, bus stops and motorcycles at night. I'd rather just watch love water sunflowers in the afternoon.
2. On a short ride home:
Fog rises above me
shadowed like morning sun
behind Main's red brick & crumblestone
buildings after an earthquake
and two or three spacious aches
hunch
to a solid hum that taps,
Red bricks break foot
hums interrupt seasoned sirens
A last gap of nineteen's air,
I have to go home again.
3.
She's a new madrigal
on her old stomping grounds.
8.23.2009
Gibberish
The last day of my summers ended yesterday while sitting on top of a double decker bus, watching the sun set and turn the world honey. I used just about every muscle in my body to keep my tear ducts from giving up the silence I had forced them to adhere to this entire weekend.
Now the next four months will go by like a blackout.
While riding home I used some time to reflect on my lack of honesty with myself and others and how the only thing getting me by lately is honesty. Now the more I am honest, the more I see. And within' myself, I am positive that entering Kansas City's skyline, reminded me that my soul entered some kind of prison phase. I came, I tried to rebel, I had to cut my hair, I lived in a cave. I mean, it's classic and all symbolic. *"As the spirit wanes the form appears." It's like I knew I was the kind of person that parents always try to raise you not to be. I am not violent but I am wrapped up in a foggy world only few allow themselves to be a part of. And when I think that I want to succeed like everyone I know, I adhere to a sentence that only I can adhere to. It's a death sentence. It wasn't a mistake, I had reasons. But now I see the last string of it and I do not know what will happen because when I am free, I will be free. It's that simple. Apparently I have some kind of duty that my old self was convinced would solve many of my problems. But they are still here and not subliminal. I've seen what I could become and it has already been done. What the fuck is going on? This is someone's story that isn't mine. This story has been lived. Why should the past repeat itself?
I picked apart my past again. It all makes sense. I picked apart my present. I can see through all of it.
And now for another four months I will fight for my conscience. I have these cards and I have to put others down because I have a gun to my head.
------------
*I think that it's funny that half of my life is all over the country and that somehow I am placed here throwing back java and thinking about Charles Bukowski punching out various men at bars. Thanks Kyle, the Bukowski was good timing. He's the only one who can push me through the next year.
Now the next four months will go by like a blackout.
While riding home I used some time to reflect on my lack of honesty with myself and others and how the only thing getting me by lately is honesty. Now the more I am honest, the more I see. And within' myself, I am positive that entering Kansas City's skyline, reminded me that my soul entered some kind of prison phase. I came, I tried to rebel, I had to cut my hair, I lived in a cave. I mean, it's classic and all symbolic. *"As the spirit wanes the form appears." It's like I knew I was the kind of person that parents always try to raise you not to be. I am not violent but I am wrapped up in a foggy world only few allow themselves to be a part of. And when I think that I want to succeed like everyone I know, I adhere to a sentence that only I can adhere to. It's a death sentence. It wasn't a mistake, I had reasons. But now I see the last string of it and I do not know what will happen because when I am free, I will be free. It's that simple. Apparently I have some kind of duty that my old self was convinced would solve many of my problems. But they are still here and not subliminal. I've seen what I could become and it has already been done. What the fuck is going on? This is someone's story that isn't mine. This story has been lived. Why should the past repeat itself?
I picked apart my past again. It all makes sense. I picked apart my present. I can see through all of it.
And now for another four months I will fight for my conscience. I have these cards and I have to put others down because I have a gun to my head.
------------
*I think that it's funny that half of my life is all over the country and that somehow I am placed here throwing back java and thinking about Charles Bukowski punching out various men at bars. Thanks Kyle, the Bukowski was good timing. He's the only one who can push me through the next year.
8.20.2009
.
Missouri's Needle Man viva 2005
night tamed my fall.
i woke up next to needles,
blood dip face paint
bathroom faces utter nothing to me,
stand cool
dip my head,
walk under the shroud.
i'll live here
in this white panel house
like a fool i bleach the tub
i'll hide from the morning's hurrah
Missouri's Needle Man viva 2024
walked home threw out my pocket
gotta watch the tube and stop my handtwitch
eat a sandwich
did someone ask me to play? kid's
missing an eye.
boy, you don't see me
here in my cave decorated with rippled pilgrims
on my pilgrimage
my senses are anemic
must you stare?
quiet
all these people with different colors
i want to get away. there's no one like me.
beware
night tamed my fall.
i woke up next to needles,
blood dip face paint
bathroom faces utter nothing to me,
stand cool
dip my head,
walk under the shroud.
i'll live here
in this white panel house
like a fool i bleach the tub
i'll hide from the morning's hurrah
Missouri's Needle Man viva 2024
walked home threw out my pocket
gotta watch the tube and stop my handtwitch
eat a sandwich
did someone ask me to play? kid's
missing an eye.
boy, you don't see me
here in my cave decorated with rippled pilgrims
on my pilgrimage
my senses are anemic
must you stare?
quiet
all these people with different colors
i want to get away. there's no one like me.
beware
I told myself no more blogger worthlessness
Kansas City II
someone bikes home;
a lone cricket
at dawn.
--
Everything I write has become so tame. I guess that's what I get for, what exactly?
someone bikes home;
a lone cricket
at dawn.
--
Everything I write has become so tame. I guess that's what I get for, what exactly?
8.18.2009
5:30 AM
I am so happy that the rooster of Kansas City midtown woke me up at 5:30 this morning.
Someone decided to turn on a recording of a woman's murder and play it repeatedly. It echoed throughout the neighborhood and sounded like it was playing through some really loud speakers. I tried to pick apart the words, they were a bit warped because of the echoing, which ended up driving me into a half asleep state of terrified paranoia. There is only so much patience for blood-curdling screams. How endearing, Kansas City.
I remember when I first moved here I wanted to move away immediately. But then I thought, "Oh Audrey don't be a panzy! Just wait for the first rooster of Midtown. Then you'll see what it's like. Then you'll rise with the sun. It's a good feeling to 'embrace the day.'"
Someone decided to turn on a recording of a woman's murder and play it repeatedly. It echoed throughout the neighborhood and sounded like it was playing through some really loud speakers. I tried to pick apart the words, they were a bit warped because of the echoing, which ended up driving me into a half asleep state of terrified paranoia. There is only so much patience for blood-curdling screams. How endearing, Kansas City.
I remember when I first moved here I wanted to move away immediately. But then I thought, "Oh Audrey don't be a panzy! Just wait for the first rooster of Midtown. Then you'll see what it's like. Then you'll rise with the sun. It's a good feeling to 'embrace the day.'"
Since I am awake
While trying to kill insomnia:
I took a shot of gin before bed...
reconciled my past
like a cicada against a fluorescent streetlight,
i accepted my nuances
ah, failures come, they go
the sailor
took red's morning as delight
my father would remind me of those sailors,
as if to say "stay with your instincts."
when looking back
people who grow old,
and you were lucky enough to look up to,
always sound that way
questionable
significance,
i took a shot of gin tonight
murmured loud and clear
in my brain
solitude's got sun
my sun
my words of wisdom are vague
my streetlight's limelight fades
i'll never be home
I took a shot of gin before bed...
reconciled my past
like a cicada against a fluorescent streetlight,
i accepted my nuances
ah, failures come, they go
the sailor
took red's morning as delight
my father would remind me of those sailors,
as if to say "stay with your instincts."
when looking back
people who grow old,
and you were lucky enough to look up to,
always sound that way
questionable
significance,
i took a shot of gin tonight
murmured loud and clear
in my brain
solitude's got sun
my sun
my words of wisdom are vague
my streetlight's limelight fades
i'll never be home
8.17.2009
8.16.2009
Bowler hats
I love my new bowler hat! Click here for a short history.
Hats had always denoted rank in society-for example, gentlemen wore top hats (and cocked hats before top hats) while the lower social strata wore cloth caps (picture Dickens' street urchins). Everyman (and woman too if she was so inclined to push the social-fashion envelope) was wearing a bowler. Whether the wearer was making a statement about his liberation, or being glib or ironic, the fact is that both the union man and the banker wore the same hat. Something important was being conveyed through this simple article of headwear. As each of us who has ever put on any hat knows, one cannot place this apparel article on one's head totally unselfconsciously. The bowler hat marked a change, and the "modern man" by wearing one, wanted the world to know that he was part of it.
8.15.2009
Heart
Okay, so here is either someone's guilty pleasure (me) or one of the worst songs and videos ever. I have been laughing for several minutes. SO eighties! Man, check out the hair! The hair!!!! The last person I saw with hair even close to this was at a Coalesce show (the fact I was even there is another story in itself) with Alex. A woman who looked like Marilyn Manson. So fucking sweet.
The Discontented Bear
This is friggen adorable. It's about a bear who wants to become a bird!
check Stephen Daoud's the Discontented Bear
8.14.2009
Scott Kennedy & Peggy Noland
This man's work is fuckingasweetashit and I don't want to write out some overwritten commentary. GO LOOK. Either look or understand it when I say, "FUCKING SWEET!"
It's so inspiring. Speaking of more inspiration, I read several Peggy Noland interviews while sitting at work. It put my time spent and my future time in Kansas City in perspective. It helped me make sense of this city.
I have been needing a lot of reassurance that there is sense to make out of how I have been feeling lately.
8.13.2009
8.12.2009
Old friends, teaching in North Korea
Today I got coffee with Andrew for the first time after I left work. Andrew is one of my super good friends, I would even consider him a best friend, who I met in Columbia. We lived together for a year and did not kill each other.
Frankly, it's nice to talk to someone who knows enough about what a bitch I can be without being so frightened of it.
We both are equally perplexed by people and can share funny stories about people and our interactions with them. Usually these stories do not entertain everyone but they entertain him and me.
So today I explained to him (in some form) that I did not understand this bizarre subgroup of people who are obsessed with labeling themselves as "travelers." I guess I wish I had enough travel cred to consider myself a traveler but I do not have the bucks. People's ideas of what is expensive and inexpensive baffles me. Yesterday I had a conversation with a woman who was waiting to get into the adviser's office. She was very friendly and told me about all of these different Teaching English as a Foreign Language programs. Then she said, "Oh I am such a traveler!" A few drifts in conversation later, "Oh yeah, I used to tutor this guy from Korea. He said that Korea wants American's badly and will pay big bucks to have you teach English there. But it's dangerous. You can only go to work, the store and that's it. You stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, I hear the dictator is in hiding and all." I found myself confused. "Wait, you mean North Korea? I don't think that South Korea...." "Oh yeah, yeah, I mean, I don't really know, you know. I just hear it's unsafe." "Yeah but I know that North Korea doesn't let Americans in or whatever so I can't imagine that being safe." "Yeah I mean I don't know."
A traveler that doesn't know the difference between North and South Korea? And am I missing something? Does North Korea really want me to come in there and teach English? Could I make the big bucks and skip the labor camps? For heaven's sakes I feel so fucking lucky!
Anyway, we talked about saving up money and when I graduate in a year visiting Rio De Janeiro and going to Carnaval. Which, this is something I have always wanted to do. Who knows if it'll follow through. It's hard to follow through with anything these days. Especially when money is involved.
Lately, Kansas City has been feeling better.
Frankly, it's nice to talk to someone who knows enough about what a bitch I can be without being so frightened of it.
We both are equally perplexed by people and can share funny stories about people and our interactions with them. Usually these stories do not entertain everyone but they entertain him and me.
So today I explained to him (in some form) that I did not understand this bizarre subgroup of people who are obsessed with labeling themselves as "travelers." I guess I wish I had enough travel cred to consider myself a traveler but I do not have the bucks. People's ideas of what is expensive and inexpensive baffles me. Yesterday I had a conversation with a woman who was waiting to get into the adviser's office. She was very friendly and told me about all of these different Teaching English as a Foreign Language programs. Then she said, "Oh I am such a traveler!" A few drifts in conversation later, "Oh yeah, I used to tutor this guy from Korea. He said that Korea wants American's badly and will pay big bucks to have you teach English there. But it's dangerous. You can only go to work, the store and that's it. You stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, I hear the dictator is in hiding and all." I found myself confused. "Wait, you mean North Korea? I don't think that South Korea...." "Oh yeah, yeah, I mean, I don't really know, you know. I just hear it's unsafe." "Yeah but I know that North Korea doesn't let Americans in or whatever so I can't imagine that being safe." "Yeah I mean I don't know."
A traveler that doesn't know the difference between North and South Korea? And am I missing something? Does North Korea really want me to come in there and teach English? Could I make the big bucks and skip the labor camps? For heaven's sakes I feel so fucking lucky!
Anyway, we talked about saving up money and when I graduate in a year visiting Rio De Janeiro and going to Carnaval. Which, this is something I have always wanted to do. Who knows if it'll follow through. It's hard to follow through with anything these days. Especially when money is involved.
Lately, Kansas City has been feeling better.
8.10.2009
Life of a pirate, shit it's hard.
In the real world, I am a good citizen. I don't steal from stores or local businesses. I do not shop at Walmart (which steals from lives.)
But virtually I am such a bad person. Daily I steal free music via music blogs and download free software that should cost me hundreds. The latter I feel less guilty about but there is still a bit that pangs me about the former. In this country we do not respect artists. That is a given. I mean, every time someone asked me before I moved from Columbia what I wanted to do with my life (what a stupid question to ask someone at a party, anyway) I replied with... oh, you know, writing. I write poetry. They would tell me, "HA! Really? Well, I meant, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE MONEY?" God, enough money to survive, folks. I don't give a fuck about it outside of that. Anyway, people in Kansas City 1. don't ask me that question and 2. if they did they would not respond with that remark unless I were at a bro bar. That will not happen. I would also not be asked that at a bro bar.
Unfortunately, if it weren't for free music downloads, I am not sure where I would hear my music unless it were through segments on NPR. Just imagine, my whole personality and taste based off of NPR music in between shows. There is also this whole democracy thing. I really stand in balance.
Yesterday I read an article written from an Anthropological standpoint, one of the few perspectives that make complete sense to me. This was also one of the few classes that was an easy A for me and for no one else, which I found laughable. I'm a bitch. The stoners in the class couldn't wrap their minds around mind-expansion. This cracked just about any kind of social stereotype I wanted to think up for anyone. Back to the point, it said that money is only "magico-religious" thinking and that while it does seemingly affect lives it doesn't have to. It shouldn't have to. And that it's only a social agreement that we continue to agree upon. This I have always thought. I have never understood the real "value" behind a bunch of numbers on a screen. You know, besides faking it. I don't believe in it. You insert a money system into isolated tribes in the world and it literally changes their relationships with each other. But the only way to change this "social agreement" that I have been forced to agree upon there would have to be a violent uprising and eventually a secession and frankly, I don't see this happening. I mean, there are so many reasons why this country is ripe for a revolution right now but there is not shit happening. I read about this all of the time. In fact, I search for it. The writer of the article had "hope" that our minds would change soon enough and we'd "gain perspective." Or whatever. Ha, yeah right.
And no, I am not a drunk asshole at a party bitching. I am really not some internerd hacker looking to cause trouble. I'm just a person who listens and observes and has a fucking humble opinion that I don't spout. That's all.
Anyway, I lost my point here. I am a bad virtual person. That starving folk musician from Lee's Summit? Yeah, he's talking about me. You know, the PIRATE.
But virtually I am such a bad person. Daily I steal free music via music blogs and download free software that should cost me hundreds. The latter I feel less guilty about but there is still a bit that pangs me about the former. In this country we do not respect artists. That is a given. I mean, every time someone asked me before I moved from Columbia what I wanted to do with my life (what a stupid question to ask someone at a party, anyway) I replied with... oh, you know, writing. I write poetry. They would tell me, "HA! Really? Well, I meant, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE MONEY?" God, enough money to survive, folks. I don't give a fuck about it outside of that. Anyway, people in Kansas City 1. don't ask me that question and 2. if they did they would not respond with that remark unless I were at a bro bar. That will not happen. I would also not be asked that at a bro bar.
Unfortunately, if it weren't for free music downloads, I am not sure where I would hear my music unless it were through segments on NPR. Just imagine, my whole personality and taste based off of NPR music in between shows. There is also this whole democracy thing. I really stand in balance.
Yesterday I read an article written from an Anthropological standpoint, one of the few perspectives that make complete sense to me. This was also one of the few classes that was an easy A for me and for no one else, which I found laughable. I'm a bitch. The stoners in the class couldn't wrap their minds around mind-expansion. This cracked just about any kind of social stereotype I wanted to think up for anyone. Back to the point, it said that money is only "magico-religious" thinking and that while it does seemingly affect lives it doesn't have to. It shouldn't have to. And that it's only a social agreement that we continue to agree upon. This I have always thought. I have never understood the real "value" behind a bunch of numbers on a screen. You know, besides faking it. I don't believe in it. You insert a money system into isolated tribes in the world and it literally changes their relationships with each other. But the only way to change this "social agreement" that I have been forced to agree upon there would have to be a violent uprising and eventually a secession and frankly, I don't see this happening. I mean, there are so many reasons why this country is ripe for a revolution right now but there is not shit happening. I read about this all of the time. In fact, I search for it. The writer of the article had "hope" that our minds would change soon enough and we'd "gain perspective." Or whatever. Ha, yeah right.
And no, I am not a drunk asshole at a party bitching. I am really not some internerd hacker looking to cause trouble. I'm just a person who listens and observes and has a fucking humble opinion that I don't spout. That's all.
Anyway, I lost my point here. I am a bad virtual person. That starving folk musician from Lee's Summit? Yeah, he's talking about me. You know, the PIRATE.
8.09.2009
Quotes
"I believe I am the only one who doesn't remember what I was doing on 911." - East Bound and Down
Watch that show on dvd. It's not for the faint of heart.
"Oh my godddd, whatever, I have known way more punk people than her." - My neighbor in reference to me after I smoked a cigarette and headed back in from my balcony.
Watch that show on dvd. It's not for the faint of heart.
"Oh my godddd, whatever, I have known way more punk people than her." - My neighbor in reference to me after I smoked a cigarette and headed back in from my balcony.
8.08.2009
8.06.2009
Synthetic Life
----As Edge's own John Markoff reported from the recent Asilomar conference on artificial intelligence, the experts "generally discounted the possibility of highly centralized superintelligences and the idea that intelligence might spring spontaneously from the Internet."
Who will ever write the code that ignites the spark? Craig Venter might be hinting at the answer when he tells us that "DNA... is absolutely the software of life." The language used by DNA is much closer to machine language than any language used by human brains. It should be no surprise that the recent explosion of coded communication between our genomes and our computers largely leaves us out.
"The notion that no intelligence is involved in biological evolution may prove to be one of the most spectacular examples of the kind of misunderstandings which may arise before two alien forms of intelligence become aware of one another," wrote viral geneticist (and synthetic biologist) Nils Barricelli in 1963. The entire evolutionary process "is a powerful intelligence mechanism (or genetic brain) that, in many ways, can be comparable or superior to the human brain as far as the ability of solving problems is concerned," he added in 1987, in the final paper he published before he died. "Whether there are ways to communicate with genetic brains of different symbioorganisms, for example by using their own genetic language, is a question only the future can answer."
I just had the most bizarre dream.
There was a group of bad, rich men trying to take over the world. The world was colorful. I was in charge of the group to be gutsy enough to encounter these men. Their way of taking over the world was deluding the public and making them drunk on various mind-altering dream substances. Everyone was dressed up in flamboyant masquerade clothing. While drunk on my own dream fluid I move back and forth from different person to different person. I lucidly send myself from one conquest to another. One of them involved a dream friend and me finally admitting that I, indeed, wanted to lay with him within' the moving landscape. Then I would transition from that to the woman who is saving the world. Finally I realize that I cannot save the world and I cannot fall in love with this man all because I have two personalities. "Look, I can't be with you." Dream man looked drunk as I talked. "Look, I can't be with you because I am two different people. You see, I am changing from one to the next right now. All I have to do is hit my own switch." It turns out those evil men got me anyway. There is no escaping the mind-altering state of society, apparently.
Bloggery pictyure
If anyone is frightened by my bloggity photo I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU ARE!
My god!
Okay well, g'day... don't let the crackheads bite your ankles today.
My god!
Okay well, g'day... don't let the crackheads bite your ankles today.
8.04.2009
New pieces
I posted two new drawings up on my site. One of them scanned badly but I don't care to fix it at the moment.
audreykeiffer.com
Alison Blickle
I haven't posted anything art related in a little while.
I really like Alison Blickle's paintings of a skinny lady running through a'many natural environments. Sometimes it seems that a portrayal of a natural woman has lost its "natural" aspects. If anything, the entirety of being disconnected from what is woman and what isn't is making this explanation hard to convey. There are many different perspectives on what is considered a modern woman or a woman who is independent. These paintings really convey this confusion, in my opinion. The mix of the body type and environment, Rousseau-esque, is a way of showing the detachment of humans from the natural world. And, more importantly, a woman in a natural world.
Although, I can't say that I agree or disagree with how I am viewing these paintings. Getting past those aspects of it, some of the women look like they drank a little bit too much cough medicine. There is a mix of equator jungle plants within' evergreens. The colors are simply awesome.
8.03.2009
Going corporate? I'll send you an email!
After receiving an email from a "reliable source" at UMKC for internship opportunities I received two options:
1. Hallmark Cards is a privately owned American company based in Kansas City, Missouri. Founded in 1910 by Joyce C. Hall, Hallmark is the largest manufacturer of greeting cards in the United States. Approximately 50% of greeting cards sent in the United States every year are manufactured by Hallmark. Christmas is the #1 selling holiday in terms of Hallmark Cards sales.
2. Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC (formerly Andrews, McMeel and Parker (1975-1986) and Andrews and McMeel (1986-1997)) is a company which publishes books, calendars, and related toys. It is a part of Andrews McMeel Universal, as is the Universal Press Syndicate.
Notable authors and titles published by Andrews McMeel include Mary Engelbreit, Anne Geddes, Bradley Trevor Greive, and Olivia.
Andrews McMeel is the general publisher of books of comic strips produced by Universal Press Syndicate including Calvin and Hobbes and FoxTrot. However, the company also produces book collections for some comic strips which are owned by other syndicates, for example Get Fuzzy and Pearls Before Swine.
Hm, starting out small in something I don't care about?! Man, throw me the fuckin' bread, dude. Big-time publishing companies are not my cup of tea. I guess I may have to get out of Kansas City for that deal. Anyone in Kansas City know of small publishers around here that aren't super corporate, etc? I plan on being poor for the rest of my existence, anyway. My cats won't care. I have no idea what I am going to do after college so I am just testing ground, I guess.
I really get my jollies out of the ridiculousness of the advice I have received from my academic adviser. I have not decided whether or not she is repeating robotic sentences or not yet. I mean, I have had the worse luck with them in the past. I had one tell me that I wasn't smart enough to take German. I guess it foreshadowed the rest of my college experience. Life has just chewed me up and spit me out in a rancid, black goo. I am now in the process of cleaning it off. Becoming a run of the mill seems like a life ender for me at this point. Is there no soul in anything? Ew. I hope I don't have to move to New York or something.
Anyway, small publications around here besides New Letters? I have heard bad stuff about the Pitch. I doubt I would have time after the end of this month to be a full on arts writer. I am thinking Review mag? Frankly, I'd rather steer clear of news. Of any kind. I like writing but not like that. Alex keeps telling me it's not about what you love it's just about making money. That's how it works in America. I really don't give a shit about these things but I feel like I should. I know this is a common complaint. Maybe I can jump from shitty place to shitty place. If that's the case, I need to get working on a decent portfolio that isn't full of obscure poetry, short stories and emotional dumpage that only appeals to an audience that is currently invisible (used to not be). Anna has told me that a few English majors she does know roboticize themselves for the day and write bad ass shit at night. I am a bit worried about this kind of logic. I have had trouble getting out of robot mode when I must be in robot mode.
Thinking about this stuff is nauseating. Time for wine and a cigarette. I have absolutely no idea what to do, really. I'm going to be jumping on coals for my existence. I keep jumping back and forth from one dumb idea to the next. Every one has as many downfalls as it does something good. And if I would just settle on something it would make things better. I mean, I am certain it would solve so many of my problems at the moment. I am certain I would even be able to smoke a joint again. You see, petty things like that.
Ah! Insanity!
1. Hallmark Cards is a privately owned American company based in Kansas City, Missouri. Founded in 1910 by Joyce C. Hall, Hallmark is the largest manufacturer of greeting cards in the United States. Approximately 50% of greeting cards sent in the United States every year are manufactured by Hallmark. Christmas is the #1 selling holiday in terms of Hallmark Cards sales.
2. Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC (formerly Andrews, McMeel and Parker (1975-1986) and Andrews and McMeel (1986-1997)) is a company which publishes books, calendars, and related toys. It is a part of Andrews McMeel Universal, as is the Universal Press Syndicate.
Notable authors and titles published by Andrews McMeel include Mary Engelbreit, Anne Geddes, Bradley Trevor Greive, and Olivia.
Andrews McMeel is the general publisher of books of comic strips produced by Universal Press Syndicate including Calvin and Hobbes and FoxTrot. However, the company also produces book collections for some comic strips which are owned by other syndicates, for example Get Fuzzy and Pearls Before Swine.
Hm, starting out small in something I don't care about?! Man, throw me the fuckin' bread, dude. Big-time publishing companies are not my cup of tea. I guess I may have to get out of Kansas City for that deal. Anyone in Kansas City know of small publishers around here that aren't super corporate, etc? I plan on being poor for the rest of my existence, anyway. My cats won't care. I have no idea what I am going to do after college so I am just testing ground, I guess.
I really get my jollies out of the ridiculousness of the advice I have received from my academic adviser. I have not decided whether or not she is repeating robotic sentences or not yet. I mean, I have had the worse luck with them in the past. I had one tell me that I wasn't smart enough to take German. I guess it foreshadowed the rest of my college experience. Life has just chewed me up and spit me out in a rancid, black goo. I am now in the process of cleaning it off. Becoming a run of the mill seems like a life ender for me at this point. Is there no soul in anything? Ew. I hope I don't have to move to New York or something.
Anyway, small publications around here besides New Letters? I have heard bad stuff about the Pitch. I doubt I would have time after the end of this month to be a full on arts writer. I am thinking Review mag? Frankly, I'd rather steer clear of news. Of any kind. I like writing but not like that. Alex keeps telling me it's not about what you love it's just about making money. That's how it works in America. I really don't give a shit about these things but I feel like I should. I know this is a common complaint. Maybe I can jump from shitty place to shitty place. If that's the case, I need to get working on a decent portfolio that isn't full of obscure poetry, short stories and emotional dumpage that only appeals to an audience that is currently invisible (used to not be). Anna has told me that a few English majors she does know roboticize themselves for the day and write bad ass shit at night. I am a bit worried about this kind of logic. I have had trouble getting out of robot mode when I must be in robot mode.
Thinking about this stuff is nauseating. Time for wine and a cigarette. I have absolutely no idea what to do, really. I'm going to be jumping on coals for my existence. I keep jumping back and forth from one dumb idea to the next. Every one has as many downfalls as it does something good. And if I would just settle on something it would make things better. I mean, I am certain it would solve so many of my problems at the moment. I am certain I would even be able to smoke a joint again. You see, petty things like that.
Ah! Insanity!
Minding my own biz
Is it a crime to want to mind your own business?
Maybe I should move to the East Coast.
Maybe I should move to the East Coast.
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