Cry Bloxome

10. HANG OUT WITH SLUTS.
After my brother and I had trashed the house, because the olds had been away, we thought we had concealed the debauchery. But my mum found a tampon wrapper on the floor in her private bathroom and yelled, ‘What kind of SLUTS do you hang out with!’
I answered, ‘I don’t know, the usual kind?’

That’s some Cry Bloxome.  Australian writer, ne’er do well <- what the fuck, I hate that term, its late

OK, just go and read all the cusses.   Some other other poor bastard/love hotel expert witness who worked with me in Nara recommended him to me.

A Human Being

I owe my Dad a custom shirt with this quote:

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

-Robert A. Heinlein

I’m slowly working my way through that list.  I still need to / need to learn how to:

• Program in C#, Java or some other multi functional code.
• Learn and consistently practice a fighting technique.  I’ve been looking into Krav Maga lately.
• Catch and dress wild game.
• Get recertified in CPR and possibly lifesaving.
• Build a human habitable structure and a sea worthy vessel.

If it were my list I’d put something in there about basic bed skills and art/booze appreciation but that’s just me.

Rock Garden

Another picture of what’s on the sill in my bedroom.  This would be the ultra-portable rock garden I’ve put together out of rocks and other items that I’ve accumulated.  I arranged them in a compact imitation of a zen garden, minus the sand, where the rocks are islands.  The tiles make a nice cool bay, recalling squares of ocean on a video game world map.

The central rock I picked up this summer on the beach where I woke up after a Third of July party.  The chunk of coal was dropped in my mailbox sometime last winter, no idea where it came from.  The reclining plastic crystal bear comes off the top of a rubber stamp that imparts the likeness of Rillakuma (a bear who brings the serene message of chilling the fuck out.  With pancakes.  And baths.)  A friend brought the offwhite rock  back from Masada  when he visited Israel.   We have a long standing international rock exchange.  The tiles I found when I was hiking on Mt. Rouko, overlooking Kobe.  They were scattered across a part of the trail and it reminded me of how Kobe was in scattered ruins barely over a decade ago.

I like looking at this garden.

Test Flight #1

Here’s the output of  the first weekly Make Shit Night.  And we made… some kinda shit, that’s for sure.  Here’s what happens when you show up with no ideas, source material or concept of what you want to do.

Keep Your Laws Off My Bike Frame

Wired: Best Cities For Bikes

What struck me about this list was the lack of Asian representation on this list.  Straight up cracker towns, US and Euro across the board, no mention of how overwhelmingly 2-wheeled transportation is in large swaths of Japan, China, Viet, etc.

Then I looked at the criteria and it sorta made sense.  They were looking for some kind of official nob towards the phenomenon: committees, bike lanes,  traffic laws… all the things that Osaka thinks are for pansies.  Pssht, bike lanes.  Just aim that mama-cheri down the hill, jump the curb out into the road when there’s a hobo cart blocking the sidewalk and cut across six lanes of traffic wherever and whenever the mood strikes you.  With your shopping in the front basket.  And your girlfriend on the pegs.  And it all works, somehow.

I don’t think I saw a single serious bike accident my entire time in Osaka.  And not one helmet on anyone older than six or on a fucking Segway.  Somehow it just all makes sense without lanes, regulations or advocacy groups.

Windowstill

I have begun to tear the labels off of everything.  Less noise, more broad fields of color.  Things would be more like a calm abstract painting without logos and nutritional information.  Once, you’ve absorbed it, do you owe the Gillette company to keep their sacred writings intact?  Fuck with future archaeologists, c’mon.

Central Nervous

Inspired by Ms. Chan… I really oughtta be using this space for what I set it up for, rather than filling it full of YouTube.

Volcano, I’m Still Excited – “In Green”

The song’s alright but there’s something engrossing about this video. The way the mouths become abstract shapes. And the end reminds me of everyone else’s video shoots in college. Not mine. Mine usually involved hunger and crying. Or serious stop motion cramps.

Jape – Floating

Not particularly sure why but I’ve been digging on this song for a few months.  Something about the cadence and how it mentions that life is a real long time and you gotta fill it up with some kind of BEHAVIOR.

Vagina, Etc.

Alarming News:
http://www.avclub.com/content/hater/what_does_vajayjay_mean_to_you

Now listen… I’ve been using the term Mrs VaJayJay for years (since high school) in selective situations. It worked every now and again for that mixture of being in mixed morals company and not wanting to sound like I was holding the idea of such an area at arms’s length with mental tongs. And now Oprah’s got ahold of my vajayjay. Fuck buckets.

Guess I’m just going to have to go back to always calling it “lady penis”. Dang that’ll be awkward for a few weeks, until Desperate Housewives starts co-opting that too.