Y.P.I.I.A.C.

new doodles

2012-01-18T20:31:00.000-08:00

2011-12-28T11:30:00.000-08:00

I highly recommend both of these films (if you live in Utah you can see them at the Broadway theater in SLC).

shame

2011-12-03T01:44:00.000-08:00

In my Morals & Ethics class I have been reading about works of art in some writing by John Dewey and some of the readings I have come across have forced me to reevaluate some of the basic ideas I have about art.

Most of this rests on the way I have imagined the concept of the artist. Most of us think of artists as more enlightened creatures, stylized and perfected in a universe of their own making. These people sit at the top of creative hierarchies from which they dictate what is beautiful, what is not. I have been guilty of thinking of the artist in this way, and of wanting to occupy this position of condescending authority myself.

I think most of us who aspire to embody the mythical "artist" cliche do not realize that we are often, (albeit unconsciously) promoting an idea of art that is actually putting up dividing walls, that is making a false distinction that the world is made up of creators and followers rather than viewing all humans as being able to participate in the act of creation. I want to believe, more each day, that each person can perform or contribute to the creation (I suppose this is the ultimate creation of human history). I want to stop thinking that I am the artist and that other people are not. The art should exist in relationships and communities, and it should not be "fine art" that is put inside a glass box, it should be something that doesn't have to exist on an ivory platform in order to be desirable. The role of the artist is a role that we should all be able to fill in performing any action for which we care deeply and pay strong esthetic attention.

One of the main complaints in the readings was against museums, where art is often acquired in an almost imperialist fashion. The author compared the art to primitive religions where a song was to be shared among the group singing together. The artistic creation existed as a part of their living community, it was an esthetic experience they could share together. The article went on to explain that many religions now have become like museums where the creation is dictated from the top down; a sterilizing process that does not recognize the human community, and that does not recognize the act of creation as a continuing community process.

This information changes everything for me. It means that I have to be less selfish and it means that I have to be much more responsible with my creative actions. I think I have tried to become really distant from the concept of community because of my life experience so far, and that is a mistake that I think a lot of people have made, that we are all paying for dearly. I hope to be able to participate in art more liberally, to be more generous not just in physical material but in helping to ensure that there are ways for others to participate.

How I am going to encourage art to exist in a community sense is quite a thought. Any ideas? What do you think?

ON OCCUPY WALL STREET

2011-10-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

ON OCCUPY WALL STREET:

I am guilty as sin for making fun of the "hipster" girls who were pepper sprayed (probably middle class art majors right?) and the (pot smoking?) philosophy majors who were thrown violently into the pavement before being handcuffed and carted off to the station, and the (over-idealistic socialists?) who were tricked by the New York City Police Department into trespassing on a bridge only to later be arrested, and of course there is a whole collection of other Occupy Wall Street injustices and brutalities on Youtube at which one can laugh and point. I should state that I am a person who enjoys laughing at pretty much everything, but usually the worst things. I think laughter and sarcasm can be a really great way to approach the worst that life has to offer, it can be a way to cope and I think it can be very healthy sometimes, BUT laughter can also be a way to refuse to see the humanity and validity in an individual and in a group of people. I feel ashamed to think that I have contributed to this refusal to see the protesters as real people and to understand their anger and frustration in any realistic way. It is easy to deny them their humanity, to write off their intelligence, and I even think that it is cowardly to do this. The media and popular opinion (as much of it as I can see anyway) are very happy for you to contribute to this deceptive and pathetic caricature of a bunch of lazy selfish kids who want to destroy the fabric of American economics. This opinion is too flat and too easy, even if you disagree with many of the demands of this protest, it is still too easy and it isn't fair to our sense of democracy.

I have heard, and even made, my fair share of these sweeping judgments of the Occupy Wall Street movement-

"Its just a bunch of middle class kids who want to feel important."
"The Occupy Wall Street movement is too idealistic, their demands are impractical."
"How can they want to change a system that has benefited them so richly?"
"They simply aren't working hard enough, if they would just buckle down like the rest of us their needs would be met."
"These people don't know anything about economics."
"Their branding of 99 percent is an inaccurate representation of what is actually happening in our current economy"

Lets go through these and take them apart-

"Its just a bunch of middle class kids who want to feel important"

Obviously they aren't all from middle class backgrounds, they are almost completely adults, not kids & who the hell doesn't want to feel important? Aren't humans important? Part of the critique they are making of our economic/political system is that the common person isn't as important in their political influence in our democracy as a big corporation or a member of the upper class, and that is a real problem. But back to the middle class thing, why would it matter if the protesters are members of the middle class? Does this make them less deserving of the opportunity to voice their opinion in protest? Of course not.

"The Occupy Wall Street movement is too idealistic, their demands are impractical."

Our economic/political system labeled their demands, and even merely their expression of these demands as juvenile, impractical, and too idealistic before the fact. This refusal to really listen and this refusal to honor a right to protest is a gigantic and frightening problem, even if you don't agree with the demands of the protest itself.

"How can they want to change a system that has benefited them so richly?"

I'm sure many people said this when women, racial minorities, and LGBTQ individuals went through their various protests to fight for their rights. The fact that anyone would say this just further indicates that we can't stomp out and ignore some protests as being less important than others, that is how freedom should work, everyone gets to speak. I think most significant protests are seen as inferior at first, when in reality a protest and an active participation in dialogue and community is the most healthy thing a person can do for their country. Most people don't protest about things that they don't care about deeply.

"They simply aren't working hard enough, if they would just buckle down like the rest of us their needs would be met."

I have a hard time believing that a lazy person would protest in New York City, camping in the street, being attacked and taunted by police and the mass of people who despise them. There are probably those who aren't as ambitious or intelligent but does the participation of a less ambitious or less intelligent person invalidate a whole protest? No.

"These people don't know anything about economics."

Don't be ridiculous. Are we actually trying to say that Noam Chomsky or Judith Butler don't know anything about economics? Really?

"Their branding of 99 percent is an inaccurate representation of what is actually happening in our current economy"

I honestly don't know if that statistic is accurate or not, but does it really matter? It is important to use branding to get your point across and the point is that there is an increasing imbalance not just in wealth but in political power. We are willing to buy into the inaccurate representations of corporations that are killing us every single day, but when we don't think some protesters have their statistics exactly right we think we should be able to totally ignore them? That's just stupid.

So there you have it. Its taken me a little while to decide, but I do I support Occupy Wall Street. It may not be a perfect protest but there is no such thing. I don't agree with all of the demands that have been made, but the fact that our current system is so agitated by this protest leads me to realize that this opportunity to speak and to push for some changes in the way that power is organized in our country is important right now. If this lack of accountability in our economy, and this distortion of political influence continues I am sure that we will regret it.

2011-10-24T00:35:00.000-07:00

I have created an Etsy shop where you can buy my art, please show it to all of your friends.

2011-10-06T13:59:00.001-07:00

I listened to this wonderful speech today by Steve Jobs who died just yesterday and it was exactly what I needed to hear. He talks about the marvelous opportunity to be alive and the function of death. He calls us to live fully and to follow our inner voice-

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

I have spent the last few years working at a job that was both a great opportunity and also a recipe for depression. The job itself wasn't particularly horrible, I loved some of the people I worked with, but for my needs it wasn't sufficient. I have grown up watching people I love force themselves into situations that haven't brought very many of their hopes or dreams to fruition and I'd like to break that chain in whatever ways I can.

My best friend is in Chicago exploring film as an art medium and I hope she feels fulfilled by it, she sounds so happy when I talk to her on the phone, its good to know that create pursuits can be more specific outside of Utah. I am here in Orem doing creative writing, studying ethics and morality, reading about feminist and LGBTQ issues as always, and I just want to say that it has been a long time since I could say that I really look forward to my days, and even though I am not sure how everything will pan out, and I still get depressed sometimes, I'm much happier than I have been in a long long time, and much poorer ironically.

2011-09-13T12:35:00.000-07:00

Its been about three weeks since I finished my job. I almost thought I would never be able to leave that place. I miss certain aspects of it, and certain people, but mostly it has been nice to be able to make a big change. Its also been about two weeks since I moved out of Provo and into a relatively quiet family neighborhood in Orem. I feel like the last few years of my life are far away now and this sudden distance is providing some jarring insights into who I am and what I want to do with my life.

I am actually becoming more grateful, day by day, for the wealth of information that I have been able to process in regards to Mormonism and BYU this past few years. I sometimes wonder if I would have been as curious about all of this if it weren't so pervasive in my daily life while living in Provo. It has been a privilege to roam around the HVAC, to talk to artists who have faced cultural ignorance and censorship and to also discover the refreshingly progressive professors who have educated and encouraged some of my best friends. Its also been rewarding to learn about the feminists, LGBT activists, atheists and other intellectuals that BYU has fired, supported, tolerated, and that the church has excommunicated or disfellowshipped. This year I went to Sunstone, (which I highly recommend to anyone who has any interest in Mormonism) and I was able to meet some of these fascinating people who have worked very hard to ask important questions, to teach and share what they know, and to negotiate between the variety of ideas in Mormonism and the world around us. I know I'm just scratching the surface with all of this stuff, but its an important part of my life journey and it has immense value for me. Now that I am in school I am feeling especially grateful for this place I'm at.

When I go to sleep these days my brain is full of all kinds of questions and answers, which is a really good feeling. I felt it the other night, this assortment of thoughts, and the main thread that was holding everything together was this idea that I have what I need and that I will somehow find my way through all of this.

2011-09-11T17:27:00.000-07:00

click the picture to view it larger

2011-08-29T22:53:00.000-07:00

So I just finished this art piece that you should look at. Its part of a project that my friend Daniele constructed. You can look at the pieces by the other artists by clicking here. Its been a fascinating process to participate in. I am puzzled that more people haven't utilized more of the space on the screen, but whatever. I am really looking forward to seeing what the last two artists decide to do.

In other news I started school today.......er, um, is 19 credits going to kill me? I think I might end up dropping a class. I am super excited for British literature though, and Ethics and Morals seems relatively promising, and my APA writing class is basically a suicide note.... a very well written suicide note with non-wikipedia references. Well how about that?

New Compositions & Other Changes

2011-08-24T15:15:00.001-07:00

I chopped up a bunch of my pictures in Photoshop to make some new compositions (see below - click the pictures to see them larger). I'm also toying with the idea of bringing color into these, something I have wanted to do for a long time but couldn't figure out until now. I will post the actual pieces as I finish them.

In other news, I will be taking 16 credits this semester, and am still on the wait-list for a few other classes. Hope I am not setting myself up for disaster. I'm also moving to Orem with my current roommates this Saturday. You should totally see my new room, its this weird L-shaped space. ALSO I will be uploading an art piece this coming Sunday for Daniele Vickers' project In Order to Receive.

2011-08-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

I said goodbye to Amanda on Wednesday. I asked the man at the counter in a gas station to take our picture. Ridiculous. Today is my last day at a job I have been at for almost four years. Crazy huh? They left me the most wonderful spinning text screen saver-

You should watch this-

2011-08-14T22:53:00.000-07:00

Amanda finished it!

2011-08-02T16:04:00.001-07:00

Click on this!

2011-08-02T00:34:00.000-07:00

Relief! I am registered for school as a resident, with a full semester of classes. I'm really excited about the next chapter of my life. I was so worried that I wouldn't be able to go back to school yet.

I put in my three weeks notice at my job, a job I have had for almost 4 years. I need to be able to finish there, but its also really hard. I'm so used to getting up in the morning and driving to AF and going down into that basement to work. My life has been so much happier just knowing that there is an end in sight in regards to my job.

John basically gave me this wonderful little organ. He doesn't realize it probably, but its a super special thing for me. I grew up playing piano everyday, and haven't been able to play anything on a regular basis for a few years now. I have some electric keyboards, but its just not the same, I have needed the sound of real wind, real hammers, and some privacy.

I went to the first official family reunion for my immediate family this last weekend and it was wonderful. Of course I was horrified, I get so paranoid about my family, but it was really nice to spend time with them in a neutral space. I am learning to trust more in my family as a primitive structure, not so much as a moral or spiritual one, maybe I can write more about that sometime.

The Sunstone Symposium is THIS WEEK! I'm really looking forward to it. Its something I have been poking at for the last few years and this year I figured I should give it a shot before school starts. Before I couldn't understand why people existed in this weird space where they are between absolute devotion and "other things" but now I am beginning to understand the need to be heard, to have all of those "odd" conversations, to acknowledge a need for Mormon identity, to be able to identify in various ways within Mormon culture, and to recognize the fact that most of us are actually somewhere between absolute devotion and "other things".

My roommate wrote this great post that I think is worth reading-

"Do you know anyone who grew up in a church and then walked away when they got older? Often leaders and parents and siblings are concerned about them and their spirituality. And often they should be. But sometimes those individuals’ rejection of church, and faith they were presented with as the only possible interpretation of what it means to follow Jesus, may in fact be a sign of spiritual health.

They may be resisting behaviors, interpretations, and attitudes that should be rejected. Perhaps they simply came to a point where they refused to accept the very sorts of things that Jesus would refuse to accept.

Some Jesuses should be rejected."

I relate to that. Sometimes I feel like its easier to be Christ-like as an atheist, or at least by putting some serious spiritual/intellectual distance between myself and organized religion.

Thanks for this

2011-08-01T15:14:00.000-07:00

"A genuine first-hand religious experience…is bound to be a heterodoxy to its witnesses, the prophet appearing as a mere lonely madman. If his doctrine prove contagious enough to spread to any others, it becomes a definite and labeled heresy. But if it then still prove contagious enough to triumph over persecution, it becomes itself an orthodoxy; and when a religion has become an orthodoxy, its day of inwardness is over: the spring is dry; the faithful live at second hand exclusively and stone the prophets in their turn. The new church, in spite of whatever human goodness it may foster, can be hence forth counted on as a staunch ally in every attempt to stifle the spontaneous spirit, and to stop all later bubblings of the fountain from which, in purer days, it drew its own supply of inspiration."

-William JamesSee More

2011-07-29T09:12:00.000-07:00

"Hustlers of the world, there is one Mark you cannot beat: The Mark Inside..."
-William S. Burroughs

2011-07-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

Its time to shift, time to move again. It has been a while.

We are the context through which we experience all that life has to offer
and today is a good day to pause for a moment to appreciate the wonderful gifts we have been given, as well as the gifts we have partially earned.

Our friendships have provided some nourishment and strength, our world has grown SO MUCH, and our actions have become (hopefully) more measured and more consistent than before.

Look at the things that we can do!
We can hold down jobs,
We can earn degrees!
We can make dinner,
We can do our laundry,
We can go grocery shopping,
We can be careful,
We can make music,
We can make choices concerning the daily function of our lives,
We can choose how we shape our brains.
We can be responsible.
We can be calm.

Before you go make sure to think of all the wonderful things you have tasted, think of the sanctuaries you have formed, especially those calm places where you can go, even if just mentally or emotionally, to recharge. Remember that place! You will find it again.

Now GO! If you become too nostalgic you will become frozen in time.

GO!

2011-07-26T00:39:00.000-07:00

Amanda asked me to be in a video she is currently working on for this project.

Below are some stills.

2011-07-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

Words cannot describe how frustrated I am today. I just found out that I'm probably not going to be able to go to school this Fall. I am starting to believe that it will never be possible.

Heaven

2011-07-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

Gloria Steinem: What is your feeling about the politics of heaven or ideas about what happens after death?

Alice Walker: Well, I was invited to Augburn ten years ago and I presented a new essay called 'The Only Reason You Want to Go To Heaven is you've been driven out of your mind, off your land and out of your lovers arms". That's why you want to go to heaven, and so this is to say that when they dragged us here to work their plantations, and they colonized our spirituality, and they colonized and killed the native people, they instilled in people, forced them really, to believe that there had to be some place better than here, and that was the heaven that they promised. But the heaven that the people already had- and they knew they already had it, they knew they already had heaven, heaven is right here. If heaven is not here it isn't anywhere, and that is why we really have to make this place what it can be and what it really innately is, instead of waiting until its a big ball of ice like the other planets. We live in heaven, this is heaven, I know it every day, and I know it in my bones, in my heart, and in my soul, I know that I live in paradise. So that is one reason I have not needed religion in the formal sense. I have felt so connected to the creator, I feel so much a part of everything that is. I just can't understand why you wouldn't feel that.

summer

2011-07-18T23:22:00.000-07:00

2011-07-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

Mormonism.......(sigh), I have been so frustrated with it (Mormonism is not an "it"). People say all kinds of things about people who leave the faith, people who are kicked out, people who vary in their devotions, interpretations, blah blah blah.

There is a really overt temptation to throw away the doctrines and traditions as they fragment in your hands, and I thought that would be so easy to do, I thought that was the right thing, but life isn't that simple, belief isn't that simple, the fragmentation of an idea isn't that simple, and what it means to be a good person is so much more complex than claiming membership in any given organization, leaving an organization, or claiming a title of any kind.

This has been a hard thing for me to accept, maybe because I have wanted things to be easier to sort out, and in that sense, more rigidly theistic. I have been so confused when people have been so touchy in defending the church while simultaneously exclaiming that they don't have to adhere to every doctrine, that they can pick and choose. I am still confused I guess, but I am learning to accept some elements of confusion, tension, and duality as being necessary to preserve the rich paradoxical nature of life.

I really think the essence of a person is fundamentally the same regardless of most anything they will go through and there is a part of me that has remained through all of this that tends to be didactic and fatalistic in a way that isn't always helpful. I am learning to suspend my assumptions, and even though I sound like a patronizing ass when I try gracelessly to accommodate the people around me, I am still trying and that certainly counts for something.

Feminism......(sigh), I have been so frustrated with it (Feminism is not an "it")

2011-06-22T08:04:00.000-07:00

I am not sure if I am capable of saying the cleverest thing, but I don't care that much anymore. I just want to calm down in my own skin.

Hey, that was nice, and it was the best thing you have ever made.

Even though I hate these two ideas existing in the same body,
I can believe that it could be wholesome to reach for both of them.

I might even say that it can be good to brutalize the ones you love.

That's what we need more of, that's the thing that is going to get us through.
The acceptance of tensions, details, nuanced subtleties.

I would love to say that you were wrong to worry, that everything is OK.
But nobody sleeps that loud, and nobody has told you anything,
and I cannot console you. Can anyone actually console you?

You have been very silent through this little ordeal,
I can respect that because I understand how you work.
You try not to judge, you try not to bring too many cliches to things,
you try not to color things too much, and you care about people even though you hate them.

I don't believe you 100 percent, by the way.

I guess I am going to have to start believing that a paradox can sometimes be good.

I believe that you believe what you are telling me.
I also believe that you are good.
But so what?

I guess that is something worth noting.
The care of people before the care of ideals.

Have a good day please.

Fire Walk With Me

2011-06-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

I watched Fire Walk With Me recently. The film is so beautiful and it has some of my favorite lines to mull over in my mind, some of them just fill me with terror-

__________

Donna: Do you think that if you were falling in space... that you'd slow down after a while, or go faster and faster?
Laura: Faster and faster... until after a while you wouldn't feel anything... and then your body would just burst into fire. And the angel's wouldn't help you, 'cause they've all gone away...

__________

The Log Lady: [to Laura] When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy.

__________

Mrs. Tremond's Grandson: [to Laura; whispering] The man behind the mask is looking for the book with the pages torn out. He is going towards the hiding place.

__________

Here's a quote from Twin Peaks just for kicks-

The Log Lady: A poem as lovely as a tree: "As the night wind blows, the boughs move to and fro. / The rustling, the magic rustling that brings on the dark dream. / The dream of suffering and pain. / Pain for the victim, pain for the inflictor of pain. / A circle of pain, a circle of suffering. / Woe to the ones who behold the pale horse."

BEEF

2011-06-16T17:11:00.000-07:00

I am confused by people who think they are Mormon and feminist at the same time.

Read this paper-

"Because gender equity is a highly charged issue, it is difficult for those on either side to tell the truth about their feelings and experiences, even to themselves, especially under unspoken pressure from both sides of the question. The very fact that the issue is perceived as two-sided and polemical rather than multiple and complex is telling."

2011-06-16T16:43:00.000-07:00

I have to remember that every new sphere of life has all kinds of nooks and crannies that I couldn't have imagined before. I also need to remember that I didn't think I could have lived through some of the experiences I have survived thus far.

things to read

2011-06-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

These are some articles & posts that I have enjoyed reading in the last few months. Most of these have been shared with me by various friends-

Brain Calisthenics Help Break Down Abstract Ideas

Who Runs The World?: On Beyonce, Sampling, Race, and Power [Essay]

Matthew Stone Meets Marina Abramovic

Why do Americans still dislike atheists?

Forbidden in France: the words 'Twitter' and 'Facebook'

2011-06-07T15:56:00.000-07:00

Lyrics - Xiu Xiu: Razor Scooter

2011-06-03T01:12:00.000-07:00

Beneath the floppy weight

of your plastic cast

the bunk bed is whimpering,

"repent world"

but you are so limber

you stretch your other leg

all the way around

to put your toes in your mouth.

John John John John John

how is it that you are so funny?

John John John John

your parents are dead!

John, I know you need to make me laugh before you die

you are a good boy, you are a good boy

Not flopping from comet light to sunlight

flopping only from one side of the bed to the other

AIDS has destroyed your bone.

John John John John John

you need attention

John John John John

you will never walk again!

John, I know you need to ride the razor scooter

John, I am crazy

you are a good boy, you are a good boy

the door of hate

2011-06-02T21:12:00.001-07:00

I have tried for several years to write an artists statement and this is the closest I have ever gotten to a proper explanation-

Looking from the outside one might have believed that they were witnessing an instantaneous miracle, an immediate chemical reaction. He thought it was almost too obvious that he thrived on this cliche image of radical change. It was a specific vision that he had of a himself with overwhelming shapes sweeping through him, compelling him to act violently, blowing out all irrelevant information and leaving his life blank over and over again. Beneath the decorations, the traditions, and the glamorous social gestures he saw himself wearing black, always black, standing in white rooms, in cement parking garages, on the stages of opera houses, always in empty spaces where he could drown in the flood of his gross personality. He was Satan and this was his temple, this was the substance of his existence, not a mere lack of materials, but a rejection of decorations, a rejection of the unnecessary purchases in favor of an emotional aesthetic, in favor of a purer way.

Although well informed, his art wasn't necessarily about any particular political or spiritual stance. It was, above all things, about hate. He knew that hate was the ideal fuel, the perfect discriminator, the supreme purger, the endless source of inspiration with an infinite capacity for beauty. He was perfectly aware of hate, the backdoor on the body of society. To preserve his youth, and to remain socially fertile, he danced childishly around this door for a time, meandering around it, giggling and poking fun at this secret entrance, but he knew that when he was ready to be serious there was only one way to push forward. In order to be pure, in order to blossom entirely, he would have to give up his previous life and walk through the door of hate, the smallest door. He knew that it was a kind of suicide, that much of his family and friends would remain on the outside, but he cared too much about the big picture and he wanted to be pure, he wanted to be translated.

Meth Lady & Philosophy Bites

2011-06-01T15:47:00.000-07:00

Meth Lady (let me explain) is this wacky older gal who lives in my neighborhood who has earned the title "Meth Lady" via the fact that she is bat-shit crazy. Her hair is sort of thrashed and when she dresses up for a special occasion (aka church) she looks like Alice in Wonderland, only much much older. Around 3 in the morning Meth Lady made a gasoline star in our cul-de-sac, complete with anointed oils and Wicca materials, after that she set it aflame to protect her brother who is in jail for possession of certain hard drugs and possibly manslaughter.

True story. (picture above)

Recently I found a new podcast that I recommend. Its called Philosophy Bites with Edmonds and Warburton, you should look it up in itunes. The episodes are short and compact and they are a great way to re-think and inspect your world. They have episodes on all kinds of topics like: exploitation, laws of nature, cannibalism, group agency, and so on. I listened to a great episode on Humour today that was really interesting, but probably my favorite one so far is the one about Love which was pretty mind-bending for me.

2011-06-01T00:03:00.000-07:00

I made some art yesterday. I am especially happy with the motion in the image above, its funny and way pimped out. I also found some pieces of wood and decided to paint on them just to be an ass (I began by trying to make politically insensitive wheelchair ramp for our front door). As it turned out, the mysterious pieces of wood were actually leaves for our kitchen table, so we plugged them into the table and put some candles over the eyes on the face I had made, it looks amazing. (see following image)

boring

2011-05-27T09:55:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I have learned in my time here in Utah, its that
there is more to life than merely being saturated.

(Being saturated in articles, any kind of information, pop culture, music, style, money, social situations, politics, etc.)

Having a good life isn't just about having and/or knowing, its about the taste and discrimination with which we have and know, its about making measured decisions about what you want and need.

birthday interview

2011-05-25T01:24:00.000-07:00

Brock: Well well well, its your birthday, you are now 27 years old. Do you feel special?

Brock: Yes, as a matter of fact I feel pretty damn special, I also feel a bit buzzed (thanks red wine ;)). Tonight was swell watching part of a Keith Haring documentary (R.I.P.) and an episode of Viva La Bam with my friends. I really love laughing at stupid shit with people that I love (but don't we all?).

Brock: Why are you so unusually upbeat? Normally it seems like you tend to focus on the darkness and peril in the world?

Brock: I am upbeat tonight because frankly I deserve it. I grew up inside of a cultural vacuum in Idaho and I have now lived in Utah for three+ years, now if that doesn't earn you a glass of wine and a sense of accomplishment for not having slashed your wrist I don't know what does.

Brock: Are there any special remarks or observations that you would like to make at this time?

Brock: Well, I'd like to say that I miss Crystal so much, she is in New York now and I just feel like she planted this special sunbeam of friendship in my heart, ya know? I also miss Erin, she moved quite a while ago. But I always thought she was the most beautiful girl (sort of a crush for me) and she was so damn nice to me, it makes me want to cry. I also wish Madalyn and her dog were here so that we could drink a whole box of sodas and dance to 80's one hit wonders. Oh the good people I have known...

Brock: Anything else you would like to make note of?

Brock: Yes. I have a couple of very special cousins who make me feel like a real human being, they know who they are. I'd just like to thank them for going out of their way to help me to feel like more than a statistic on a sheet of paper for some crusty old white guy to read. I can't tell you how much it means to feel that I am valued and recognized as a decent individual with interests, unique qualities, and good things to share. THANK YOU!

Brock: So you believe in yourself? Is that what you are trying to communicate?

Brock: I guess I actually do. Beneath all of the angst and hate I really think I am impressive and wholesome and valuable. I guess I feel good because all my life a lot of people have been treating me like some crazy freak, like I have a wacky disease for thinking and functioning in the way that I do. But in reality I am actually a very good person, and I'd even go so far as to say that I am a person who is obsessed with a kind of purity. I may not be happy all the time, but I know that I deserve happiness.

Brock: You sound sort of proud.

Brock: I don't know that I would say that I am proud, but I'm pretty great sometimes. I like to make all kinds of art, and I'm still developing. I'm actually pretty smart about a number of things. I have worked really hard to develop in my own way and to protect my own process of thinking and processing things and I believe that there is some intense merit in all of this.

Brock: Any complaints?

Brock: Sure, everyone has complaints. I would be lying if I said that everything was perfect and I was happy all the time. Like the other day somebody assumed that I was hung over at work. I was annoyed with this assumption because I work really hard to look hung over ALL THE TIME! I don't shave, I wear really sloppy outfits, I stay up late working on my projects and all I get is a "Brock looks hung over (JUST) today"? What?!

Brock: Any regrets?

Brock: Yes, just a few. I wish I took better care of my teeth, I wish I started having sexual/romantic experiences at a much younger age, and I wish there was some way that I could give my parents a wonderful retirement. I have this image of my parents having this cabin in the woods where my mom would write poetry (she is a wonderful writer FYI) and paint paintings and my dad could go fishing in the mornings. It probably sounds stupid, but it hurts sometimes to realize that I cannot procure a higher quality of life for them in their older years.

Brock: That's depressing. Are you coming down from your upbeat mood now?

Brock: (shrugs) No, that would be dumb. People all over the world are being raped and murdered as we speak, and I'd love to help them, but I simply can't, so I'm just going to smile a big smile and go to sleep.

Brock: You fancy man, you.

Brock: A few last words before I drift off. To my immediate family- I don't know that you understand me at all sometimes, but I love you, you are beautiful. To Amanda, my best friend, I'd just like to say thanks for sharing a big tender chunk of your life with me.

Brock: Thanks for taking the time for this special interview.

Brock: Thanks for having me.

2011-05-24T17:48:00.000-07:00

There you are, across the sea, indifferent.

You will be known by the signals on watch towers and a few amber crumbs that hit the surface.

It will start on the clearest day with the minuscule clicks.

Our neon flood will reach you.

Scott Walker: Tilt

2011-05-24T01:45:00.000-07:00

My new friend Ben introduced me to Scott Walker's album Tilt. It is astonishingly beautiful and dark and wholesome. I will be so happy if I can create something in my life that is even just a fraction of this.

2011-05-24T01:44:00.001-07:00

"Inviting yourself into my house? After midnight? I don't care about your needs, your feelings, or your money. I would be filled with glee if you were locked away for life"

a profile

2011-05-24T01:09:00.000-07:00

There are people with whom you can share a common ground, even just for a few seconds, or months, or years. When you get into the years category things become very beautiful, you have subtle shapes that move through you and beneath you, but they are actually so big when you try to comprehend them. Its that way in which you can share a look in a room full of people. If there is an after life, even if we are just turned into raw clouds of energy, I feel like I would distinctly recognize yours. (I don't think there is an after life)

There are other people, very rare people, who are completely toxic. They may have the charm, the money, and even sometimes the best of intentions (in the moment), but you are best to trust your instinct with this rare type of individual, and doubly so when their history of destruction lays open to your view.

Its crucial that you accept the idea that there are actually individuals who are beyond help.

You should be careful with this idea of a person actually being beyond help, but trust your intuition on this, you will recognize this person when you meet them. When you meet them you need to do anything you can to stay away, to keep them out of your life. Ignore their charm. Let it deflate pathetically on its own. Be relentless. Do not act on pity. Realize that you are fortunate to learn this dark lesson about the human race sooner than later. You can still be kind, but ration these vulnerable emotions, reserve these for the connections that deserve them.

a doll story - 2006

2011-05-21T12:25:00.000-07:00

1 of 4: Someone is on the stairs...

2 of 4: We must run and hide...

3 of 4: We must disguise ourselves...

4 of 4: It is no use, they have found us.

2011-05-21T11:03:00.000-07:00

This week has left me feeling pretty thrashed but now it is sunny outside (after so much rain) and everything is feeling very crisp and bright which is the best way to go through life (crisp and bright).

There is this podcast called Radiolab that I really enjoy. I just wanted to take a moment to point out a couple of episodes I listened to recently that were especially thought provoking. The episode on Deception and the Placebo episode basically split my world open. I feel like these two episodes should be processed as a pair and in that order with Deception coming first. The thing that was most horrible and interesting about the Deception episode was when they go into this place where they basically do a study that insinuates that it is healthy have some amount of deception, that people with this healthy amount of deception do better at sports, do better at work, make more money, and are actually happier. The people who lived in reality and who were entirely honest tended to be more depressed. Obviously this makes me think about organized religion. I feel like I know so many people who do not subscribe to their religion in the way that it is dictated to them and I wonder if that in itself can be a lie. Also, if organized religions are man made (I think they are) can we justify them in the name of deception for the sake of happiness?

I guess this was sort of mind-bending for me because most of my life I have wanted to be honest and open. I feel like that is the goal, the hope of a civilized life. I remember talking to this gay guy in Salt Lake about three years ago. We talked about how certain gay cultures often dwarfed the nuanced things about a person, how so much of the intricacies and unique quirks were glossed over or removed completely. We talked about how it was not entirely humane in this way and how it takes a lot of courage to be yourself even when a society doesn't want you to be the full and complex human that you are. He said he was confused about it, but that he would rather conform to the group and be "loved" than face rejection. I haven't heard from him since.

Is this what a happy life looks like? A person who is willing to brush all their differences under the rug only to vanish into the homogeneous fabric of one society or another?

The Placebo episode is important because (as you might have guessed) it goes into this place of belief where some people have actually been healed by hypnosis or through placebo drugs, being healed by the power of their own minds and bodies. They are essentially believing lies, but these lies can sometimes actually heal. This makes things even more complex for me. In the LDS Church that I grew up in people talk about things being "true" and how truth always correlates with happiness. Basically the more true you are the more happy you will be. I actually sort of like this idea of being true or of something being true because this language is very abstract and loose and you can play with it a lot and project different things onto it really easily.

I guess that's what reality is, a constant repetition of the same choice. Will we try to be honest with ourselves and our world, or will we lie to save our skins, to project a more appealing image to our spouses, bosses, friends, etc. Everyone probably does both of these things. Have I ever told you that I really need to take a philosophy class?

2011-05-20T13:51:00.000-07:00

now i know

2011-05-19T16:01:00.001-07:00

When I was in college I hated most of my teachers. There were only a few that I felt were actually qualified for their jobs. I remember one in particular who taught almost all of her classes completely from the text book, and she taught what felt like half of my total classes. I despised her and made sure that she knew it. Had you talked to me back then I could have gone on and on about why she was so horribly unqualified. I thought I was so sure. There was a part of me that wanted to be more sympathetic and understanding, but I always ignored that because I really did feel at the time that I was being punished by her lack of knowledge and experience.

Now here I am, I have worked the same job for 3+ years, a job that has given me some basic skills and good experiences, and my employers are very kind to me, but other than that it is amazingly mind numbing and isn't giving me any of the things I ever really wanted from life. I hate being chained to this thing. Every once and a while I find myself wanting to crash my car in the morning so that I can actually take a break on a stiff white hospital bed. Now I look back and just grimace at how hard I was on this teacher. Now I understand why she would just drag her textbooks in, probably not reading them beforehand most of the time. She wasn't living in any spectacular dream, certainly not getting the things she probably dreamed of in her youth, and maybe she was really passionate about education years ago, but mostly I think she just wanted to survive, she wanted to pay her bills, she just wanted to get to her retirement and get it all over with.

I can say that I am not a creature who thrives on this kind of repetition, or this pattern for a human life. I know this. But how a person is to be content with this or break out of it is going to take some serious cleverness.

2011-05-19T01:00:00.000-07:00

Lately

2011-05-19T00:54:00.001-07:00

2011-05-17T01:34:00.000-07:00

Tonight I watched The Virgin Suicides. I will begin by saying that I didn't expect to like this film but I was pleasantly surprised in that the movie makes an important point about human existence. The piece is saturated with pastel colors, beautiful skin tones, sun stained shots of 70s youths trying to figure out the mysterious suicides of a group of teenage sisters, most of them virgins. The film title sounds gothic, but its actually so calm, tepid, and gives you this disconnected feeling. The criticism that I have heard previously of the director, Sofia Coppola, is that her work is too pretty, and empty and hollow feeling, but for this particular film I think this element is essential, and is actually the message of the film. The girls exist in the eyes of these young teenage boys who see them as dangerous fantastical pinup girls, everything the girls touch almost becomes fetishized and magical; even the indifference and loathing of the girls becomes attractive in these puberty driven boys. The father and mother are both oblivious, both in slightly different ways. The mother in particular is a religious lunatic who doesn't want her daughters to be validated sexually, romantically, etc. Its almost as though the mother feels jealous of her daughters and is trying to sabotage the experiences of their youth. There is more to this film (you can look it up at Wikipedia or just watch it) but I just want to cut to the chase. Everyone in the movie wonders why this group of girls decided to kill themselves, that is the question that the film does not answer in a deliberate way. I believe that the reason for their suicide pact is because nobody actually knew them, nobody knew the girls as individuals, knew who they actually were, and so the girls didn't exist, and because they were sort of intense they decided that if they weren't going to exist then, well, they REALLY wouldn't exist. Hence suicide.

These are hard ideas to articulate, so I probably sound ridiculous, but I am struck by this idea of existing. It takes courage to exist, and I don't mean to just get through the humdrum daily routine. I mean that it takes courage to open up about who you are, about what you think. Its an act of courage to make people subject to your personal identity, to leave evidence behind, to share your thoughts, and it takes courage to help other people to know that they also exist, that you recognize even just a part of them, and that they have value. I also think, to some degree, that it takes courage to speak your peace, to complain, to be honest about how you feel even when it is not to your advantage socially or economically. Leave it to me to state the obvious, however contrived it may sound. If you are going to exist than you should REALLY exist.

There you go. Your welcome.

This post wouldn't be complete without an existential list of stupid things so without further ado-

Things I used to believe:

The concept of Aliens

That I would be famous

That the devil visited me at night as a teenager

That people could change drastically

Permanent Happiness

Artistic censorship

Violence could solve problems

That other people could solve my problems

That I should be afraid of my body

Christianity

Karma

That I mattered to the universe

That my soul would exist eternally

Things that make me laugh because they are awful and not actually funny in themselves:

Gay jokes

Racist jokes

Aids jokes

Sexist jokes

Blasphemous Christian jokes

Things I am not sure about but will keep believing because I want/need to:

Altruism

Bisexuality

Complete artistic control

The goodness of people

Unconditional love

A cure for AIDS

The Clintons

Ron Paul

Electric cars

Compassion

Things I am almost certain I do not believe:

The function of fear: I can't recall a time when anyone ever did anything helpful in the name of fear..... maybe my memory needs to be jogged on the subject.

The function of guilt: Same story as fear. Its one thing to change behavior from an objective critique, or to make good choices so that you don't hurt people around you, but that isn't guilt or fear.

Pitty

The Decline of the Roman Empire & the gays

2011-05-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

I'm in Idaho. This morning I woke up and my mother and I began to discuss the popular topic of prop 8 and the Mormon church's stance on politics (it has no stance on politics (wink wink)). In this discussion she stated that immoral behavior, especially homosexuality, was responsible for the decline of the Roman Empire. I asked her to explain how this was so. She said that it was because men were leaving their wives for men and venereal diseases were rampant. I told her that she should do some research because I didn't understand how this was a good explanation of the decline of the Roman Empire, nor did I think it a good supporting argument against gay marriage in North America. She agreed and while I was outside pruning trees with my father, my mother did some research (click on the picture below).

As I looked through the history of her searching I found that her Internet history ended at this very funny link. Its sad because there is a good chance that my mother believed this was a legitimate news article. Sigh. I never wanted to be somebody who harped on civil rights issues on my blog, but most of these people out here in Idaho really don't know ANYTHING about this stuff.

UPDATE:
I just spoke with my mom. She thought that article by the Onion was real. Oh mom.

2011-05-13T09:00:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures of some heartfelt things that I have made lately. If you want to buy any of them please email me. I'm sad because my roommate Nam just left this morning. I am so grateful to have known him, his humor, the late night fast food runs, his calm demeanor, his love for wacky films like Teeth, and his influence through EDP which has been a really wonderful thing to have in Provo. He liked the painting above and now it is sitting in his car as he makes his way back to California.

Also leaving today are my friends Crystal and Eden. They are responsible for introducing me to David Lynch, for showing me the original Hairspray, and for bringing many good things into my life. Their home was a sanctuary in Provo's hard fatalistic landscape, everyone who knew them will miss them deeply.

All of this is foreshadowing my future separation from a couple of really great friends. Alicia will be leaving in in the fall and also my best friend Amanda will leave a gaping hole as she makes her way to bigger and better things. I am so happy for them. Change is what I need, it will make a beautiful vacuum, but its not always easy. Crystal said something like-"Provo is cruel because there are only a handful of people that you can really connect with, and so you become very attached to them and then they leave." She is right.

In other news I might be singing in a band. That could be cool.

2011-05-05T09:00:00.000-07:00

I made this today.

I taught some little art classes when I lived at home at a small private school. I taught kids ages 7-12. I had a couple of classes that were just girls, and a class that was just boys. I remember some of the boys would draw really violent things. I think they were hoping that they could freak out their art teacher at a little conservative private school. They were wrong, of course. My response was usually "oh, that's interesting what your doing there". Sometimes they looked so disappointed at these calm responses, but I hope that they were more comfortable with themselves by me being unafraid of their art, by not censoring them, and by not leading them to draw puppies and rainbows. When I teach art I don't want my students to feel like they need to put on a particular front for me, like they need to dress a certain way. I don't want them to feel like they need to hide their imaginations and curiosities for fear that the teachers and faculty will punish them or attempt to censor their young and delicate expressions. Children (and adults) need to get these things out. We need this outlet. It is so important.

Must We Burn Sade?

2011-04-27T06:53:00.000-07:00

Last night I started reading Must We Burn Sade by Deepak Narang Sawhney. It is amazing, it is exactly what I was looking for with all this Marquis de Sade business. Hopefully when I am finished with it I can explain some remnant of what I have processed.

Also, you really should read this excellent article on Ayn Rand that Amanda sent to me, its called How Ayn Rand Became an American Icon. The article is beautiful and somehow I connect it so strongly with Sade and a lot of other things too. Ha

God Has A Voice, She Speaks Through Me - Cocorosie

2011-04-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

All my cherries belong to you
Watching dolphins in your sea
The earth is a pretty place to be
All my charities belong to thee

Black bodies float in the sea
We can see but he can't see me
A starlit shroud like the dark to you
Laughter echoes in my private room

Kissing fireflies on a beach
How sweet that we can be
Everyone has love to give
Our hearts will teach us how to live

My body wept
I feel so free
The water softly tickles me
My heart is pounding waiting for
The ocean deep enough to lift my veil

Crystal light shine down on us
God has a voice she speaks through me
Every creature longs to be
In his arms please carry me

I am happy in the light of day
My skin glows bright in the sunrays
My shadowed world seems so far away

My angel taught me not to fear
Love is free and everywhere
Listen to that special part
It will save us, it's the heart

God has a voice he speaks through me
God has a voice she speaks through me
Crystal light in every creature
Crystal light in every creature
Everyone has love to give

2011-04-26T16:53:00.000-07:00

I had a great conversation with my cousin Marcie yesterday. We were talking about how changing the way we speak has an effect on the way that we think.

I grew up in a place where I learned to speak in a way that was fatalistic, dramatic, fearful, simple, and very black and white. Now I am learning that things are not simple, in fact almost nothing is totally simple, and almost nothing actually is black and white after all. I catch myself using a lot of either/or language, or I will think about things in a way that is pretty flat in terms of stereotypes and cliches. Sometimes my language revolves around this idea of individuals having a destiny, or me having a destiny for myself, as if there is something astounding on the horizon, a golden glory or an impending doom that cannot be stopped. So much of my language has been effected by my religious upbringing in a small community, and a big part of that language remains.

I'd like to get away from talking about things in terms of right or wrong, positive or negative (at least in an absolute sense) because its so difficult to define these terms. I don't personally believe that there is such a thing as a universal right and wrong, an eternal positive or negative. Everything, anything really, is so mixed and nuanced and..... its so funny because I guess most people are attracted to the most obvious thing, the most extreme thing at first, because its easy, its loud, its accessible, but eventually I think the more educated or conscious a person becomes, the more they understand and enjoy nuanced details, things that happen between the obvious one-liners, things that you might not be able to pin down at first.

2011-04-23T02:36:00.000-07:00

2011-04-22T04:23:00.001-07:00

I just watched a couple documentaries, one on Jean Michel Basquiat and the other on Keith Haring. I actually didn't know a whole lot about these two guys beyond the basic facts, but I was familiar with their styles and images and the childish/child-like place from which they made their paintings. Both of them are very tragic artists, Basquiat died of a heroin overdose at 27, and Keith Haring died of AIDS related complications at 31. Stuff like this makes me cry because their work resonates with me on a lot of different levels and I can really feel the effect that they have left behind in our world.

All of this sort of brings me back to Idaho. I don't miss Idaho really, but there was a purity about the isolation of my home there. Its quite literally out in the middle of nowhere and that was really perfect for making art. I didn't have very many friends, no social circumstances outside of church, and no critics either. I could just make whatever I wanted and it was so much easier to listen to the work, to follow my intuition. Watching those documentaries helped me to remember that I need to stay connected to that place, that isolated place where you become a child and you make the best thing you can.

2011-04-21T10:36:00.001-07:00

Jamie wrote this great post called "Against Irony" that you should read. Click here

I have been thinking about how we don't really function with real information for the most part. Everything is about knowing a person who knows, or knowing of a book that knows, referencing things with links, basically making empty gestures to what we believe to be real information without actually knowing things for ourselves, without truly internalizing the information. I'm pretty sure that this is a direct result of Internet technologies and a popular fear of complexity and nuance. It is a way of thinking through another person, letting somebody else create the opinions and do the research. Its a way of not thinking upon which we make some really big decisions about what to believe and how to process the world. Its a way to maintain flat ideas about anything, when almost nothing is actually flat.

The people who actually know, who actually internalize and learn from in-depth study, they are rare and are probably feeling very alone these days. Its hard to learn to learn again when the majority of people are perfectly satisfied with pop articles, "progressive" documentaries, good feelings, and irony instead of being accountable and sincere.

I do think that there is this dark side to the Internet, a way in which it has warped my sense of information and truth and I would like to free myself from that in some way. I hope I can get back into school, study and really work hard and actually have something to show for it. I look at some of our greatest minds and I think there is something about our Internet world that doesn't seem very interested in producing more of these. Our Internet world is interested in producing pop stars, witty marketing campaigns, entertainment that sells, technology, new gadgets, its all about encouraging people who thrive on the surface level to sell products, to sell the mechanics of communication, not necessarily art, and not necessarily truth. Of course people need to make money to survive, but I wonder if our Internet world is entirely to our benefit. I do think its amazing in terms of coverage of news, current events, especially with things like wiki-leaks. But when I am writing a post like this, gesturing at ideas I cannot actually illustrate, talking about things I can't explain with legitimate references, I really begin to question the nature of intelligence and information in our Internet saturated world.

Blah blah blah blah blah

Remember this-

2011-04-21T00:14:00.001-07:00

Don't compare your insides to other people's outsides

Let Us Praise the Masters of Slow Death - Diamanda Galas

2011-04-20T00:40:00.001-07:00

This formal piece by Diamanda Galas is absolutely stunning. You should listen to it turned way up and read the lyrics with it.

Lyrics:

What Sympathy in Death discloses
We who fester here
Are very much alive
And watch unmanned compassion flee,
To safer zones…
Let us praise the masters of Slow Death…
Hello to the positive think positive connection
Brothers of blood and sisters of compassion
Don’t give up the fight against
The order of the homophobe
The order of the willful blind
The order of the murderer
The order of the impotent
The order of the nazi punk in 1990
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who ever saw their brothers
Disemboweled by a dentist drill
I condemn you
I condemn you
I condemn you
I condemn you
I condemn tonight any guest who came to service
And tells the people
That the master plan has put compassion
In the vestige of the present
You talk about a freak show?
I talk about your no show!
You talk about the unclean?
You talk about your unseen!
I talk about your unseen as the
Killers let us die one by one
And the killers let us die one by one
In the rejuvenation of the white supremist, two bit, and no account
Ejaculation of the mister big man with a small dick
In the society of ass and pussy licking scumbags
While were hammered through this hell
To see the sunrise, to beg and steal
The rich man’s drugs you will not legalize
And the government of genocide won’t subsidize
When will the cure to save the chosen people see our eyes?
When will the cure to save the chosen people materialize?
Brothers of blood, sisters of compassion
We send you alone from the
Positive connection with a positive conviction
That the positive persuasion is inciting persecution
And we encourage retribution to deter the crucifixion
To all cowards and voyeurs:
There are no more tickets to the funeral
There are no more tickets to the funeral
There are no more tickets to the funeral
There are no more tickets to the funeral
To my brothers, don’t isolate
I would like to praise the masters of slow death
Let there be no confusion, it is no delusion
About the brothers living homeless on the streets of New York City
In the gorilla warfare of the present
No government subsidy, no insurance, no sight, and no surgery
No hospitalization, no telephone, no T. V., no teeth and no autopsy
While the impotent and ignorant vote to test and list
While San Francisco General try their switching protocols
Vote to see who lives or dies and smash the renegade at work
While the murderers and liars tell us that the numbers of our dying are too high
While our news demeans us with a hot new drug today and
The greedy business fingers of the willful blind rejoice and
WELCOME ACQUIRED IMMUNE DEFICIANCY
WELCOME ACQUIRED IMMUNE DEFICIANCY
We who fight and cry for a life gone every fifteen minutes say:
ACQUIRED IMMUNE DEFICIANCY IS HOMICIDE
ACQUIRED IMMUNE DEFICIANCY IS HOMICIDE
ACQUIRED IMMUNE DEFICIANCY IS HOMICIDE

The really important kind of freedom

2011-04-19T12:14:00.001-07:00

Was reading through Emma's blog when I read this fantastic little quote-

"The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day."

Now that is really something folks. I needed that. I have been sounding too much like THIS, only with bigger words and longer paragraphs.

I am thinking that maybe I need to read less of my own words right now and to process a lot of things from other people, and I should make lots of pictures. Ok, so I guess that will be the idea for my blog this summer. Pictures.

Have a good day.

sunny dayz

2011-04-17T22:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend was great. On Saturday I was laying on the cement just taking in the warmth of the sun. It almost felt like I had been frozen forever and was finally thawing out. I hate the winter. HATE IT!

I have a gold clip-on earring that I can wear, its like an old lady earring; it looks great and its so tacky. I got out my shredded t-shirt today, a patriotic baseball cap and just sat around on the grass with my roommates. I watched part of a documentary on Roman Polanski, read about an artist named Chris Burden and I thought about how his crucifixion performance makes me think of the book Crash by J. G. Ballard, I also read this great interview with artist David Wojnarowicz which was really inspirational, then I ate a sandwich, and later in the day I decided I should actually make something so I started melting some plastic to make the hat below. After that I took some pictures of Christian.

sick things

2011-04-15T10:24:00.000-07:00

There is this teacher at UVU who writes papers that are sort of built around this intersection that exists in literature between sex and death. I e-mailed him to ask him about some of his classes and he e-mail me back! I finally took the placement test and talked to my academic advisor today. My advisor asked me what I was interested in writing about and I just told him that I wanted to do creative writing, that I was thinking about topics connected with sexual violence in literature, body mutilation, sexual transformation and he just sort of calmly nodded, it was nice to feel like I was in a place where I could talk about these things really openly.

I'm not exactly sure where school will get me, but I have been thinking about getting more and more immersed in literature that sort of pulls out all the stops in terms of graphic imagery and visceral metaphors, just for now I guess. I think I'd like to feel more overwhelmed by the things that I read in books, more physically compelled. I am a naturally compassionate person, and so for me this is a challenge to read these kinds of things, to have to put a distance between myself and the suffering, or to feel extremely moved by the point of view of the writer, to understand that humans (even good ones) can take their imaginations to amazingly sick places, and to come away from these kinds of things with a more solid compassion, more courage, a more clear sense of what is right and wrong. The contrast can be so beautiful even if the work itself is repulsive and vile.

I have been thinking so much about how we distinguish what is worthy of being processed in art, books, music. There is so much about this pretense of beauty, that somehow beauty makes a thing (or a person) good; there is a similar pretense about art as a commodity. But for me I think there are some very ugly thoughts, horrible things that we can process to produce noble actions, refined human emotions, that can produce a higher kind of intelligence in us. Its a fallacy to think that we should only think about things that are "good", that are "beautiful", that sit well with us. I do think that it is good to be discrimination about what we will process, for ourselves, on a person by person basis, but I think its also important to offend your senses now and again, to challenge yourself with ideas that you may not agree with. For myself I am especially interested in having a diet of material that will produce specific kinds of reactions in myself, things that will put me in a bit of a state of crisis. I am relieved when a work of art can be heavy, jarring, and challenging, I somehow feel so much better after I have processed it. I am puzzled when people say "we can't read this great classic because it teaches bad ideas" or "we can't watch this film because it depicts (pick your grievous sin)". I guess I just don't think a creative work can be inherently immoral, even when depicting violence, rape, murder, incest, necrophilia, anything really. I do think a work of art can be in bad taste, but taste isn't necessarily about morality. The whole point of art is that it has no other place in which to exist. Great art isn't necessarily mechanical or linear enough to fit into the confides of an organized science, math, or religion, that's why it has its own place, its own arena in which to move and function at the disposal and discrimination of those who process it.

Blah blah blah. I probably sound like such a pretentious ass hole. Anything can sound pretentious I suppose.

At any rate, I feel really good about the English major. I could change, but who knows. I think it will be really rewarding to expand all of these stupid little dialogues that I have with myself, and I think it will feed really beautifully into my art.

Lalalalala

checking out

2011-04-13T03:40:00.000-07:00

I was just at the Macey's in Provo (I got there about 4 AM) and when I went to the check out counter to buy my groceries I shared this dialogue with the middle aged man who was checking me out.

_______________________________

(he looked at the 6-pack of beer in my basket)

Checker: You must not be from Utah are you?

Me: What? Why wouldn't I be from Utah?

Checker: Because we aren't allowed to sell alcohol between 1a.m. and 7a.m.

Me: Oh, I didn't know that. I have lived here for almost 4 years, I guess I have never tried to buy beer in the middle of the night at a store.

Checker: Come back at 7a.m. and I'll share it with ya (referring to the beer)

(he then proceeds to scan my remaining items)

_______________________________

Nothing too strange right? Idiotic Utah Law, a guy wants to share some beers with me.

No big deal right? But wait-

_______________________________

Checker: Have you ever thought of becoming a model? (I'm thinking "WTF?")

Me: Oh...um, no, I guess I haven't (I WAS LYING!)

Checker: You should look into that, I think you'd be reeeeeal good at it- (he slows down his speaking voice and stares at me as if I am a mirage) -If you don't mind ... me ... saying......

(AWKWARD SILENCE)

Me: Have a goodnight! (walking frantically to the door with my bags of groceries)

_______________________________

What is this?! Is this just because I am tall? Is it because I'm a man? Was it the beer? Was he just sleepy? What is it that makes people do this? Am I being an egocentric ass? Am I actually that attractive? Do I just wreak of tasty hormones? Do I look really easy? I guess I shouldn't complain, maybe I should just take it as a really primitive compliment from mother nature that there are people out there who actually want to sleep with me.

I Am Love

2011-04-12T23:43:00.001-07:00

Its rare, sometimes very rare, but every once and a while I experience a film that just....I don't know, transcends the form (I know that must sound so pretentious). I had wanted to see I Am Love for a while, but resisted the urge because my intentions were more focused on the glamour of the film and I didn't feel like that was a pure enough reason for me to see it. Some time has passed and tonight I decided I would finally view it, but from a place thats a bit more mature.

I guess I would say that its a very rich film, very formal, and more than anything it is a sensual film (but not sensual in a way that one might expect). The camera work is especially sensual in certain parts, the way it catches the tactile details, the lighting, the way the skin is shown. The bodies are so human and real, the expressions of sexuality are not photoshopped and over glamorized, they are normal and very human, and somehow that is really calming and healthy to behold. The dynasty in the film is wealthy, but the focus is still very much about the human situation of the characters within that context, it is not necessarily a film about wealth. So there you go. I totally recommend it and I'd love to post a trailer or interview or something, but nothing on the internet (that I can find) does the film any justice, its just too pervasive and wholesome.

2011-04-11T20:11:00.000-07:00

I have this thing that I would do when I lived in Idaho with my parents. I would make a lot of things, like TONS of things. I remember one time I made a whole bunch of paintings, some were big on huge sheets of paper, and others were on cardboard or canvas, plus some sculptures. At some point my parents would be harping on me about all the crap I had accumulated, as they often did (they had a room above mine and they would argue about me quite a lot, made me feel really wonderful inside).

So I had all this wonderful stuff and all these lectures constantly to clean my room, lectures to have less things, and certain lectures I wasn't supposed to hear, plus I'd get depressed sometimes and I felt like my parents were sort of assholes, which they kind of were. So I'd kind of snap every year or so and I would take everything that I had made, all of the paintings, the sculptures, the strange treasures, and I'd make a gigantic pile of stuff in the garden (we are talking 9 or 10 massive black garbage bags full of my art and supplies) and I would burn it all, the whole fucking thing.

In the back of my head I thought "my parents can't bear to see all of these wonderful creations perish in the fire, I matter too much to them, and so does my wonderful talent, at any moment they will come out and stop me from making this pile and they will stop this injustice from happening". Of course my parents never did, they failed my fatalistic test every fucking time. Thanks parents.

2011-04-10T23:38:00.001-07:00

2011-04-10T01:47:00.000-07:00

I went with Amanda to a panel discussion on sculpture tonight at the Salt Lake Arts Center. It was so good for me. I sometimes forget that there are other people out there who want to savor and discuss these things. The current display at the Salt Lake Arts Center was really great, I hope I can go back and see it before it is taken down. Nothing can beat that feeling, the challenge of something that is so new and fresh, something that breaks your expectations, forces you to make decisions about the way that you think. I was especially happy to see a video/sculpture by Davey Hawkins tucked away in a dark corner. I had seen the same piece before on the Internet but it really made such a different to see it spread out over a big wall. I know it sounds stupid, but I cannot bring myself to talk to most of these artists. I am so petrified by them even though I know that they are probably swell people. The stupid cliches that are attached to the title "artist" still have this amazing grip on me. Its weird. If my brain somehow decides to put a person on a high enough platform I become totally incapacitated and cannot talk to them without having explosive diarrhea or coughing up copious amounts of blood.

After that we went to an exhibit for a different arts organization in Salt Lake that is shutting down. There was an inflatable sculpture there of a girl with a rainbow coming out of her head, it was by Tawnie Silva......gosh, it was so heart breaking, fragile, just beautiful beyond words. I haven't experienced something like that in a long long time. I recognized the work of Naomi Marine, it was a big cloth installation that swept around the walls of an entire room, the piece gave me a perfect solution to a problem I have been having with some tulle that I have wanted to make something with. I needed that so much, I need new blood and I need to push myself to make more, but especially to think in a more innovative way about my own work and my own priorities.

2011-04-10T01:29:00.000-07:00

I feel pretty mystical these days. I go into these trances where I will listen to the same track over and over and over and somehow I will begin to feel very ephemeral like the world is bending to my will, almost as if I am sitting in the throne of god, deciding which continent to destroy, which demographics to turn my congregation against, and deciding how to decorate the world with my beautifully thrashed carcass. Its so stupid, all of us becoming gods simply for the godship, for the power and the approval, not because there is anything behind anything to actually believe in.

2011-04-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

By some turn of events I ended up in a sports bar last night in Trolley Square setting up a table display of my paper bag artworks (and helmets) for a silent auction. I sold a couple of cheap ones, maybe too cheap, but it will be nice to have a little bit of cash on hand that the bank cannot see. Its been a strange week. A close friend flew back from the UK and we talked about our usual gruesome topics, among them were a few books, 120 Days of Sodom, Venus in Furs, and I was then introduced to a book called Crash that sounds amazing and also horrible enough that I might actually consider reading it (J.G. Ballard's writing is looking pretty fascinating to me now). I realized how much I miss this particular friend and these conversations mainly because they are such fearless conversations where even the most horrible information can be acknowledged but not in a way that is scary or horrible, in a way that is more calm and collected.

Things were kind of hectic at my job this week, my hours got hacked down to almost nothing, but I don't feel super stressed. I guess I just don't see how stressing the shit out of myself would improve anything. I was also going to walk in a fashion show some friends are doing tomorrow, but I just don't feel up to it so I decided against walking (I wish I would have given them more notice). I think there is potential for a lot of stress, but its not registering with me somehow....not yet that is.

Oh wow, I am so tired, I need to sleep, I just need to not exist for a few hours.

bravery

2011-04-07T15:26:00.000-07:00

Things are so dark right now and that is why we must remember

what it is like to be a child,

to be full of wonder and to be brave enough to revel in the simplest of pleasures.

Lay in the grass

Make a picture

Go on a walk

Drink some water

Make funny jokes

Make bad jokes too

Believe in something greater than yourself

Believe in yourself too

Believe in your friends

Read a book

Hold very still and feel the breeze on your body, listen to your body, listen to the cars, listen to the sounds of the earth

Stop and feel the texture of the brick walls, the electricity in the air, close your eyes and enjoy it, savor it, these moments belong to you

Stop and hold onto the branches of the trees, feel the leaves stroking your arms and pressing against your lips.

"There are plenty of reasons for hope, you really have two choices: one choice is to abandon hope and therefore help guarantee that the worst will happen, the other choice is to maintain hope, and maybe it'll improve things." -Noam Chomsky

small things i made

2011-04-07T10:12:00.001-07:00

These are some things I made the other day on the computer. I really want to recreate this butterfly one (above) on a super gigantic canvas. I also want to recreate the gray one with the sail boat and anchor to be the size of a wall.

Stylelikeu

2011-04-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

Victoria from Stylelikeu.com from StyleLikeU on Vimeo.

My roommate Christian posted this video on my wall. Its from this vimeo thing called Stylikeu that you can subscribe to for free. Its actually the most perfect thing in terms of fashion these days because its all about being yourself, expressing who you are, it isn't about worshiping expensive objects, its about dressing yourself however you want, to magnify and accent your personality. This video in particular is so beautiful.

Happy Rizzi House

2011-04-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

Oh dear.....LOOK AT THIS PLACE!!!

Its a building in Germany that was done by James Rizzi. I love it so much that I can hardly stand it. It reminds me so much of Its a Small World at Disney, sort of this bright utopian feeling that becomes so menacing and sick, but in a gleeful way.

Art & Books

2011-04-04T00:30:00.001-07:00

It feels like I haven't really sat down and made anything for about a week, and its been at least a month since I have taken a picture. Anyhow, here are some artworks I have been making, some crass ones in the bunch. Some are more detailed and complex, there are a couple in here that are totally abstract, others are just crappy paintings I purchased at thrift stores or wrapping paper from toys for tots that I just scribbled on with a marker. There is something about crewd things that is important to me. I think its nice how common fowl language can be, how common human genitals are. It can feel good to do something that is very base, even if its not original at all. I like that art is a space where things can be created safely, even gross things.

Being alive is so much like being God. Everyone gets to choose how they want to distort and corrupt their reality, which lens they want to view things through, who the villains and angels are. I think making art might be even more like being God than merely being alive.

I have some books I have been chipping away at lately-

The Raw Shark Texts:

This book was a bit of a surprise for me, I guess I wouldn't have picked it up if it weren't for Christian who let me borrow it. The book does this really wonderful thing where it breaks down the barriers between what kinds of formats a book can have, and even more than that it breaks the barriers between the physical, emotional, and conceptual levels that a book can function on. There are these weird moments where the sentence structure fragments, the images become the words on the page, and the words become actual objects in the book. I haven't finished it yet but I hope to this week.

I bought some used books too:

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The 120 Days of Sodom & Other Writings - Marquis De Sade

Why We Believe What we Believe - Andrew Newberg. MD

The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse - Louise Erdrich

I decided I'd start flipping through The 120 Days of Sodom when it came in the mail......oh god...........I thought I was fully aware of the level of depravity that this book would contain............I honestly had no idea a human mind could actually work this way, that it could actually produce what is essentially an encyclopedia of filth and egocentric slaughter. I will admit that it is stunning, its amazing how his decedent ego can express all of these things with no filter, no guilt, no shame, but its so completely fowl, shocking, and really frightening. I just sit there gasping, with this face of disgust, trying to wrap my head around the fact that people do actually do, or have done, a lot of the kinds of things he describes. Everyone I have described the book to has had this reaction of "why would you read that?" but I do feel like its an important book, and Marquis De Sade is also really important (important, not necessarily good). I do think a person has to be in a certain place to be able to handle material like this, but we will see. Maybe I will get mad and burn it, I'm dramatic like that.

I also read some parts of Why We Believe What We Believe. I was really looking forward to this book, but it seems like it isn't very well written and it feels loaded with some weirdly put-together agenda that I haven't been able to put my finger on. So far the author has made some amazingly brash statements, almost trouncing years of scientific study to get his reader to assume that all living organisms, including amoebas, have beliefs.

The Laborer is Worthy of More Than His Hire

2011-04-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

One of my old roommates wrote THIS really beautiful post that you should read.

blue showers

2011-04-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

I didn't want to spend any more time with the hot tub, the nudists, the irreplaceable friends, the attitude of self entitlement that is always so pervasive at this particular location, and the senseless jabs, so instead of trying to resurrect what had become a dead situation I decided to go straight home. I think I enjoy indulgence that is harmless, childish, self-aware and silly, but when I run into places or situations where I feel that distinct attitude of superiority, that feeling that some people are better than others....I don't know, it just weighs on my nerves, it frightens me that I even have the capacity to feel that way. I know that I'm a snob, and I do want to be discriminating in the way that I think, but I hope that I can at least remember how normal people live and keep my feet on the ground in some way.

I get tired of people loading my words with absolute opinions that do not exist and people being annoyed at me for doing normal functional things. I'm sure I am guilty as ever in all of my complaints, but that isn't reason enough for me to stay in a place where I don't feel valued as a real person. I am beginning to think that guilt isn't a good enough reason to do anything.

This brings me to my main purpose in this particular post. Blue light bulbs. I purchased one a few weeks ago and I am establishing this thing with myself. When I have had a long day, or an experience that leaves me feeling uneven and I want to iron out the wrinkles, I hang this blue light bulb above the shower, turn off the other lights in the bathroom, and sort of let this blue hue flood the room. I take a long shower and just enjoy the color, the way that everything in the room becomes completely monochromatic. Sometimes when I get out of the shower I can see blue steam coming off of my body and the mirror is covered over with crystal blue drops. Blue showers are a great solution to almost any problem that you may have. Maybe someday when I have somebody else to shower with I will get a red light, gosh- that could be fun

Motors

2011-04-03T10:48:00.000-07:00

"It's hurtful and wonderful how our jokes survive us.

Since I left home on this journey, I've thought a lot about this - how a big part of any life is about the hows and whys of setting up machinery. It's building systems, devices, motors. Winding up the clockwork of direct debits, configuring newspaper deliveries and anniversaries and photographs and credit card repayments and anecdotes. Starting their engines, setting them in motion and sending them chugging off into the future to do their thing at regular or irregular intervals. When a person leaves or dies or ends, they leave an afterimage; their outline in the devices they've set up around them. The image fades to the winding down of springs, the slow running out of fuel as the machines of a life lived in certain ways in certain places and from certain angles are shut down or seize up or blink off one by one. It takes time. Sometimes, you come across the dusty lights or electrical hum of someone else's machine, maybe a long time after you ever expected to, still running, lonely in the dark. Still doing its thing for the person who started it up long, long after they've gone.

A man lives so many different lengths of time.

A man is so many different lengths of time.

Change. Collapse. Reinvention.

The cat twitched his ear."

-excerpt from The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall

Please:

2011-04-02T17:11:00.000-07:00

2011-03-31T19:37:00.000-07:00

the oracle speaks

2011-03-30T17:47:00.001-07:00

a collection of data is not information

a collection of information is not knowledge

a collection of information is not wisdom

a collection of information is not truth

memorial

2011-03-30T17:09:00.000-07:00

the oracle speaks

2011-03-30T13:33:00.000-07:00

Anything multiplied enough can be impressive

Anything amplified enough can be impressive

Anything obscured enough can be impressive

Anything magnified enough can be impressive

Anything exploited enough can be impressive

Anything respected enough can be impressive

Anything saturated enough can be impressive

Anything desaturated enough can be impressive

Anything mechanised enough can be impressive

Anything fetishized enough can be impressive

Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive. Anything __________ enough can be impressive.

2011-03-28T23:55:00.001-07:00

I ran into an experience recently where I realized how horribly persecuted and misunderstood a person can be for leaving the religion of their family. It is so difficult when parents and relatives insist on forcing painful religious experiences onto their children and siblings, making any of their remaining memories of faith more claustrophobic and painful than they need to be. It is hard to imagine that my loved ones do not want to understand what I think, let alone the fascinating history of their own religion (and it is profoundly interesting), instead many seem to want to turn their heads from any problems or complexities and hide in the endless comforts of prayer and apologetic one-liners that are sometimes also known as faith and humility (apparently?!).

This is really troubling to me because I feel like I really work hard to be honest with myself, and I think that is something that I have always done, however chaotic that may seem to an outside viewer. To go back even further I really did give the concept of God several chances, and I guess my concept of God and my interactions with him have gone through several different transformations over the years to help me to reconcile with my family, the place I am from, and especially the doctrines of the church as I have understood them. As a teenager I would say that I understood the doctrine better than most and did sincerely believe that the church was a singular entity through which God was spreading his glorious gospel.

Yesterday I had a relative accuse me of floundering because I didn't believe in God anymore. I tried to explain that I was being honest with myself, that I still pray every once and a while, mainly because I wished that there could be a God who could mend the rift in my family, but I don't actually think that there is a God or an afterlife. Why I thought any of this would be understood in any way is beyond me. That was all it took to open up a long list of both apologetic and accusational statements aimed at me "it isn't a logical answer!" they kept saying. I certainly wouldn't know anything about illogical answers now would I? I understand what it means to believe (because I did believe for several years) but I am assuming more and more each day that I cannot expect most active members to understand where I am coming from or what I have gone through.

Now enough of all of that. There is actually something positive that I wanted to get to. Even though I can't say that I believe in God, in my study of people who have been excommunicated from the church I have discovered some really remarkable individuals, and frankly, because of some of their words and intensions its been the first time in a couple years that I have wanted, even in a small way, to rediscover God. I am not saying that I will suddenly believe again, its just that some of their concepts about God breath new life into me, they give me hope for the kind of God I would want to believe in (if I were to ever believe again) and more than anything, they make feel that I have a heritage to be proud of as a person who doesn't fit in the church, albiet in less academic ways.

One of my favorites is Margaret Toscano-

Excellent Youtube Interview about her early life and her excommunication.
A speech she gave called "Are Boys More Important Than Girls"-
An explanation about her excommunication experience and her life since

She is tied in with the September Six as her husband Paul Toscano was one of the six individuals in 1993 who was excommunicated for their academic work, most of which had to do with early church history. I also really enjoyed listening to Paul Toscano speak about his theological confusions. There are others, but these seem like enough for now.

the oracle speaks

2011-03-27T02:18:00.001-07:00

You need to acknowledge that this lack of belief exists if you are going to be able to stand up for the truth.

I love these people I am living with, but I don't feel like I am on the same level as they are most of the time. I am usually too heavy and dark. But they are so kind to me, I don't understand why people are kind to me.

The world, as I see it, is so impossibly heavy. How does a person know that they have carried enough? When do we stop acknowledging and processing the pain, the suffering, the acts of violence, the enormous tragedy of the world around us?

The burden he has to carry at such a young age, it must be hell. This is how we reward honesty. This is how we respond to courage in the young. We slap it around, we tell it to take an easier way (even if this is against their concept of reality) and we make the divisions in our families wider and deeper.

Its strange to know that we do not believe it, we believe that we believe it. Do you just believe that you believe? Or do you actually believe?

I am so sorry to hit that tender nerve. I realize that it cuts deeper than anything for you. I'm sorry.

All I know is that I have to learn as much as I possibly can.

2011-03-23T00:55:00.000-07:00

Its late, and I'm a little drunk, and all I want to do is dance around my room with a blue light bulb and listen to this.

Austra - Beat and the Pulse

2011-03-20T13:39:00.000-07:00

Amanda showed me this great track the other day-

Build Your Own Belief

2011-03-20T11:08:00.001-07:00

Even though I am sort of wallowing in an atheistic world view there is something I find really interesting, and even valuable, which is the idea of creating belief for ones self.

I figure once a person has rendered organized religion useless, or at least has the perspective to realize that it is not true or trustworthy as a whole, then a person gets to enter more overtly into this existential place where you can choose what is true, you can create ideals to reach for, goals to pursue, you can name the gods, goddesses, and the devils as you see them. You can choose to believe something that will make you a better person, though it may be completely fabricated by your imagination, or you can choose something that creates a space of selfishness where you don't have to worry about other people's problems. I actually think most people do this anyway, I even think this happens in super homogeneous religious communities where the doctrines and the environments are watery enough that people can project their own agenda onto any given part of their church to use it to justify any given desire.

I would think that if a person recognizes that they create their own belief they can construct a system that will encourage them to help their fellow man and to improve the world without encroaching on others. This would seem like something that a person could do if belief were completely flexible and its motivations were totally linear. The only thing with this is that I am not sure how much of a person's belief one can actually choose because it isn't always so flexible and linear. I hear certain phrases all the time like "It just has to be true" or "I just can't imagine that there isn't life after death" or "it just makes me so happy", phrases that sound sort of fatalistic, as if a person has a strong reason or desire to paint themselves into a philosophical corner. In myself I know that certain ideas don't make sense and certain behaviors persists for reasons that I cannot explain. So although its really nice to be able to acknowledge the mutability of human belief, I am not sure if that actually changes anything.

2011-03-20T04:08:00.000-07:00

I think your unsure about me, about the people around you. You are trying to find your place in all of this, and that's fine, that's natural, you need to understand that everyone needs time to develop and to always be willing to learn. Cut yourself some slack and understand that its going to take some time and dedication to become who you want to be. Nobody, no matter how educated, has perfect logic. We are all figuring this out together. We all make mistakes by following false information, by making ridiculous assumptions, by making decisions that are too emotional, or not emotional enough.

Don't betray your aesthetic because, for you in particular, your aesthetic is the most solid thing that you have.

You made me laugh so hard the other night that I thought I had died on gone to heaven. Sometimes life is a complete hell, but when I can listen to you making an ass out of yourself, hurling your body across the room, I just loose it. I laughed and laughed until I cried. It felt great, I could hardly stand up.

When I hear planes flying overhead at night I sit in the dark and listen really closely, and I wait for them to drop bombs.

2011-03-20T03:49:00.001-07:00

At the risk of probably marginalizing myself and sounding like a pretentious moron, I just wanted to say that sometimes I feel like Stefon.

Funny

2011-03-19T13:52:00.001-07:00

Some comedy clips I love. Be warned, there is quite ALOT of profanity, just saying-

Avocados

2011-03-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

I have always hated avocados. I always hated the taste, the texture, the color. Basically they made me sick. I'd ask myself "how could anyone enjoy these things?"

But a few months ago I was at a party and I had drank some champagne and there were these avocado slices just sitting there on this plate in the kitchen, silently offering themselves to me. This sudden desire for these green pods just came out of nowhere and overwhelmed me.

Since that experience at the party I have been on this avocado kick. I eat them every day, they are basically the foundation of my food pyramid. Sometimes these food kicks last a month, sometimes longer. Previous kicks have been-

Green Olives (you would be surprised how quickly a bottle of those can be consumed)
Babybel Cheese
Chocolate Milk

Heineken

Tomatoe Soup

Now back to the Avocados....THIS looks so wonderful. I wish I had one right now so I could pour it all over my body.

best friends

2011-03-14T16:09:00.000-07:00

2011-03-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

I identify as a bisexual male. This is old news to so many of you, but at my grandpa’s funeral I became aware that certain rumors were spreading through the extended family (some of which have access to this blog) and I felt it would be good for me to address this again here, with more explanation, and for myself on a personal level I would really like to be able to communicate what has transpired. I hope that people who are confused on these issues will do some research, rather than jump to the shallow assumptions that are abundantly available. Please don’t think that rights concerning sexuality are not a big deal, that you don’t need to think about this or come to an in-depth understanding on these issues for yourself, these issues lay at the intersection of sexual and reproductive freedom and they need to be addressed accordingly.

For myself I’d like to get into my own history on this. I have been, and still am attracted to women. When I was in Jr. High my first crush was this angsty goth girl. It was so silly, I’d wear black as much as possible in hopes that she would notice me. Right before I graduated I fell in love with a different girl at the private school I had switched to. Our first date was in a graveyard (we actually only went on a couple of dates after being friends really intensely for a couple of years). She was my first kiss but she moved away and got married. All through Jr. High, High School, and college, I also felt attracted to certain men, not necessarily a sexual attraction, I just noticed that there was a particular kind of beauty there, a kind of intimacy that was possible there, that I was also interested in. At the same time I recognized the church’s stance on homosexuality and because the feelings were strong enough, increasingly strong with puberty, I promised god often that I would shoot myself if I ever became sexual or romantic with another man. Already having issues with depression, this suicide pact with god became a mantra for me that I repeated in my mind frequently until my early 20’s. I certainly would say that this kind of self-hatred is a direct product of the thinking in the church. There are many gay individuals who have killed themselves rather than to actually try and live with their feelings, rather than to talk to their parents and families. It is stupid and ignorant to blame this kind of self-hatred on the concept of sin. I think the church's thinking and behavior on this topic is pathetic compared to the enormous need, the self-hate, the enormous pain and secrecy that these individuals have to carry, often to their graves. Unless you have been there you just can't imagine the kind of fear and pain that these people go through in the church.

When I turned 19 my parents began telling me that I needed to go on a mission, I had become much more devoted to the church in my late teens, I prayed constantly and tried for several years to organize my tastes, my opinions, and my desires to line up with the church (this didn’t work, by the way). I can go into more depth on the religious issues later, it isn’t possible to entirely disentangle religion from this (as you can imagine) but just to make the point I really really did love the church and I was so interested in ideas about the afterlife and god.

But the reasons for not leaving right at 19 to serve a mission were that I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, I wasn’t sure if I truly believed the church enough to give two years of my life to it, and I also was intimidated by the idea of taking on the priesthood of Jesus Christ himself and going through the temple where I would commit my life to a church that made me feel rejected week after week. Many people told me that I needed to stop thinking so much about it, stop worrying, and just go, just do what I was told. This particular step was important for me because it was the first time I was able to choose for myself what I would do with my life. I participated in the singles ward, I made the few friends that were available to me, and I was still miserable, I hated going to church, I hated being around most of the people there. I felt judged by people who didn’t understand me almost at all. I just got so sick of feeling rejected, feeling like even my most basic understanding of things didn’t fit into the doctrine and attitudes of the church. Of course there were the bishops and the stake presidents (I talked to so many) who would say “but the church loves you, we need you, blah blah blah (insert your generic message of hope here)”. Unsurprisingly their words didn’t alter or improve my situation at all, and even just on an artistic level, or even on a level concerning my beliefs about human rights, the environment, and the basic doctrines of the church, I felt more and more disconnected and hated by what I had been taught was a culture of love, hope, and understanding.

Finally at 23 I openly concluded with myself that I was in-fact bisexual, that this wasn’t going to change, which was just one more attribute that didn't fit on top of everything else. I realized then something that I re-learned when I moved to Utah, that I wasn’t ever going to go serve a mission, I simply wasn’t comfortable inviting people to feel a similar shame and sense of rejection; to participate in a culture that doesn’t encourage people to think and behave as individuals.

So now you know. I have tried to avoid any of this “coming out” business because I feel its easier and less explosive to release this kind of information slowly and incidentally over time. I have been spreading this information in small ways over the course of the last 4 years, but now that I know that there are rumors in my extended family I think that its best to be really frank and up front about this. For those of you that I haven’t been so friendly with in the last few years, I think you can imagine why I wouldn’t be so eager to buddy up with friends and relatives who come from a culture that associates homosexuality/bisexuality with pedophilia, rape, and violence, who believe that San Francisco is Sodom and Gomorrah, who think that homosexuals are promiscuous villains who are destroying the fabric of America. Ok, ok, ok, I will happily admit that those are generalized ideas of things I have heard, and these issues are not completely black and white, but some of the generalizations are so unfathomable to me. I do think this is ridiculous. Pop culture gives people this wonky right to exclaim their sexuality with golden luster, usually just to be ghettoized and exploited later, but for myself I thought I should just say something about this.

TEN

2011-03-13T04:17:00.001-07:00

2011-03-12T15:16:00.000-08:00

When I am rich my life will look like this-

response

2011-03-12T12:39:00.000-08:00

This post began as a comment in response to this post written by my cousin (check it out please)-

I'm super glad you wrote this because lately it seems like all this love language stuff has been resurfacing and I tend to think that the love language book is an oversimplified and shallow way to view or interact with another person, let alone one's own self. Before I begin criticizing the book I do have to admit that it can open some people's minds and help them to understand that people communicate in different ways, and that can be really good, but I feel like the dialogue that exists around the book tends to be super flat and mechanical, as if we are all vending machines that require different types of currency, or people defining themselves almost purely by zodiac signs.

"My love language is time. Jerry's love language is gifts. Sarah's love language is touch."

A part of me cries out every time I hear this kind of talking "people aren't circles and squares that fit into different categorical slots!" People are usually not that simple, they just are not. Lots of people give something different than they would like to receive, and even if a person sets out to categorize the languages of love there is so much overlap between the different categories-

If a person likes to give gifts that they craft over the course of days, months, even years, would this make their language gifts and time? Could the act of physically crafting a gift for a loved one count as a kind of physical touch? What if the gift was a poem, book or letter, then it gets into the words of affirmation category. Which would be more valuable to the receiver of the gift? The amount of time spent on it, the fact that the giver spent time touching and forming the gift with their own body, with their hands, would it be the affirming words within the gift? I know that people are different from each other, but it seems so ridiculous to separate all of these and to treat this like its a science, as if we are defining different species of the human race.

Add to all of this the ever changing circumstances of life, the changing state of being of any given person, and the idea of picking a singular love language for somebody almost completely falls apart. I guess for me it seems nearly impossible to disentangle all of the particulars to say "my love language is words of affirmation" its almost like saying "just tell me that I am sexy and I don't need anything else as a person, I am actually that simple" or "I like physical touch, as long my marriage has excellent sex I need nothing else". I guess I don’t know that most people live this way, but that kind of language sort of scares me because it doesn't sound very different from what I hear people saying.

Now this is what I like about your post (sorry to ramble on forever). You talk about being understood, which is almost a different category in itself, or it basically trumps/transforms all the categories really. You can give a gift, and that's great, but it is completely transformed when it is a gift that is tastefully given from a person who understands what you want/need (I haven’t met a single person who doesn’t like this). Or having a person listen and nod and say "that's great, we hope everything works out" verses sincerely saying "I understand, I want to discuss this with you. Thanks for sharing this, it enhances my life" or even in the category of physical touch it can get so complex. I think most of us know what its like to make out with somebody who makes a washing machine look intimate and sexy by comparison, and thats really unfortunate. It means so much more if the person understands the way you want to be touched, understands the details, the way you experience different sensations, and they care enough to give that to you. I guess I just assume that understanding is what makes the pedantic idea of loving a person into something beautiful and wholesome.

I am starting to think that the only love language is being understood and understanding others. Maybe this isn’t such a popular idea, who knows. I just hate to think that a man and a woman can sleep next to each other every night for years without actually understanding their mate beyond some mechanical idea “my husband likes physical touch” or “my wife likes words of affirmation”. The language sounds so dead to me, like something a 50’s housewife would read. I just have to ask myself “Are we really this mechanical that we can’t consider the obvious facts, that everyone likes to be understood, that everyone is so different and complex, way beyond a handful of categories? Isn’t that what love is all about, transcending categories for another person?

Swan-ish Things

2011-03-07T22:28:00.000-08:00

The album Swanlights by Antony & the Johnsons

The album is deeply introverted, charged with emotions of self-discovery, loss, renewal and transformation. There is a really strong theme in the album about finding life and building hope outside of destructive patriarchal structures where brutality is replaced with tenderness and quiet complexity (not a surprising idea from Antony who toys with the idea of God being a girl). Swans are the mascot at the center of the album, swimming on tepid ambient waves of electric guitar, symbols, and accordion. On the album there is a unique cover of John Lennon's Imagine, Bjork also participates in the track Fletta, but my favorite track on the album is probably Salt Silver Oxygen which is sort of a riddle. The lyrics for Salt Silver Oxygen-

The flying horse carries me across the sky
Triumvirate swallows make our breath
Can we grow a sun
A water run
The Great White Water?
Every slum an ox inside it
Sweet crevice for miniature flies?

Dancing with her casket
Christ becomes wife
The easy dust is dancing, too

It splits the waterside in two

Elect the Salt Mother
For She's a Selective Christ

Punch her ghost!
For sure she'll sigh
And watch the window gives rise

Antony Hegarty is one of my favorite celebrities because his is so pure and nuanced and he transcends so many of the cliches and ideas that are prescribed to artists who don't fit into a stereotypical sexuality or gender construct. You might also check out this thing were Antony and the Johnsons took over the Guardian.

The film Black Swan (OF COURSE!)

My friends have all been talking about Darren Aronofsky's latest film Black Swan. Last night I went down to Salt Lake with my best friend to finally see it (she had already seen it a few weeks ago). I had heard so much about it but it wasn't quite what I had expected. Natalie Portman was so much more fragile and feminine than I thought possible and the scenes and details that would be expected to be monotonous and bland were somehow tightly strung, beautifully filmed and unexpectedly harsh. I don't think I have ever experienced a film that had such a strong residual effect. When I left the theater I really felt like I was still in that dark ballet company, it somehow stayed with me so strongly. The only thing that I can even begin to compare it to is Mullholland Drive.

Bjork's Swan Dress designed by Marjan Pejoski (obvious, I know)-

The dress was worn to the Oscars and is seen on the cover of Bjork's album Vespertine (one of my favorite albums of all time).

Some swans I made a while ago-

My mother asked "Brock! Why are you so obsessed with breasts?" I said "because they are maternal and feminine and also just because I really like them."

Real black swans-

According to this wikipedia article on homosexuality in animals-

"An estimated one-quarter of all black swans pairings are homosexual and they steal nests, or form temporary threesomes with females to obtain eggs, driving away the female after she lays the eggs. More of their cygnets survive to adulthood than those of different-sex pairs, possibly due to their superior ability to defend large portions of land. The same reasoning has been applied to male flamingo pairs raising chicks."

Maybe all those people who think homosexuals want to steel everyone's kids and raise them in their hedonistic households are actually onto something after all...

2011-02-27T21:48:00.000-08:00

I feel ashamed for the way that I have perceived myself and the world around me as I have "grown up". A lot of this is bubbling up after watching the Oscars and listening to Ann Hathaway's farewell words "dreams really do come true!" while the emerald city came into view at the back of the stage.

Really? Dreams really do come true? Yuck. I HATE that she said that (even though she seems like the perfect poster child for this dangerous idea). I hate that kids everywhere are being taught "you can be whatever you want to be when you grow up" or "shoot for the stars!" or "if you work hard enough you can accomplish anything" and of course the formerly mentioned "dreams really do come true!". All of these statements parading around as words to live by, words even my parents have circulated (though they themselves are disappointed at the outcome of much of their hard work). I recently read the book Outliers by Malcom Gladwell and it further shattered these notions that your dreams will just magically create themselves and the slightly less ridiculous notion that all you need is to work really hard and be extra super smart.

So here I am at 26 realizing that I have wasted so much time, that I have been without some resources that I'd say are pretty necessary to be able to get somewhere in my chosen fields of interest. I do believe that I am intelligent, that I have developed some strong creative abilities, but I am really angry at myself for thinking that these fantastical goals and aspirations could ever actually become a reality. I somehow forgot to turn my brain on and I lapped up all these romantic ideas. I thought I could really have some kind of influence, that I could be somebody, not just for the sake of being powerful, rich, or famous, but I really wanted to be able to give good things to the world. That sounds so ridiculously utopian, I can't believe I just typed that, but its truly what I wanted.

I remember doing lots of community plays growing up, as a teen I had all kinds of stupid dreams about broadway and dramatic theater, but when I think back the truth was always looking me straight in the face. Who were the prominent participants in community theater? The ones who could afford it. The bankers, lawyers, doctors, the shop owners, and their children. There were exceptions but for the most part theater people were relatively "well off". I somehow actually thought I was an equal person. It somehow didn't register that we have class systems where I need to find my place and create my goals accordingly.

Today I listened to THIS(click here) important talk with Lydia Cacho, a brave activist who went undercover to document and expose international sex slave rings. There is a part where she describes how a young girl is lured into becoming a sex slave. She is poor and is told that she is beautiful, that she can become a model if she will travel to another city. Of course once she gets to the other city it is at last revealed that her lack of education and her magical dreams have led her straight into hell where she will be subject to endless rape and exploitation as a sex slave, which will most likely kill her (maybe even before she begins puberty). Dreams really do come true? I know its probably not supposed to be a serious intellectual statement (who among us wouldn't say something that stupid for the pay check Hathaway must be getting?) but I am actually very angry about this idea. This idea is the Santa Clause that I believed in until I was 26, TWENTY SIX!

After that aggravating train of thought the bratty words of Ricky Gervais were downright refreshing.

This week was the deadline for a group art show I have been wanting to submit some of my art pieces to for a while now, but to submit the pieces costs some money and it was literally a choice between submitting my work and eating. I also cancelled a dance project I had begun working on a couple of months ago for similar reasons. I am trying to comfort myself by saying that the grapes are sour anyway, but I can't even begin to actually believe that. I just feel so stupid for being so gullible and audacious, and I feel so wasted. Especially after listening to Lydia Cacho I just keep asking myself why the hell I feel that I deserve to be this glamorous art person when the virginity of young children is being sold internationally as a sexual delicacy. What makes me so important that I should be able to puff myself up with all this intellectual air while people are starving, being raped, and suffering invisibly?

Whatever. I might sound like I am throwing the towel in on art, and I do recognize how truly ridiculous it is, how hard it is to justify the creation of art. But I have spent more time singing and making art than I have spent doing anything else, so it will most likely continue even if my concept of self is destroyed.

the truth about sex

2011-02-22T09:59:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to take a moment to explain the truth about sex.

You might think that you really want it, that nothing would please you more, but you need to understand that your body is lying to you. Under no circumstances is sex ok. It is a vile and filthy construction of the anatomy. Think about all the fleshy tubes and canals, these throbbing organs, the saliva, the secretions, the tongues, the fluids, the lubricants, and the extravagant sounds that people make during sex. Honestly, I don't understand how anyone can justify any kind of participation in the banquet of debauchery that we know as sex.

Allow me to draw a parallel between nuclear warfare and human sex. Only humans have enough nuclear weapons to blow up the world 10 times and only humans have human sex. I have made a graph to help you conceptualize this life-saving correlation-

Obviously if we could exterminate all sexual activity in the human race the potential for nuclear disaster would disintegrate like those Styrofoam peanuts that melt when you put them in your mouth (they aren't very good, but you get what I'm saying).

Now that you are aware of this global crisis please stop all sexual activity. Not only is sex a lewd and disgusting act, it is also a life threatening exertion that begs for the nuclear melting of all earthly life.

Desired Constellation

2011-02-20T13:41:00.000-08:00

It's tricky when
You feel someone
Has done something
On your behalf

It's slippery when
Your sense of justice
Murmurs underneath
And you're asking:

How am I going to make it right?

With a palmful of stars
I throw them like dice
Repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Repeatedly
Repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears
And I ask myself:

How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
How am I going to make it right?
And you hear
How am I going to make it right?

portrait

2011-02-15T16:03:00.000-08:00

I have wanted him to die for a long time because I love him and wanted him to be free of pain, but also there is a big chunk of me that didn't like him, a part of me that was disgusted with his "world view" and the lessons that were illustrated by his example. I have to constantly remind myself to be sympathetic and understanding, because he was born in a different time and place than myself and he really did lay some kind of groundwork for his posterity.

It must have been hard to be a smart, sensitive boy, who's father used chains, whips, and bare fists to teach his son the ominous lessons of life. I don't know if I have ever met a person who was always so deeply afraid and I also don't know how to comprehend some of the things that he was able to live through. I guess its easy for me to talk about this man from a dark place because as a young teenager I was very afraid and I thought that I was able to perceive his fear.

I recently found a cassette tape from a high school history project that I had done years ago. Its sort of an interview with Grandma and Grandpa about WW2. At one point on the tape my grandfather describes a situation in which he was in Japan, patrolling what was left of a destroyed society. It cuts me so deep to hear this soft-hearted man as he describes a situation where he almost had to shoot someone to death. He cries on the tape, describing the horror and devastation of war. For me it is one of the most beautiful things to hear this pain-filled authority from my childhood, and to hear him crying, to hear him whimpering and to know that he was not a fortress or a saint, he was so completely human.

His health has been very bad in recent months and I didn't want to see him last time I was home because I still had a lot of anger against him, but somehow my mother persuaded me to go visit. He sat there, belted into his chair, and said in a tender and delusional way that he thought he was stupid. I sat next to him, held his warm sinewy hand, and explained to him that he was much smarter than he was giving himself credit for. "Why thank you!" he replied. Then I just sat there, holding his hand while he looked around the room with his glassy blue eyes. It was very calm and he probably didn't know who the hell I was, but he was quite beautiful, self-deprecating, and very much like a child.

My Big Sister

2011-02-15T02:40:00.000-08:00

I don't know why, but for some reason I have been thinking a lot about my siblings.

This is a big deal because I don't normally feel very close to them. I think it might somehow be connected to my grandfather who is dying (any time now) and the fact that I will probably be seeing my siblings soon at his funeral.

One memory that is particularly special for me is of my oldest sibling, my sister Melissa. When she was in high school I remember that she was a super star. I can cite so many experiences that uphold this idea. Once she had this gigantic party at my parents house. It was the kind of social event that only she would have the audacity to orchestrate. There were all these puberty possessed teenagers climbing all over the yard and the house, running around all over the place. I remember there being so many cars. They were drinking punch, eating brownies, playing volleyball, and probably listening to Van Halen. To me (growing up in the middle of nowhere) this was a glamorous party. There may as well have been lines of coke on the coffee table and unconscious strippers strewn about.

Once at a big thanksgiving dinner my teenage sister made it a point to announce that sex was disgusting and she wasn't ever going to have it. In my heart of hearts I honestly do believe that the world would be a better place if more people were as blatantly honest as my teenage big sister.

My sister was into clogging. She'd wear these amazing sequin-drenched outfits. One of them was a full-body, white spandex tuxedo with thick gold trim. There was also some kind of flamenco dancer outfit at one point, it was shockingly over-saturated. Magenta, lime green, turquoise, all thickly encased in a sheen of sequins. I realize now that I was recognizing at a young age that there was this idea of theatrical beauty that existed beyond regular church programs, beyond regular clothing, that it could be genderless, that it somehow allowed for things to happen that were beyond your regular daily routine. I guess it was my first experience with theater and performance really. I remember trying on her clogging shoes and sort of flopping around in the basement, trying to be beautiful.

But the memory that stands out to me probably seems so arbitrary. I think I had a field trip when I was going to the Declo Elementary school and my mom made me a lunch and asked Melissa to pick up a snack for me; I think I might have been like 6 or 7 at the time. So there I am at my small elementary school, with my little backpack and crayons, and my big sister brings me this bag of bugles from some vending machine or something. I know it sounds so ridiculous, but somehow this stupid bag of bugles strikes a nerve with me. Its funny because bugles really do seem like something that came out of the 80's. A completely nutrition-less cone-shaped food, that is sort of orange even, almost like something people would eat in a dystopian space fantasy staring Klaus Nomi and Madonna.

I remember, at some point, thinking it was so weird and cool that it was a food that was pretending to be a musical instrument. So that's a deep memory for me. I guess that was a big moment, a sort of holy sacrament in my child mind, like she was passing the torch.

The End

2011-02-15T01:52:00.000-08:00

I just woke up from an amazingly jolting dream.

In the dream I am at my parents house, and for some reason I am the only person at home, except for my younger brother Avery, and we are having an argument about religion and the existence of God. He keeps bringing these really abstract objects and ideas into the discussion/argument, things that don't really have any connection to anything. Years ago I would have been mad, or annoyed, but in this dream I somehow understood, at least partly, the psychology of this particular brother. He speaks loud, even shouts, and can act super rigid with his ideas and that's just how he is. I really don't think he can help it, it may as well be genetic.

Anyway, I understood this in the dream and I was so calm and mellow. I knew that it didn't matter that he was nearly yelling and being sort of an asshole. I understood that he is a good person, who cares, and that ultimately he is well-meaning, however misguided his behavior might seem to me.

I calmly opened the freezer while Avery was lovingly shouting at me from atop his soap box of faith, and I found three boxes of Neapolitan ice cream, each box having been partially eaten in a different way, so the formation of ice cream in each box was distinct from the others.

I handed him one of the three boxes to eat, took another box for myself, and somehow knew very distinctly that the third box was for my youngest brother Taylor who was not yet home. I also put some frozen bread on the counter to thaw.

Then I looked out the windows on the back doors of our house and the light on the landscape was rapidly changing from regular day light into a scorching apocalyptic orange. It happened SO fast. I saw a gigantic stream of fire scream past the house at a rapid speed, as if a nuclear bomb had gone off just a few miles away.

I knew that this was the end. I turned around to my brother and screamed "OH MY GOD, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!" and instantly everything was engulfed in flames and we disintegrated into nothingness. Then I woke up.

This is the second dream I have had where I die, but somehow am able to recognize my death before-hand and know that my entity, my consciousness, is about to end.

If the above dream were to actually happen, I'd wish that I would scream something more positive while being vaporized by the filthy bastards who control this world. I wish I would have said "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" before we were engulfed in flames. I guess if the human race is going to be turned into powder, I may as well give my well meaning brother a nice thought to savor for that fraction of a second that our consciousness still exists.