Experimental music of various sorts. Writing bits and pieces of insanity that some might refer to as poetry. But others might refer to bits and pieces of insanity. Photography. Finger painting. Waxing and waning about nothing in particular. Buddhism. Waxing and waning about everything in particular. Photography. Skipping through the desert.
Developing film in my kitchen. Justice. Guinness. Darkroom work. Yoga. World domination. Long conversations about world domination. Photography. Veganaise. Art. Tellin' it like it is and askin' for it by name. Or at least trying to ask for it by name. If someone could assist with that I probably wouldn't mind. Unless of course I would mind.
Napping. Playing on the swings. Drinking cocoa. Sarcasm. Taoism. Lime. Crazy road trips. Taking things apart. Putting things back together with various additions and subtractions. Long crazy conversations with people I love. Sticking a fork in your eye. Photography.
Silly things. More silly things. Picking on you. Feeding peanut butter sandwiches to squirrels. Numbers and patterns. Interesting experiences at the Denny's Lounge in Ballard, RIP. Did I mention photography.
I'd like to meet:
People with super hero type powers. Left leaning, socially conscious human beans. Writers. Photographers. Artists working in various mediums.
Non-pretentious outgoing risk takers. Blunt. Honest. Communicative human beans. Passionate people who wish to collaborate in various ways or build coalition.
Or...more simply put and to quote my friend Stash, "I would love to meet people that can absorb the world and bring forth beauty assassination style with a Tarantino vengeance." Amen brother. Amen!
P.S. I do not blindly accept friend requests from strangers. Send a message first. That is all.P.P.S. No, I don't want to be friends with your shitty band either.
Music:
Secret Chiefs 3. Misfits. Descendents. Ramones. Life Sentence. Dead Milkmen. Dead Can Dance. MDC. The Cure. Modest Mouse. The Gits. Portishead. Billy Holiday. 76% Uncertain. Robert Johnson. Brian Kenney Fresno. Desmond Dekkar. RATM. 7 Year Bitch. John Coltrane. Mr. Bungle. Beethoven. Dead Kennedys. Johnny Cash. Howlin' Wolf. WEEN. Depeche Mode.
I still have a soft spot in my heart for King Diamond's "Abigail" album.
Sitars and paddles and crutches OH MY!
Weird. Random. Beautiful noise.
I'm tired now, I'll add more later.
Movies:
Reservoir Dogs. A Clockwork Orange. Welcome to the Dollhouse. Pulp Fiction. Gabbeh. Monster's Ball. Bowling for Columbine. Auntie Mame (Roslyn Russell version). Blue Velvet. Happy Times. Buffalo 66. Fargo. Fear of a Black Hat. Natural Born Killers. The Scent of Green Papaya. Donnie Darko. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. Kalifornia. The Triplets of Belleville (thanks Troy-Ni-Kyn).
Television:
Tele vision? No. Actually, I'm nearsighted.
Wait...Wonder Showzen. It's freakin' brilliant. That's it.
Books:
Tao te Ching. Race Rebels -- Robin Kelley. Alchemy of Race and Rights -- Patricia Williams. Eye Scream -- Henry Rollins. The End of Alice -- A.M. Homes. Safety of Objects -- A.M. Homes. The House of Incest -- Anais Nin. Brave New World -- Aldous Huxley. The Missing Piece -- Shel Silverstein. The Missing Piece Meets the Big O -- Shel Silverstein. Many many more.
Heroes:
Shitdamnmotherfucker, I am my own hero. Wait, you're my hero too.
Okay, not really, but it makes me sound like a nice person, doesn't it. Notice the lack of question mark punctuation action. That's because I don't really care what you think. Wait. You. Over there. Yes. You. I care what you think.
