Ain't NOTHING easy about Sunday morning...

Wednesday, February 05, 2003

So she buzzes me in, and as soon as I pull the door closed after myself I ask:
"Why are there so many cops around here?"
To which she replies:
"Oh. It's always like that around here."
To which I press the elevator button and go:
After which she appends:
"I don't know, it's supposed to make you feel safe."
Which merits a laugh and a:
from me.
At which she says:
"I know, right?"
And my elevator car arrives.
"Alright then."
"See ya."

And for the record, Cheeze Nips, EVEN the reduced fat ones, are GREAT...

i love talking to people in their own voice.
It's not that hard to do, since most people don't use their real voice...they use a 'people voice'
So on the elevator, if i actually talk to someone, and then get to my floor, I just say
"See ya later." in their own voice.
Most recently, a guy hit 15, and it didn't light up, so I say:
"Is that supposed to light up?"
and he says:
"Naaaaaaaaaaaah, I think that one's just broken er something."
so I get to 12 (my floor) and I say:
"See ya later."
and he just looks at me, and then the doors close.
but I'm saying...he didn't "think it was broken," he KNEW it was broken.
If you live on 15, and your lift button NEVER lights up, then...
why'd I get londonny all of a suddenny?
Oh. Neisha's in London, and I just read a Jack Straw qoute about how closely Sadaam resembles satan...
and i've never even seen the guy live, but it was his voice reading it.


war or not? I was on photo class when old boy was talking about VX weapons
Just give me a long brew of green tea—iced, squirted, and slightly sweatened.
I'll be good.
On my way back from copping the discounted art mus. tixkets, there was much activity in the
SAC...there was a memorial for the departed star travelers, and a blurb about Cori, the girl shot last week.
On the way to the sub, there was a fire on 16th st. I knew I had to get footage of it, but again, it didn't feel right.
Something was burning. I hope someone wasn't burning.
I have to bite the bullet. I keep passing up significant slices of raw human experiences.
Each time, I have the wherewithall to capture it, either on film or video....
but each time it doesn't feel right.
I can't take a picture of a homeless guy.
Say word.
That's theft. That's what we should be arguing about, not sampling other people's work.
Like the luxuries of poetry and cinema.
Into the fire.
They are communication tools to be gripped and wielded, not therapists and playgrounds.
Art is there. Under truth, and in life.
Art is— sorry, there's a flag at halfmast outside my window, does that mean we are at war?—back to art.
Art is us. It's multiplayer.
Freak it. Art doesn't have time to do what I'm doing.
Grow up and touch somebody. I've got videos to cut.

When I say "I love you", I do. But i'm afraid you don't know the love I mean.
When I say "peace" I mean it. The calm breath, stress free, un-pressed chest, peace. Because there will always be war.
When there's no longer war, and you're still here to're in trouble.


Sunday, February 02, 2003

Life isn't a statement; it's a response.

This is the low.
The grit.
And it's personal; That's all it can be.
See, Enid's mother passed, and Enid's not taking it well.
See how personal it is?
That's all life can be—personal.
We all struggle to personally respond to the same things, and that's life.
I'm dangerously close to crossing existential lines, but i think it's true.
I can't count the all the people (or the number of times ONE person) has asked me the "Buddhist Question" It usually comes about 18 mins into the convo...
"So you mean that Buddhists are going to hell?"
My answer: who cares? Since when did the Buddhists check in on you and see about your spirituality?
Leave the Buddhists alone! It's personal.
God will deal with them;
God will deal with you.
You're thoughts on the Buddhists won't impress God, and they certrainly have no bearing on your soul.
There are only two ways to respond in life.
Draw closer to God, or push Him further away.
According to the American proverb (bumpersticker)
It happens.
It hits the fan.
So what are you going to do?
I feel TERRIBLE for Enid.
But Enid, what are you going to do?

fill in the blanks.

g'ahead; scream.