Nevermind, there it is. Over the Atlantic Ocean. Happy Labor Day Weekend!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
The Bun (Monday)
- I've got worlds evolving in my head.
- My shoe choice is based on fighting the status quo.
- Faith is hiding in us, burrowed in our hearts ready to emerge unsuspectingly like the aliens in Speilberg's version of War of the Worlds.
- We don't really need an iMac computer, but I do love that keyboard.
- Saw a baby's smile this weekend that could end a war.
- I'm trying to love everyone.
- Chicken patties.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
God wants us to
1. Tell the truth, and
2. Love needy people.
2. Love needy people.
Are you gonna be safe? Or are you gonna be brave? It's a choice we make every day.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Candy Politic
This is me: Talking about politics is like trying to decide which color jelly bean is best.
When people ("people") say they are not happy with the direction this country is headed what exactly does that mean? Because I have an idea what that means, but my idea might offend. Considering the "people" who are giving this response I'm sensing a fear of sentimentality. (Yes, that is a loaded word.)
And where were these "people" when Bush started an unauthorized, pointless war? Where were these "people" when Katrina landed on New Orleans and WE, the United States of America, allowed its citizens to suffer and die while we watched on TV?
If the direction of our country is headed away from that, well, thank God.
Red. The best color jelly bean. (That's enough politics for one day. Go ride a bike or kiss a girl or write a poem - you know, ACTUAL important things in life.)
When people ("people") say they are not happy with the direction this country is headed what exactly does that mean? Because I have an idea what that means, but my idea might offend. Considering the "people" who are giving this response I'm sensing a fear of sentimentality. (Yes, that is a loaded word.)
And where were these "people" when Bush started an unauthorized, pointless war? Where were these "people" when Katrina landed on New Orleans and WE, the United States of America, allowed its citizens to suffer and die while we watched on TV?
If the direction of our country is headed away from that, well, thank God.
Red. The best color jelly bean. (That's enough politics for one day. Go ride a bike or kiss a girl or write a poem - you know, ACTUAL important things in life.)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
"Video Games are Undeniably Art"
Here's a great post concerning the Ebert Debate...
Video games are art.
It’s boring, it’s been said, and it’s been argued against. But it’s true. Game developers are this generation’s unnamed Ansel Adams and Andy Warhols. The video games they work to create are their own unique worlds imagined and they bring to life these visions with precise direction and immense effort. By any definition, the entire process is an art form; writers weave a story out of nothing, artists turn barren worlds into illustrated societies, and coders bring it all to life in an interactive formation.
The entire process is undeniably art–almost magically so.
I’m saying things we already know as gamers, but for some reason never admit–at least not out loud or in a tone above a whisper. As much as video games have evolved in the past decade, we haven’t really as gamers. We’ve continued to imply video games are just a release and a hobby; that they’re something cheap and homely, meant to give us a bit of entertainment like a gossip magazine or a soap opera.
(Read the rest at the blog Hellmode)
Video games are art.
It’s boring, it’s been said, and it’s been argued against. But it’s true. Game developers are this generation’s unnamed Ansel Adams and Andy Warhols. The video games they work to create are their own unique worlds imagined and they bring to life these visions with precise direction and immense effort. By any definition, the entire process is an art form; writers weave a story out of nothing, artists turn barren worlds into illustrated societies, and coders bring it all to life in an interactive formation.
The entire process is undeniably art–almost magically so.
I’m saying things we already know as gamers, but for some reason never admit–at least not out loud or in a tone above a whisper. As much as video games have evolved in the past decade, we haven’t really as gamers. We’ve continued to imply video games are just a release and a hobby; that they’re something cheap and homely, meant to give us a bit of entertainment like a gossip magazine or a soap opera.
(Read the rest at the blog Hellmode)
The Walking Dead
The debut on AMC is on Halloween! How cool is that! It's based on one of the best comic books I ever read.
Ode to the Yard Sale
By Gary Soto
A toaster,
A plate
Of pennies,
A plastic rose
Staring up
To the sky.
It's Saturday
And two friends,
Merchants of
The salvageable heart,
Are throwing
Things onto
The front lawn –
A couch, a beanbag,
A table to clip
Poodles on,
Drawers of
Potato mashers,
Spoons, knives
That signaled
To the moon
For help.
Rent is due
It's somewhere
On the lawn,
Somewhere among
The shirts we've
Looked good in,
Taken off before
We snuggled up
To breasts
That almost made
Us gods.
It'll be a good
Day, because
There's much
To sell,
And the pitcher
Of water
Blue in the shade,
Clear in the
Light, with
The much-handled
Scotch the color
Of leaves
Falling at our
Shoes, will
Get us through
The afternoon
Rush of old
Ladies, young women
On their way
To becoming nurses,
Bachelors of
The twice-dipped
Tea bag. It's an eager day:
Wind in the trees,
Laughter of
Children behind
Fences. Surely
People will arrive
With handbags
And wallets,
To open up coffee
Pots and look
In, weigh pans
In each hand,
And prop hats
On their heads
And ask, "How do
I look?" (foolish
To most,
Beautiful to us).
And so they
Come, poking
At the clothes,
Lifting salt
And pepper shakers
For their tiny music,
Thumbing through
Old magazines
For someone
They know,
As we sit with
Our drinks
And grow sad
That the ashtray
Has been sold,
A lamp, a pillow,
The fry pans
That were action
Packed when
We cooked, those things
We threw so much
Love on, day
After day,
Sure they would mean something
When it came
To this.
A toaster,
A plate
Of pennies,
A plastic rose
Staring up
To the sky.
It's Saturday
And two friends,
Merchants of
The salvageable heart,
Are throwing
Things onto
The front lawn –
A couch, a beanbag,
A table to clip
Poodles on,
Drawers of
Potato mashers,
Spoons, knives
That signaled
To the moon
For help.
Rent is due
It's somewhere
On the lawn,
Somewhere among
The shirts we've
Looked good in,
Taken off before
We snuggled up
To breasts
That almost made
Us gods.
It'll be a good
Day, because
There's much
To sell,
And the pitcher
Of water
Blue in the shade,
Clear in the
Light, with
The much-handled
Scotch the color
Of leaves
Falling at our
Shoes, will
Get us through
The afternoon
Rush of old
Ladies, young women
On their way
To becoming nurses,
Bachelors of
The twice-dipped
Tea bag. It's an eager day:
Wind in the trees,
Laughter of
Children behind
Fences. Surely
People will arrive
With handbags
And wallets,
To open up coffee
Pots and look
In, weigh pans
In each hand,
And prop hats
On their heads
And ask, "How do
I look?" (foolish
To most,
Beautiful to us).
And so they
Come, poking
At the clothes,
Lifting salt
And pepper shakers
For their tiny music,
Thumbing through
Old magazines
For someone
They know,
As we sit with
Our drinks
And grow sad
That the ashtray
Has been sold,
A lamp, a pillow,
The fry pans
That were action
Packed when
We cooked, those things
We threw so much
Love on, day
After day,
Sure they would mean something
When it came
To this.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Impossible Life
If there was a way to bottle emotions... and purchase them like Snapple which one would you try first? (I knew it. Everyone always picks Lustful Excitement first.)
Surprisingly, I bet Humiliation and Anger would sell quite nicely.
You're an odd thing, human. You search and search for just that right kind of pain - and then when you find it, well. You know what you do.
Surprisingly, I bet Humiliation and Anger would sell quite nicely.
You're an odd thing, human. You search and search for just that right kind of pain - and then when you find it, well. You know what you do.
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