| at the end of the day... |
[Aug. 30th, 2009|11:06 pm] |
getting into my toster oven of a car and this is playing on the radio.
A good song for an interesting day.
Enjoy,
Grits |
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| Dancing in San Jose... |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|10:07 am] |
Maybe it is me? Maybe I am not white enough. I'm pretty sure I'm not Asian. So what are two creative people supposed to do when the club feels like a highschool dance? Thats right kids, wonder around Down Town San Jose and take photos.
Rhiannon in Pink:
Big Eyes Gritphilm:
A fun night. Here are the other shots:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/gritphilm/sets/72157622044121395/ |
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| Zombie-O-Rama: |
[Aug. 27th, 2009|12:51 pm] |
Zombies in San Jose 2009 (Zombie-O-Rama ):
http://www.flickr.com/photos/gritphilm/sets/72157622159766230/
This was the first time I had shot with an off camera flash rig.
After the first night I figured out that I could lose the tripod and umbrella.
The naked flash and stand were plenty and way easier to navigate in a crowd.
And I have to say that the Powershot G10 really held up.
It was really nice to see San jose doing something that might be concidered an outsider cultural event. I hope to see more of this activity.
Enjoy,
Grits |
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| art w(h)ine event at work... |
[Aug. 21st, 2009|11:54 pm] |
I don't drink wine so I made some analog art at work today. Nothing too fancy. More spur of the moment type pieces. Each piece was done on really thin paper that was cut into pieces about 1.5 by 3 inches.
I had a coworker actually state that they did not want to ever visit my head. This made me a little sad because I live there all the time. I had to explain that I have to let the darkness out of my head to be a better person. Well off to bed, I hope you are well.
Enjoy,
Gritphilm |
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| Job opening at the dead letter office. Apply with in. |
[Aug. 18th, 2009|09:04 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | words gritphilm | ] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Home-ish | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | better | ] |
| [ | music |
| | http://www.ninjatune.net/solidsteel/?play=1 | ] |
My dreams are written with ichor milked from cats. This fluid is the color of impossibilities and harvested in the darkest regions of my imagination. Set forth into a realm devised to has experiential consequences to my senses. These lactic lucid literary works of semi-fiction are penned by an unstable hand with rings of what knots and smells like Christopher Walken. The latest entry is called "The unraveling mystery nectar of the fantastic plastic real living boy." See fig. 1: The over processing mind.
I'm getting too old to chase down unicorns and other mythical creatures. The knees are still doing ok, the other bits feel as if they are dangling from threads. Hardening from the exposure to the elements. Biological tidbits, scratch and sniff pheromones that cannot be digitized. I call it lack.
Really, a blue monkey is my lesson in this life, but I can forget about that when 2013 hits. How am I supposed to deal with that? Now what? A fire dragon, an archer, a centaur, a man, a human? Reading between the lines so long that is is bluring together. I don't need help invalidating myself. I am not a parking pass, and proof of existence, is not why I'm here. Whatever happened to good ol' sympathy? I am not a problem that needs to be solved. Nothing more than my faith being tested. Telling someone to lower their standards can be a horrible thing to suggest in a time a need in matters of the heart. The dieing are of empathy.
I will not be repackaged and resold. I will not alter my happiness to be more apealing to the open market. This is I. A kicking and screaming, fighting and fucking part of this mess.
I need a drink and some peace.
Gritphilm |
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| Question and answers from the dead letter office. |
[Aug. 11th, 2009|04:01 pm] |
A pachyderm ponders probable outcomes. Lines drawn, a million miles and counting. Here within lay the root of the issue. A prolific attempt by king of the hill psyches jockeying for position...
A low hummmm. Insert senseless dribble that is no more than introspective specters. Mindless rants that could not be closer to the truth. Lacking direction.
And the colored girls go doo do doo do doo do do doo. Wild Thing, I think... I
We remember the rest. Old stories capped into our skulls before they are hardened. Fresh locked into our fears. Right there on isle 12; next to animal nature and the sex drive. It's ok.
We all know how this turns out. We have written the future well before it can conceivably be exited from a white hole. The renewable resource that has gone extinct right under our noses. The pearl and sand magic trick. Presto.
The quotation mark is the prison of our voice. End quote.
The words slither endlessly from between his teeth. The show is over, there is nothing to see here. Move to your right. File, deleted.
Digital action adopted by analog animals. Survival of the most adaptable. An inspired unwilling, kicking and screaming ones and zeroes cloud confides. Stretching out beyond man's affinity for infinity. Being unknown, untouched. Moved to varying events of fragility. Picking at scabs. A calloused safety.
The perfect puzzle. "this isn't one" never stated as one of the acceptable answers. Tricks of light. The animal in turn a zoo.
While you were out, the stage lighting has changed. You will now be presenting with. My mental state, or as I like to call it "Question that lurk in my head time". So, if the flying spaghetti monster takes off in Japan, would its followers bless something by saying rAMEN? End transmission. A voice in the dark melts away.
The great worm smiles. The blue monkey skitters away. I need some illumination becase I got something dark in me tonight. Angles speak in tongues. Articulate verbose lashing flagellations.
Gritphilm (09) |
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| OneLight workshop |
[Jul. 24th, 2009|09:24 am] |
A couple of shots taken by Zack Arias at his Google OneLight workshop.
From his site: http://www.zarias.com/
After this photoshoot I feel kinda sexy.
Kinda weird after 32 years of feeling a bit weird in my skin.
Enjoy,
Grits |
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| dealing with the contents of (no subject) |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|02:08 am] |
Sometime on Saturday.
I got that feeling.
I didn't say anything.
positive thoughts and all that.
They do wonders.
but when you get an email with (no subject) you have to wonder
(especially when dealing with the articulate)
about the contents
and if that one spark of a thought somes true.
out of nowhere and you know if feels like...
after spending a good amount of time vomiting
what feels like the rest of my ego
into the bottom of a clean toilet.
all I want to do is have a smoke in peace.
alone with my vice, glad I cleaned my toilet.
I'm too old to fight for affection.
especially with the half chewed chucks of burrito lodged somewhere in my esophagus.
burning.
I feel lovely.
the acid burn
Sure I'll get dust myself off and all that.
For not I can't stop shaking.
It is too late in the night and too early in the morning to get a hug.
shivering in all this, trying to collect my nerves.
The bits of shame in trying,
the questions and the tales of failure.
It's alright. It only makes me stronger.
Plus, I have dental insurance, so who cares if I ruin my enamel?
I wish I was a better man so I could grunt and blame
but here I am in shock wondering what happened to my pants.
I'm trying to calm down.
I think I have calmed down enough to grab a smoke and greet the day with open arms.
I doubt I'll fall asleep in a condition like this.
I admit none of this, it is too real.
and I doubt anyone would believe me.
this is all just and acute physical reaction
of an intense emotional state.
I'm not angry.
I just want to get some sleep
and stop this silly shivering.
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| dream. |
[Jul. 15th, 2009|09:43 am] |
Last night was filled with tossing and turning. At some point I hit REM sleep. The dream that followed was interesting.
I was at an unknown location hanging out with a friend/old roommate. We we talking about this and that. I remember commenting on the distance of time between seeing each other. At some point we get into a car. Its not mine but I am not sure it is his. We speed off. I think we are chasing someone. A yellow car, like the one we had when I was a kid. We arrive at some sort of church. There are people out side, the ground is wet and looks miserable. Some one runs up to me with their hands in the hair looking stressed, screaming why didn't we hear it comming, we are all going to die. At that point I look off into the distance and there are tanks lining up on the horrizon. The turrents are slowly rising. I head the cannons fire. I thin oh well, this was fun. I hear the shells decending with a pirecing shrill.
I wake up. |
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| So after tonight... |
[Jul. 14th, 2009|12:26 am] |
...blame nothing on the words, they were seduced into this.
Some people are just , you know... proper nouns? Others are well, hate to say it, but lower case i's. I'm thinking this, up past me bed time, and half naked ( the upper half is without restriction, not the lower, you perverts). Placed on my head is a Mickey Mouse hat that strangely enough has "gritphilm" stitched in that odd Disney hat stitched person font. Do they take classes to learn how to write like that? I ponder.
Then I begin to wonder about the singularity of particles, synchronicity, and all points west. Basically letting creative energy flow. It is a bit pent up, but that is ok. Formulation of plans of ideas is currently underway. Options have arisen, much like seedlings from concrete.
Where is this going is asked way to late, as you look over to the drive and realize that their feet don't reach the floor. You panic. A gut reaction, a primal force that you just can't explain in mixed company. Well, at least while there is sobriety in the room.
I cannot find my headphones, so it is a quiet night at case de Grit. Home of the Gummie Bear lamp and the worlds bean bag. All that is whirling is the fan circulating air that has become stagnate on a hot day. Life, boxed up in conditioned air, is an interesting endeavor to say the least. Luckily, I take breaks to clear my head, and pollute my ability to breathe. I won't tell if you don't.
Parking lot adventures and heat waves. I have begun to tinker with dials, and lack of fear. That's why someone invented a factory reset button. Between my two specimens the older model seems produce sharper results. A test group must be set up and trials must be performed. I must know if maybe it is me, safe to say I think it is not.
A lot of movement these last few weeks. The last enteric push was well received. For some it was not, but there is ups and downs to each biorhythm. Your own drummer if you will. You know the worst stories do not employ entropy or a denouement.
You know what? Sometimes giving up is alright. I am doing much better, now that I have dropped off 60 lbs. of guilt, that was not even supposed to be carried by me. Crossing fingers and throwing salt over my shoulder. One half of an hour till it is really my bedtime. Illusions of sleep. Propensity of this machine. Thumping and clunking along, well if you might ask. Hick-ups are ensuing as we speak, but for now, resting assured is all I might hope for. Waiting. Trying to figure out why I am all itchy.
The small things are sometimes the bits that matter the most, others overlooked, stepped over, or on. In this day of age, is uploading even a concern? Are we ready for this digital age. Born in a time of analog, Looking back I guess every generation had its progress. every generation has its fair share of failure, too. I can't help to laugh on how funny reality is. Can you believe it? The ups and downs, that have happened in my lifetime alone, boggles of the edge of impossible. Not miracles mind you because that case was overruled when man invented the microscope. The worlds is drown in rampant man made magics, but has no place with the garden variety voodoo hoodoos. Welcome to being higher primates, we fooled ourselves out of hanging out and fucking in the forest. Bad ape, devolve 2 spaces. You are now places in importance between toaster ovens and fruit roll-ups. As one of the greatest librarians to ever been born usually states, and I quote, Oook." Almost the end.
I know. Really? A few more minutes and flickr will be finished uploading shots. hummm? 92%. I want swings, a smoke, and a conversation, STAT! I begin to hold me breathe. A pouting perfectionist. A jolly green, something or other. Marketing materials, were reviewed and replied to by a very interesting go getter. Interoffice communications are underway, team building seminars are providing not only to be fun, but educational.
...and that is how I arived, at the photo above.
Ok 12:30.I'm callin' it. I think I have to take grammar and punction to the hospital.
ENJOY>>Gritphilm 3.0>>END |
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gritphilm's journal
tired
