jabs at casual homoeroticism, for the sake of journalism.
Today in the forum section of The Barometer there was a drawing of two young men playing frisbee, with one saying "I just had an idea for improving frisbee! Let's take our shirts off!"
The cartoon was drawn by me, as I am now officially a cartoonist for the newspaper. I just went in for a little informal interview yesterday (I submitted a handful of cartoons a week ago), so I was happy to see them using me so soon. I'm $10 richer for every 'work' published, and if the other cartoonists submit crap, I may get published more than once a week. Kaloo kalay!
Now I must go study in vain for a History midterm tomorrow.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
"There's a robot there."
That's something I said about a year ago in reference to a barbeque on my neighbor's doorstep. I have the quote on video. It always sounded so awkward.
Everybody go to my music site! Cody has put the new pages up and they match my vision perfectly! He gets a gold star. I still need to upload a new song on the Caws Pobi page, but today my internet did not work AT ALL. Something must be done. Yes indeedee. Related story, Caws is playing with the blues. He is not a blues musician, which makes it all the more fun. A happy blipping blues album would make the babies smile!!
That's something I said about a year ago in reference to a barbeque on my neighbor's doorstep. I have the quote on video. It always sounded so awkward.
Everybody go to my music site! Cody has put the new pages up and they match my vision perfectly! He gets a gold star. I still need to upload a new song on the Caws Pobi page, but today my internet did not work AT ALL. Something must be done. Yes indeedee. Related story, Caws is playing with the blues. He is not a blues musician, which makes it all the more fun. A happy blipping blues album would make the babies smile!!
Monday, April 26, 2004
the passion of the clay.
I had a dream that everyone was pressuring me to see The Passion of the Christ. I didn't want to see it because watching extreme violence in a movie theater makes me feel faint, but eventually I ended up in a theater watching the thing. I was surprised to find out that the movie was entirely clay animation, with most of the movie consisting of a clay Jesus, already crucified, being paraded through town on a float while he sprayed clay blood onto the crowd. After seeing the movie I realized that the only reason people were upset over the violence was because it involved Jesus.
I don't know what provoked this dream, as I have not seen The Passion nor have I talked or heard about it lately. My weekend was not about bloody clay Jesuses at all; I went home and practiced/recorded with the (remaining) band, and yesterday we had a barbeque and went to river park. The weather seems to be getting nice, which leads to hot, which will not be nice after a few weeks.
The ice-cream-bike-woman just rode by outside. I wrote before about how adding a megaphone to the bike only made her sound like a jerk, but you know what she's got now? A percussion track on the ice cream music. Now the ice cream tune sounds like it was produced by P.Diddy. I figure next she'll add some hydrolics and make the bike hop.
The Jesus in my dream wasn't doing the splits.
I had a dream that everyone was pressuring me to see The Passion of the Christ. I didn't want to see it because watching extreme violence in a movie theater makes me feel faint, but eventually I ended up in a theater watching the thing. I was surprised to find out that the movie was entirely clay animation, with most of the movie consisting of a clay Jesus, already crucified, being paraded through town on a float while he sprayed clay blood onto the crowd. After seeing the movie I realized that the only reason people were upset over the violence was because it involved Jesus.
I don't know what provoked this dream, as I have not seen The Passion nor have I talked or heard about it lately. My weekend was not about bloody clay Jesuses at all; I went home and practiced/recorded with the (remaining) band, and yesterday we had a barbeque and went to river park. The weather seems to be getting nice, which leads to hot, which will not be nice after a few weeks.
The ice-cream-bike-woman just rode by outside. I wrote before about how adding a megaphone to the bike only made her sound like a jerk, but you know what she's got now? A percussion track on the ice cream music. Now the ice cream tune sounds like it was produced by P.Diddy. I figure next she'll add some hydrolics and make the bike hop.
The Jesus in my dream wasn't doing the splits.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
picture book reading rainbow.
"Change for a dollar? Change? Change for the blind?"
I was just thinking of the confused Yoda quote yetserday, and it was making me laugh.
I recently looked at some cool books. First, there is the one I found late last night here at the Valley Library entitled America's Forgotten Folk Arts. It's basically all about the sometimes wierd, sometimes garish, sometimes creepy but always cool folky style of the early 20th century. Think old carousels and hommade toys and clowns with pointy hats and pointy chins and pointy noses.
The other book I found, in the OSU bookstore, was Fashion Illustration Now. I don't care what anyone says, the artists in this book are some of the best in the world today. And wouldn't you know, I can't remember the names of any of my favorites right now, except Kiraz, because he did the artwork for a Fantastic Plastic Machine album.
If you like cool pictures and art things, you should read these buks. *ba-dam bamp!*
Look out, Joes! A Carousel-Viper!
"Change for a dollar? Change? Change for the blind?"
I was just thinking of the confused Yoda quote yetserday, and it was making me laugh.
I recently looked at some cool books. First, there is the one I found late last night here at the Valley Library entitled America's Forgotten Folk Arts. It's basically all about the sometimes wierd, sometimes garish, sometimes creepy but always cool folky style of the early 20th century. Think old carousels and hommade toys and clowns with pointy hats and pointy chins and pointy noses.
The other book I found, in the OSU bookstore, was Fashion Illustration Now. I don't care what anyone says, the artists in this book are some of the best in the world today. And wouldn't you know, I can't remember the names of any of my favorites right now, except Kiraz, because he did the artwork for a Fantastic Plastic Machine album.
If you like cool pictures and art things, you should read these buks. *ba-dam bamp!*
Look out, Joes! A Carousel-Viper!
Monday, April 19, 2004
we'll have ourselves a knife fight.
First off, I finally saw Kill Bill Vol. 1, and I urge you all to see it if you haven't. It's good to know that movies like that can be made, and so well. Also, after viewing it we were lucky enough to catch Beyond the Valley of the Dolls on IFC, a film written by Russ Meyer and Roger Ebert. Ha. Ha ha. You have to see it to get the joke.
I hope you all enjoy the Sesame Street/Wu-Tang solution. In case you're wondering, Andy (Captain A) gave me a CD of Sesame Street songs to listen to and play with. I don't know which I will manipulate next, maybe one with Johnny Cash. I've been meaning to do more Caws Pobi stuff, but I've been busy with this damn school. FYI, I hate my Japanese class, and the fact that I keep missing it because of illness or forgetting to turn on my alarm (this morning) doesn't help. Actually, Caws has been working on an interpretation of a song by a local Corvallis musician. I will post it as soon as I have time.
First off, I finally saw Kill Bill Vol. 1, and I urge you all to see it if you haven't. It's good to know that movies like that can be made, and so well. Also, after viewing it we were lucky enough to catch Beyond the Valley of the Dolls on IFC, a film written by Russ Meyer and Roger Ebert. Ha. Ha ha. You have to see it to get the joke.
I hope you all enjoy the Sesame Street/Wu-Tang solution. In case you're wondering, Andy (Captain A) gave me a CD of Sesame Street songs to listen to and play with. I don't know which I will manipulate next, maybe one with Johnny Cash. I've been meaning to do more Caws Pobi stuff, but I've been busy with this damn school. FYI, I hate my Japanese class, and the fact that I keep missing it because of illness or forgetting to turn on my alarm (this morning) doesn't help. Actually, Caws has been working on an interpretation of a song by a local Corvallis musician. I will post it as soon as I have time.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Sesame Street was all about the ghetto.
Sesame Street vs. The Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Pinky Rings
available for download
This Spring's hottest single.
Sesame Street vs. The Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Pinky Rings
available for download
This Spring's hottest single.
Monday, April 12, 2004
the poem.
Here at Oregon State there is a "student art and literary magazine" called Prism which comes out every term. Needless to say, it isn't very impressive. It is about 80% poetry, because writing poems is cheap and for some reason there is apparently no standard for bad poetry. The rest of the thing is usually photography, with subjects ranging from nature to children to old people to...nature again. Most of the photos are black and white because a color photograph must not count as "art".
As I was wading through the pretentious, awkwardly sexual poetry in last term's Winter issue, I noticed that a couple poets kept popping up again and again. This led me to think "I guess they don't get many submissions." This further led me to think "maybe I should submit something. If they put in five works by this girl, they can put in one work by me."
Seeing as how the Prism peeps loved poetry so much, I decided to play their game and write a poem. My friend pointed out that pretty much every poem in the magazine was about sex, and she was quite right. Page after page of waking up next to someone and admiring their eyes and then feeling their heat from the inside out and oh my god I don't want to know any more. So my poem had to be fresh. None of this sexual symbolism or personal catharsis; my poem had to be whimsical and colorful, a parade of words. The only way to intrigue people these days is to first confuse them, so goes my theory on bad art (which I will discuss on a later date). Somewhat inspired by the speech of disorganized schizophrenics, which I was learning about in abnormal psychology, I wrote my poem and submitted it to Prism to be used in their Fall issue. A few days later they emailed me a rejection. Here is the poem:
Generous, pt. II: the Streams of Formalism
Georgie old boy, hand me the summit
Of Artemis.
Cheeky and flat, radiates feeling that
Solely resides in a crumb.
High above anything bubbly
Here comes the hot rod to sing
"We'll be making our way past the bronze doors,
We'll be making our way without guilt."
Fools
I'll still be drinking my lemonade roller blade scotch.
When the time comes, and the lights go down
Ear-shear party with Bosch!
Later at the bridge she'll drink a Coke
And recite twenty lines of poetry
While he wishes she was stupider.
All of his friends wear space helmets
And we fish down at the streams
And we wade in formal waters
And we sell our vulgarities.
Diamond gardens enjoy fledgling pink trumpets,
A peanut knife hidden in a box of salt.
Let the kids abuse themselves
Let the kids amuse themselves
Let the kids cast off the wet sugar ropes
That you got from your forefathers' attic.
Because when we get crazy we like to be pretty
When we get pretty we wind up in gutters...
...Until we wake up in Tokyo land,
and we wait for the fuzzy plastic beast to
take us back to Laforet in his warm arms.
I can't say I am disappointed. Hell, looking back I can't believe that I actually thought they would accept it. But it is a bit of a shame.
(by the way: Laforet)
Here at Oregon State there is a "student art and literary magazine" called Prism which comes out every term. Needless to say, it isn't very impressive. It is about 80% poetry, because writing poems is cheap and for some reason there is apparently no standard for bad poetry. The rest of the thing is usually photography, with subjects ranging from nature to children to old people to...nature again. Most of the photos are black and white because a color photograph must not count as "art".
As I was wading through the pretentious, awkwardly sexual poetry in last term's Winter issue, I noticed that a couple poets kept popping up again and again. This led me to think "I guess they don't get many submissions." This further led me to think "maybe I should submit something. If they put in five works by this girl, they can put in one work by me."
Seeing as how the Prism peeps loved poetry so much, I decided to play their game and write a poem. My friend pointed out that pretty much every poem in the magazine was about sex, and she was quite right. Page after page of waking up next to someone and admiring their eyes and then feeling their heat from the inside out and oh my god I don't want to know any more. So my poem had to be fresh. None of this sexual symbolism or personal catharsis; my poem had to be whimsical and colorful, a parade of words. The only way to intrigue people these days is to first confuse them, so goes my theory on bad art (which I will discuss on a later date). Somewhat inspired by the speech of disorganized schizophrenics, which I was learning about in abnormal psychology, I wrote my poem and submitted it to Prism to be used in their Fall issue. A few days later they emailed me a rejection. Here is the poem:
Generous, pt. II: the Streams of Formalism
Georgie old boy, hand me the summit
Of Artemis.
Cheeky and flat, radiates feeling that
Solely resides in a crumb.
High above anything bubbly
Here comes the hot rod to sing
"We'll be making our way past the bronze doors,
We'll be making our way without guilt."
Fools
I'll still be drinking my lemonade roller blade scotch.
When the time comes, and the lights go down
Ear-shear party with Bosch!
Later at the bridge she'll drink a Coke
And recite twenty lines of poetry
While he wishes she was stupider.
All of his friends wear space helmets
And we fish down at the streams
And we wade in formal waters
And we sell our vulgarities.
Diamond gardens enjoy fledgling pink trumpets,
A peanut knife hidden in a box of salt.
Let the kids abuse themselves
Let the kids amuse themselves
Let the kids cast off the wet sugar ropes
That you got from your forefathers' attic.
Because when we get crazy we like to be pretty
When we get pretty we wind up in gutters...
...Until we wake up in Tokyo land,
and we wait for the fuzzy plastic beast to
take us back to Laforet in his warm arms.
I can't say I am disappointed. Hell, looking back I can't believe that I actually thought they would accept it. But it is a bit of a shame.
(by the way: Laforet)
Friday, April 09, 2004
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Friday, April 02, 2004
best blog post ever.
Good morning kids. Today I went to the good ol' Google image search and typed in "best picture ever". What came up was a whole slew of 'best ever' pictures, and here I present to you the best of the best:
best picture ever
(runner-up) best picture ever
best nipples ever (some Russian poster)
best mailbox ever
best sign ever
best graffiti ever
Good morning kids. Today I went to the good ol' Google image search and typed in "best picture ever". What came up was a whole slew of 'best ever' pictures, and here I present to you the best of the best:
best picture ever
(runner-up) best picture ever
best nipples ever (some Russian poster)
best mailbox ever
best sign ever
best graffiti ever
Thursday, April 01, 2004
he's gonna smash that head!
Today I found this great little Chris Ware animation on the web. Chris Ware is a damn good comic book artist. I'd like him to design album covers for me someday.
Today I found this great little Chris Ware animation on the web. Chris Ware is a damn good comic book artist. I'd like him to design album covers for me someday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)