midterms: crab factory ship.

I'm studying for an art midterm tomorrow, but I thought I'd take a break to continue a little tradition we have here at The Flying Wheel. That's right; fun with web translation. Once again, we have Emi Necozawa's web diary to thank for these mini adventures in the surreal:



"...there is a virus characteristic stomachache which is called ' the gastro ' in France, it seems. Exceeding obtaining."

"Occurring too quickly, you nap. Opening the semi- eye, you slept to seem, circumstances and dream of the room blending, it means mysterious thing. The bathrobe which depends on the closet appearing in dream that way, the black who wears the bathrobe being backward."

"Perhaps, whether me there is no this, that. When pain experienced until now, it is different to do."

"But the weekend which the liquor or the meal are not produced.... Lonesome nee. The night, 1 person the carrot is eaten placidly."

"This the repetition of the crab factory ship of yesterday it is?! The children who fight with the actuality which is harsher than such a hell it is the shelf! ...If with you were encouraged and the air was attached, it exceeded the mountain of pain. With true story, being story of the child who is used at the carpet factory."

"In society there is a living hell on the hell truly with a lot of."

Amen to that.

together again.

Good news, everyone! Last night Octavio discovered my watch in the front closet underneath some random garments. So I have regained my sense of time! Halle..uh..loo.. forget it.

Yeah, that's the face my watch made.

timeless.

So I lost my watch, and it has had a significant impact on my life. My watch was a part of me, virtually a digital time-keeping implant on my wrist that I counted on to always be there. Putting it on was the first thing I did in the morning, taking it off the last thing I did at night. I have developed a reflex of looking at my arm whenever I need to know the time or date or day of the week, and let me tell you it is ridiculous and frustrating to continue doing it only to find myself looking at my bare arm. I don't have the same concept of time anymore. I have been late for several classes. I don't even know offhand when the first of the month will roll around so I can pay my rent (I must search for a calendar, or ask another watch-blessed person for the date). I've had my little Timex Expedition since high school, and it has treated me well. Its face stayed bright through thick and thin. It welcomed my little customizations such as black marker and staples. It will be missed.

So...I guess I need to go buy a cheap watch. Any ideas?


I've grown occustomed to your face...

"That's not ballerish."

I forgot to put this one up before:


This is my cousin Alex. He's a...um...baller.

a toast to El Diablo.

The other day my associate Jose and I found an old website he was working on for his design class a year or two ago. You should check it out. Jose, who hails from El Salvador, is a great designer and he used to paint incredible pictures before losing the time and passion for it. He is an artist without pretention, someone who defines himself by his own name rather than his status or position. We need more artists like that. Women seem to get annoyed by his honesty and awareness of their deceptive tendencies, but I believe his resilience and refusal to mask his personal truths are what drive his creativity and ulramodern/minimalist approach.

Me & Eno



Just two peas in a pod.
...A very strange pod...

picture pages.

Did I mention my new digital camera? Well, here are some pictures I took with it.


Chinatown, SF


Japanese bags


the preacher


the thinker


my DIY studio


abraham lincoln

music and film.

"In love there is always one who suffers and one who is bored." -Balzac

Lately I have been watching music movies. The first was the Man of Letters DVD, a documentary about Momus made in the mid-90s. It isn't so much a documentary as it was an opportunity for Momus to embellish his philosophies as a pop musician through conversations with his hip or artsy friends, or through his own narration. But I've always enjoyed his musings, and the dialogues didn't fail in making me think (and the quote above is printed on the back of the case under "things to think about while listening to Momus"). The film also features a handful of cutely low-budget and sometimes briliantly cheesy music videos, as well as a more recent short film chronicling Nick's move from New York to Tokyo.

The other music movie I watched was Let it Be, which I borrowed on VHS from Natsuki. The quality wasn't baby's-ass-smooth, but it was still enjoyable. It's interesting to watch the relationship between The Beatles at that point in their career together (the end, essentially): Paul appears to be the master and commander, John is his first mate with Yoko on an invisible leash, and George and Ringo just space out and go along with whatever is taking place, be it a lecture from Paul or a looong blues jam session...with a black dude on keyboard. The movie left me with the urge to go up on the roof and plug in my amp. But it's too cold out.

*Momus bonus: I found this site on which he picks apart some of his love-song lyrics. Interesting, even if you haven't heard the songs.

it's just a phase...



Peter Max, Milton Glazer, Bob Masse, the white album, Smile, The Man Who Sold the World, The Doors, early Zeppelin, studying the connection between art nouveau and 1960s psychedelic design, writing strange 'dream-of-consciousness' songs... I must be going through a psychedelic phase.

God to Southeast Asia: "Merry Christmas!"

I hope all my readers holied their holidays. My days were filled with holi. Big boxes full, even.

So how about those tsunamis? Really, there's nothing funny or merry about that whole mess. I would like to give props to Japan for giving half a billion dollars towards helping the victims, and also a shout-out to Coca Cola for their donation of 10 million. I can't say that I've donated anything...but I can buy a coke downstairs for a dollar. And I think I will.

But apparently somebody is excited about the disaster. I read in the paper today that OSU's Hinsdale Wave Research Laboratory is thrilled to be getting so much attention:
"As a horrified world tuned in to the tragic aftermath of the Southeast Asia tsunami, OSU found its own place in the international media spotlight."
How nice! It says news reporters, the Discovery Channel and even the Today Show have come to the laboratory to cover the incredible spectacle of a model city getting wet in a big wave pool. I remember when the research lab opened, and how excited OSU was then. I understand that the lab is extremely useful for simulations and experiments in studying the effects of tsunamis, but naturally I gave the story hell. Come see a robot swim around in a pool! This week we added some blocks in the middle to represent a city getting wet! Great date idea!

But boy, they showed me! Now everybody wants to know what really happens in the case of a tsunami hitting an indoor swimming pool. "Well, as you can see some waves start to go around, and then the waves hit these blocks that resemble builings and...there ya go. Shit happens." I used to be a bit of a wave researcher myself, in my bathtub, testing the effects of large waves on little plastic boats. And as an expert, I can tell you the worst part is when the big bar of soap falls into the ocean, and then water starts spilling out onto the floor.

Happy Birthday Jesus!


Not a chance in Heaven!

Happy Birthday Candace!


"Oh damn, this rocks!"

then the robots danced.

I've been at home with the flim fam this week, admiring the Christ tree and it's lighty lights. It gets a bit boring here in Lebanonia, what with nobody living around these parts anymore, and no where's really to go. But this house is big and nice and the downstairs is warm.

I realized this holiday season that I don't really have a shine for Christmas music anymore. I was sitting in one of the OSU dorm eating areas working on a project when some of the tunes-in-question came over the radio, and the realization cam to me that I've been hearing the same songs every December my entire life. Sure, these songs may have programmed a Pavlovian Christmas-mood reaction within me, but that doesn't mean I'm not sick of them. I am quite.

What's worse is all these "new" versions of the same old songs. These newer artists have discovered a tried and true way of making more money: Holiday Albums! They require no creative effort, and people are guaranteed to buy them! But I can't imagine who would. Really, who wants to hear Little Drummer Boy sung by Beyonce? Or Usher? Or Timberlake? Or Celine? Or Britney? Or Christina? Or Jahosephat? Or ...Bush? Or random guy on the street who needs a buck so he cut a Christmas record?
I don't. And neither do you.

Sinatra can pull it off. So can Deano and Ray, and maybe the London Symphony Orchestra. But you can only reinterpret these songs so many times before you have to let them go. I was recording my own Christmas-themed songs last weekend, and you know what I did? I wrote my own. I added some heaping bags of Caws-Pobi-craziness. I even started to cover a well known diddy about a baby in a manger, but a third of the way through the song the music stops and begins again with new sounds and words. The only worry I had with these songs is that maybe they are too eccentric, that perhaps Christmas music is a sacred cow that cannot be tipped. But then I figured that it must be tipped, that I create all my music on the basis that there is no such thing as 'too eccentric', and then the only worry I had was whether the songs are wierd enough. As of now my own regards to the songs I'm making are still unsettled. Working within a theme is fun, but it is a limit. Also, I feel that these aren't necessarily the kind of songs I would normally be producing, but the Christmas theme adds a drift towards novelty and sillyness that I didn't bother to correct. In the end I just say - what the hell. Now that Cody's back maybe we can get my dusty music site up and running again, and then you'll all be able to hear what the hell I'm talking about.

Yeah. What was this post about? I can't remember. But here's this:

"holiday" portrait.



And one with Max...


And one with Chad...and an aeroplane...

baroque Giger: the fractured fractal post...

Well, the pretty fractal pictures I had up for a few days have decided they don't want to be up anymore. "Direct linking not allowed" and all that. But I still have what I wrote below. So anyway...

...Fractals! More specifically, visualizations of math equations with infinitesimal solutions. It's intriguing to see math and art come together so beautifully, considering art is one of my greatest loves and math one of my deepest hates. What struck me about this fractal artwork is that the artist seems to be the equation itself. These twisting, pulsing, beautiful and bizarre images come not from the imagination of a human mind but from intricate, complex patterns of numbers and pixels. I can look at the pictures above and my brain automatically draws connections to sea shells, skeletons, 17th century art movements or biomechanical Swiss surrealism. But that is all the fault of my schemas, as I could probably never look at an image created by Utlrafractal (the software used to create the pictures above) and simply see numbers.

Here is a good site for more information on fractals and the applications of, and here is a site with some rad images.

Northern Gumption.



You all must check out my boy Tristan's site Marginalia. His doodles have always been super good cheese, transcending the notebook-paper margins into which they are born. They are so good that I am hereby commissioning Sir Tristan of Goshen to provide arts and designs for my album packaging if I ever get around to finishing that next album.

Now, back to studying.

finals continue...


(make up your own caption...)

"The LORD is God and has given us light. Join in procession with leafy branches up to the horns of the altar."




Still not convinced that Jesus is your savior? Watch this.

the fortress.

I'm drinking strong coffee and writing an essay about Weegee. I guess I didn't post much for this month of November, but I've been busy, you know.

Sometimes in the dark hours of one's life we cope in strange ways. The stress will keep stinging you all over like a bodysuit of bees until something snaps in your mind and you start doing something, building something. A fort! Random things are brought together and wrapped up in blankets, sheets and towels to create a space, one that didn't exist before. And you inhabit that space, which may be small and uncomfortable, but it feels secure. And you sleep in it, and then wake up and perfect it some more. Further fortify it against everything. The fort must be solid and strong! We shall pack some rations for the coming night, and make sure the entrance can be sealed from within. That way the in can stay in and the out can stay out.

But eventually I destroyed the fort. I woke up and made some coffee and looked at the cacoon that filled my living room like Richard Dreyfus's mock mountain, and I knew it couldn't exist anymore. I did not want to inhabit that space. So I dismantled it, returning my apartment to the way it was. Now I look back on the rise and fall of the fort, and I can't help but laugh.

You've gotta ask yourself...

Which David Bowie are you?

My test revealed that I am Berlin-era Bowie, collaborating with Brian Eno and drinking hard liquor with Iggy Pop. Personally I would say I'm more of a pre-Ziggy, post-Man Who Sold the World, Hunky Dory (with a haircut) Bowie.



But what do I know?

Hyper nonsense world tabasco shower.

I've got nothin to write about. I just thought I should post a new post.

Let's see... Oh, I saw Dawn of the Dead the other day. The new one, that is. I've seen the old one, which was better, but the new one is good zombie fun...if your idea of fun is black zombie babies and chainsaw'd people.

Hey, does anyone still eat Pop Tarts? I do. I like them. I should get some. Mmm. I could go for one right now. A big pop tart that I could sleep in, and then wake up and eat it, and then go back to sleep. I'm sure somewhere...

Here's to drinking burning embers.

"the screaming lifestyle of my nightmares."



You know what? Ralph Steadman is one of my favorite living artists. Now you know.

http://www.ralphsteadman.com/

day off from thinking.

So I'm finally giving you a real post. It's been a strange week, really. Or maybe not. Maybe it just seems strange from today's vantage point.

I've been pretty out of it all day today. I don't know why, but my theory is that my brain is giving me the day off. I've been thinking too much this past week- thinking about classes and homework and people and politics and faulty expectations and plenty of other things. And it's probably because of all this troubled thinking that I haven't had a sober night's sleep in 5 days. This morning I woke up at about 10:30 and was not greeted by the usual avalanche of thoughts. Instead everything was simplified.
Get up. Drink some water. Oh look, Joel is still sleeping. Oh that's right, dishes need to be done. Oh well. In the meantime, coffee.

My brain was only concerned with the immediate. I had to make a conscious effort to think about the deeper, more contemplative things. I wasn't even terribly stressed out about my history of photography midterm tomorrow, althought I probably should be. Today was just for being and doing. I do what must be done. Even now, I'm having trouble coming up with sentences.

Maybe you want to hear my thoughts on that election. Was I depressed? Was I shocked? Was I horribly crushed and disappointed? No, not really. So Bush is president again. Sure, I wasn't expecting it, but it's not so surprising. What, you didn't know that America was chock full of idiots? I did. So you can't really say that Mr. Bush is an inapporopriate figurehead of this 'proud nation'. And so what if he is president? He's not president of my immediate environment. He doesn't rule Brettamerica. And look at the bright side- we get to laugh at him for another 4 years.

I'm sure tomorrow my brain will be up and running again, and all the thoughts and troubles will be back to buzz around my head. But right now I have to print out some photographs. Y'all have a good one.

look everyone!

It's nothing but a big train wreck!

join us!

Some new links to associate eblos. The ring of fire is almost complete.

http://www.outhouserat.blogspot.com/

http://www.devilinasuit.blogspot.com/

22 special kids.

So I'm 22 now. I have 1 year of legal drinking experience. I'm an official bar veteran. What did I do this weekend, you ask? With the birthday and the halloween happening stuff and the week with its end? Well, I did some stuff. But you know, I don't feel like writing about it. I just don't. I'd have to hit these keys a bunch of times and type all these words and then I'd have to read it and make sure it makes sense and doesn't offend anyone (too much) and then I'd have to post it and all that... So I'm not going to. Just assume I did something crazy, or make up your own "Brett's 22nd Birthday" story. Cus I'm tired.


I'm a dork for Halloween!

"super sexy razor happy girls"



Well, my post-counter was apparently not working for a few weeks, so I didn't know that my 3ooth post was that one about going to Portland to see the Eagles of Death Metal. Oh well. When I get to 400, I'll be sure to do something special.

So anyway, about that attractive girl doing the ninja kick: When I was down in Ashland, I found a CD called The Fake Fake Sound of Mika Bomb, by the band Mika Bomb. I really wanted to listen to it, but there were no listening stations or anything. Had the CD not been $17.99 I would have bought it, because I'm a sucker for Japanese punk rock girls. Something about those two extremes - cute, modest ultraconformity and mean, loud nihilism - really tickles me. So naturally I wanted to hear this Mika Bomb. Hell, from what I've read they seem to top Lolita No. 18 in glamour and stage presence.

But alas! This internet fails me in providing free downloads of this band's music. Even the 'media' link on their website seems to be out of order. So I suppose I will have to live with their assumed sound that I have in my head, which is fine. ...Because I probably assume them to be better than they actually are.

I don't read NME.

"...If rock music is the British Museum, the NME is the gift shop at the entrance, where you can buy postcards and ingenious little plastic models of the antiquities on view inside." -Momus

On an unrelated note, I added some links to my little eblo. Y'know; scroll waaaay down to the bottom.

blog hoppin', oh isn't it wild.

Well I listened to Joel, and now I've gotten hooked on reading other people's blogs. Just hit that little "next blog" button up there, and you'll be whisked away to some random person's thoughts.

Here are some good one's I've found:

Mary Ann Sucks - I guess we all know who had the last laugh. And it wasn't Mary Ann.

Rev Monkey - I'll be damned if this kid doesn't think like me...

QT's diary - Here's Quentin Tarantino's blog. Can you believe it? The guy writes like he talks.

went poop.

Blog parody is fun.

October 4
Today Angel walked around in circles before licking her butt. Then she ate some food, and later puked the food all over me. I wasn't mad at her, though. Good dog she is. She is doning very well.

October 3
Angel seems a little depressed today. Rather than sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea and telling me about how optimistic she is about her doggy life, she spent the whole day walking around on all fours and sniffing things. Then at one point she licked her butt for 28 minutes, and I couldn't understand why. I worry about her, but she won't talk to me. Why??

October 2
Today my friend came by to tell me I should get out more, and while she was talking to me Angel pooped on the carpet. I sniffed the poop and it smelled like poop, which is good. I put the poop in the fridge so that I can look at it later, and maybe I will show the poop to Angel when she is older and remind her of these difficult times.

October 1
Today I sat down at the table with Angel and put a notepad in front of her so she could write down how she is feeling and any improvements she feels she has made. But instead of writing down anything, she hopped off the chair and urinated on herself. I spent 5 hours trying to figure out what she was trying to tell me, but I don't know. This dog, this beautiful dog, is somehow the most significant figure born into this world since Jesus of Nazereth. I must figure out why she does every single thing that she does, for only then will I be a mystical prophet fit to ride Angel into elysium.

Angel.

"I'm non-stop. I'm a rececar in the fuckin red."

Last night I went up to Portland with Chado and Joel-san where we met up with Aaron-kun and went to see the Eagles of Death Metal. For $5! Can you believe it? They were a good live band, seemingly aware that their time is short so they should have fun while they can. During the musical festivities Joel and I drank a bit, ordering a couple turkey&cokes which prompted the bartender to warn us "this'll burn your faces off." But I think I still have my face.

After the show we got some donuts. "I need a Portland cream" I said to a counter man. Then, back on the street, Aaron's roommate put his shirt in his pants and we all had a hearty chuckle. Later on at Aaron's we witnessed the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' video for "Y Control", which rocked our socks. Little kids playing with a dead dog. Yes, you must watch, kids.

Even later on Joel drank a bunch of beer courtesy of some guy he called 'Tom', and then we sat on the porch like a bunch of old-timers and many an R-rated story were told. Then a certain young man puked and peed on everything.

We returned to Corvallis around 6:30am, and I slept through Japanese. But all was well, for I went to the coffee shop and got free coffee and chocolate cake. I couldn't find any good pictures of the band, so here's this.

I think he's dead. Thanks for reading!

blogjole.

Green Giant and Little Sprout wanted me to inform you of this, Joel's eblo. Joel is that guy who comes out of your sink when you turn the knobs backwards.

oh, sleepy. so sleepy.

I just set a new personal record for falling asleep in class. Not for longevity, but for frequency. I must've had 20 10-second naps during history of photography. I hate that class. History of photography should be fun and interesting, not 'read 8 chapters and write 3 journal entries every damn week with an essay on top and a dash of idiotic group work.'

So Caws Pobi has begun recording again. Sometime last week I said "Dammit, Caws! We gotta make shit happen!" And he crawled out from under a pile of empty beer bottles and said "Yesh. Catywhompous catydids." I'm thinking now that I'm just going to record whatever I feel should be recorded and then compile it all, including old stuff and the scrapped blues-album stuff, into one album. And wouldn't you know, just when I decide this Chad shows up and borrows the Music Generator again. But that's phine. Recently I've been producing little experiments using just my guitar, my voice and lots of Acid effects. The other night a vocal experiment grew into an actual song, the result sounding something like T.Rex and Ween on a sinking sailboat.

And I have the inspiration of some new things going on, like my new roomate and my new classes and new people and new social circles. This term I have all my classes (except Japanese) in the Fairbanks art building. This place is not completely new to me, but going there every day for classes is new.

And here is a new story: This afternoon I wandered into the temporary installation room to find a large wooden sphere with speakers and gizmos all over it which were connected to a computer. When I walked in, a big old bell connected to the computer sounded my entrance. Hung on the walls of the room were sheets of white paper with words written over words written over words, and each mass of words was composed in a keen geometric shape. On one side of the room atop three pedestals were old velvet-interior suitcases, opened to show loafs and slices of bread. In a corner of the room there was a short balding man in a green polo shirt writing a new word-mass. He said to me "I'm just about to leave, otherwise I'd give you the long and short of what this is all about." To him I replied "I don't think I want to know. Right now this is all great because I don't understand any of it. It creates an enclosed atmosphere of confusion, which is awesome." The guy was Sebastian Mendes, and both he and his room were new.

I was accompanied in the machine-bread-bell room by Miki, who is in my aforementioned photography class. Miki is friends with Candace, and they are part of a new circle I have been associating with. New people are good, but as I learned earlier today, old people you haven't seen for a while are also good, especially when that person is a girl you used to have a crush on who is visiting America for a week and now speaks great English and is happy to see you. I knew her before, but her personality today was new.

But aside from the news, last night there was some craziness going on in and around my apartment involving Jose and a fight at Sanchos and some cops and some beer in the bush and Chad and Joel. That kind of stuff is not new, but it's still good.


Rad.

you can't fool me, Braff. your movie sucks.

Last night I saw Garden State at the local movie house. I haven't seen a lot of movies lately, and there are few out that I actually wanted to see. Garden State was one of them. I had heard it was good, enjoyable, thought provoking. So I went. And it sucked.

It's not a completely awful movie, but that may be why I disliked it so much. It tries to fool you. I tries to trick you into thinking you haven't seen a character like this before, a romance like this before, a directing style like this before, or a story like this before. But about a third of the way through the film, I snapped out of it. I blinked and looked around at all the other viewers in the audience, laughing at the jokes and reacting to the characters. I realized that I had seen it all before, and so has the pretentious director, writer and star, Zach Braff.

Okay, Zachary. I'm sure you're thrilled that people are comparing your movie to The Graduate. But You know what? Your movie isn't The Graduate, and you are not Dustin Hoffman, no matter how iciotically aloof you try to appear. That movie was great. Your movie sucks like a thirsty lamprey.

Your movie has a character so disconnected that it isn't believable after a while. I got the impression that this dude is trying his hardest to be a shy, innocent guy just to pick up chicks. But throw in something about his mom dying, and poof! you have to feel sorry for him.

Hey, anyone remember Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Yeah, that movie was teriffic. Remember how Jim Carrey is the shy, innocent guy who meets up with Kate Winslet, the hot young eccentric girl? Well, gee-willikers, those characters turn up in this movie, only they're played by Zachary Braff and Natalie Portman! And their romance does, too! And so does a bunch of ridiculous diologue between them in a movie relationship you can see coming from a billion miles away!

Hey, do you like The Shins? Neither do I! But Zachary sure does, because he wrote a whole scene into the movie that tries to balance on the fact that you like them, even if you think they suck! And another thing, I don't know if The Shits...er, Shins do every song on the soundtrack, but it sure sounds like they do, because every song sounds the same, and after a while they were failing miserably to appeal to my sweet wussy indie-rock side.

I don't have time to rant about this movie all night. I'll just add that there is an obligatory "drug sequence" and a clumsy "slow-motion badass walk scene" that belongs nowhere near this movie. On the bright side, there is a funny scene with a guy dressed like a night. ...Yeah.

Okay, I have to get back to my homework. So go do somethig that doesn't involve seeing that movie I've been talking about. Have a good one.

draw me a sheep, dammit!

I'd like to take this time to talk about my favorite book ever, The Little Prince (Le Petit Prince) by Antoine de Saint Exupery. Here is the official site for the book, complete with a cute little flash animation.

I first read the book a few years ago out of curiosity and a fondness for the cover drawing, and I read it again just a few weeks ago in Ashland. What at first glance appears to be a whimsical children's book is actually a whimsical philosophical look at the worlds we create for ourselves and how we perceive them. I'm sure that sounds very broad and very vague, but The Little Prince is a story told with such simplicity (and few pages) that you are able to identify with it immediately, and then the significance of its message comes to you gently through the innocence of the title character.

I realize that I haven't even mentioned what the book is about, but if you don't know then you will just have to read it. And I'm sure you can find it somewhere for cheap.


Yeah, I wore that to prom. *rim shot!*

countryside putty: yet more fun with web translation.

It's time again to drop in on Emi Necozawa's web diary and see what kind of surreal adventures she's been having:

"With little thing, HipHop boy of black in quarrel. The boy about of 10 years old where it is involved beating, it cries. Pitiful!"

"First, I who am attached to the store can luster the eye right away with the underground. Oh, this it is good! Wooden torso of TOCA."

"You eat the countryside putty the time, mule where I painted the mustard, what it has done is? Cannot be that. With you say, is not. Huh? There is no mustard in the putty? The mustard is at the time of the sausage."

"But, the bean jam ball 'you became tired already. You became tired.'"

"The inside of the body is painful.... And also the jaw is painful. The ballet of yesterday it is to place the body. The jaw is consequence of the sandwich of kayzer."


I ain't no square in my corkscrew hair...

recent journeys and doings.

I know, it's been a while. That's because Brett has been busy. After shingling the roof, I ventured to the magical land of Ashland to chill out in Andy's court. Then I returned to the kingdom of Lebanon to find that the castle needed painting, so I did that for a few days. Then I returned to the valley of Corvallis to kick it with Natsuki's fair sister Chiaki and the maiden Yuki. Then I killed a dragon or something.

Now school has begun again, and for some reason I feel really depressed about that. Hm. Anyway, I will try to start posting regularly again.




records I bought.

fixed and fixled!

Thanks to Tristan Gary Oldman King for telling me the secret of fixshing my special message. Props and cheers, T. GOK!

the bad and the good.

Hey, how about that stupid search bar at the top of my eblo? Not only does it not work, but it blocks the special message I always have in the top left corner. You can bet those Blogger dipshits are going to hear from me this time.

In other news, the roof is virtually done, Luke is moving in, and David's wedding was a blast from the past in the ass. And I watched some more movies.


video pick of the week: Ichi the Killer

what I've been doing.









The roof is near completion. Thank Christ.

"I hate half-assed flakes."

So lately I've been not doing much. Waiting to put a new roof on the house, playing Manhunt, and coming back to Corvallis only for a night only to find out that I'm screwed in the roommate department. If any of you people feel like moving in with me, please don't be shy.

But anyway, I did see a silly little Japanese horror film called Eko Eko Azarak. Here is a review by some guy who liked it way too much. My review would go something like this:
"So this woman's head explodes on the street, and some monks speak in tongues. Then we have a perverted school teacher, an evil school teacher, a kid with a Prince haircut, and an underdeveloped young witch character. Soon the movie become the best comedy of the summer, featuring such knee-slapping scenes as a girl getting killed (somehow) by a toilet, and a kid falling...er, flying down some stairs because his shoelaces are tied together. Haw haw! Throw in a lesbian sex scene and an evil axe, and you have the most accurate portrait of Japanese high school life ever put to film. Parents, grab the kids for some family fun. -BS"


Guess which one's face explodes!

are you a cool cowboy?

behold a man gluttonous, and a winebibber

Right now there is a handful of Japanese students wandering about the library's computer area. They are apparently being led on a tour by Shiho, who helped out in my Japanese class for a term. She is a delightfully pale little thing, with long black hair and eyes like Buddha.

...But I'm getting distracted. A few minutes ago I accidentally mistyped the address of The Flying Wheel and was taken to a "mega site of Bible studies". On the homepage I found links like "Jesus desk" and "Satan's voice", and a picture of Israel. I found the link about cults particularly interesting.

Here, see for yourself: http://www.wehatebrett.logspot.com

If you scroll down on the homepage you will find big pink words announcing "THE SOON COMING CLIMAX", followed by a thorough guide to the end of the world and why you should feel bad about it. And if you happen to make it to the bottom of the page, you will be invited to sign their "guestboo".

I just thought I'd share that with you. By the way, what is a winebibber?

"Pop-a-shot basketball at O'Brien's!"

I have some links for you today. First, here is an article about a group in South Africa that stares at criminals as a way of fighting crime.  They just stare, menacingly.  The silliest part is, it's apparently working.  "50 shops and local businesses have re-opened and criminal gangs have moved out of the area."  How is this working??  I figure it's only a matter of time before some genius gang leader realizes that the best way to neutralize the threat of some old geezer glaring at you is to punch him in the face.  Better yet, just give him the "are you lookin' at me?" routine.  Don't they have DeNiro movies in South Africa?  It's called intimidation, people!!

My second link is an essay I found outlining the genius of my favorite commercials ever. Strangely enough, they were Nike commercials, but they were faaan-tastic.


Beware!

the news and the olds.

  I'm back in the Cornvalley. This past weekend has seen much drinking and music playing and good time having and door breaking and La Conga eating and all around good time having. And I got paid $60 last night for something I did months ago. So I guess it's profitable to just hang out here during the summer. 
  I still don't have any adequate recording devices, so yesterday I took a mediocre song of mine on my konpyuter and managed to divide it into two rad songs. I wonder if Hoobastank has ever thought to do that? ...No, I'm pretty sure they never have. I'm pretty sure they suck, too.
  Wildcat was written in a kind of obsolete vernacular. Wildcat. Wild cat...  Scroll down for the Andy birthday creation myth.

Andy creation myth.

Today is Mick Jagger's birthday. But I am not celebrating that. I failed to write about my boy Andy's burthday on the day that the day was a day, so today I will shout out. Andy super day of birth! Thine gods split the heavens and send down an ice cream alcohol cake! 21,000 years ago, the planets aligned and a cosmic force caused the seas of Jupiter to boil! And a man of men doust(?) burst forth from a black hole, much like Jimmy Carter or Ronald McDonald! And he looked like THIS!


Or something liek that. Enjoy 21 things.

 

more stuff.
 
I guess I'll continue with the Japanese theme of yesterday's post (or is it everyday's?) and give you this link to Momus's livejournal. I always read his writings, and I always enjoy them, but these past few days he has been writing about his return to Japan, and his thoughts and feelings of the place are so parallel to mine that I must refer you to them (although he likes tako, and I dislike tako). Reading his posts make me want to go back there even more than usual. I miss it so!
 
In news of me, my summer term of school is over. I got an A- in drawing, which is very kool and the gang. Gender Differences went well I think, and I kicked ass in my presentation with Candace (who was nice enough to comment the other day). Cheers, Can-chan!
 
 

I wanna be a GS dandy.
 

 
Lately I've been reading about a phenomenon known as group sounds, or GS. What is GS, you ask? Well, in the 1960s the Beatles toured that magical land of Japan and left a great impression on the nation's youth. This new interest in western bands like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and The Small Faces led to many young Japanese men starting british-invasionesque rock groups. But since the Japanese have a very difficult time pronouncing "rock and roll", they simply called the bands "group sounds".  And thus, bands such as the Tempters, the Spiders, the Carnabeats, and the Human Beinz(above) were born.  
 
I find it interesting that these bands are almost completely forgotten today. Whereas young westerners are very much in tune with rock bands from yesteryear, most of my Japanese friends don't have any interest in what their parents listened to, even though the GS influence can be seen in modern Japanese bands like Kinmokusei and Teenage Lust (although the latter also give props to a certain Detroit garage band). But I suppose that's just the Japanese way; fake vintage is hipper and cheaper than real vintage. But here at the Flying Wheel, we remember the Carnabeats, and their rad name.
 

camera gargoyle.

I came across this picture on Adi's photo site. It was taken at last month's graduation ceremony. Why do I look so distressed?

my favorite bear.

So I had to give the 4-track back to Chad. You should all know: it's very difficult to record an album when you are borrowing equipment. Anyway, I did get a couple of the stranger songs recorded for my blues album, but it isn't complete yet. I don't know when it will be. Perhaps after I get my own track-recording device in which to plug my devices.

Spider Man 2 is a grand moving picture show. I've seen it twice. So should you.

Natsuki send me a link to the website of my favorite bear. Go and see.