Huge snowflakes were falling today. The view from my kitchen window looked like a postcard. I imagine that if a crew had been shooting a scene for a Christmas movie outside of my house, they would have erected a huge umbrella to block the natural precipitation; then they would have employed a machine to generate artificial snow for the cameras, because the actual stuff looked way too perfect. A director once told me that real precipitation appears fake when filmed, so professionals always opt
A half-baked thought
Is it wrong to speak of a living creature as if it’s a multinational corporation? How about if we compare a human to a country?
I think that an individual’s memory is like the artistic culture of a being’s inwardness. And since the culture of a country is like that place’s memory, countries are almost selves – big selves, like giants.
So, when a government must endure the complaints of its mistreated populace, it’s analogous to a flesh body feeling
I was wondering what might happen if one of our English words suddenly were to break down – for instance, if we discovered that the word ‘dog’ had stopped working.
Let’s say that there is a dog who ranges freely about the alleyways of my hometown – he goes to and fro among them – and his name is Nabi (pronounced like ‘shabby’ with an ‘n’).
Now let’s say that my business partner Pete and I are sipping cocktails beneath our local volcano, admiring the obsidian; and, from the vil
In this entry, I will share an anecdote taken directly from the farce of my daily life. Then I will quote a generous amount of words from a text that gave me pleasure. And I will end by relaying a funny moment from a movie. But first, here’s a red arrow in daytime:
The weather where I live is never as warm as I want it to be. So, if I look outside and see that the thermometer is displaying a temp in the single digits, I always add one hundred degrees to the ac
Quickly I’ll list a few movies that I recently watched and loved. That’s all I’ll do here today.
The first two (or four)
I loved Three Short Films About Peace (The Dream; The Shipyard; The Moment), by Errol Morris. I watched them online here.
I also watched and loved a film from 2012, directed by Ben Affleck, called Argo.
. . . plus one more:
I’m proud that my pen name Bryan shares the family name of Nicholas Ray, who directed the last movie that I saw (a
First I’ll share an image; then I’ll explain how the image was made. Maybe I’ll also gossip about my weekend.
The photo above is a work of postmodern art that I created by positioning a paper from a fortune cookie atop a picture from a magazine advertisement. Note the red laser and the television.
I mentioned a fortune cookie in the foregoing text. This item was included in a takeout meal that was purchased from a local eatery. The meal was labeled with a bright
Directly below is a junk image whose origin escapes my memory, and the text that follows is my side of an online bull session.
From a comment thread:
I’m attracted to the whole discussion and all the speculation about religion, I love looking into the stuff that seems wrong to me just as much as the stuff that seems right – I’m interested in absorbing as many perspectives as possible: I think about right and wrong similarly to the way that Whitman talks about heaven and hell: <
I awoke with the idea of making my own version of René Magritte’s painting Le musee d'une nuit (The Museum of a Night). Below is the result, which conforms to the latest artistic fad of half-arranging magazine fragments over a background. It is currently on sale for 50% off of its retail price of fourteen million euros:
LONGEVITY, etc. . . .
I like knowing that my roommate is at the dentist getting her teeth cleaned while I am at home typing this blog & sipping strai
In this entry, I will give a quote about Marcel Duchamp and another from Tristan Tzara; then, after digressing a number of times, I will copy a second passage regarding Duchamp, and I’ll end off with the latest breaking news about my mother’s printer.
The above picture was created by taking scraps from magazines and decidedly refusing to arrange them in any fashion; then I photographed the result and saved its file on my computer under the title “hasty mess”. N
In this entry, I will write down aimless thoughts. I will interrupt the text exactly two times with images of paper scraps.
Guardians can be good, and guardians can be bad. Let’s say that your main interest is in woodworking, and your guardian is a master woodworker who is willing to teach you the trade. In this case, you might consider your guardian ‘good’. On the other hand, if your guardian strikes you with a sword because you failed to salute a portrait of Saint Irenaeus, you might
Here is what I can expect from today's blog posting: I'll give one limp thought, I'll talk about two movies, I'll quote Vico, and I'll inventory the overage of my Twittering Machine.
Below is a piece of black construction paper that has many strips of transparent tape stuck to it.
I like to express wild ideas with words; but I prefer calm and orderliness in the physical world. I would like the universe better if all fighting were strict
In past blog entries, I have written down thoughts about God. In the present blog entry, I will write more thoughts about God. I will quote from William Blake and Amos the prophet. And I will also mention Walt Whitman.
But first I must share the following picture. It is the back side of a greeting card that has notes scribbled on it, and some scraps of paper from a magazine are taped to it too. I hope that someone hangs it in an art gallery with a price tag of $20 million or more.
I suspect that there is no art other than so-called anti-art, for what we label art is just the thick layer of dust that has formed on anti-art over the ages. Blow off the dust of art and it is all anti-art. I mean that if art is something definable, something that can be arrived at by following rules, then anything from a master that stands the test of time will be against it. And now I let down my guard and reveal what even those who were barely listening have guessed, which is that I have
I have nothing to say here, but I’m writing anyway, because I fear that if we Humans of the Internet remain silent when there’s nothing worthwhile to impart, then our cascade of trifles might give way to thoughtful tranquility, which, in turn, might lead to healthy social revolutions. So here is an image of a map:
Let me now remind myself what I’ve been working on lately, so that I can know what task has stolen all my free time and caused me to neglect this online paradise. I’ve been
This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had for a weblog post: Today I will give my opinion about a biblical story. Before talking about Genesis chapter 3, however, I want to summarize a few events from chapter 2 – I’ll do this in the next paragraph. But first, here’s a pillar of fire that fell on its side:
After planting a garden called paradise, the god Yahweh sculpts a statue out of mud: a self-portrait. He breathes into this sculpture, causing it to come alive, and then he augments
I'll write too many words after I share this photograph of shiny paper:
It is cold where I live, but not as cold as Alaska or Canada. This fact almost makes the weather here seem worse to me, because I can’t complain about it being the coldest place in the world.
I wish I could say that when I tried to walk outside today, I instantly died because my eyeballs turned to ice. But all I can claim is that it felt really cold, so, after only ten minutes, I came back in and watched a
I say that my heart conflicts with my appetite. Why? Because I love cellulose but I also love elephants. Why? Because I compose diaries on demand. This way, only the pre-pampered sentiments get printed, and all brash stock is opted out of. (I’ll overnight it to you because I do not like the thought of majestic feelings axing away in agony.) For the sake of unwanted worlds, however, I’m sure that there is some flaw in my thinking. Yes, I’ll do anything. Why? I’m a businessperson. Please don’t
First, an obligatory image:
I discovered two empty boxes of tissues in my apartment. Seeing that these boxes were made out of cardboard, I used my hands to tear a fragment from each box. Then I taped the pieces together and used a camera to photograph the front & back side of my invention, as if it were an ancient artifact.
Next, a quote revised away from Wikipedia:
Certain people remain unconcerned about their own disordered thinking. Theologians have suggested that
This entry is split in two parts: the 1st contains a pair of blurry self-shots that were taken with a webcam, and the 2nd is just a rerun.
I found a package of movies in my mailbox. My first thought was to go watch them, so I raced up the stairs of my apartment. After clearing the last step, I noticed an object on the floor – it was my laptop. My laptop was on the floor because I had left it there when I last finished abusing it. So I used its webcam to snap a couple
Appearing before the beginning, as always, is a picture of the paper separator from a box of chocolates.
I imagine myself asking a group of people to give individual answers to a question about writing. This group would contain all types of people: not just professional writers but anyone who even desires to write.
Here is the question: How would you define success in writing?
One person might say: “I consider my writing successful when my book becomes a bestseller.” A
First, let me say this: I did not even realize that I had been absent. The truth is that I was offline convalescing from the high holy days. During this time of year, tradition demands that I neglect my professional blogging duties and instead post the stupidest things on less noble networks. Now I'll sweep everything up.
I drew the above picture specially for this blog entry.
A word more about my condition, regarding the shocking news that I relayed in this post's initial parag
I completed my terrible textwork early tonight, so I was able to jump onto The Social Network and brainstorm a million non-thoughts in less than a second. Here they are, collected in one neat place for your skimming enjoyment...
But first, an obligatory image
Before revealing the textual part of this post, however, I am obliged by law to share the reverse side of the picture that accompanied yestereven's entry:
I do not believe that it is morally
Although today’s electronic technology is a revolution that prohibits all other revolutions, I’m thankful for bitter people, because, if people were not bitter, I myself would be bitter. What I mean is this. Whenever I see people acting crossly, I think to myself “If they’re proceeding from THAT angle, how can I myself fit into this play?—I guess I’ll be cheerful.” This is why I made my avatar an airbag.
I like Twitter because it appeals to the bird brain.
Simon says: Everybody
I tend to get absorbed in reading books and then forget to participate in the most important book of all: Facebook. Today, when on the verge of recommitting such folly, I stopped short and said to myself: You must not continue this bad habit – instead of neglecting your online duties entirely, at least share a quotation from what you read. So here are some words from three names.
This first quote is from an essay by Jorge Luis Borges (translated by Andrew Hurley) called “A V
Blah blah blah... This blog post will resume after the following obligatory image.
Blog post, continued...
Today I took a wintry bike ride that I won’t tell you about, dear diary, because I already wrote about a bike ride yestermorning. Instead, I’ll just tell you stuff that you don’t want to hear.
As we were speeding down the street in a motor coach, heading to our local library, I looked out of the window. This was when I saw, atop the metal bars