careful with drugs man. your mind is brilliant.
I gave this advice to someone today....
if only I could take it myself.
people like me...we think so much, we need to take stuff to allow us to feel.
everything's pretty fucking beautiful. especially here to today in Portland. glad i'm here.
saw king black acid in corvallis last night. they played a depeche mode cover...
Read More
go vote for ROCKETMAN
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
pyronautica:
HAHAHA! That was so much fun!!
link:
The dream of the captured image, the moment locked in a stasis of forever, decaying day by day as the chemicals break down and the treated paper oxidizes and wrinkles and crumbles to powder. But for that brief moment of forever, the image persists to remind and stand for something. It is that moment, it is that flicker caught and bound by a process, emulsified. It is how light captures a scene, it is how the eye renders light hitting the paper, glossy and sticky. It is an illusion of the past. It is a perspective that the memory can relate to, one it can correspond to, but all that doesnt make it any less alien. A photograph is another set of eyes, looking through a machine, an instrument of one-eyed perception, capturing light in a prison of devalued dimensions. Just another way of seeing the world, yet one that is considered absolute because of process and reliability. If cameras had hazy recollections and image value associations like people do, if their emotions shaded how they saw the world, the machines might possess value as artists themselves.
listened to nelly, went to a blazer game, and a strip club while driving a dodge truck.....
JUST TO SEE WHAT IT WAS LIKE.
um...yeah. the seats were good and free. and a stripper danced to dahlia, so i'm happy.
no more nelly.
keep expressing.
let nothing stop you.
josh:
Always. 
Are you going to hit up another sgpdx party?
Are you going to hit up another sgpdx party?
jlowe:
hit up?
i'll throw one.
hit up?
i'll throw one.
why are we inside right now on our computers trying to communicate with people we can't see?
trying to express. trying to create. we create moments. we create memories. we create things...they're not permanent. we long to create the permanent- the record, the movie, the music...that calls out and says THIS IS HOW GREAT I COULD BE.
now replace BE with "AM"
cheers homies
echo:
I dunno baby but maybe if you called me back we'd hang out in person. <pay no heed to this if you think it's a guilt trip, it's not>
punkoff:
............Or that calls out and says this is how shitty i am and i dont care what you think. But who would ever think of such?
[Edited on Feb 16, 2003]
[Edited on Feb 16, 2003]
B I G L O V E
nenia:
fiona apple? i've been told i look like a lot of people..but never her, well, till now..thank you 
Right now the clock tells me when to get up.
But soon I will tell the clock when to get up.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
punkoff:
the clock only tells you the time
being the responsible adult you are well...is your choice.
being the responsible adult you are well...is your choice.
scott:
how would one go about that?
i left my past behind...
see you in the future
THE KBA VIDEO HAS BEEN ACCEPTED INTO
SXSW!
I'm FUCKING going!
VISA CARD BABY.
STAY TUNED FOR PARTY DETAILS.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
christopher:
See! My blessing/curse of BJ's and cold, hard cash is coming to fruition.
Congrats.
-SJ
Congrats.
-SJ
maeda:
welll i don't know what kba is but sxsw is coolness!
yAy for you!!!
yAy for you!!!
FIND YOUR MUSE
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
christopher:
Well, bless you then. I love K.B.A. with every fiber of my being.
When I Met My Muse by William Stafford
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.
When I Met My Muse by William Stafford
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.
maeda:
you know...you really should call a maeda someday.
{{{hugs}}}