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Hey remember that time you dropped acid, played Frogger and sang Teddy Bear Picnic over and over?

Man that was fun.

Just got paid back so I loaned another $75 to micro-financing via Kiva. Can’t afford to donate? Loan. Join my team:

I’m slow on the draw but Meron/Ben Folds back on C-roulette live with 2000 people backing him up. Click this. Feel good:

There is one of the universal, irrefutable truth that I have come to depend on in my life: monkey = funny.

Throw a monkey in anything and it’s funny – even funnier when it’s a serious event. Bring a chip to the next funeral you go to – you’ll see what I mean.

What I was unaware of was the meteoric rise of eating. It’s on track to become the new monkey.

Here’s a classic example:

How about some crying while eating videos?

And of course who could forget the drooling Grandmother of all food based gags:

Vodpod videos no longer available.

I never made it to New York city in time to see the twin towers.

I don’t regret that.

I could only see one purpose in visiting the building: to tick it off a list of buildings that I was supposed to visit (according to the emphatic 48 point bold opinion of a glossy tourist brochure).

Never been big on lists. Especially when they’re glossy.

While I do have a soft spot for architecture (I have a major cliché crush on the Chrysler building for example), the Trade Center, in my mind, didn’t have much character – just epic size – which doesn’t really mean much on its own. You really need some dude to tight rope walk stuff before it gets real.

(P.S. If you haven’t seen the doc about this guy called”Man on Wire”, it’s worth checking out – trailer here)

Anyway, when I arrived in NYC for the first time the glossy brochures were freshly edited –  WTC was off the list, GROUND ZERO was at the top.

I went.

It wasn’t because of the brochures.  I just had this weird sense of duty about it.  The same duty I feel about visiting the grave of the unknown soldier.  People die.  Someone should bear witness to their passing.  They should be honored for a moment.  Even by strangers.

Especially by strangers.

I don’t know why I’m wired to think that way.  Sometimes I think grief is the thing that makes humans most human.  Sometimes I think if we felt more of a connection to people then we’d be less inclined to destroy.

Sometimes I think I just need to get out more.

Anyway, I arrived after ground zero was cleaned up but before there was any kind of monument (I’m guessing because bureaucracy was tasked with the burden of helping the public express grief which is hard for bureaucracy – it isn’t really in touch with its emotions).

Stepping between clusters of browning flowers and portraits of screaming eagles going down in flames, I discovered that ground zero is one of the most mystifying places on the earth.

Here are some reviews via TripAdvisor (where ground zero is ranked #249 out of #1385 attractions in NYC): “Nothing to see.”, “It’s more to say you went…”, “Not a tourist attraction.”

That’s the thing about Ground Zero.

It’s nothing.

Yes, the site has deep political, personal, global and religious implications. I don’t want to diminish the fact that thousands died. All I’m saying is that, purely aesthetically speaking – it’s a an absence.

Each year, hundreds of thousands of tourists travel hundreds of thousands of miles to flock and shove –  just to visit an absence.

I like that. Not just the irony.  The simplicity.  There’s something beautiful in nothing.  Something complete.

We all come from nothing.  We’ll all return to nothing.

Some more nothing from Matt Logue’s photo project “Empty L.A.” – linky HERE

Forgetting is creation without the mens rea.

“Graham Greene once said, and I’m paraphrasing because I can’t remember the quote, that all good novelists have bad memories. He says what you remember comes out as journalism. What you forget goes into the compost of the imaginations. And that compost heap is the same as the dream space or the unconscious.”

– Robert Olen Butler

Stolen from here

Forgetting about forgetting.

Guess that means you can look for my forthcoming novel about birthdays and famous people (in which each character will be named twice).

Yeah, I forget things. Things that make people think I don’t care about them. The simplest of things. I forget names. Dates. Job titles. Projects people have worked on.

They say it’s no big deal but that’s what they have to say because the other option is, “You’re an asshole.”  And most people don’t have the stomach for that.

In truth,  my memory has been lethal to social relations of all kinds.

So why am I this way even though I hate it?

Take your pick:

1) Self-absorbed narcissist prick.

2) I remember that, when you were very young, your grandmother got sick.

And every night you would kneel beside your bed, elbow deep in down.

And you would pray – wander up to the gates of some imaginary heaven in footie pajamas to beg for one more day.

And you would kiss your teddy bear (because we all need back up) and you would sleep.

And your plan worked – you kept your grandmother alive.

Until one night you forgot to pray, forgot the kiss.

And that was the night your grandmother died.

I remember that…  But sometimes I can’t remember if you spell your name with an “I” or an “E”.

Charlotte Gainsbourg and Beck have teamed up to drop a track. It’s good times. The non-sequitor, can’t stop watching video follows for your enjoyment.

And it’s got me thinking…

Watching it I started off in the land of oh-great-it’s-another-non-sequitor-odd-images-mash-up-nonsense-because-those-kooky-kids-today-only-have-an…

What was I saying? Oh yeah.

– kids-today-only-have-an-a.d.d-ravaged-attention-span-that-lasts-12-seconds.

But somewhere around the halfway mark (around the Spongebob take down scene) I started thinking maybe my ass is just getting old.

I mean given the unending bombardment of culture that we currently all strive to keep pace with, times they are a changing. That means how we view narrative and the aesthetics of story are changing too.

Maybe in 40 years this will be the only way to tell a story. Brief, unstrung moments caught, considered and dropped in an instant because any longer than that would be too boring.

Could be crazy talk – but then again scenes composed of rapid fire cultural references, indy needle drops, smash cuts and whip pans make no sense to my old man… Not his kind of story is all.

Ok, ok. Tangent over.

Future of narrative or not, this is good times:

Dear Japan,

We are also WTF?



I heart synchronicity and zeitgeist. A lot.

Example: Two weeks ago I had zero interest in  guys who do Michael Jackson dance routines. Less than zero interest. In fact, watching something like that had a good chance of annoying me.

But add a little synchronicity into the mix and I’m all over it.

Remember that busguy post? Check this out.

Completely unrelated to busguy, someone posts a killer video called “Josh’s Commute to Work” which just happens to be about a  guy who dances his ass off to a Michael Jackson jam on his way to work in Chicago.

It’s nothing short of amazing (especially when you find out this video was shot and edited in under 24hrs.)

Vodpod videos no longer available.

(via Zadi)

Just a reminder

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