---
you try and be the exact thing that you are. never more, and never less. doubters and villains abound and you'll still retain the core of what you are.
so when the opportunity to put yourself out there arises, who can resist the chance to delve into it; feet forward and exposed with optimism, honesty, and a sense of grace.
then, it'll sneak up on you slow, like a wisp of smoke in a summer heat. there'll be whispers around and moments of complete calm when you catch the glances.
the feelings clutch and wrench in those best of ways. simple things, simple things. touching her by the back when no one can detect. the creases of her smiles, secretly holding hands in the rows along the shelvings. these are the elements which create the compound.
she makes you dizzy and feel perfectly happy. she makes you crumble and delighted and all of the things that complete circuits. perfection in the imperfection of human nature, and how that is everything real and tangible.
is it enough that some of the most pleasurable things in the world are those simple moments?
and all in a day, it seems as if this now is the case.
---
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
" man-pooch: a brain fart "
---
there's nothing wrong with having a man-pooch. i swear. you can always have a little extra flab in case you happen to be in iceland. and it's just cool, i tell you what. seriously.
there's plenty of people who are looking for "real people," and nothing says "real person" more than a little sub-bellybutton belly. i think it's hot, but only maybe because i happen to consta-have one.
i know that if i actually did some sit-ups, let alone a single one, i might get that pocket of fat deposit to melt away like so much lost weight, but it's highly in fashion i tell you. at least i think it is.
i suppose it's just because no matter how vastly my weight fluctuates (this past year i've lost about 18 lbs), it never shows. i have what scientists and anatomists might call a "unique frame." i'm short for a human, or tall for an asiatic-descent human (5'6" - in the morning, when my spine expands after a day of fighting gravity, grrrr gravity). i've got ice-hockey thighs, swimmer's butterfly-shoulder-widths, and a perpetual soft midsection. it's a wonder that i can stand at all.
when i want to buy pants, i more often than not, have to tailor the pant lengths about 3-4 inches shorter, which is fine. except for the fact that my waist size and pant leg lengths rarely find happiness in a single pair of pants. i have since given up on finding a proper pair of pants.
all of these points are beside the actual point, which is this: when you got a man-pooch, you gotta rock that feature, because if this doesn't start to catch on, mine will become less rad...i think.
so, don't be afraid to let people massage it, give it a little rub, poke it, grab it, give it a little pat, or kiss it, because it's right in between a well-chiseled lower mid-section (brad pitt in fight club) and a developing beer gut (the cinematic development of john goodman's superb gut over the course of his cinematic career), and that a'int all that bad yo.
---
there's nothing wrong with having a man-pooch. i swear. you can always have a little extra flab in case you happen to be in iceland. and it's just cool, i tell you what. seriously.
there's plenty of people who are looking for "real people," and nothing says "real person" more than a little sub-bellybutton belly. i think it's hot, but only maybe because i happen to consta-have one.
i know that if i actually did some sit-ups, let alone a single one, i might get that pocket of fat deposit to melt away like so much lost weight, but it's highly in fashion i tell you. at least i think it is.
i suppose it's just because no matter how vastly my weight fluctuates (this past year i've lost about 18 lbs), it never shows. i have what scientists and anatomists might call a "unique frame." i'm short for a human, or tall for an asiatic-descent human (5'6" - in the morning, when my spine expands after a day of fighting gravity, grrrr gravity). i've got ice-hockey thighs, swimmer's butterfly-shoulder-widths, and a perpetual soft midsection. it's a wonder that i can stand at all.
when i want to buy pants, i more often than not, have to tailor the pant lengths about 3-4 inches shorter, which is fine. except for the fact that my waist size and pant leg lengths rarely find happiness in a single pair of pants. i have since given up on finding a proper pair of pants.
all of these points are beside the actual point, which is this: when you got a man-pooch, you gotta rock that feature, because if this doesn't start to catch on, mine will become less rad...i think.
so, don't be afraid to let people massage it, give it a little rub, poke it, grab it, give it a little pat, or kiss it, because it's right in between a well-chiseled lower mid-section (brad pitt in fight club) and a developing beer gut (the cinematic development of john goodman's superb gut over the course of his cinematic career), and that a'int all that bad yo.
---
Monday, July 25, 2005
" so you think you're an adult: a rant-like thought train "
---
the funny part of growing up, is that you are given free reign to have a piece of the nostalgia of your past. forever gone is the time you spent mashing leaves with rocks in the sandbox to concoct secret mystically magical potions to cure whatever the hell you thought it would do.
maybe that was jsut me and my childhood friend brian; it was really special, i think. that or we wasted our formative days of social development. but we were magic at the time, and that's what was important. we didn't give a shit!
mm, i guess it's all in the timing of it. i'm not the master of time, but if i had the opportunity, i'd kick old man time in the fucking thigh, for messing with me, raggity bastard. get a new robe old man! jeebus!
(ironically, time passes)
i'm asking, at that young age, is your tender pink wrinkle-free brain ready to accept that you are going to die? i came to this realization fairly early on, and i don't see why i can't live the rest of my natural life kicking mad ass. right?
so you're in your early twenties, or mid-to-late twenties, or mid thirties; when is the right time to do the things that yo uwant to do? you want to travel the world, get on the cash tip and book a flight.
you want to be an artist? sorry, there's no class that you could take that could really give you magic powers. if the fairy dust didn't come out of your ass when you crap, it's going to be a difficult time of self-discovery ahead. sorry. it's just the way it goes.
but then again, maybe i'm not ready to accept that i'm not the greatest artist in the known universe; my creations and imaginings inspiring everyone within inches of me, and extending well and beyond the vast boundries of uncharted intergalactic space and time.
it's sad, really. the point i guess being that who really gives a shit what critics and buyers think (sub note: please buy some of my work, so i can eat tomorrow)? i sure don't...
i have no clue what i'm doing, but i'm happy. is that okay? so, the sub-sub-sub point to the rant, is that it doesn't mater at all. all of this is going to make it or not. all of this work and time and sweat and persistance is all for naught, if you don't enjoy it. you gotta be loving whatever it is you're doing, working on, loving, raving about, creationing, eating, feeling, interacting with, and on and on into the infinate of it all, or else you're missing the point.
and who even is this speech for, if not for myself even? i love how at moments when you feel most high-and-mighty, you tend to realize that you're completely exposed and your pants are hanging around your ankles; the wind passing through your legs with a bright and vibrant velocity.
go get em people, and tell them that bay said it was okay to do what you're doing. if they don't understand, don't be too hard on them. soon enough we'll all be "in the know," or blissfully not.
tonight's homework:
make the time to stare into someone's eyes for more than the normal millinanosecond you do in your daily facial glipses. try to go for 5 seconds if at all possible. you'll find that you can learn a lot about someone by losing yourself in their eyes. it's either that of staring at a cat, and i'm pseudo-allergic.
---
the funny part of growing up, is that you are given free reign to have a piece of the nostalgia of your past. forever gone is the time you spent mashing leaves with rocks in the sandbox to concoct secret mystically magical potions to cure whatever the hell you thought it would do.
maybe that was jsut me and my childhood friend brian; it was really special, i think. that or we wasted our formative days of social development. but we were magic at the time, and that's what was important. we didn't give a shit!
mm, i guess it's all in the timing of it. i'm not the master of time, but if i had the opportunity, i'd kick old man time in the fucking thigh, for messing with me, raggity bastard. get a new robe old man! jeebus!
(ironically, time passes)
i'm asking, at that young age, is your tender pink wrinkle-free brain ready to accept that you are going to die? i came to this realization fairly early on, and i don't see why i can't live the rest of my natural life kicking mad ass. right?
so you're in your early twenties, or mid-to-late twenties, or mid thirties; when is the right time to do the things that yo uwant to do? you want to travel the world, get on the cash tip and book a flight.
you want to be an artist? sorry, there's no class that you could take that could really give you magic powers. if the fairy dust didn't come out of your ass when you crap, it's going to be a difficult time of self-discovery ahead. sorry. it's just the way it goes.
but then again, maybe i'm not ready to accept that i'm not the greatest artist in the known universe; my creations and imaginings inspiring everyone within inches of me, and extending well and beyond the vast boundries of uncharted intergalactic space and time.
it's sad, really. the point i guess being that who really gives a shit what critics and buyers think (sub note: please buy some of my work, so i can eat tomorrow)? i sure don't...
i have no clue what i'm doing, but i'm happy. is that okay? so, the sub-sub-sub point to the rant, is that it doesn't mater at all. all of this is going to make it or not. all of this work and time and sweat and persistance is all for naught, if you don't enjoy it. you gotta be loving whatever it is you're doing, working on, loving, raving about, creationing, eating, feeling, interacting with, and on and on into the infinate of it all, or else you're missing the point.
and who even is this speech for, if not for myself even? i love how at moments when you feel most high-and-mighty, you tend to realize that you're completely exposed and your pants are hanging around your ankles; the wind passing through your legs with a bright and vibrant velocity.
go get em people, and tell them that bay said it was okay to do what you're doing. if they don't understand, don't be too hard on them. soon enough we'll all be "in the know," or blissfully not.
tonight's homework:
make the time to stare into someone's eyes for more than the normal millinanosecond you do in your daily facial glipses. try to go for 5 seconds if at all possible. you'll find that you can learn a lot about someone by losing yourself in their eyes. it's either that of staring at a cat, and i'm pseudo-allergic.
---
Saturday, July 23, 2005
" the evolving of a hair-related disaster "
---
it takes a lot of energy to keep up a shitty hairstyle. as of late i have been very dedicated to growing out my hair.
this means that i now have a stands-up-by-itself-resembling-some-sort-of-grassy-turf-age on the top of my noggin', and about 3 cm. of equally lengthed sticks-out hair beaming from my cranium like black lightning.
now, the point being, when does being individualistic become a really bad idea; sure individualism and uniqueness is great. super even.
but when that dream of being yourself means that you look like you are constantly surprised, one must rethink the initial design.
that's all i got.
---
it takes a lot of energy to keep up a shitty hairstyle. as of late i have been very dedicated to growing out my hair.
this means that i now have a stands-up-by-itself-resembling-some-sort-of-grassy-turf-age on the top of my noggin', and about 3 cm. of equally lengthed sticks-out hair beaming from my cranium like black lightning.
now, the point being, when does being individualistic become a really bad idea; sure individualism and uniqueness is great. super even.
but when that dream of being yourself means that you look like you are constantly surprised, one must rethink the initial design.
that's all i got.
---
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
" going intergalactic "
---
dylan says it all. even if it is at the core entertainment and screenplay, these icons of nerdery are no less important as cultural isms.
i find myself affected and at a loss. better, letting a fellow trekkie choose his words and give scotty one of many heartfelt blurbs, i will allow these words to drift off of the page, and into the cosmos beyond.
live long and prosper.
---
the enterprise will never fly the same after today. and the galaxy will never be so bright. because early this morning at 5:30am at his redmond, wa home, james doohan, or "scotty," of the starship enterprise, passed into the great beyond.
the cause of death was pneumonia complicated by advanced alzheimer's disease.
on a personal level, this strikes a mighty blow. not one of tragedy. he was old and sick and i didn't even know the guy. but, man i love star trek. it's so overlooked by all these hobbits and droids and stupid wizards and muggles.
at the center of star trek was a real humanity. sure, the shows were fairly campy. but i'm not talking about that. the films-specifically 2-6, were about peace, balance, environmental issues, social consciousness (spell check), friendship, etc.
they're beautiful. and the fact that scotty has now been beamed up for the last time, it just brings a flutter to my heart. so hears a toast to the great scotsman who turned the engineering hull into an aquarium fit for whales.
i will be spending the rest of the evening watching star trek 2-6 (i may skip 5; 1-the motion picture is not really relevant and a little too much like 2001).
may the force be with you. i mean, i am the one.
dylan
---
dylan says it all. even if it is at the core entertainment and screenplay, these icons of nerdery are no less important as cultural isms.
i find myself affected and at a loss. better, letting a fellow trekkie choose his words and give scotty one of many heartfelt blurbs, i will allow these words to drift off of the page, and into the cosmos beyond.
live long and prosper.
---
the enterprise will never fly the same after today. and the galaxy will never be so bright. because early this morning at 5:30am at his redmond, wa home, james doohan, or "scotty," of the starship enterprise, passed into the great beyond.
the cause of death was pneumonia complicated by advanced alzheimer's disease.
on a personal level, this strikes a mighty blow. not one of tragedy. he was old and sick and i didn't even know the guy. but, man i love star trek. it's so overlooked by all these hobbits and droids and stupid wizards and muggles.
at the center of star trek was a real humanity. sure, the shows were fairly campy. but i'm not talking about that. the films-specifically 2-6, were about peace, balance, environmental issues, social consciousness (spell check), friendship, etc.
they're beautiful. and the fact that scotty has now been beamed up for the last time, it just brings a flutter to my heart. so hears a toast to the great scotsman who turned the engineering hull into an aquarium fit for whales.
i will be spending the rest of the evening watching star trek 2-6 (i may skip 5; 1-the motion picture is not really relevant and a little too much like 2001).
may the force be with you. i mean, i am the one.
dylan
---
" nerdlust: the confrontation of certain science "
---
one cannot deny the build-up in temperature created by physical closeness. it is enough to transmit the action/reaction-ness of science, into the brain, translating it into emotional energy.
you have to respect the fact that these two autonomous things have come together in such away. it's the glory of proximity. touch then, becomes more than a sense.
it could be simple sitting next to each other. i could be laying next to each other. it could be hugs, it could be kisses. or less, or more.
it can be anything, and it still doesn't take away from the end result or experience, that through this sense of tactileness, of this newly created friction, that there is definitely something happening.
finding the simplest pleasures within the boundaries and territory of existing science. could anything be more accessibly romantic?
tonight's homework:
hold someone's hand for longer than a handshake or bro-shake, because
a) it's fine, go ahead.
b) it's hot if it's somebody you "like-like," and hot even if it's not.
and
c) c'mon...you know you wanna.
---
one cannot deny the build-up in temperature created by physical closeness. it is enough to transmit the action/reaction-ness of science, into the brain, translating it into emotional energy.
you have to respect the fact that these two autonomous things have come together in such away. it's the glory of proximity. touch then, becomes more than a sense.
it could be simple sitting next to each other. i could be laying next to each other. it could be hugs, it could be kisses. or less, or more.
it can be anything, and it still doesn't take away from the end result or experience, that through this sense of tactileness, of this newly created friction, that there is definitely something happening.
finding the simplest pleasures within the boundaries and territory of existing science. could anything be more accessibly romantic?
tonight's homework:
hold someone's hand for longer than a handshake or bro-shake, because
a) it's fine, go ahead.
b) it's hot if it's somebody you "like-like," and hot even if it's not.
and
c) c'mon...you know you wanna.
---
Monday, July 18, 2005
" feet problems "
---
um, yeah...so what the hell is going on with my feet?
in the past two weeks, i've scraped em, hit them on curbs, slipped in the shower quite a number of times, and of course the final blow, snapped a sizeable amount of my nail off, the other day like a doof.
and if you know me know me, you know that i got some great feet. always tendered to, nails kempt and all. so they're more like mighty flippers rather than man-feet. the flatness allows me to stomp and clomp around, and that's always a good trait.
i remember walking in the dark the other day, and ka-blammo! instapain and a look down; blood dribbling from the tip of my left big toe. so sad. a sharp stingy pain, and i was awash with humiliation.
then a few days ago, i was step-step-stepping up to the BTS station via normal stairs, and slippity-ker-snappity!! i look down with the oh-jeebus look and a girlish wince.
a thin crack along the center of the nail lead to a thick break in the nail at ninety degrees of stinging sharp pain; blood seeping from underneath the nailbed depths, where nothing should ever be between them.
maybe someone can hire me a foot specialist and see what the hell is going on with my walking gait, or maybe i should put on some proper footwear?
but i love flippity flops. they're that comfortable. it's true! i dare you to tell me that flip flops aren't comfortable. i mean it's hot! i'm in thailand!! ahhhhhhhhhh!
i double-dog dare you, even though i know i'm to blame. me and that bastard gravity.
i suppose the moral is i need to look where i'm walking. that, and boo gravity.
boo, and for shame.
---
um, yeah...so what the hell is going on with my feet?
in the past two weeks, i've scraped em, hit them on curbs, slipped in the shower quite a number of times, and of course the final blow, snapped a sizeable amount of my nail off, the other day like a doof.
and if you know me know me, you know that i got some great feet. always tendered to, nails kempt and all. so they're more like mighty flippers rather than man-feet. the flatness allows me to stomp and clomp around, and that's always a good trait.
i remember walking in the dark the other day, and ka-blammo! instapain and a look down; blood dribbling from the tip of my left big toe. so sad. a sharp stingy pain, and i was awash with humiliation.
then a few days ago, i was step-step-stepping up to the BTS station via normal stairs, and slippity-ker-snappity!! i look down with the oh-jeebus look and a girlish wince.
a thin crack along the center of the nail lead to a thick break in the nail at ninety degrees of stinging sharp pain; blood seeping from underneath the nailbed depths, where nothing should ever be between them.
maybe someone can hire me a foot specialist and see what the hell is going on with my walking gait, or maybe i should put on some proper footwear?
but i love flippity flops. they're that comfortable. it's true! i dare you to tell me that flip flops aren't comfortable. i mean it's hot! i'm in thailand!! ahhhhhhhhhh!
i double-dog dare you, even though i know i'm to blame. me and that bastard gravity.
i suppose the moral is i need to look where i'm walking. that, and boo gravity.
boo, and for shame.
---
Friday, July 15, 2005
" so you've decided to not be an ass "
---
if you love hollywood blockbusters, go sit on a nail now; just ram it right on in there.
it's no offense, just a suggestion, because to you, if you love reese witherspoon romantic comedies where "dumb" prevails only through filters of supposed use of brains and initiative, or if you love those manly-man movies where white supposed-heroes destroy the 'dark intruders,' terrorists, or religious fanatics in a never-ending display of pyrotechnic government and military propoganda, this...um, is not the film for you.
http://www.landmarktheatres.com/Films/films_frameset.asp?id=44783
http://www.movienet.com/tropicalmalady.html
we talk about having a relevant cinema. a cinema that holds weight, and engages the soul, spirit and the liminal plane of existence. this is the film that i have been waiting for to come out of thailand. this is the one, among a handful of others, that i can digest in such a way, that i can be proud for it.
it's time to grow up, and appreciate the raw nature of a great film. please make time to at least view this piece, and if you don't love it like i did, you may contact me, and i will send to you "the last action hero," on VHS, and of course a nail.
(hammer or other instruments/tools must be provided by you.)
---
if you love hollywood blockbusters, go sit on a nail now; just ram it right on in there.
it's no offense, just a suggestion, because to you, if you love reese witherspoon romantic comedies where "dumb" prevails only through filters of supposed use of brains and initiative, or if you love those manly-man movies where white supposed-heroes destroy the 'dark intruders,' terrorists, or religious fanatics in a never-ending display of pyrotechnic government and military propoganda, this...um, is not the film for you.
http://www.landmarktheatres.com/Films/films_frameset.asp?id=44783
http://www.movienet.com/tropicalmalady.html
we talk about having a relevant cinema. a cinema that holds weight, and engages the soul, spirit and the liminal plane of existence. this is the film that i have been waiting for to come out of thailand. this is the one, among a handful of others, that i can digest in such a way, that i can be proud for it.
it's time to grow up, and appreciate the raw nature of a great film. please make time to at least view this piece, and if you don't love it like i did, you may contact me, and i will send to you "the last action hero," on VHS, and of course a nail.
(hammer or other instruments/tools must be provided by you.)
---
Monday, July 04, 2005
" so bay's disappeared again: an open letter "
---
dear my peoples,
i might not be coming back in august as planned at all, due to the fact that i have no money surplus as of yet. i have extended my visa until may of next year, and will most likely stay the length of that time frame...so...well, yeah. this is a little awkward.
a few months ago, i was so determined and gung-ho to return home home. i had plans to hang out and chill, to drive to LA and print my portfolio, and maybe hit up NYC for an extended period of a month or so. but now, things are slowly developing in the meantime. it's weird.
i might be writing film columns/reviews for a local small zine...maybe. i might start that production job with 24 frames, a company where my cousin works at, and i might do this book with my friend jan who is in the band "eastbound downers" and incidentally works the entertainment section for (i think) the nation weekend newspaper (an english language news publication). it's fun, and funny.
the most recent thing that has happened, is that i have been taking a lot of photos of the local indie music scene, meeting loads of great inspirational people, meeting the band members, and starting a small networking thing that hopefully will turn into a photo-collective-exhibition thing.
maybe maybe maybe perhaps perhaps perhaps.
of course this is, and would be in between whatever job i happen to get that can actually pay some of these bills, movie tickets, dvdvd habits, and restaurant/street-food stuffs.
i really want to apologize for not being around. i mean, i'm sure the only big difference is that we'd be closer and we'd hang out together, or that we'd get drunk at bars, create some crazy inventions, and then after a few months, all be bitter and stuck. that's fine, as long as i got you guys, but i'm slowly sensing that i need more than albany now.
and you know me. i love me some stuck-in-albany i do.
so, here's to the grand adventure of figuring out what the fuck we're going to do with our lives. yay the pursuit of making movies, photography-ing, creationery, living, experiencing, engaging, and risk-taking. i am alive, and i am now most likely not coming back until i have to have to, so maybe you guys can plan a trip out here? 555. talk to you soon.
love,
bay
---
dear my peoples,
i might not be coming back in august as planned at all, due to the fact that i have no money surplus as of yet. i have extended my visa until may of next year, and will most likely stay the length of that time frame...so...well, yeah. this is a little awkward.
a few months ago, i was so determined and gung-ho to return home home. i had plans to hang out and chill, to drive to LA and print my portfolio, and maybe hit up NYC for an extended period of a month or so. but now, things are slowly developing in the meantime. it's weird.
i might be writing film columns/reviews for a local small zine...maybe. i might start that production job with 24 frames, a company where my cousin works at, and i might do this book with my friend jan who is in the band "eastbound downers" and incidentally works the entertainment section for (i think) the nation weekend newspaper (an english language news publication). it's fun, and funny.
the most recent thing that has happened, is that i have been taking a lot of photos of the local indie music scene, meeting loads of great inspirational people, meeting the band members, and starting a small networking thing that hopefully will turn into a photo-collective-exhibition thing.
maybe maybe maybe perhaps perhaps perhaps.
of course this is, and would be in between whatever job i happen to get that can actually pay some of these bills, movie tickets, dvdvd habits, and restaurant/street-food stuffs.
i really want to apologize for not being around. i mean, i'm sure the only big difference is that we'd be closer and we'd hang out together, or that we'd get drunk at bars, create some crazy inventions, and then after a few months, all be bitter and stuck. that's fine, as long as i got you guys, but i'm slowly sensing that i need more than albany now.
and you know me. i love me some stuck-in-albany i do.
so, here's to the grand adventure of figuring out what the fuck we're going to do with our lives. yay the pursuit of making movies, photography-ing, creationery, living, experiencing, engaging, and risk-taking. i am alive, and i am now most likely not coming back until i have to have to, so maybe you guys can plan a trip out here? 555. talk to you soon.
love,
bay
---
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