electropop manipulation

kande

a new era for SPAM

bid bidabid
bundles for special groups of muscles are not, as was formerly supposed,
arranged irregularly and fortuitously, but that on the contrary the nerve

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fibres to a particular group of muscles have a typical and practically
constant position within the nerve. In the large nerve-trunks of the
limbs he has worked out the exact position of the bundles for the various

trialisation trialism trialist
leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the king: "Great perils, father! wait
the unequal fight These younger champions will oppress thy might. Thy

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veins no more with ancient vigour glow, Weak is thy servant, and thy
coursers slow. Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car Observe the
steeds of Tros, renown'd in war. Practised alike to turn, to stop, to
chase, To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: These late obey'd Æneas'

moodier moodiest moodily
Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, Fade from thy cheek, and languish
in thy eye. Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more The world's

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aversion, than their love before Now the bright prize for which mankind
engage, Than, the sad victim, of the public rage." At this, the fairest
of her sex obey'd, And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade Unseen, and
silent, from the train she moves, Led by the goddess of the Smiles and

ismael ismaelism ismaelite
choice is free." Ulysses ceased: the great Achaian host, With sorrow
seized, in consternation lost, Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke The

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general silence, and undaunted spoke. "Why should we gifts to proud
Achilles send, Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to bend? His
country's woes he glories to deride, And prayers will burst that swelling
heart with pride. Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey'd, Our battles

CHEEKY BASTARDS!

burn your bridges

I had a hangnail.
“Stop biting your nails”, he said, “you’ll chew your fingers off”.
And I put my slender hand down, and kept my eyes on the floor of the car. He would drive fast. He liked the feeling of everything going by.
We went down the road to the center of the city to see the lights. It was a concrete city. Tall, and empty. Cold and dead. To get there you had to go by the factories and oil refinery that would spark fires in the sky when letting off gas. You could only see a glimpse of them from the car window. No one lived in the city anymore. Some of the elevators still worked and you could go up into the old apartments and offices with furniture in them. We would sit in the chairs and sofas that were splitting at the seams, and look at what the water damage had done to the ceilings. We would try to figure out which stain was what country. All the buildings we went to had sheets of papers littering the hallways. Sometimes you could find ripped letters and photographs. Time went slower in the city. The town halls’ clock tower had stopped, along with all the other clocks and you could never really know what time it was. My watch broke. We didnt really have time.
We were strangers before, and when it happened it went on for too long.
The left over smog gives you amazing sunsets in the city. Bold orange light that makes you feel warm.
It was our city. We killed afternoons there when nothing was on TV. Our city had a buzz. You could feel it. It had the noise of old florescent lights. Sometimes I could feel it flowing through me like an electric current from all the TV and radio signals. All the cell phone connections. It came through my body like a wave, echoing inside my chest cavity. Like a flapping bird in its cage.
There were times when I could feel it stronger and stronger until it was getting out of hand. I didn’t want to get rid of it and tried to hard to hold on to it. It was a feeling to strong to hold on to. You were a feeling to strong to hold on to. I remember everything.
We would walk in the middle of the empty roads and watch the stoplights change from red to green, and watch the brick buildings slowly crumble. We had all been waiting for something to happen and it finally did. We were left alone to revel in it.
“Its time to meet new people” he said. And I didn’t know what to say.

why not

Hi!
I've entered a contest to create a :30 clip around the dangers of bad credit. A winner will be chosen, based on votes received by 31 July. The winner needs at least 100 votes. The prize is $10,000. To add to the suspense, a pal of mine who's close to the process says than none of the other clips have anywhere near the 100 vote minimum.
With your help, I think I've got a decent shot at actually winning the prize.
So, I'd be grateful if you could log on, check it out and vote for my clip.
If I win, I promise to host you all to at magnficent party where the champagne will flow, beasts will be roasted and vegetarians accomodated with gourmet delicacies.
Here's the URL
http://www.whatsmyscore.org/contest/videos.php?displayVideo=92
My clip is called "Cube Farm" and is a typcially lighthearted piece based on still photography (it's not the one with the rapper).
The site is sponsored by Visa.
My contacts tell me that the information they ask for is just to assure the vote is honest, and you won't be spammed.
Thanks!
Tim

'To lose a passport was the least
of one's worries. To lose a
notebook was a catastrophe.'
Bruce Chatwin
'I never travel without my notebook.
One should always have something
sensational to read in the train.'
Oscar Wilde

how soon we forget

three reasons why I stopped going to "peers building justice"

1. second semester I got 8th period off. on block thursdays (the same day as meetings are held) i get out of school at one thirty. this is slightly inconvenient.

2. Jared Guy

3. emails like this:
Coverage of 'School Shootings' Avoids the Central Issue
by Jackson Katz



In the many hours devoted to analyzing the recent school shootings, once again we see that as a society we seem constitutionally unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge a simple but disturbing fact: these shootings are an extreme manifestation of one of contemporary American society’s biggest problems -- the ongoing crisis of men’s violence against women.

WHAT?!

my fat friend

are you anyones favorite person?

ttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=asyWVtoCjNM

i hope you actually look at the links i post, otherwise i'd feel stupid.

http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/

THINGS i find annoying (a list)

"pet peeve"
Popsicle biters
long toe nails
dirt under fingernails
people trying to imitate english accents
rich starving artists
fall out boy
slow internet
bread crust
being sticky
using textural allusions incorrectly
interpreting things incorrectly
the illusion of safety
people at my school
buffalo aaron
people at the mall
malls
american idol
people at the tridant
old people
girls
boys
people in general
"time magazine"
socratic seminars
math
my LA class
my film lit class
school
fashion for compassion
my art teacher
the family
not having bus fare
missing the bus
homework
french
chemistry
asthma
allergies
weeding
dusting
Darfur
iraq
politics
the panic attacks i get when i think about(in this order):
A) college
B) global warming
C) going deaf/blind
D) car crashes resulting in death/ permanent dis figuration
E) the SATs
denver
the news
rap, country
neo hippies
republicans (Reagan and bush, respectively)
teenagers
bad writers
the davinci code


no respect!


this list could go on for a while so i'll stop now.

"life is an optical illusion, like other optical illusions".

every time there is a death from suicide or drunk driving the students of East Wood high have group therapy sessions in their English classes. the school councilors think that this will help students cope, and the smokers in the parking lot think that its a big joke.
"i remember that she liked to go swimming and her hair would always smell like chlorine" Suzy says, clutching the wrist of the nervous girl with highlights next to her. the new age teachers make their students sit in large circles on the floor and hold hands, sometimes there are even scented candles in the middle.
"good, good". says Mrs. Randy, trying to encourage the students who role their eyes. Mrs. Randy is menopausal and in her "goddess phase". she often recommends yoga and wears big beaded necklaces.
this has been the third suicide of the school year, and many think that it was a copycat of the first two. it was only October, and the parents and teachers were wondering what had gotten into their precious sons and daughters.
by now the students had become accustomed to death, and there was no longer that heavy feeling in the halls during passing period.
she had mostly gone unnoticed by the student body, she had transferred from ohio at the start of september.
"i guess she just felt like her life was in shreds". one of the boys said.
in truth no one knew her well enough to really be upset about it. sure it was tragic and all that, but the students didnt feel guilty for being secretly happy that they werent going to check the math homework they blew off the night before.


she was just a trick of the light.

Taos is for artists

http://www.coolhunting.com/archives/2007/03/jonathan_harris.php

afterthought

it isnt important how, or where, or when, just that it happened, and every time i smell bubble gum or talcum powder i see your feet after a bath and the bubbles you popped too loudly in the movie theater. how you bit your nails with that silly expression on your face, your eyebrows in a knot looking as serious as a politician. you bit pens to, leaving tiny teeth marks, little dents that reminded me of the dime-sized ones ladies pumps left in linolium tiled floors. i try not to think of you then, when teen age girls laugh and smell the way you did-your shampoo and too sweet bubble gum. your breaths that would go in and out of being light and heavy. sighing, like you did, when Marlon Brando came on screen, and grabbing my hand with a sweaty palm underneath the velvet seat that was rough with all the other bodies. you were a feeling too strong to hold on to, dream-like, and i'm forgetting you. the places where freckles were, or the long slow line of your colar bone. soon you'll be a cancelled tv show, fuzzy images i'll only remember when reminded by something else. again your laugh. whether fast or slow, loud or soft, it always came from deep inside and you'd open your red mouth big and wide, we'd catch glimpses of your silver capped molar at dinner parties.

inspired by recent events

Every Thursday during lunch we would watch them from the library windows as they went to smoke pot in the trees down by the lake.
Even on the day of the arrest.
Even in the winter, which caused them to develop 3 month long coughs that started from the bottoms of their chests and ripped through their lungs. They would come back just in time for science shaking there unwashed hair (which was the waxy texture of a bar of soap) and stomping the snow off their shoes with hazy looks in their eyes (that were not their eyes).
We sometimes talked to the less intimidating ones in our math classes, gathering details that would latter be pieced together as clues.
The nicer one, Laura, we had all seen her out smoking cigarettes in the morning and during breaks, had dark red hair. We had all read the headlines of the day before, the mystery of her mothers death and how her stoner boyfriend was arrested.it was on one of those Thursdays when they arrested her, took her into custody just after history. The local paper made it clear that no one really knew about anything that was going on. The state bureau of investigation had gotten involved, and clips of their interviews with the neighbors had been leaked, saying that neither Mrs. Roberts or Mr. Sawer had seen the mother for weeks, and the cigarette butts kept gathering on the front lawn. The paper made Laura and her steady boyfriend of five months to be rowdy and disconcerted youth.
Laura never particularly interested us, we just talked to her in a futile attempt to understand why her and her friends were so determined to distract themselves. we knew and had experienced their desperate attempt to escape suburban reality, but the excess of their apathy for one another always made us wonder if we were the same way but didn't know it yet.
we watched them, jaded and emotionally detached, like a television show. our friends were not our friends, and the ups and downs of their reality tv never really affected us. we only realized our lack of empathy after the murder. as the news articles became smaller and moved from the front page slowly to the back, and then disappeared completely, so did our interest in the girl who laughed heavily at Mr. Lawson, the English teachers, bad jokes.

renewed

jacket weather

they walked home the same way but tried not to make eye contact. she would stop every now and then to crack the ice in the gutters and he had to slow himself down to keep behind her.
sometimes she got a ride to school with her friends. they would pass him walking through the park crushing frost covered grass.

she was shy like bruised knees from slipping on the ice [violet and ash]. the chill of winter wind pulled back her scarf and therw her hair in her face, stricking it limply. to get to school she had to walk through a group of snow dead trees with long and crooked limbs exposed without their leaves.

everyday after school she would fall asleep on the vinyl couch with missing buttons to a patric swayze movie. she stretched on the couch and changed the channel until she found "dirty dancing". she would play with her unwashed hair and try to bite the dirt out from underneath her fingernails. picking at her dry skin and biting her cheek. when she would wake up the screen flickered out as she left to take advil.
occasionally they would be on the same bus going downtown. she would watch his reflection in the window. he would run his hand over his chin and tuge slightly on the skin above his adams apple, feeling his acne and ingrown stubble.
other days when she took the bus alone, when the only other people were homeless and old women with grocery bags, she would watch blue light hit flat buildings.

they pretended not to notice each other and became interested in minor personal flaws when crossing paths. they understood the pain of winter, and how it felt when it hit your bones. how that cough comes in november and stayes in the hollows of your ribs until march.














Disclamer:
i realize i could (and have) done better. but i need a story for ellipses and this is the only idea i have. frustrating, i know. believe me, i would ditch it if i had something better. maybe in march?

it was his deep voice that did her in. we watched her rise and fall like a breath in a yoga pose.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hm0g5trWV9c&eurl=

air

"We knew the pain of winter wind rushing up your skirt, and the ache of keeping your knees together in class, and how drab and infuriating it was to jump rope while the boys played baseball...We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together." --The Virgin Suicides

comptine d'un autre ete: l'apres midi

as of now you have lost me to apathy.

i live in constant fear of having a double chin.

January is the cruelest month

i need to clear my head. i cant seem to get anything done.

the first thing i've written all year. kind of.

the lungs filled like air bags when the boy blew into them at the nine news health fair, showing the effects of smoking.
she had ditched gym and it was the only place to go. her socks had ridden down and the elastic was slack around her ankles, making her three year old sneakers uncomfortable.
she felt dumb in her dirty p.e shorts and avoided eye contact with him on the bleachers.
apparently he had skipped as well and decided against going to the library in sport clothes, just like her.
he came down anyway skipping every other step and took a written test on drunk driving next to her. they were both just doing it for the lolly pop.



he rubbed his eyes because his contacts were bothering him. he put his finger to the iris, trying to adjust it. she shivered and looked down at her chipping nail polish.
where the hell is this going? no where. lets try again.

can you tell how hard i am trying to be edgy yet?

"

anything on this earth is bound to have some evil mixed in with it. the white man isnt really together with his own people - to think so is overestimating his power. people who want freedom should consider the white mans weakness. he's insane! he rapes and kills his own, robs his own banks, cheats his own system, ignores his sick and helpless and old. they throw each other into ovens and make lampshades and upholstery from their own hides.

then they lie about these things to each other in their newspapers.


"

charles mingus 'beneath the underdog'

art brut (not the band)

http://www.artbrut.ch/index.cfm?Show=Oeuvres&ArtisteID=85

i dont want to think about it

http://www.exxonsecrets.org/


is there hope?
http://www.foe.co.uk/campaigns/climate/case_studies/index.html