wire focus
2.28.2005
Friday night was awesome. After some miscommunication with Graham; Gina, Nick and I headed for the evenings events downtown. We stopped at Reid’s opening first and not much was going on. We left Gina’s car on 13th and walked to Main. Looking around at the scene of Main st. on a Friday night was quite exciting. Many people were out looking for a fun time and I would say that most found something to satisfy. Our crew jumped at the first sign of activity which was InkTank. The first room in the place is a shop where I really wanted to buy a t-shirt but everything else was junk. We found a spot on a well placed couch and watched as people meandered through looking just as lost as we felt. I tried to find things that the majority of people in the room would never look at. I noticed that the chair close to me had a ring on the arm-rest. I saw the shadows on the wall and questioned their placement in relation to myself. Gina was all smiles in anticipation of this nights events. Nick ventured across the street to buy beer and I was very surprised to see him walk in with a 6 of Sierra. I didn’t know you could find such a thing downtown. So we relaxed and drank and watched the first act sing uncomfortably onstage. The eyes of the crowd were begging for something delicious to taste but were left with crumbs.
After a short break some guy in a suit announced that poetry was about to be read and that waffles were being made in the back room. We stayed in place. The writers reading their own work seemed like shells of themselves. It was the crunchy outside that made the middle so unsatisfying.
I excused myself to leave the building for a piss. I almost stumbled past this remarkably clean bar until I figured that if there is anyplace to piss at this time of night, it’s this place. I go straight to the bar, order a gin and tonic, and find my way to the pisser. When I come out, much less anxious, I find that a gentleman is sitting where my drink is. The busty blond at the bar laughs and asks the guy to move down. I say I’m sorry and a conversation begins.
“I’m down here for final Friday. They have all the art galleries open for free tonight.”
“Is that what’s going on?”
“I guess there’s a lot going on.”
“You a student?”
”No… well I’m learning to work with glass. I work at this glassblowing studio up on McMillan.”
"Why Glass?"
"It's fucking hot. When the guys are in the hotshop it's this dance with the glass. When I assist, I have to be in step with the blower. The glass is very sensual."
“You must be good with the ladies.”
“I try... sometimes.”
We talked about Cincinnati, bars and women. One of them costing more than the others. We explained our perspectives and respected eachother for our honesty. He said to not get married. He said that things are always different from another angle. He told me about his broken marriage and his struggling daughter. He told me the difference between white women and black women. He bought me a few drinks.
I had left my friends at the gallery but had not forgotten them. They came in and immediately saw that I was involved in an interesting conversation. We ordered a few more drinks and I offered my new bar-friend an alleywalk smoke. He declined with grace and we said our goodbyes. On our walk we found a strange intersection of building that seemed like a sort of courtyard without the yard. We passed the joint around and found ourselves back in the thick of Friday night action.
Base Gallery is a small place with oddly shaped rooms. With the flick of my square I thrust myself through the door not knowing what to expect. The show was an exhibition of high school students’ work and a mingling of other artists as well. The best work I saw were these two silver gel prints of tattoed female torsos’. I almost pulled one of them off the wall to scream the beauty I saw.
“Does it make you wet?” Gina asked me.
“I do not have a moisture problem if that’s what you’re asking.”
We did not stay long and our next stop was far more polka. Nick knew about this bar and so we stroll in past the guy at the door selling over-priced pizza slices. Several guys standing around the place were decked out in leiderhousen and some most excellent suspenders. For some reason one of the guys come over to our table and asked if we wanted to hear some music. I didn’t know if these guys were the bar band of the evening or if they just walked in off the street like we did but I was stoked. They played a couple songs and we sang along to waltzified ‘Satisfaction’ with our beers in the air. It was difficult to leave such a wonderful festive place but we were all well into our drinking and someone had to drive us home. When we got to the car Gina said that she had left her lights on. She set off her car alarm to get in the car and then it wouldn’t start.
I called Graham to rescue us and told Nick and Gina to wait for me while I walked up the street. Graham said he was on his way so I waited on a corner where I knew he would find me. He pulled up after a few minutes and we drove to where Gina’s car had been parked, and was no longer parked. We stopped and questioned eachother as to where Gina and Nick were. We had no idea other than to go where they would be most likely to find us. When we got to the studio and they were not around we decided to go party instead of waiting around.
The last party was pretty lame except for the layers story. That’s just how we do.
After a short break some guy in a suit announced that poetry was about to be read and that waffles were being made in the back room. We stayed in place. The writers reading their own work seemed like shells of themselves. It was the crunchy outside that made the middle so unsatisfying.
I excused myself to leave the building for a piss. I almost stumbled past this remarkably clean bar until I figured that if there is anyplace to piss at this time of night, it’s this place. I go straight to the bar, order a gin and tonic, and find my way to the pisser. When I come out, much less anxious, I find that a gentleman is sitting where my drink is. The busty blond at the bar laughs and asks the guy to move down. I say I’m sorry and a conversation begins.
“I’m down here for final Friday. They have all the art galleries open for free tonight.”
“Is that what’s going on?”
“I guess there’s a lot going on.”
“You a student?”
”No… well I’m learning to work with glass. I work at this glassblowing studio up on McMillan.”
"Why Glass?"
"It's fucking hot. When the guys are in the hotshop it's this dance with the glass. When I assist, I have to be in step with the blower. The glass is very sensual."
“You must be good with the ladies.”
“I try... sometimes.”
We talked about Cincinnati, bars and women. One of them costing more than the others. We explained our perspectives and respected eachother for our honesty. He said to not get married. He said that things are always different from another angle. He told me about his broken marriage and his struggling daughter. He told me the difference between white women and black women. He bought me a few drinks.
I had left my friends at the gallery but had not forgotten them. They came in and immediately saw that I was involved in an interesting conversation. We ordered a few more drinks and I offered my new bar-friend an alleywalk smoke. He declined with grace and we said our goodbyes. On our walk we found a strange intersection of building that seemed like a sort of courtyard without the yard. We passed the joint around and found ourselves back in the thick of Friday night action.
Base Gallery is a small place with oddly shaped rooms. With the flick of my square I thrust myself through the door not knowing what to expect. The show was an exhibition of high school students’ work and a mingling of other artists as well. The best work I saw were these two silver gel prints of tattoed female torsos’. I almost pulled one of them off the wall to scream the beauty I saw.
“Does it make you wet?” Gina asked me.
“I do not have a moisture problem if that’s what you’re asking.”
We did not stay long and our next stop was far more polka. Nick knew about this bar and so we stroll in past the guy at the door selling over-priced pizza slices. Several guys standing around the place were decked out in leiderhousen and some most excellent suspenders. For some reason one of the guys come over to our table and asked if we wanted to hear some music. I didn’t know if these guys were the bar band of the evening or if they just walked in off the street like we did but I was stoked. They played a couple songs and we sang along to waltzified ‘Satisfaction’ with our beers in the air. It was difficult to leave such a wonderful festive place but we were all well into our drinking and someone had to drive us home. When we got to the car Gina said that she had left her lights on. She set off her car alarm to get in the car and then it wouldn’t start.
I called Graham to rescue us and told Nick and Gina to wait for me while I walked up the street. Graham said he was on his way so I waited on a corner where I knew he would find me. He pulled up after a few minutes and we drove to where Gina’s car had been parked, and was no longer parked. We stopped and questioned eachother as to where Gina and Nick were. We had no idea other than to go where they would be most likely to find us. When we got to the studio and they were not around we decided to go party instead of waiting around.
The last party was pretty lame except for the layers story. That’s just how we do.
Hunter S. Thompson is dead. As I started writing Graham walked in with a heavy stride and sadness on his face. He and I have been having an argument for the past two weeks about art. I don’t really even know what the hell is going on with us, but now our hero is dead. Hunter was an old man on a peacock ranch with satellite television. I have no idea why he decided to die but he did it. I don’t think that Hunter ever expected to survive life but he went out into the world anyway and said what do you got? I feel like being a writer naturally distances one from everything else. I am always listening, and watching and every moment is a possible story. I may not always participate or speak my mind but I am always looking for an angle. Every person I talk to is an encyclopedia of life. Every story is different and experience is the fastest form of knowledge.
2.13.2005
So it's 8 am and I'm still very awake. I just wrote Sara an intoxicated e-mail which I hope comes off as I meant it.
I'm thinking about going to the roof and taking a picture. Today is now and it cannot be wasted or neglected in away way. Last night showed me that anything is possible if you have people who care. If you have 3 people who are passionate about one thing then anything is possible. fuck if you are one person and you care enough about something then it will get done. I'm very passive sometimes. It's rare that I actually take the chance and fucking do something.
John said tonight, "Everything is different now." I know what he means.
Last night I skated the best run of my entire life. I was so loose and I just felt like thrashing. I started skating and as soon as I got on the ramp I just couldn't stop until I fell or couldn't skate anymore. It was so sick. I wish that I could get good pictures of me skating so I could show you. i guess these pics from tonight will have to do.........
I'm thinking about going to the roof and taking a picture. Today is now and it cannot be wasted or neglected in away way. Last night showed me that anything is possible if you have people who care. If you have 3 people who are passionate about one thing then anything is possible. fuck if you are one person and you care enough about something then it will get done. I'm very passive sometimes. It's rare that I actually take the chance and fucking do something.
John said tonight, "Everything is different now." I know what he means.
Last night I skated the best run of my entire life. I was so loose and I just felt like thrashing. I started skating and as soon as I got on the ramp I just couldn't stop until I fell or couldn't skate anymore. It was so sick. I wish that I could get good pictures of me skating so I could show you. i guess these pics from tonight will have to do.........
2.10.2005
"I miss you."
"I know..."
sometimes things change fast as hell and sometimes they just fucking crawl by. I'm not excited about seeing you again. not yet. I wish i was. I've been thinking about faith. Not the mother mary jesus christ kind of faith but do I believe in something enough to die for it. Given the chance I would die for skateboarding, love, freedom, and the ocean because it's the biggest body of water around. Maybe liquid is the only thing that's important to me. I guess that's everything.
There's just not enough time. I'm so impatient yet so non-commital at the same time. I want right now to be the best time of my life. I guess it could be. I want to understand why I make things difficult for myself. This complication is mine. I created it and I can make it stop. unattainable. is it true. I desire these things that I know are not possible. I want to work on a sail boat but I'm 600 miles from the nearest ocean. I want to commit to the studio more than anything I've ever stuck with. Skateboarding has been my one motivation for quite some time and I don't see giving up on it any time soon. No one can tell me I'm wrong about skating because they don't know. They don't know the quiet parking lots at 3 in the morning the way I do. They can't say I failed because I never stopped trying.
I Love life. It sucks sometimes, people suck sometimes, but I am the calm center of my universe. THis is the dark silence that haunts my mind at night. You are the light.
"I know..."
sometimes things change fast as hell and sometimes they just fucking crawl by. I'm not excited about seeing you again. not yet. I wish i was. I've been thinking about faith. Not the mother mary jesus christ kind of faith but do I believe in something enough to die for it. Given the chance I would die for skateboarding, love, freedom, and the ocean because it's the biggest body of water around. Maybe liquid is the only thing that's important to me. I guess that's everything.
There's just not enough time. I'm so impatient yet so non-commital at the same time. I want right now to be the best time of my life. I guess it could be. I want to understand why I make things difficult for myself. This complication is mine. I created it and I can make it stop. unattainable. is it true. I desire these things that I know are not possible. I want to work on a sail boat but I'm 600 miles from the nearest ocean. I want to commit to the studio more than anything I've ever stuck with. Skateboarding has been my one motivation for quite some time and I don't see giving up on it any time soon. No one can tell me I'm wrong about skating because they don't know. They don't know the quiet parking lots at 3 in the morning the way I do. They can't say I failed because I never stopped trying.
I Love life. It sucks sometimes, people suck sometimes, but I am the calm center of my universe. THis is the dark silence that haunts my mind at night. You are the light.
2.05.2005
Graham and I had a gig tonight at Pleasant Perk. Ellie called me last night and asked if I could play so I said hell yeah. We played for about an hour and a half and just jammed our way through it. It was a little sloppy on some of the endings but what do you expect for 1 days notice. It was a lot of fun and now Micah and Sarah are on their way here to party. Woo-Hoo.
I had a conversation with Sara about cycles and how I'm really in and out of things sometimes. This is not new to me but I guess she's starting to relate to the seperation from normality. Whatever the fuck that is. It's like floods, every once in awhile the river overfills with it's muck and gets very restless.
I had a conversation with Sara about cycles and how I'm really in and out of things sometimes. This is not new to me but I guess she's starting to relate to the seperation from normality. Whatever the fuck that is. It's like floods, every once in awhile the river overfills with it's muck and gets very restless.
