In Which I Consider the Whole Act of Being

There is a natural sound that wild things make when they're bound.
It rumbles in the ground, gurrah gurrah we all fall down.

1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 6

I'm making memories out of things that never happened. My hands and mind are on fire with the infinite resignation of possibility. At the end of the day, I guess I like thinking about things more than I actually like doing them. Alors, ceci est la mort comme la vie.

Austin is in love.

In a good way. Loved this post and had to link because, well, it's tough to think clearly when you're inebriated with the sweet taste of youthful affection, let alone write clearly. Well done, bravo, etc.

And while we're on the subject of things that friends are making that are awesome:



More to come later, plus magazine updates as they come.

love love love

Important Thoughts Followed by Less Important Thoughts

I will never date a girl who willingly accepts the idea that The Patriarchy has made society or her gender do anything.

I will never be a person who attributes my personality, problems, or aspirations to any entity (be it Society, Class, or Marketing) outside of myself.


Less important thoughts:

Working on getting all of the pieces for the magazine together, plus trying to find collaborators for the online content. Also trying to find a good designer who believes in the project who wants to share power and responsibility. Or who just wants to make good stuff. In a month or two, should have consistently appearing online content along with a pretty good magazine in print. After that, we apply for ORCA grants, club status, and indoctrinate anyone and everyone we can with ART and AWESOME CULTURE.

Bare Bones

So, I'm starting a magazine. Isn't now the time? If not now, then when?

We go to print hopefully before August.

For more information on what/when/who/how/Gucci Mane, visit Bare Bones Magazine's Official Blogspot!!

Or just join the facebook group. So New Media. So web2k10. So ridiculous.

I'm reading White Noise by DeLillo right now. It's giving me a real bad case of the "I'm waiting for something but nothing ever comes"es right now. It makes me want to eat a lot of fried chicken. It makes me hungry, voraciously hungry, the way only a novel about ennui and death can.

I wish I had a car here in Provo. If I did, I would drive and drive and drive. I don't though, so I walk and walk and walk. I wonder what other people think about when they walk. I wonder if they whistle or sing like I do a lot of times while I walk. I can't help not singing or whistling. I wonder if they think that it's weird that I'm whistling or singing. I wonder if the ground can hear me singing and whistling.

Sometimes I pass somebody and am suddenly embarrassed and worried that I'd been saying my thoughts out loud as I walked. Not that I typically think anything vulgar or embarrassing. In fact, I think a lot of very boring, self-centered things. But isn't that more embarrassing than, say, thinking about death or blowing things up or sex?

If I were to walk past somebody who was saying all of their thoughts out loud and they were saying, "I don't think I like the way I walk, I think it looks like a lumberjack on steroids. Man it's cold out today, why didn't I bring a jacket? Do I have bad circulation? How long of a walk is it up a mountain? Could I do that?"
instead of "I would love to kill that guy. And seduce that old lady. And knock over that newspaper dispenser. And jump out of a window."

Our ordinary thoughts are embarrassingly devoid of beauty, imagination, or outwardness. They sound just like a footstep on concrete. Dull. Monotonous. Irritating.

Herman Melville. More like Herman Awesomeville.

"Time was her labyrinth, in which Hunilla was entirely lost... Humanity, thou strong thing, I worship thee, not in the laureled victor, but in this vanquished one."

-The Encantadas

Seriously? Herman Melville? Who would have known you would be actually really awesome to read. Sometimes your diction made my eyes bleed, but all of those years of bromidic vocabulary exercises in our beloved public school system actually paid off. This dude. Right here. A genius.

Also of note: Blogspot does not recognize Encatadas as a word. The first suggestion of change is "enchiladas". I chuckle, I chuckle.

Provolone

Here I am, back in the 801. It's weird being back, or at least being in one solid place after weeks of turbulent and frantic travel. I look forward, in part, to a sweet and quiet existence. I plan on living in the library and my apartment, like I was selling horchata and loose meat tacos from the back of a truck.

Call me if you want to hang outski. I'll be listen to a lot of Big Star and Best Coast.