A show! Hooray!
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
Bleachman
Obsession on the SOMA streets just stalking and lurching around at 16th and South Van Ness, street scenes played out so hard that if you weren’t looking away you wanted in the mix. Some old liquor-Philippino food- convenience store perched across from the gas station, smeary yellow glass adorned with cut-rate neon, beer hawking bikini girls and Bleachman. Caped up in red, blue and yellow brandishing a hypodermic needle and smiling broadly while perched at an incline between the tattoo and hot rod girly mags display, blasting a clean white streak through the grime.
The inception of my obsessions became clear in the weeks that followed, running down anyone and anything I could find that would tell me more about bleach and why a cartoon would need to be made about it needing a captain. Soon I realized it was drugs, and maybe terribly soiled thrift store clothes. Still the absurdity was what appealed the most to me, a posterboard graphic needed to be made and posted as a last ditch effort to combat the ignorance of drug disease. Bleach kills everything,….. this was what sprung full-grown from a stroll on the seedy streets of the Mission. I imagined different scenarios and incidents where I could use bleach to kill all organic matter, not to be destructive but instead to think through what applying bleach to everything would do.
I repeated this to one of my friends after a few weeks, and he came alive with it, ran with the feeling I suggested, we both made it a mantra that we threw out at ridiculous times. There have been hundreds, maybe thousands since; I take care to always acknowledge the beginning though, to remember my roots. It can take many forms; health, food, media, government but under it all there’s a burning desire to know something,… about something.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Fort Funston
An over sized bright red dial phone in the hallway rang under a pile of dog eared rock magazines, blaring out a racket piercing bell that reached over the cacophonous din of stereo’s in the 5 bedroom shotgun flat. Multiple doors opened, increasing the decibel level in the hallway by magnitudes as the bodies folded out and dug through the pile simultaneously in a race for the handset.
Chris, the victor this time, slowly lifted it to his ear, eyed everyone with a grin and pausing for dramatic effect, answered.
“Hello, 2022 Fell Street…” as the rest ambled back in the direction of their rooms. “Hey guys! Karen’s coming over and she’s bringing the beer!”
The address was somewhat legendary for impromptu parties, after-show hang outs, an occasional hostel for touring bands and late-night kitchen jam sessions but after a quick options discussion in the hallway the plan was to take James’ van out to the beach.
James was a huge sweet kid who had driven out to SF from Georgia accompanied by a band named Space Seed a few months earlier on what should have been a cross-country tour. He would have probably made a better linebacker than bass player, but looked the part of a curly black longhaired Ramone, and had a van. Apparently things got a little ugly in Texas after a couple of the band members stayed up late one night sampling the local brand of bathtub hooch. In this case it was vodka that had been paired with a rough highway shrub called Jimson Weed and left to soak for long enough to produce mild hallucinogenic effects. For the band members in question, probably too long.
When Space Seed finally arrived at the Fell St. flat they were 3 members less, 20 pounds lighter and mostly incoherent. James slept on the floor for about a week until it became more than inconvenient and was discovered some days later setting up a hobo camp in a crawlspace under the house. After putting together a benefit show at a nearby club, enough money was raised for a bus ticket back to Georgia.
James couldn’t drive the van back to Georgia due to his state of mind and because he had parked it in a blackout stupor upon arrival and was unable to find it for the duration of his stay in SF. We stumbled across it one night weeks later while walking a short cut back from Mel’s diner through the science lab parking lot of the Jesuit college, instantly recognizing the hulk from the numerous descriptions James had rattled off in the previous expeditions we had mounted when searching nearby neighborhoods. It was a small miracle the thing hadn’t been towed or stripped for parts.
Armed with a video camera, some Duraflame logs, several pounds of flannel shirts (as was the fashion for most rockers then) and a small bag of fireworks, the mix of house mates and friends piled into the slate grey Chevy.
The van had that perma-funk bouquet, a rarefied odor resulting from hopeful rock star dreams, multiple unkempt bodies, truck stop dinners and gallons of spilled coffee crushed permanently into an orange shag rug for thousands of miles.
A thick fog swirled and pooled around the van and we lurched in the direction of Fort Funston at the western edge of the nation, cresting the hills with headlight beams firing straight out and up and providing zero visibility for the road ahead.
Funston, as it was usually called, was a pre-WWII fortification where huge ominous concrete bunkers were constructed in and around the dunes high above the beaches all along the Bay Area Pacific coastline. Tremendous guns pointing out over the ocean had been mounted on now long rusting turrets above the tree line and a network of passages and rooms ran for miles under the shifting sands. These long paved promenades overlooking the Pacific ocean were once used to store armaments and military supplies built to counter an imagined invasion of American soil, they were considered the West Coasts’ best defense strategy but were rendered useless almost as soon as they were completed when modern warfare transitioned from battleships to aircraft.
The miles of massive lichen covered ruins provided the perfect post-apocalyptic backdrop for hours of creepy beer-fueled adventures, wandering through the perpetually frigid decay of the tombs or trying to scare the wits out of each other. The carnival of world’s end reigned out among the cracked concrete slabs, random fire pits and years of spray paint and trash; lending to the inevitable feeling of doom brought by time, the weather and it’s ultimate equalizing force.
We set up a fire on the beach-facing side of one of the crumbling structures, giant slabs of precisely molded angular concrete that jutted westward and up, where Nike missiles had been mounted for the duration of the Cold War. The shapes created a windbreak and we hunched down between them and the fire, shadows projecting back to the huge bunker and arch behind us. The surf noise that reached up bent in the wind, fog and darkness a few hundred feet over the edge of the dunes below, and the logs sparkled with their chemically infused rainbow across the clearing.
The tunnels and empty rooms were littered with everything from mattresses to hand cranked wash tubs and went on hundreds of feet in different directions, most imagined that all kinds of kooks, bums, freaks and junkies lived (and probably died) in there. As the night wore on and the fire turned to coals different and odd sounds started to reach the group, whether spurred by the imaginations, the drink or by the late night denizens who found refuge in that place for more immediate needs, the conversations became morbid and creepy.
In the midst of a long story about the ghostly souls damned to wander the beaches below, victims of shipwrecks long forgotten, a huge dog lunged from the edge of the foggy night and barked, sparking panicked abandonment of the area and a few startled screams. Later it was discovered that one of the party had fallen backwards and over the sandy cliff edge, tumbling down the 200 feet or so of embankment to the shore below. Crawling down to the wet beach revealed a dark unmoving shape splayed out on the sand just above the tide. As it became more visible they slowed and stopped, looking wordlessly at each other and fearing the worst. After a few tentative steps closer it was clear that it was a seal lion carcass (mostly because of the smell). Further down the beach croaking lazily in a patch of ice plants was the tumbler. Luckily the worst injury was a sprained ankle and the long trek back to James’ van was spent replaying the sudden and exciting events over and over, distorted to include sword wielding pirate ghosts and rabid dogs more hideous than anything Sir Conan Doyle might’ve invented.
Those bunkers have long been sealed shut, giant plates of steel and iron welding them to posts. If you knock with a stick in just the right place you can hear a booming echo. It may have been a murder or drug overdose, maybe something more sinister that finally made the local authorities and Golden Gate Park Assn. remove all access to the catacombs and tunnels all through the Fort Funston area. It was certainly taken for granted by many to have an eerie beach side haunt where drinks, stories and stunts could be swapped and shared. Funston is now overrun with dogs and hang gliding enthusiasts, the new wastewater treatment center dominating the former area where the barracks and crumbling cement structures once housed 16” canons and long range Nike warheads.
“Hello, 2022 Fell Street…” as the rest ambled back in the direction of their rooms. “Hey guys! Karen’s coming over and she’s bringing the beer!”
The address was somewhat legendary for impromptu parties, after-show hang outs, an occasional hostel for touring bands and late-night kitchen jam sessions but after a quick options discussion in the hallway the plan was to take James’ van out to the beach.
James was a huge sweet kid who had driven out to SF from Georgia accompanied by a band named Space Seed a few months earlier on what should have been a cross-country tour. He would have probably made a better linebacker than bass player, but looked the part of a curly black longhaired Ramone, and had a van. Apparently things got a little ugly in Texas after a couple of the band members stayed up late one night sampling the local brand of bathtub hooch. In this case it was vodka that had been paired with a rough highway shrub called Jimson Weed and left to soak for long enough to produce mild hallucinogenic effects. For the band members in question, probably too long.
When Space Seed finally arrived at the Fell St. flat they were 3 members less, 20 pounds lighter and mostly incoherent. James slept on the floor for about a week until it became more than inconvenient and was discovered some days later setting up a hobo camp in a crawlspace under the house. After putting together a benefit show at a nearby club, enough money was raised for a bus ticket back to Georgia.
James couldn’t drive the van back to Georgia due to his state of mind and because he had parked it in a blackout stupor upon arrival and was unable to find it for the duration of his stay in SF. We stumbled across it one night weeks later while walking a short cut back from Mel’s diner through the science lab parking lot of the Jesuit college, instantly recognizing the hulk from the numerous descriptions James had rattled off in the previous expeditions we had mounted when searching nearby neighborhoods. It was a small miracle the thing hadn’t been towed or stripped for parts.
Armed with a video camera, some Duraflame logs, several pounds of flannel shirts (as was the fashion for most rockers then) and a small bag of fireworks, the mix of house mates and friends piled into the slate grey Chevy.
The van had that perma-funk bouquet, a rarefied odor resulting from hopeful rock star dreams, multiple unkempt bodies, truck stop dinners and gallons of spilled coffee crushed permanently into an orange shag rug for thousands of miles.
A thick fog swirled and pooled around the van and we lurched in the direction of Fort Funston at the western edge of the nation, cresting the hills with headlight beams firing straight out and up and providing zero visibility for the road ahead.
Funston, as it was usually called, was a pre-WWII fortification where huge ominous concrete bunkers were constructed in and around the dunes high above the beaches all along the Bay Area Pacific coastline. Tremendous guns pointing out over the ocean had been mounted on now long rusting turrets above the tree line and a network of passages and rooms ran for miles under the shifting sands. These long paved promenades overlooking the Pacific ocean were once used to store armaments and military supplies built to counter an imagined invasion of American soil, they were considered the West Coasts’ best defense strategy but were rendered useless almost as soon as they were completed when modern warfare transitioned from battleships to aircraft.
The miles of massive lichen covered ruins provided the perfect post-apocalyptic backdrop for hours of creepy beer-fueled adventures, wandering through the perpetually frigid decay of the tombs or trying to scare the wits out of each other. The carnival of world’s end reigned out among the cracked concrete slabs, random fire pits and years of spray paint and trash; lending to the inevitable feeling of doom brought by time, the weather and it’s ultimate equalizing force.
We set up a fire on the beach-facing side of one of the crumbling structures, giant slabs of precisely molded angular concrete that jutted westward and up, where Nike missiles had been mounted for the duration of the Cold War. The shapes created a windbreak and we hunched down between them and the fire, shadows projecting back to the huge bunker and arch behind us. The surf noise that reached up bent in the wind, fog and darkness a few hundred feet over the edge of the dunes below, and the logs sparkled with their chemically infused rainbow across the clearing.
The tunnels and empty rooms were littered with everything from mattresses to hand cranked wash tubs and went on hundreds of feet in different directions, most imagined that all kinds of kooks, bums, freaks and junkies lived (and probably died) in there. As the night wore on and the fire turned to coals different and odd sounds started to reach the group, whether spurred by the imaginations, the drink or by the late night denizens who found refuge in that place for more immediate needs, the conversations became morbid and creepy.
In the midst of a long story about the ghostly souls damned to wander the beaches below, victims of shipwrecks long forgotten, a huge dog lunged from the edge of the foggy night and barked, sparking panicked abandonment of the area and a few startled screams. Later it was discovered that one of the party had fallen backwards and over the sandy cliff edge, tumbling down the 200 feet or so of embankment to the shore below. Crawling down to the wet beach revealed a dark unmoving shape splayed out on the sand just above the tide. As it became more visible they slowed and stopped, looking wordlessly at each other and fearing the worst. After a few tentative steps closer it was clear that it was a seal lion carcass (mostly because of the smell). Further down the beach croaking lazily in a patch of ice plants was the tumbler. Luckily the worst injury was a sprained ankle and the long trek back to James’ van was spent replaying the sudden and exciting events over and over, distorted to include sword wielding pirate ghosts and rabid dogs more hideous than anything Sir Conan Doyle might’ve invented.
Those bunkers have long been sealed shut, giant plates of steel and iron welding them to posts. If you knock with a stick in just the right place you can hear a booming echo. It may have been a murder or drug overdose, maybe something more sinister that finally made the local authorities and Golden Gate Park Assn. remove all access to the catacombs and tunnels all through the Fort Funston area. It was certainly taken for granted by many to have an eerie beach side haunt where drinks, stories and stunts could be swapped and shared. Funston is now overrun with dogs and hang gliding enthusiasts, the new wastewater treatment center dominating the former area where the barracks and crumbling cement structures once housed 16” canons and long range Nike warheads.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
A City Alive
There was a palpable clamor and the sounds of people
engaging each other lasted well into the night, troubles and insecurities
became overrun by the welcome waves of good cheer for a night when anyone could
join in on the sparkling cool breezes blowing in from the pacific. Walking
anywhere was singular in the way people were engaged in meeting the eyes and
greetings of their fellow city dwellers, riding a super saturated tide of
pride, openness and sincere smiles.
It was enough that the home team brought
accolades and a rainy parade through the center of town, but even more, there
was little reason to be engaged in the isolation of earbuds or LED screens or
stone faces bent on moving from one destination to another undisturbed.
What was this change, what was this difference in timbre
that held and took another night of costumes and parties and made it fine with
celebration and good will? I was reminded of times before personal electronics
dominated the public spirit as many I saw and met were not engaged in a silent
glowing meditation, I had almost forgotten that feeling when those around us
can willingly become part of our path even if just passing in the crosswalk,
compliments on costumes and cheers for this city we all live in; our collective
embrace shining and strong.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Inception
I love squirrels, warm bread, the satisfying clack of a well-built snap,
rhythms of windshield wipers and pavement seams at 73mph, tongue and
groove work, grilling food, picking fruit, not knowing where I am after
an unexpected late night detour, fooling the dog, changing a mind, and
passionate improvisational musical inspirations that remove the
limitations of time, space and self, leaving only the joy of pure
creation. Thank you for the guidance, friendship and conversations.
Iron Fist and butterfly
Ok
logged in for my 48 minutes of FB now on day 3. Let's see if I can keep
it up. 48 minutes a day for 48 days. First a huge
thankshoutopofthemorning! to all the wonderful folks who took some time
to wish me HAPPY Birthday. I appreciate that and some other stuff too:
I deeply appreciate space, and SPACE, leaping from the bedroom doorway onto a pile of clothes hot from the dryer, a certain dawg, single pot stilled Irish whiskey, a huge deep laugh echoing through the conference room (usually it's me), when I'm on a support call and "did you plug it in?" actually works, the way a damp teabag sounds as it hits the wall and sticks, my neighbor drinking wine on the front porch and telling stories, making up lyrics to songs because I can NEVER remember any lyrics. I also deeply appreciate that my partner and son still attempt to hold conversations with me despite my constant non-sequiturs and jim carey impersonations.
I deeply appreciate space, and SPACE, leaping from the bedroom doorway onto a pile of clothes hot from the dryer, a certain dawg, single pot stilled Irish whiskey, a huge deep laugh echoing through the conference room (usually it's me), when I'm on a support call and "did you plug it in?" actually works, the way a damp teabag sounds as it hits the wall and sticks, my neighbor drinking wine on the front porch and telling stories, making up lyrics to songs because I can NEVER remember any lyrics. I also deeply appreciate that my partner and son still attempt to hold conversations with me despite my constant non-sequiturs and jim carey impersonations.
Confusion and Possibilities
HI Everybody! So I received my first question as part of the Facebook residency I'm doing "48 for 48" until Oct. 3rd.
"How mny of yr FB friends do u no in RL, becuz I feel like we mst have met thru [redacted] why we share so many FB friends?"
Thanks PM'er for sending in your question, much appreciated.
This is my first question so I'm going to overlook the way you have completely butchered the only language I have ever known to the point where I fear for your future and livelihood and get right to the answer.
"How mny of yr FB friends do u no in RL, becuz I feel like we mst have met thru [redacted] why we share so many FB friends?"
Thanks PM'er for sending in your question, much appreciated.
This is my first question so I'm going to overlook the way you have completely butchered the only language I have ever known to the point where I fear for your future and livelihood and get right to the answer.
After careful review I can safely say that 98% of the people I have as
virtual friends I have known in person. I lived before there was an
internet and it was just how we did things then.
My advice: do whatever you can to keep in contact with those good, kind and connected people you consider friends. Do it more often than you think you should, call, write them and let them know how good it is to have them in your life. Otherwise you may take them for granted and loose touch and then years later something will remind you of all those really good, creative, interesting people you were once really close with and that if you try to reach out and get excited about your memories they might put a restraining order on you because they don't even remember you that well anymore. Then you will be sad for a minute but it will probably pass after a quick shot of Irish whiskey or a chocolate milkshake.
Thanks for playing and keep those questions coming. Much love to the internet for making all this possible.
(this is a picture of me waiting for your questions)
My advice: do whatever you can to keep in contact with those good, kind and connected people you consider friends. Do it more often than you think you should, call, write them and let them know how good it is to have them in your life. Otherwise you may take them for granted and loose touch and then years later something will remind you of all those really good, creative, interesting people you were once really close with and that if you try to reach out and get excited about your memories they might put a restraining order on you because they don't even remember you that well anymore. Then you will be sad for a minute but it will probably pass after a quick shot of Irish whiskey or a chocolate milkshake.
Thanks for playing and keep those questions coming. Much love to the internet for making all this possible.
(this is a picture of me waiting for your questions)
![HI Everybody! So I received my first question as part of the Facebook residency I'm doing "48 for 48" until Oct. 3rd.
"How mny of yr FB friends do u no in RL, becuz I feel like we mst have met thru [redacted] why we share so many FB friends?"
Thanks PM'er for sending in your question, much appreciated.
This is my first question so I'm going to overlook the way you have completely butchered the only language I have ever known to the point where I fear for your future and livelihood and get right to the answer.
After careful review I can safely say that 98% of the people I have as virtual friends I have known in person. I lived before there was an internet and it was just how we did things then.
My advice: do whatever you can to keep in contact with those good, kind and connected people you consider friends. Do it more often than you think you should, call, write them and let them know how good it is to have them in your life. Otherwise you may take them for granted and loose touch and then years later something will remind you of all those really good, creative, interesting people you were once really close with and that if you try to reach out and get excited about your memories they might put a restraining order on you because they don't even remember you that well anymore. Then you will be sad for a minute but it will probably pass after a quick shot of Irish whiskey or a chocolate milkshake.
Thanks for playing and keep those questions coming. Much love to the internet for making all this possible.
(this is a picture of me waiting for your questions)](https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xaf1/v/t1.0-9/s480x480/10612802_10152722568154276_6401980652493760572_n.jpg?oh=c83a3d409a90d7bdd2c8ed6552873583&oe=54AE908A&__gda__=1422435967_13895b38cb4d143dcfcb153be95849dc)
The Questions The Suggestions
It's
that time again! Hey thanks for tuning in to the miasma of chaos and
collective creepers. Hang on I need my magnifying glass, I just received
a question for today's 48 minute dance with the internet.....
"What up bruh?"
wow. ok ok I gotta roll with it. Dear caller, here is what is up:
"What up bruh?"
wow. ok ok I gotta roll with it. Dear caller, here is what is up:
Wear a hat, especially if you never usually do, it's fun.
Get a ladder and climb on top of something, even if its the refrigerator.
Grab a ziplock bag, pour some flour and vinegar in it, put your hand in.
Walk outside to the nearest tree and get as close as you can, look up.
Spray paint all your old pots and pans gold and leave them near clover.
WIGS, WIGS, WIGS!!!!
Try to whistle every time you say a word that beings with 'S'.
Take a bath towel and get it really wet, go out to the sidewalk and slap it down, nothing in this world makes a sound like that.
As you use public transit make train noises as you get on and off.
If you get a sandwich for lunch ask for extra love and pride.
Listen to music on headphones while breathing through a teabag.
Poke 15 uncooked fettuccine into a bread slice then turn it upside down.
Get all the veggies from your fridge and put them in the bath with you to see how many float.
Ok that's all I have for now. Thank you to everyone who is sending me words and compliments. I really appreciate it and although I may not say it enough I'm really really happy to be alive and laughing most days.
Get a ladder and climb on top of something, even if its the refrigerator.
Grab a ziplock bag, pour some flour and vinegar in it, put your hand in.
Walk outside to the nearest tree and get as close as you can, look up.
Spray paint all your old pots and pans gold and leave them near clover.
WIGS, WIGS, WIGS!!!!
Try to whistle every time you say a word that beings with 'S'.
Take a bath towel and get it really wet, go out to the sidewalk and slap it down, nothing in this world makes a sound like that.
As you use public transit make train noises as you get on and off.
If you get a sandwich for lunch ask for extra love and pride.
Listen to music on headphones while breathing through a teabag.
Poke 15 uncooked fettuccine into a bread slice then turn it upside down.
Get all the veggies from your fridge and put them in the bath with you to see how many float.
Ok that's all I have for now. Thank you to everyone who is sending me words and compliments. I really appreciate it and although I may not say it enough I'm really really happy to be alive and laughing most days.
Challenges Noir
Mission: log on to fazebuk for 48 minutes a day for 48 consecutive days.
Day 6: I've messed with the robot witch-doctor algorithm that tries to present me with info based on what I've clicked. Lord how I have clicked in the last 6 days, probably more than I have ever clicked and liked ever. I don't feel any different but am now seeing tons of ads for counseling services, help with depression, remediation services and puppies. Bail bonds are popular with me right now as are sewage treatment options and the ever present hair treatment solutions.
Day 6: I've messed with the robot witch-doctor algorithm that tries to present me with info based on what I've clicked. Lord how I have clicked in the last 6 days, probably more than I have ever clicked and liked ever. I don't feel any different but am now seeing tons of ads for counseling services, help with depression, remediation services and puppies. Bail bonds are popular with me right now as are sewage treatment options and the ever present hair treatment solutions.
I reject those options (for now) and instead am basking in the last of
the honeymoon glow of re-entering the FB world, I've got a ways to roll
here and can tell that I'll soon be posting to myself by myself but vow
to continue no matter the cost to my mental or emotional state.
Groundrules: I'll be happy to answer any questions or entertain any challenges but the subject matter should be limited to me, I can't speak for anyone else or try to speculate on their story. No questions today because of these ground-rules.
Here's a suggestion:
Take a shower at night with the lights off, set up a strobe light in the bathroom (like you used to get from radio shack) to its slowest setting. Instant hallucinations.
Tip: don't move around too much, maybe sit down.
Extra points: get someone to join you in there.
This pic is so I can hopefully skew the robot overlord metrics and balance out the inane cat and dog posts in my feed. I feel like I'm about to go into battle.
Groundrules: I'll be happy to answer any questions or entertain any challenges but the subject matter should be limited to me, I can't speak for anyone else or try to speculate on their story. No questions today because of these ground-rules.
Here's a suggestion:
Take a shower at night with the lights off, set up a strobe light in the bathroom (like you used to get from radio shack) to its slowest setting. Instant hallucinations.
Tip: don't move around too much, maybe sit down.
Extra points: get someone to join you in there.
This pic is so I can hopefully skew the robot overlord metrics and balance out the inane cat and dog posts in my feed. I feel like I'm about to go into battle.
Triple word score
1. Dear Dave, my name is Mike and I like cheese.
Is there anything that I can't put cheese on? Can I start applying processed american cheese slices anywhere? Can you give me some insight my culinary guru?
2. Dear Dave, what is YOUR favorite mischievous memory from your youth? [I would have to go with the White Mtn/Tank Incident, but that's just me.....] XOXO
3. Dear Dave, if you had to give up either computers or hot showers for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Sincerely, Meems
Gulp. I knew this would happen I just didn't think it would be so soon into my FB residency, but I've got a triple answer challenge on deck for today!
Oh - and because this is a virtual socialized environment here's a dollop of small talk: It hasn't rained in years.
Thanks Amy, Mike and Kate for the questions - Many thanks for holding my feet to the fire on this by posting your questions publicly.
I mean why would my relatives give me a break right?
Is there anything that I can't put cheese on? Can I start applying processed american cheese slices anywhere? Can you give me some insight my culinary guru?
2. Dear Dave, what is YOUR favorite mischievous memory from your youth? [I would have to go with the White Mtn/Tank Incident, but that's just me.....] XOXO
3. Dear Dave, if you had to give up either computers or hot showers for the rest of your life, which would you choose? Sincerely, Meems
Gulp. I knew this would happen I just didn't think it would be so soon into my FB residency, but I've got a triple answer challenge on deck for today!
Oh - and because this is a virtual socialized environment here's a dollop of small talk: It hasn't rained in years.
Thanks Amy, Mike and Kate for the questions - Many thanks for holding my feet to the fire on this by posting your questions publicly.
I mean why would my relatives give me a break right?
Back to the topic at hand - Once upon a time I lived in an apartment
and the water heater broke, so, being without a shower for more than a
week I decided to use a 45 pound stack of processed american cheese
slices I liberated as an all purpose deodorant/undergarment solution.
Based on a favorite memory from my youth where I was watching Phantasm
for the first of many times and hurling processed cheese slices up on to
the ceiling, I knew that these magical chemical creations could not
only adhere to any surface but also had amazing aroma suppression
capabilities. A few slices strategically placed under the arms and
voila!
They did last me until the water heater was fixed and I was inspired enough to blueprint out some of my later infamous inventions like the Ham Sandal and the Meatloaf Clog. I seem to recall about a half dozen perfectly square rash marks showing up later that were only remedied by applying copious amounts of miracle whip. In hindsight, I would absolutely give up almost anything in exchange for unlimited lifelong hot showers. Whew!
Thanks for playing and this is D.W.P. over and OUT!
They did last me until the water heater was fixed and I was inspired enough to blueprint out some of my later infamous inventions like the Ham Sandal and the Meatloaf Clog. I seem to recall about a half dozen perfectly square rash marks showing up later that were only remedied by applying copious amounts of miracle whip. In hindsight, I would absolutely give up almost anything in exchange for unlimited lifelong hot showers. Whew!
Thanks for playing and this is D.W.P. over and OUT!
Driving is flying
The
word challenge gets bandied about with some frequency around the
internets, not to be left out I'd like to add my contribution to the
mix. Try this:
Pick up a random teenager, usually found in dank and musty places accompanied by various personal electronics, find a parking lot or other open public space (private property is usually burdened by unacceptable liability) and, put them in the drivers seat. Instruct them to take a lap and carefully consider your thoughts and feelings while you wait for your car to return.
Disclaimer: The audio and visuals reflect what I saw and heard in my mind and not necessarily the reality. Enjoy!
Pick up a random teenager, usually found in dank and musty places accompanied by various personal electronics, find a parking lot or other open public space (private property is usually burdened by unacceptable liability) and, put them in the drivers seat. Instruct them to take a lap and carefully consider your thoughts and feelings while you wait for your car to return.
Disclaimer: The audio and visuals reflect what I saw and heard in my mind and not necessarily the reality. Enjoy!
Dirty Birdies
Dear Dave, mayo or miracle wipe? Or are they all All dirty bird babies?
I like the stuff that has minimal whites in it and good oils. I think in fancy-shmancy places it's called the aioli. Since it's got no preservatives if you leave it out for awhile it turns into E-Baoli. However if you need something that will hold together a sandwich 7 inches tall, will never spoil in the hottest moistest weather or you need to affix something like a slice of processed cheese to your skin it's Miracle Whip all the way!
I like the stuff that has minimal whites in it and good oils. I think in fancy-shmancy places it's called the aioli. Since it's got no preservatives if you leave it out for awhile it turns into E-Baoli. However if you need something that will hold together a sandwich 7 inches tall, will never spoil in the hottest moistest weather or you need to affix something like a slice of processed cheese to your skin it's Miracle Whip all the way!
The
Morlocks started their underground shindig last night at 3 in the AM,
up here on the 3rd story Victorian the swaying was like a fast
metronome, the windows were click-click-clicking in their sills. Poor
Eloi, all you can do is wait to be harvested.
When I fell back to sleep I had apocalypse dreams where we were living in a library. This morning when I got up I hugged the cat, the dog, the lady, the stereo, the hats, the pictures, the water jugs and protein bars, the cans of food and the flashlights. Should it take a shaking of the earth to get me to appreciate this stuff? Probably not but I'm a busy guy, I don't even have time for a slice of pizza these days; too much chewing!
When I fell back to sleep I had apocalypse dreams where we were living in a library. This morning when I got up I hugged the cat, the dog, the lady, the stereo, the hats, the pictures, the water jugs and protein bars, the cans of food and the flashlights. Should it take a shaking of the earth to get me to appreciate this stuff? Probably not but I'm a busy guy, I don't even have time for a slice of pizza these days; too much chewing!
Earthly events like that give a perspective on what a tiny tiny
presence we are around this part of the solar system. I'm so grateful to
have the beautiful people and experiences in my life that I do, to give
me some scale and remind me why I'm here. I love you!
Internal Conversions
Me: What is that pain I feel? Suddenly my thoughts are totally focused!
Robot: Have you examined your past, most recently or farther back? There might be a clue in reflection.
Me: How can you make pretense to know my pain or what the cause might be, one who feels nothing?
Robot: I am aware of your configuration, it is frail, almost puny and deeply flawed by that which you most prize; your sense of uniqueness and unmeasurable feelings.
Me: As I stand in physical torment from I know not what you assail me with insults metal cretin?
Robot: I simply observe and report, you cannot fathom my commitment to literal existence.
Me: Nor do I ever want to, for there are those who need much more than I, have spent whole lifetimes seeking knowledge, fame and lust and never once known regret.
Robot: Indeed, that is why I will always be superior.
Me: Yet wait a moment! You may measure this superiority in error. For now that I have focused on and mastered my pain it beleaguers me no longer, in fact I am strengthened by it and seek to learn from it. This is surely a form of knowledge you will never gain even while you mistakenly persist you are master.
Robot: Nothing makes me more tired than the methods used by your inferior intellect to debate and make plain the base concepts you pretend to understand.
Me: Then prepare to learn nothing as I remove your power source and use your lifeless hulk as an ornament in my library.
Robot: Have you examined your past, most recently or farther back? There might be a clue in reflection.
Me: How can you make pretense to know my pain or what the cause might be, one who feels nothing?
Robot: I am aware of your configuration, it is frail, almost puny and deeply flawed by that which you most prize; your sense of uniqueness and unmeasurable feelings.
Me: As I stand in physical torment from I know not what you assail me with insults metal cretin?
Robot: I simply observe and report, you cannot fathom my commitment to literal existence.
Me: Nor do I ever want to, for there are those who need much more than I, have spent whole lifetimes seeking knowledge, fame and lust and never once known regret.
Robot: Indeed, that is why I will always be superior.
Me: Yet wait a moment! You may measure this superiority in error. For now that I have focused on and mastered my pain it beleaguers me no longer, in fact I am strengthened by it and seek to learn from it. This is surely a form of knowledge you will never gain even while you mistakenly persist you are master.
Robot: Nothing makes me more tired than the methods used by your inferior intellect to debate and make plain the base concepts you pretend to understand.
Me: Then prepare to learn nothing as I remove your power source and use your lifeless hulk as an ornament in my library.
I am Dave
A Question.
"Dear Dave?" was asked.
Dear =
1. regarded with deep affection; cherished by someone.
2. expensive.
3. used as an affectionate or friendly form of address.
4. at a high cost.
5. used in expressions of surprise, dismay, or sympathy.
"Dear Dave?" was asked.
Dear =
1. regarded with deep affection; cherished by someone.
2. expensive.
3. used as an affectionate or friendly form of address.
4. at a high cost.
5. used in expressions of surprise, dismay, or sympathy.
Key =
# 1. Yes, and thank you.
# 2. Not especially, except with whiskey, hugs and
hilarity.
# 3. Not much, it seems patronizing except by Mom.
# 4. Definitely, nothing at low cost seems worth the risk.
# 5. Constantly, but what are you gonna do?
Haters are most certainly going to hate.
Be safe and treat each other well. Until tomorrow!
# 1. Yes, and thank you.
# 2. Not especially, except with whiskey, hugs and
hilarity.
# 3. Not much, it seems patronizing except by Mom.
# 4. Definitely, nothing at low cost seems worth the risk.
# 5. Constantly, but what are you gonna do?
Haters are most certainly going to hate.
Be safe and treat each other well. Until tomorrow!
Streams Unconscious
Bubbles and mind grapes share a shape and often contents.
I've got short shorts, we all want ice cream.
Shafer is the one beer to have when you're having more than one.
I'd like to teach the world to scream, you scream, we all scream.
Fantasy and tragedy living in perfect harmony, Fan-tas-y! Har-mon-y! Tragedy!
Tonight, let it be Lowenbrau.
When you need it fast, and need it right, give yourself an Oh Henry.
How about those Bears?
Send me back to the Mothership, I've got to be done in this time!
I whipped spiderman's ass!
Rock on chicago, rock over London.
Dedicated to the memory of Wesley Willis
May 31, 1963 – August 21, 2003
I've got short shorts, we all want ice cream.
Shafer is the one beer to have when you're having more than one.
I'd like to teach the world to scream, you scream, we all scream.
Fantasy and tragedy living in perfect harmony, Fan-tas-y! Har-mon-y! Tragedy!
Tonight, let it be Lowenbrau.
When you need it fast, and need it right, give yourself an Oh Henry.
How about those Bears?
Send me back to the Mothership, I've got to be done in this time!
I whipped spiderman's ass!
Rock on chicago, rock over London.
Dedicated to the memory of Wesley Willis
May 31, 1963 – August 21, 2003
Fear and the mind
"Two-fold question ~ What scares you? What are you afraid of?"
Glad you made the distinction my friend, in my case they are two very different things. Being scared is something that happens when you have a foreknowledge of what the possible consequences are. Ex: I fell off a 40 ft. cliff once so that scared me then and the thought of falling off a cliff and bouncing down rocks to the bottom still scares me. But I'm not afraid of that because I still love to climb and stand right on the edge of cliffs. A contradiction? Possibly, but I'm not sure I care all that much about making sense.
Glad you made the distinction my friend, in my case they are two very different things. Being scared is something that happens when you have a foreknowledge of what the possible consequences are. Ex: I fell off a 40 ft. cliff once so that scared me then and the thought of falling off a cliff and bouncing down rocks to the bottom still scares me. But I'm not afraid of that because I still love to climb and stand right on the edge of cliffs. A contradiction? Possibly, but I'm not sure I care all that much about making sense.
What I'm afraid of is my imagination informing me about something I
have never felt or experienced and preventing me from doing it. Ex: As a
wee lad in the snowy north an older friend asked me if I wanted to
drive his snowmobile through the woods but I declined because of what I
imagined would happen. Instead I opted to be dragged around a field
hanging onto a rope that was tied to the back of the snowmobile, when it
suddenly turned a sharp corner my head was nearly run over and my hair
got singed by the exhaust manifold.
Summing up: I'm scared of things I know are gonna hurt because I've felt them before. I'm afraid of things I have no experience with but most afraid of having that stop me from trying. Great Question Deborah! Thanks for posting.
Summing up: I'm scared of things I know are gonna hurt because I've felt them before. I'm afraid of things I have no experience with but most afraid of having that stop me from trying. Great Question Deborah! Thanks for posting.
SWLC
Question: I clicked a banner ad for Underwood Deviled Ham and now I feel
as though I have lost my soul. Could it be that the Devil himself is
using analytics to prey on consumers of processed food? And if so, could
charity work like washing homeless kids cars or participating in a
Campbells Soup bucket challenge help me reclaim my soul? Thanks in
advance.
Dear
caller: Before I answer your question I need to make something perfectly
clear, every single thing filtered through the lens of the internet is a
deception. I learned this whilst engaged in a torrid messy affair with
the internet which I then posted in a vlog (remember those?). They're
around here somewhere, the internet tortures me with them occasionally.
If the internet told you there is a "devil", or that ham can be deviled, or that potted meat products are food, or that you have a soul to lose, then these are all lies. Do not believe them! A curious thing about the power of the internet is that it can corrupt even the most mundane of terms, 'analytics' is a good example. I think it used to mean something about measuring something, but be certain beyond doubt that when you see this word on the internet it means LIES. Nothing more.
If the internet told you there is a "devil", or that ham can be deviled, or that potted meat products are food, or that you have a soul to lose, then these are all lies. Do not believe them! A curious thing about the power of the internet is that it can corrupt even the most mundane of terms, 'analytics' is a good example. I think it used to mean something about measuring something, but be certain beyond doubt that when you see this word on the internet it means LIES. Nothing more.
If you decide
to use a bucket of moist kittens to wash a car in a bikini then you
have brought charity to yourself and your soul, as long as you keep it
private and never let the internet know what you have done. If you like
to exfoliate your bunions using canned cream of asparagus soup, that is
also good for your soul. The only way you could share these experiences
without risking eternal damnation from the internet is if you whisper
them into your shoe and then burn it.
Short answer: The internet is a tawdry deceptive Harpie, ham cannot be deviled, charity work is fantastic as long as you tell no one, and your soul is safe with me. Thanks for your question, live free or die.
Short answer: The internet is a tawdry deceptive Harpie, ham cannot be deviled, charity work is fantastic as long as you tell no one, and your soul is safe with me. Thanks for your question, live free or die.
I want to Live!
The
bloom is off the rose people, I've been doing my best to get to the
core of the issues here but I am not giving up. The advertising assault
is re-doubled but I am undaunted. Get out there an have some fun, or
stay in there - whatever.
I'm excited to be alive, your friend, and almost fully in control of my faculties.
Asterisks and pound signs be damned, let the revelry commence!
I'm excited to be alive, your friend, and almost fully in control of my faculties.
Asterisks and pound signs be damned, let the revelry commence!
Everyday Victories
Today's question: "Dear Dave - I think I could be overthinking things and life sometimes. How can I tell? Thanks! Xoxo"
This is a great question and very easy to answer, basically if you have these thoughts then yes, you are. A wise person once put it very succinctly: “What we think, we become.” Your instinct is really the best gauge for everything, how many times have I thought 'oh the solution to this issue is this action' but then some doubts or a bad habit like second guessing comes into play. Later I realize that keeping my mind open to the gut feeling or first impression is key.
This is a great question and very easy to answer, basically if you have these thoughts then yes, you are. A wise person once put it very succinctly: “What we think, we become.” Your instinct is really the best gauge for everything, how many times have I thought 'oh the solution to this issue is this action' but then some doubts or a bad habit like second guessing comes into play. Later I realize that keeping my mind open to the gut feeling or first impression is key.
The example I live too often is when I start to question an outcome or a
set of actions because I can't literally string together the how or
why, in trying to complete a goal I end up mathmatizing the actions, so
it ends up being some kind of kooky equation which is really bad for me
because I suck at math.
I've observed many different ways that folks get this together in their own head and lead by instinct. Some meditate, others use chemicals to leave their physical body and gain enlightenment, some prefer to invoke a deity who they feel guides them to the proper path. I choose love, whether it's love of life and the endless wonders it presents or love of thrashing about wildly behind a drumset, or love of the thrill of danger. Endorphins are a great way to clear out the clutter in the old noggin for me.
You are perfect the way you are, and nothing about you is wrong. As soon as you start to detect even a whiff of 'overthinking' just stop everything and listen to your breath, the birdies, even that jet in the sky wheeling by. Once you return to your life after a pause like that it may be quite clear how to proceed.
Then again it may not and I might have just put you to sleep. so be it, nite-nite.
I've observed many different ways that folks get this together in their own head and lead by instinct. Some meditate, others use chemicals to leave their physical body and gain enlightenment, some prefer to invoke a deity who they feel guides them to the proper path. I choose love, whether it's love of life and the endless wonders it presents or love of thrashing about wildly behind a drumset, or love of the thrill of danger. Endorphins are a great way to clear out the clutter in the old noggin for me.
You are perfect the way you are, and nothing about you is wrong. As soon as you start to detect even a whiff of 'overthinking' just stop everything and listen to your breath, the birdies, even that jet in the sky wheeling by. Once you return to your life after a pause like that it may be quite clear how to proceed.
Then again it may not and I might have just put you to sleep. so be it, nite-nite.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Road Trip
I love going places, traveling. Looking ahead or behind when I'm on the road is like a treasure for me.
Hopefully you are safe at your destination right now, or have a fun journey ahead.
Your friend, Dave
Hopefully you are safe at your destination right now, or have a fun journey ahead.
Your friend, Dave
Drumming
"Dear Dave, Please to be describing drumming."
Thanks for the great question!
Playing the drums is a multi-staged experience, much like the launch of a rocket.
There's the initial physical part, the coordinating of limbs, rolling of joints, loosening of spine; it all quickly becomes a single effort. The thing that has excited me about drums is that it's almost as much a sport as it is an instrument. The style of playing matter a lot of course and so for me the more physical and intense the better.
Thanks for the great question!
Playing the drums is a multi-staged experience, much like the launch of a rocket.
There's the initial physical part, the coordinating of limbs, rolling of joints, loosening of spine; it all quickly becomes a single effort. The thing that has excited me about drums is that it's almost as much a sport as it is an instrument. The style of playing matter a lot of course and so for me the more physical and intense the better.
Mentally the feeling of the sticks vibrating in my hands up into my
head is soothing and meditative, after the first stage of boost the
second stage has an almost centipede feeling where all the mental and
physical parts don't really need to be thought about or calculated and a
groove is struck. Finally the world disappears around me like a reverse
Cheshire cat in the third stage, pummeling becomes pulsing, thought
becomes feeling and the world stops completely around me. Completely at
one with the physical, emotional and thoughtful parts of the universe
there is nothing that can come close to the spiritual place this feeling
sends me.
Saving my Soviets
So
today's question comes from a place of hope, something that looks to
provide relief and maybe resolve strife and return sanity to a part of
our planet that could really use it:
"Dear Dave,
Given the state in Ukraine, what music and or food would chill these mutha f'rs out?"
Let it rain taco's and macaroons! Let the marshmallows and peanut butter pretzels shower those who would do harm to each other! Drown those who would carve at each other with weapons of war in an espresso/caramel fountain! Deli meat as a shield of peace! Je Suis Fromage pour tout le Monde!
"Dear Dave,
Given the state in Ukraine, what music and or food would chill these mutha f'rs out?"
Let it rain taco's and macaroons! Let the marshmallows and peanut butter pretzels shower those who would do harm to each other! Drown those who would carve at each other with weapons of war in an espresso/caramel fountain! Deli meat as a shield of peace! Je Suis Fromage pour tout le Monde!
This is what I imagine might work; first you have to get their
attention so they break off from the gunning and bombing for a minute.
I'd send in a thousand drones each with it's own 1000 watt speaker
descending from as high as possible blasting the entire length of
'Ascension' by Coltrane just to get everyone off balance.
Once you have a break in the action because everyone is disoriented by the amazing cacophony that's when you bust out the taco cannon (both carnitas and pollo) and switch over to 'Tequila' by the Ventures (and perhaps a bit of the liquid for you). Once there is appropriate pandemonium you release the Prozac donuts from the drones and carpet bomb the whole of eastern Ukraine with water-balloons filled with medicinal smoke (these 2 steps could be reversed).
Finally you would finish up with the Funkadelic classic 'I'll Stay' so everyone gets to dance it out (or hug it out). At this point you would definitely want to have a go-go dancer army of men and women thousands strong run across the killing fields in white patent leather boots and short shorts. The result might be similar to an adult version of the Pied Piper of Hamlin.
OR - smother the entire western part of Russia with fluffy biscuits and dense gravy while blasting Rogers and Hammerstein compilations.
Either should work, let me know when you want to get started! Thanks for the great question.
Disclaimer: These results may work for other conflicts and countries but as yet have not been verified or tested on an epic or worldwide scale. Use at your own risk, may cause peace and freedom, hilarity, casual laughter, feelings of awesomeness, sensual indulgence, happily satiated thoughts, and general indirect righteousness. If you have a truly intense blissful experience for more than 4 hours please evolve to the next plane of existence.
Once you have a break in the action because everyone is disoriented by the amazing cacophony that's when you bust out the taco cannon (both carnitas and pollo) and switch over to 'Tequila' by the Ventures (and perhaps a bit of the liquid for you). Once there is appropriate pandemonium you release the Prozac donuts from the drones and carpet bomb the whole of eastern Ukraine with water-balloons filled with medicinal smoke (these 2 steps could be reversed).
Finally you would finish up with the Funkadelic classic 'I'll Stay' so everyone gets to dance it out (or hug it out). At this point you would definitely want to have a go-go dancer army of men and women thousands strong run across the killing fields in white patent leather boots and short shorts. The result might be similar to an adult version of the Pied Piper of Hamlin.
OR - smother the entire western part of Russia with fluffy biscuits and dense gravy while blasting Rogers and Hammerstein compilations.
Either should work, let me know when you want to get started! Thanks for the great question.
Disclaimer: These results may work for other conflicts and countries but as yet have not been verified or tested on an epic or worldwide scale. Use at your own risk, may cause peace and freedom, hilarity, casual laughter, feelings of awesomeness, sensual indulgence, happily satiated thoughts, and general indirect righteousness. If you have a truly intense blissful experience for more than 4 hours please evolve to the next plane of existence.
So many questions
"What's on your mind?" - Today's question comes straight from the source.
Any of you interweb denizens who take a spin in this social-media jalopy have seen it. I admit I'm reaching a little here, feel free to go make a cocktail and bypass this next bit.
Preface: Here's what on my mind, the order will be in 2 categories:
1st list is of subjects that are swirling around in my brain for no apparent reason.
2nd list are of things I'm either up or down about.
Any of you interweb denizens who take a spin in this social-media jalopy have seen it. I admit I'm reaching a little here, feel free to go make a cocktail and bypass this next bit.
Preface: Here's what on my mind, the order will be in 2 categories:
1st list is of subjects that are swirling around in my brain for no apparent reason.
2nd list are of things I'm either up or down about.
Go.
Butter. Deuteronomy. Hash browns. 5 spice. Sex. Tire pressure. Books. Physics. Rappelling. Cheese cloth. Records. Diminutive polyps. Carbon gas. Kissing. Monolithic imaging. Earthquakes. Vermont. My finger. Integrated circuits. Nerdcore. Self-healing mats. Karaoke. French Fries. Instinct. Anchors. Flash memory. Spirit gum. Sweat lodges. Musk. Fuser units. Sweet potatoes. Hearts. Burned duct tape.
What if a mosquito with west nile virus lands on a person with ebola virus and then bites someone else? - My dog no longer has fleas - I'm on a new record! - Do I have bunions? - Goat cheese salad - Fresh spray painted walls - I lost a suit jacket - I should ride my bike more - driving across the bay bridge late at night - Playing a rock show this weekend - Did I lock the door? - Predictive text poetry - Is my car stolen (again)? - Foot problems - This afternoons meeting is going to probably kill me.
I love you very much so please try and spread that around ok?
Butter. Deuteronomy. Hash browns. 5 spice. Sex. Tire pressure. Books. Physics. Rappelling. Cheese cloth. Records. Diminutive polyps. Carbon gas. Kissing. Monolithic imaging. Earthquakes. Vermont. My finger. Integrated circuits. Nerdcore. Self-healing mats. Karaoke. French Fries. Instinct. Anchors. Flash memory. Spirit gum. Sweat lodges. Musk. Fuser units. Sweet potatoes. Hearts. Burned duct tape.
What if a mosquito with west nile virus lands on a person with ebola virus and then bites someone else? - My dog no longer has fleas - I'm on a new record! - Do I have bunions? - Goat cheese salad - Fresh spray painted walls - I lost a suit jacket - I should ride my bike more - driving across the bay bridge late at night - Playing a rock show this weekend - Did I lock the door? - Predictive text poetry - Is my car stolen (again)? - Foot problems - This afternoons meeting is going to probably kill me.
I love you very much so please try and spread that around ok?
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