1) Read "American Psycho" while stoned.
2) Watch "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" highlights and porn on the same screen.
3) Focus only your shadow while jumping up and down on a trampoline.
4) Compare the similarities of Dick Cheney and the fat Cenobite from Hellraiser.
5) Eat heavily-sauced spaghetti while watching "The Passion of the Christ".
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Paper Boots
I have a pair of paper boots.
They get soggy after puddle-jumping,
and we make new ones from old newspaper.
Inhaling the inky smell, our laughter louder than the crinkling,
we steal kisses even as we dodge thrown mittens, still wet from brown snow.
Hung to dry over the mantle, bursting into flames,
we notice only the ashes later as our twin fires burn low,
exhausted energy spent on one another.
I kiss your fluttering eyelids to sleep,
and you murmur softly in your dream-world,
far from snow and fire,
while I marvel at the stillness of your face,
the slight part of your lips,
the soft curve of your back in my hand.
As many lights in the sky as sparks from a log;
the bricks stacked to shape our fire glowing with an inner heat;
we two make more light than God
in this moment, our moment,
and rest when our day is done.
This is a world where few are found,
and we are a privileged few who dwell here.
They get soggy after puddle-jumping,
and we make new ones from old newspaper.
Inhaling the inky smell, our laughter louder than the crinkling,
we steal kisses even as we dodge thrown mittens, still wet from brown snow.
Hung to dry over the mantle, bursting into flames,
we notice only the ashes later as our twin fires burn low,
exhausted energy spent on one another.
I kiss your fluttering eyelids to sleep,
and you murmur softly in your dream-world,
far from snow and fire,
while I marvel at the stillness of your face,
the slight part of your lips,
the soft curve of your back in my hand.
As many lights in the sky as sparks from a log;
the bricks stacked to shape our fire glowing with an inner heat;
we two make more light than God
in this moment, our moment,
and rest when our day is done.
This is a world where few are found,
and we are a privileged few who dwell here.
Inconstancy
God speaks to each of us before we are,
Before he's formed us — then, in cloudy speech,
But only then, he speaks these words to each
And silently walks with us from the dark:
Driven by your senses, dare
To the edge of longing. Grow
Like a fire's shadowcasting glare
Behind assembled things, so you can spread
Their shapes on me as clothes.
Don't leave me bare.
Let it all happen to you: beauty and dread.
Simply go — no feeling is too much —
And only this way can we stay in touch.
Near here is the land
That they call Life.
You'll know when you arrive
By how real it is.
Give me your hand.
Rainer Maria Rilke
-Thursday, January 8th, 2009
The Origin of a Love Story
Lost in thought in the early dawn,
watching the sunrise spread 'cross the lawn,
I wished for a seed to grow to a tree -
a home to hang your candles from.
The bark would bear your name and mine,
letters twisting round the trunk, entwined;
before it burns away, we'll see
a smoky branch wave it's leaves towards the sky.
watching the sunrise spread 'cross the lawn,
I wished for a seed to grow to a tree -
a home to hang your candles from.
The bark would bear your name and mine,
letters twisting round the trunk, entwined;
before it burns away, we'll see
a smoky branch wave it's leaves towards the sky.
Rough Sketch for a Future Funeral
I had the great fortune to know my grandaddy throughout three phases of my life.
As a child, I was captivated by his rapt attention and unconditional love; his enthusiasm and sweet nature expressed in "tastes like cinammon" earlobe-nibbles, remembering my favorite Archie comics, and old videotapes of The Little Rascals.
As a teenager, I benefited from the wisdom of his advice, some of which I sought, some of which was not, but which was always readily available and freely given, and most often better headed than not.
And finally as a young man, fresh in the "real world" and adventuring with a newfound sense of independence (even though I had recently moved back in with my parents), I benefited again on account of his open and frank recollections about his own exploits as an adult, and how sometimes it is wiser to swallow your pride than to risk two weeks in a hospital by swallowing a bottle.
Grandaddy demonstrated the power of "till Death do us part" in his later years, showing a deep devotion, love and care for his beloved, sometimes in contrast to his own health. This is a comittment we in the current Western world are seldom exposed to, the power, sincerity and import of which cannot be denied.
As he believed in "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," so too deep in my soul is the belief that he is bound for somewhere greater, somewhere restful, and somewhere good where he may be at peace, a well-earned repose from a life poured into his family, and that he is greeted by our smiling Creator, welcoming him with open arms and whispering, "Home again, home again, jiggity jog."
He had a powerful love for us all, and the man I knew lived with few regrets. I therefore invite you to not to shed your tears, but to celebrate with me the life of Ross Kern.
As a child, I was captivated by his rapt attention and unconditional love; his enthusiasm and sweet nature expressed in "tastes like cinammon" earlobe-nibbles, remembering my favorite Archie comics, and old videotapes of The Little Rascals.
As a teenager, I benefited from the wisdom of his advice, some of which I sought, some of which was not, but which was always readily available and freely given, and most often better headed than not.
And finally as a young man, fresh in the "real world" and adventuring with a newfound sense of independence (even though I had recently moved back in with my parents), I benefited again on account of his open and frank recollections about his own exploits as an adult, and how sometimes it is wiser to swallow your pride than to risk two weeks in a hospital by swallowing a bottle.
Grandaddy demonstrated the power of "till Death do us part" in his later years, showing a deep devotion, love and care for his beloved, sometimes in contrast to his own health. This is a comittment we in the current Western world are seldom exposed to, the power, sincerity and import of which cannot be denied.
As he believed in "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," so too deep in my soul is the belief that he is bound for somewhere greater, somewhere restful, and somewhere good where he may be at peace, a well-earned repose from a life poured into his family, and that he is greeted by our smiling Creator, welcoming him with open arms and whispering, "Home again, home again, jiggity jog."
He had a powerful love for us all, and the man I knew lived with few regrets. I therefore invite you to not to shed your tears, but to celebrate with me the life of Ross Kern.
The Meanings of Life
Life and love and life and love,
a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets,
and to drag in the idea of a point
is to ruin everything. Live and let live,
love and let love, flower and fade,
and follow the natural curve,
which flows on, pointless.
-D.H. Lawrence
'What is the meaning of life?' is a stupid question. Life just exists. You say to yourself, 'I can't accept that I mean nothing so I have to find the meaning of life so that I shouldn't mean as little as I know I do.' Subconsciously you know you're full of shit. I see life as a dance. Does dance have to have a meaning? You're dancing because you enjoy it.
-Jackie Mason
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
-Kurt Vonnegut
We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that death will tremble to take us.
-Charles Bukowski
a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets,
and to drag in the idea of a point
is to ruin everything. Live and let live,
love and let love, flower and fade,
and follow the natural curve,
which flows on, pointless.
-D.H. Lawrence
'What is the meaning of life?' is a stupid question. Life just exists. You say to yourself, 'I can't accept that I mean nothing so I have to find the meaning of life so that I shouldn't mean as little as I know I do.' Subconsciously you know you're full of shit. I see life as a dance. Does dance have to have a meaning? You're dancing because you enjoy it.
-Jackie Mason
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
-Kurt Vonnegut
We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that death will tremble to take us.
-Charles Bukowski
Quarter Past Three
There's no Dab sitting on my chest. At least none of the old ones. But the insomnia seems to be back, and it's winning. New worries, new anxieties, but few ways to block or re-route them so I can get some sleep.
Last night, I was up till 4 a.m. and woke up at 8:30. It's 3:15 a.m. and we're looking at a double-feature. Been reading for one and a half hours; maybe part of the problem is too many books? I've got three at the moment: "The Art of Happiness", "Infinite Jest", and "The Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense." Actually, I've four if I'm counting the Psychology textbook on loan from Ryan. Oddly enough, the entire chapter on dreams goes into fascinating detail about the various stages of sleep, the Event Horizon of consciousness and unconsciousness, and yet fails to mention basic remedies, ideas, or solutions to insomnia, instead listing a brief definition while skimming some of the mythological superstitions surrounding the subject in art, history and poetry.
Damn schools; what are they teaching kids these days? No self-regulating form of behavior? No corrective measures against a severely debilitating, mentally unsound, physically damaging psychological hindrance? Nah. How 'bout a painting that looks like a 17th century Emo rendition of a demon sitting on a woman's chest, laughing? Great. Just great. This is why I prefer the performing arts.
I think I'm in a Kafka mood too on account of seeing Synecdoche, New York, the new Charlie Kaufman film starring Philip Seymour Hoffman and Diane Wiest. Interesting beyond a doubt, provoking in it's ability to ignite abstract meaning in it's overtly metaphorical imagery, and breathtakingly grand in scope. It does, however, leave you feeling as if you just stepped into a person's very disturbing, very private dream. I couldn't shake the feeling halfway through the film that I had fallen asleep, and was watching instead a vivid hallucination sparked by my own lack of rest.
Anyway, I'd highly recommend the film. I'm sure some actors and directors (and writers, especially) will be hailing this movie as one of the epic hallmarks of the cinema, which is like saying Surrealism is the deepest and therefore truest genre of art.
F*ck. I need sleep. I have auditions and filming tomorrow.
-Wednesday, November 12th, 2008
Last night, I was up till 4 a.m. and woke up at 8:30. It's 3:15 a.m. and we're looking at a double-feature. Been reading for one and a half hours; maybe part of the problem is too many books? I've got three at the moment: "The Art of Happiness", "Infinite Jest", and "The Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense." Actually, I've four if I'm counting the Psychology textbook on loan from Ryan. Oddly enough, the entire chapter on dreams goes into fascinating detail about the various stages of sleep, the Event Horizon of consciousness and unconsciousness, and yet fails to mention basic remedies, ideas, or solutions to insomnia, instead listing a brief definition while skimming some of the mythological superstitions surrounding the subject in art, history and poetry.
Damn schools; what are they teaching kids these days? No self-regulating form of behavior? No corrective measures against a severely debilitating, mentally unsound, physically damaging psychological hindrance? Nah. How 'bout a painting that looks like a 17th century Emo rendition of a demon sitting on a woman's chest, laughing? Great. Just great. This is why I prefer the performing arts.
I think I'm in a Kafka mood too on account of seeing Synecdoche, New York, the new Charlie Kaufman film starring Philip Seymour Hoffman and Diane Wiest. Interesting beyond a doubt, provoking in it's ability to ignite abstract meaning in it's overtly metaphorical imagery, and breathtakingly grand in scope. It does, however, leave you feeling as if you just stepped into a person's very disturbing, very private dream. I couldn't shake the feeling halfway through the film that I had fallen asleep, and was watching instead a vivid hallucination sparked by my own lack of rest.
Anyway, I'd highly recommend the film. I'm sure some actors and directors (and writers, especially) will be hailing this movie as one of the epic hallmarks of the cinema, which is like saying Surrealism is the deepest and therefore truest genre of art.
F*ck. I need sleep. I have auditions and filming tomorrow.
-Wednesday, November 12th, 2008
H.O.P.E.
Health, Opportunity, Prosperity, Equality.
I was an ex-pat at two points in my life. At the age of three, my family moved to the south of France where we lived for almost three years. Later, when I was fourteen, my father's job took us to the Netherlands (or Holland, as most Americans know it.)
Living abroad as an American is an exhilarating experience. Racial/national diversity is rampant, politics are close-knit and face the constant struggle of bringing so many countries together, cultural taboos are unfamiliar, and the normal prejudices of American life towards sex, gender identity, independence, alcohol and drugs, and responsibility take a complete twist.
The sense of history between each country is the most fascinating aspect. As America borders only two countries, of which we share a meager 200 years at most, it's difficult to grasp the fact that many countries like Holland have been contending, sharing, trading, etc. with one another for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
One constant struggle for any American living abroad is coming to terms with the sense of hatred many people foster for the United States. Between 1999 and 2003, I met people from many different countries who held false beliefs about the American people; chiefly, why so many Americans seemed to support President Bush, a notion that my brother and I quickly moved to dispel.
On occasion, Clay and I were met with open hostility. In one particular incident, a Dutch student pulled up next to us on a scooter and began yelling obscenities - "Go back to America! Fucking fascists!"
My soccer team in the Netherlands had an ongoing rivalry with a team called the Woensel Boys. I played keeper, and during one game I wrapped myself around the ball while their forward followed through with his kick, connecting with the base of my skull and numbing my body for a period of half a minute, although it felt like eternity. As I struggled to take a breath, I heard him shouting at me "Stupid American fucker, get out of the way." Personally, I think he was more upset that I had blocked his shot.
This kind of aggrevation wore on and on, sometimes from the families of my close friends who were extremely loving of me, but very anti-Bush, which unfortunately translated to anti-American in their speech. As the years went by, I felt myself drawn more and more to an anti-American mindset, something easily justified by the policies and behavior of the Bush administration and by my inflated sense of anti-Patriotism; you don't take pride in a country that exemplifies incredibly narrow-minded, bigoted, ignorant behavior.
I will say that since I have been back, I have found many areas to take pride of in my country; our Constitution, our music, our awareness of social equality and our constant struggle to take bigger steps towards real equality between all people regardless of race, gender identity, sexual orientation, etc. Something's been missing - a President I can respect, admire, support and learn from.
Barack Obama has given me my sense of Patriotism back. And that's something I didn't expect to find in great quantity for a long, long time.
So thank you to the American people, for going against my lowered expectations and voting in someone with enormous potential, someone who is intelligent and yet relates to us all, someone capable of healing a great multitude who have been wounded, betrayed, and upset by our government in years past.
"...we've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope; but in the unlikely story of America, there has never been anything false about our hope."
-Barack Obama
-Monday, November 10th, 2008
I was an ex-pat at two points in my life. At the age of three, my family moved to the south of France where we lived for almost three years. Later, when I was fourteen, my father's job took us to the Netherlands (or Holland, as most Americans know it.)
Living abroad as an American is an exhilarating experience. Racial/national diversity is rampant, politics are close-knit and face the constant struggle of bringing so many countries together, cultural taboos are unfamiliar, and the normal prejudices of American life towards sex, gender identity, independence, alcohol and drugs, and responsibility take a complete twist.
The sense of history between each country is the most fascinating aspect. As America borders only two countries, of which we share a meager 200 years at most, it's difficult to grasp the fact that many countries like Holland have been contending, sharing, trading, etc. with one another for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
One constant struggle for any American living abroad is coming to terms with the sense of hatred many people foster for the United States. Between 1999 and 2003, I met people from many different countries who held false beliefs about the American people; chiefly, why so many Americans seemed to support President Bush, a notion that my brother and I quickly moved to dispel.
On occasion, Clay and I were met with open hostility. In one particular incident, a Dutch student pulled up next to us on a scooter and began yelling obscenities - "Go back to America! Fucking fascists!"
My soccer team in the Netherlands had an ongoing rivalry with a team called the Woensel Boys. I played keeper, and during one game I wrapped myself around the ball while their forward followed through with his kick, connecting with the base of my skull and numbing my body for a period of half a minute, although it felt like eternity. As I struggled to take a breath, I heard him shouting at me "Stupid American fucker, get out of the way." Personally, I think he was more upset that I had blocked his shot.
This kind of aggrevation wore on and on, sometimes from the families of my close friends who were extremely loving of me, but very anti-Bush, which unfortunately translated to anti-American in their speech. As the years went by, I felt myself drawn more and more to an anti-American mindset, something easily justified by the policies and behavior of the Bush administration and by my inflated sense of anti-Patriotism; you don't take pride in a country that exemplifies incredibly narrow-minded, bigoted, ignorant behavior.
I will say that since I have been back, I have found many areas to take pride of in my country; our Constitution, our music, our awareness of social equality and our constant struggle to take bigger steps towards real equality between all people regardless of race, gender identity, sexual orientation, etc. Something's been missing - a President I can respect, admire, support and learn from.
Barack Obama has given me my sense of Patriotism back. And that's something I didn't expect to find in great quantity for a long, long time.
So thank you to the American people, for going against my lowered expectations and voting in someone with enormous potential, someone who is intelligent and yet relates to us all, someone capable of healing a great multitude who have been wounded, betrayed, and upset by our government in years past.
"...we've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope; but in the unlikely story of America, there has never been anything false about our hope."
-Barack Obama
-Monday, November 10th, 2008
The Great Joke From On High
"The love you withhold is the pain that you carry."
How do you un-guard your heart and not be wary?
It's scary; altogether, the situation's quite hairy.
Chase me, run and catch me; fill me full of energy!
The sustenance I suck from you is what completes me.
Vampiric, parasitic, co-dependent, needy...unhealthy.
On the seventh day, God laughed at Adam,
as vexed and perplexed as he was by his madame.
Children from that confusion union? Should never have had them.
-Monday, October 20th, 2008
How do you un-guard your heart and not be wary?
It's scary; altogether, the situation's quite hairy.
Chase me, run and catch me; fill me full of energy!
The sustenance I suck from you is what completes me.
Vampiric, parasitic, co-dependent, needy...unhealthy.
On the seventh day, God laughed at Adam,
as vexed and perplexed as he was by his madame.
Children from that confusion union? Should never have had them.
-Monday, October 20th, 2008
Chasing a Dream
Checking in, noting nothing's changed - everything is pretty much the same.
Different day. The sun looks dimmer, it sets a different way.
When you were young, you talked with yourself. Promises were made,
dreams were forged at night, then realized at the break of day.
Oftentimes, when nothing goes your way, you say your dreams have made you pay.
Now and then, desire leads you to walk astray, make mistakes.
Swim alone through tides of strain, or face the truth and walk away;
success in matters of the heart are for another day.
Cities have a habit of holding joy at bay.
Their bright lights, dens, denizens looking for their next lay,
are dumb to what holds you in your part. This is an ill-begotten play,
so save face; best leave it to the players.
-Thursday, October 2nd, 2008
Different day. The sun looks dimmer, it sets a different way.
When you were young, you talked with yourself. Promises were made,
dreams were forged at night, then realized at the break of day.
Oftentimes, when nothing goes your way, you say your dreams have made you pay.
Now and then, desire leads you to walk astray, make mistakes.
Swim alone through tides of strain, or face the truth and walk away;
success in matters of the heart are for another day.
Cities have a habit of holding joy at bay.
Their bright lights, dens, denizens looking for their next lay,
are dumb to what holds you in your part. This is an ill-begotten play,
so save face; best leave it to the players.
-Thursday, October 2nd, 2008
Between the Lines
There's a New York actor who feels on Fear Factor
When love is in the air,
He can talk through Shakespeare
"Oh how I love you my dear"
but the real thing's such a scare…
So he prayed to Marlon Brando, Meryl Streep, Al Pacino
and found his answer in the stars -
ain't no lines to read
when the words come straight from the heart.
Tell her how you feel,
speak your dream and make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show,
if all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
A week of rehearsing, no sleep and no working,
Casanova takes five to prepare;
but the words get stuck like wet shoes in the muck,
and he's purple from a lack of air.
Then she smiles and laughs and she claps claps claps
'cause they're made for one another like swans,
she says "I love you too,
and this show has to go on."
Tell her how you feel,
say the words to make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show
If all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
One year ahead, they climb out of bed,
and kiss each other good morning.
She teaches kids at school that they're exceptions to the rule
and he's grown tired of auditioning...
'cause Romeo is moldy, Hamlet's young and Troilus phony
when true love is here to stay!
All the world's a stage
but that doesn't mean it's always a play.
So tell her how you feel
break your heart to make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show
if all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her,
we all need a muse,
and I want her so bad,
we all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
-Tuesday, August 26th, 2008
When love is in the air,
He can talk through Shakespeare
"Oh how I love you my dear"
but the real thing's such a scare…
So he prayed to Marlon Brando, Meryl Streep, Al Pacino
and found his answer in the stars -
ain't no lines to read
when the words come straight from the heart.
Tell her how you feel,
speak your dream and make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show,
if all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
A week of rehearsing, no sleep and no working,
Casanova takes five to prepare;
but the words get stuck like wet shoes in the muck,
and he's purple from a lack of air.
Then she smiles and laughs and she claps claps claps
'cause they're made for one another like swans,
she says "I love you too,
and this show has to go on."
Tell her how you feel,
say the words to make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show
If all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
One year ahead, they climb out of bed,
and kiss each other good morning.
She teaches kids at school that they're exceptions to the rule
and he's grown tired of auditioning...
'cause Romeo is moldy, Hamlet's young and Troilus phony
when true love is here to stay!
All the world's a stage
but that doesn't mean it's always a play.
So tell her how you feel
break your heart to make it real;
you know you have to let her know,
don't wanna be alone in a one-man-show.
So what if you're a star in your one-man-show
if all you can perform is the one-man blues?
We all need a muse,
and I want her,
we all need a muse,
and I want her so bad,
we all need a muse,
and I want her to be mine.
-Tuesday, August 26th, 2008
Respecting Your Elders
Where is the line between respect and obedience?
And what is the age at which you become your parent's peer? Is this even attainable?
-Tuesday, July 15th, 2008
And what is the age at which you become your parent's peer? Is this even attainable?
-Tuesday, July 15th, 2008
Wall-E
If there is a film that will affect our generation's later years in life in the same manner that Disney accomplished for our childhood, it will be Wall-E.
A touching film that keeps reminding us of the importance of each other, Wall-E is ultimately a film about two people quite unlike ourselves who have to show the human race how to love itself again.
If you are five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, fourty or fifty+, you will be affected in ways unlike anything you've experienced in a cinema in recent years. And, I will admit, thanks to George Lucas and Industrial Light and Magic for redeeming themselves a notch with a wonderfully whimsical story.
-Saturday, June 28th, 2008
A touching film that keeps reminding us of the importance of each other, Wall-E is ultimately a film about two people quite unlike ourselves who have to show the human race how to love itself again.
If you are five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, fourty or fifty+, you will be affected in ways unlike anything you've experienced in a cinema in recent years. And, I will admit, thanks to George Lucas and Industrial Light and Magic for redeeming themselves a notch with a wonderfully whimsical story.
-Saturday, June 28th, 2008
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