what is it I was saying?

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I wrote a great post the other night, filled with insightful linguistic philosophy; all about the difference between symbolic meaning in words themselves, and the cultural meaning, the psychological meaning; the way words carry not just inherent sets of meanings that are closely defined, but also a reciprocal meaning, a meaning the hearer or reader […]

I wrote a great post the other night, filled with insightful linguistic philosophy; all about the difference between symbolic meaning in words themselves, and the cultural meaning, the psychological meaning; the way words carry not just inherent sets of meanings that are closely defined, but also a reciprocal meaning, a meaning the hearer or reader adds in for him or herself, and how this complicates communication.

It was beautiful; it flowed with an effortless elegance from thought to virtual paper, expressing something I’ve been striving to say for a long time.

Only, I was full of darvocet at the time.

Yesterday I tried to edit it and it was unclear which language I’d been typing in; or to be more accurate, the words were generally english but in syntax, I was dealing with a language more akin to orc.

So I’m left wondering, what the hell was I saying? The only thing worse than a fickle muse is one who’s hopped up on goofballs.

forward more and backwards less

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it just turned summer somewhere between friday and monday – i can’t quite tell when because I was well and truly out of it all day sunday. But it’s 75 already and headed the general direction of 90, and i can NOT get my head around the concept of work today. I keep thinking, don’t […]

it just turned summer somewhere between friday and monday – i can’t quite tell when because I was well and truly out of it all day sunday.

But it’s 75 already and headed the general direction of 90, and i can NOT get my head around the concept of work today. I keep thinking, don’t go don’t go don’t go. Only thing is, work laterly has nothing to do with progress, it has to do with run-as-fast-as-you-can-to-slow-the-backwards-motion. Which, in a word, sucks, and which drains me slowly of all will to work.

It’s goin’ to hell anyway, I think; instead of fighting it, let’s facilitate it.

There’ part of me that wants to step back from anything that looks like a sinking ship and add fire; if it’s going down, send it down in a spectacular fashion. Don’t just crash your car, roll it and send it off a goddamn cliff.

I don’t like to do things in small ways. Subtle, to me, means use a smaller sledge hammer.

Of course the sinking ship and crashing car analogies are hyperbole; nevermind though. That’s the feeling the struggle sometimes has, when the struggle is not toward good or great, but toward mediocrity, and when the cause of the struggle is corporate strategy meets corporate schedule. The result for me is an excercise in frustration, and of all things, I tolerate ongoing frustration least well.

But let’s get back to summer. Because it’s summer, when the sun shines and the clothing decreases, when skin darkens, that I most long for days by the sea, boats, the scent of sweat and coconut and rum. I walk out into the bone-dry northen california heat and wish, desperately, for that island-dark girl who’s supposed to be bringing me my drink.

Instead, I spend a monday morning, as the mercury creeps up, in a DMV waiting line to replace a lost driver’s license. No sea, no rum, no coconut. No beautiful dark-haired, nut-brown girl beside me on glittering black sand. No salt on my skin, no smell of ocean, fruit, tropical flowers. No afternoon trade winds. Just a queue, bored government workers, a large room filled with people who wish, like me, to be anywhere else.

beauty in your fading kiss

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My friend Kenny – after sharing with me the evil that is the sake bomb, and then engaging in karaoke until the sushi bar kicked us out – played me his latest recordings. I attempted to post something about Kenny last year, when he left to chase true love in the outback. I found the […]

My friend Kenny – after sharing with me the evil that is the sake bomb, and then engaging in karaoke until the sushi bar kicked us out – played me his latest recordings.

I attempted to post something about Kenny last year, when he left to chase true love in the outback. I found the topic daunting, for Kenny’s that sort of friend. But Kenny’s now back from theland down under and has been recording sweet, sad, beautiful songs.

Here, without his permission (because I never ask), is one of his latest demos (I typo’d that as ‘demons’ which seems to fit eerily well); Kiss. Listen: Images

You can hear Ken’s older stuff at basement3.com, though what he does now is vastly different that the older cds; you can hear a couple more tracks like kiss at sonicbids.com.

Happy Cinco de Mayo

elvis2 Comments

I don’t know much about cinco de mayo Im never sure what its all about I say I want you, and you dont believe me You say you want me, but I’ve got my doubts Oh baby, I was bound for mexico Oh baby, I was bound to let you go Listen:

I don’t know much about cinco de mayo
Im never sure what its all about
I say I want you, and you dont believe me
You say you want me, but I’ve got my doubts

Oh baby, I was bound for mexico
Oh baby, I was bound to let you go

Listen: Images

Regrets

elvis5 Comments

Like you haven’t felt this way… (Thanks to DN for sending me that and to Dave Coverly for drawin’ it)

Like you haven’t felt this way…

Speedbump2007029326504

(Thanks to DN for sending me that and to Dave Coverly for drawin’ it)

Pirates of Marketing-land

elvis10 Comments

I remember when I used to get home from trips and have time to write a big ‘ol trip report with photos every time. Actually I don’t remember it, but I have posts like that, so I should remember it I flew down late Wednesday; a great flight as it turned out. I’d been heavily […]

I remember when I used to get home from trips and have time to write a big ‘ol trip report with photos every time.

Actually I don’t remember it, but I have posts like that, so I should remember it

I flew down late Wednesday; a great flight as it turned out. I’d been heavily girl-watching a woman at the ticket counter when I was in the security line, wanting to get a look at the front ’cause the back was so good; all the right curves in all the right places, and a whole lot of strawberry-blond hair. She was in a weird sort of shorts-pants-suit that shouldn’t have worked, but for some reason did; it looked both casual and business-like, and cute.

The self-same woman wound up sitting next to me on the plane, and the front was even better than that back; she wasn’t just cute, she was gorgeous. We spent the hour-and-a-quarter long trip to Anaheim talking about tattoos; she won my respect by knowing some of my tattoos were Maori, and she wanted as much of a tour of all my tattoos as I could give without 1) getting up or 2) dropping trou (which I’ll admit I’d have done happily if asked).

So it was an unusually good flight.

D-land was great. We’d picked a dead week, so thursday night we were able to walk on to any ride in the park with no wait – and no major rides were closed, so I had my near fill of indiana jones, the matterhorn, haunted mansion, and of course, Pirates of the Caribbean (but more about that in a moment).

Friday, I went on a ride I’d never done before, at Disney’s lesser park, California Adventure; Grizzly River Run. And I gotta say, this ride kicks ass. We got there late friday, and the temperature was dropping, so there were no lines at all; however, this meant that it was freezing. We rode until we were near hypothermic, and soaked to the skin. Only cold drove us off. The good thing is, we were staying at the Grand Californian, so our hotel was literally less that a hundred feet from GRR. I love GRR for the ride, of course, but an added benefit is what a good dousing of cold water does to pretty young ladies tee-shirts. Mmmm.

In any case, I flew home from d-land late saturday, took a cab since no one was there waiting to collect me at the gate (hey, a guy can dream), and then spent my sunday doin’ nuthin’ but reading a James Bond novel and nursing a sore foot (I’ll be damned if i know what i did to it, but I managed to hurt myself two days before leaving; luckily darvocet is a good way to way to enhance enjoyment of the Magic Kingdom), and cookin’ some fine caldo de pollo.

All in all, a way-too-short but very easy, low-key trip.

But let’s talk about Pirates.

Read more “Pirates of Marketing-land”

I have fantasies like that…

elvis4 Comments

It’s conversations like this that make me like where I work. My group’s director – who’s also my long time pal and tattoo soul-mate, Jeff – walked into my office and began: “The great thing about having a personal trainer is that now, I really have a body” “Must be nice, man,” I replied. “It’s […]

It’s conversations like this that make me like where I work.

My group’s director – who’s also my long time pal and tattoo soul-mate, Jeff – walked into my office and began:

“The great thing about having a personal trainer is that now, I really have a body”

“Must be nice, man,” I replied.

“It’s what happens when you work out with an evil lesbian three mornings a week.”

“…I have fantasies like that,” I said.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” said Jeff with an evil laugh, as he walked off down the hall.

Vote for Tricia

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My friend Tricia Allen of Tattoo Traditions – just about the best polynesian tattooist in the world – has written the definitive book on hawaiian tattooing. Said book is up for the 2007 Ka Palapala Pookela book award. We can help out by voting for tricia’s fantastic book (follow the instruction below or just click […]

My friend Tricia Allen of Tattoo Traditions – just about the best polynesian tattooist in the world – has written the definitive book on hawaiian tattooing.

Said book is up for the 2007 Ka Palapala Pookela book award.

We can help out by voting for tricia’s fantastic book (follow the instruction below or just click here)

Trica Allen writes:

Aloha,

My book has been nominated for a 2007 Ka Palapala Pookela book award, so now it’s up to you readers to vote! Please vote for my book! Below is the link to the article the Honolulu Advertiser ran on Sunday about the Reader’s Choice Award they are sponsoring. The link also has other books you might opt to vote for (God forbid!).

To vote, simply send an e-mail to hawaiibookpublishers@gmail.com with the title– TATTOO TRADITIONS OF HAWAII in the subject line.

To read the article:
http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2007/Apr/22/il/FP704220322.html

Tricia’s book is great, if you’re interested in Hawaiian tattooing, it’s a must-own. Go buy it.

You’ll just have to find that out for yourself

elvis4 Comments

I’m standing in Downtown Disney in my black workman’s utilikilt, trying to get a cell connection (Cingular may have better service than verizon did but they really don’t have quite the quality.) I’m standing in a stream of people who I assume were heading towards the disney trams; i am the rock around which the […]

I’m standing in Downtown Disney in my black workman’s utilikilt, trying to get a cell connection (Cingular may have better service than verizon did but they really don’t have quite the quality.)

I’m standing in a stream of people who I assume were heading towards the disney trams; i am the rock around which the stream part, standing with my back facing the upstream mass.

“Don’t you dare, mother!” i hear, and turn, to see an attractive older women woman and her even more attractive late-twneties daughter heading my general direction. I smile at them, and know they were somehow talking about me.

They glance at each other, and the mother leans is close, not stopping, and asks the question.

“We were wondering if it’s really true that you don’t wear anything under there.”

They’re stepping past me, and I am intent on the phone call I’m trying to have.

“You’ll just have to find that out for yourself.” I say. And they shriek, and giggle, and it’s that kind of giggle. Then they’re gone one way, and I’m walking away another; but I know that these two attractive ladies are now, as they head home, thinking about my cock. And that alone makes my evening.