Connected via wormhole

Now that I am able to/figured out how to blog with my mobile phone, there is going to be a substantial increase in near car accidents and thumb sprains.
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Morning of the Living Jackhammer

8 o'clock? Really? Well then this is what happens when you wake me up.

The repetitive hammering pierced through my single pane windows and sent tremors into my ribcage. This couldn't be an earthquake. Earthquakes aren't powered by a humming generator and mexican foreman yelling commands. They don't make pillow cases that go deep enough into ears to stop this. Suddenly the noise stops prompted by the most gruesome scream one could gargle. Then silence. My eyes shift back and forth wondering if it is safe to go to sleep or how much time I should spend thinking about what could have caused this deafness in my favor. Some unrecognizable mutter is exchanged. Then the beast fires back up and the concrete resumes it's demise. At this point I have to believe that city workers witnessed an accident with an easy solution provided by the fresh hole before them. The perfect concrete coffin. After all, the worker had a track record of missing days. As far as they are concerened, this was just another day he didn't clock in. In preparation for his return, I have started to fortify my home. Slaying a jackhammer carrying zombie will require a great deal of creativity.

Updates as warranted.

Superheros dream too

Another bizare dream. They are coming more often lately. This one was fun and I swear I was talking it out loud. I somehow dreamt the opening to the new Batman and Robin film. I'm not even sure if one is coming out or not, but I started it for them.

So I was playing the part of Robin. I have no idea where Batman was, but I was with Catwoman. At least I think it was Catwoman. It was a female villian, I know that. Anyway, neither of us were our alter ego. We were just our normal selves, she didn't know I was Robin, but I knew she was a villian but she didn't know that. We were at her place I think. It was very white and almost hotel-ish. It was obvious we had been on a date and were flirting. Lots of laughs and lens flares coming in through an open window. Outside, no more than a foot below the bottom of the window there was a sea of water as far out as I could see. We were talking and laughing and I picked her up and spun her around. She said something to the effect that she would have to be careful or she might fall for me. I asked if there was any chance that might happen tonight as I carried her closer to the window. She said no, and I said that's too bad. Her face went from laughing to fearfully understanding and I softly threw her out of the window into the water and closed the window as she cursed back at me. Then the opening credits started with various shots of Batman and I running. That's when I woke up.

Back to the Past

Lately I have been thinking. I try to shy away from such strenuous activities, but it has been unavoidable recently. What I can't stop thinking about is life back then. My life back then, not like, back in the 50s. Back in St. Louis. Back where everything seemed to make sense and was easier. The last house I lived in just sold. The amount of memories attached with it are infinite. My roomate and I would joke about if things didn't work out in LA, we always had the lodge to go back to. I could never do that, but entertaining the thought was comforting.

Something hit me while driving down the freeway the other day. That seems to give ample amount to reflect since 75% of life in Los Angeles is driving on the freeway. I tried to figure out what it was that was missing. I stumbled across a big answer. Back in St. Louis, if I was on a highway, there was a good chance that I was either going to see some friends, or I was going home from seeing friends. I don't do that here. Back home I would know that I would soon be greated by a familiar smiling face. Here I am greeted by the mound of hassle that accompanies every trip out the house.

I'm not really sure what happened. Maybe it is being use to hosting house parties every week and now having none. Maybe it is the cost of living. Maybe it is just being out of college. Maybe it is the friends and lack there of. Something has changed. Something even greater will change at the end of November when I move as well.

Let me tell you why Jesus is my favorite zombie: An Essay by condition d

Let me tell you why Jesus is my favorite zombie. Oh don't sound shocked. All the facts are there. He is just merely a much cleaner and sophisticated one. Did he or did he not rise up from the dead? I guarantee that if you leave a zombie in a grave, he won't be there in three days. Holy or not, undead is undead. Chirst is the superior zombie because he is quick and agile, possibly with the gift of flight. He doesn't lower himself by having an addiction to brains. He is smart enough to know that their is no nutritional value in the brain. Souls are where all the protein is. Realizing that the son of God is a zombie has brought light on another terrifying science fact. His friends, they all drank his blood right. Vampires. This all just further proves two of the coolest scary stories ever. But now we have something else to worry about. If they weren't powerful enough on their own, I don't want to imagine a race of hybrid vampire zombies. I think we are safe for now though. After all, last time I checked, Jesus was on our side. Lets just hope he keeps his appetite to that of a Nicole Ritchie.

light, camera, photos

So I finally got my light that I ordered 2 weeks ago. It's small, but it is a start. Once I figure everything out about it, I will be able to harness it's powers and churn out some new stuff. God bless the people at alien bees for making nice lights at an afordable price.

Relatable

"Beverly Hills, the Upper East Side, Palm Beach, these days, Angel Delaporte says, even the best part of any city is just a deluxe luxury suite in hell. Outside your front gates, you still have to share the same gridlocked streets. You and the homeless drug addicts, you still breathe the same stinking air and hear the same police helicopters chasing criminals all night. The stars and the moon erased by the lights from a million used car lots. Everyone crowds the same sidewalks, scattered with garbage, and sees the same sunrise bleary and red behind smog."

excerpt from Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, quite possibly my favorite author.

Fashion Alert

Announcing the reletively new site I have made to keep my photography separate from my motion work. It samples some of my recent work, as well as some golden oldies. Hopefully over the next few months I will have a significant amount to add, including some more extreme and artistic choices. Perhaps you should keep an eye or two out.

infatuationphotos.com

Misery loves companies

I don't know when the shift of "me pay you money, you do me service" happened, but I'm starting to feel like I'm babysitting some of these companies. No not the one dollar suckie suckie services. The actual services that every man, woman, and man on this rock. If I give money to the post office for stamps, and I adhere said stamp to an envelope, place said envelope into an official United States Postal Service container, I can only assume that my part of the transaction is complete. A very generous postal employee is suppose to take my mail and deliver it to the address that I have specified on the envelope. If I'm wrong, I'll shut the hell up right now. Now mail within this country is delivered in what, three, four days at the most. I could understand it taken a bit longer if I were to mail something across the country, but I'm pretty sure the USPS has since dumped their pony express and started using airplanes. So one could only assume that mailing something to a location ten miles away would fall within the three to four day delivery period. It seems that this task is now taking a week or more to be completed.

Now the USPS is only one name on my long list of incompetence. The next is simply one letter off. The United Parcels Service are certainly wearing the correct color to match their impeccable service. I cannot understand paying six to ten dollars to have something delivered in a week, IF you are lucky. That can be understandable, but only if that completes your transaction. But when the company makes a mistake, or a fault is on their end, shouldn't it be their responsibility to right the wrong as soon as possible? I recieved a photo strobe in the mail today. I have been waiting for it for a week, carefully planning shoots upon its arrival. When it shows up, it doesn't work. They have to send me another one, which will take another week. Now I have my thumb up my ass with a non working light in my sight. They have faster methods than the week long ground transporatation. THEIR light doesn't work. I should have a light sooner than later being it their product that though delivered does not deliver.

It's almost the same with a certain pair of shoes I ordered. I love the company so they will remain nameless, but back in early June I ordered a pair of shoes and some sunglasses. Well the shoes showed up, in the wrong size, and the sunglasses were not included. So i called it in right away and sent the shoes back in exchange for the correct size. The sunglasses later came in the mail. The shoes...still not here. I've called twice now and they don't know why they haven't sent them, but do have the record of them suppose to send them. Now instead of shoes (which they have 72 pairs of my size in stock) I am awaiting a gift card (which is what I orginaly paid for with).

Earlier this month I had the pleasure to deal with my car insurance in a similar "watchdog" way. They kept sending me notices that they were going to cancel my policy. I kept calling them to figure out why. Each time I called, they informed me that they didn't know why I was recieving the notices, because everything on my account was ok. Eventually I recieved a letter saying that they had indeed cancelled me. I called and asked to speak directly to the manager. Due to some computer error and after pulling a recorded conversation from me and an agent earlier that month, it went from my policy being cancelled to it being reinstated with no cacellation fee (how dare they even consider charging me for nothing) and a twenty dollar check because I had actually overpaid.

Bottom line: Why are we paying these companies all these dollars to screw us when we don't look? You can't even just watch your back anymore because they will attack you from all damn sides.

Kartoon Komotion

Take a look back with me, if you will, at the well rounded and wholesome cartoons that use to fill our heads with sometimes seizure inducing but always morally ended visions of joy. Who can forget shows such as Voltron: Defender of the Universe, King Arthur and the Knights of Justice, and Captain N the Game Master (ok you may have forgotten that one. Those gems offered little kids, mainly boys, the 30 minutes of action packed illustrations their small minds needed to make it through to the next Saturday morning. Let go back even farther to some nonviolent options that even the UN could agree on.

Smurfs. Snorks. And Scooby Do's. All relatively calm. Some with a reoccuring, masterminded villian out to get them. Somehow, usually through teamwork and kindness, they would triumph over the wrong of the "bad guy" and learn a little something about themselves. The importance of each lesson was that a non-violent solution was on average the best. But come on. You may be able to fool a child, but I am older now and have devoloped my brain in such a way as to not fall for the kiddie krap anymore. You had to see this coming Mr. Evil Producer Man.

Surely there were the rebel characters in your farce. Somwhere hidden behind Sneezey, Doppy, and Drippy stood Bomby or Shooty. Did Hanna Barbera ship all their "remedial" toons to an Australian like island out of the viewer's sight? Is there a Disney Alcatraz no one is admitting to? More importantly, how much longer are we safe until these characters rise up and take back the attention they so rightfully deserve.

Perhaps that is exactly what has happened. After all, cartoons today aren't exactly as sugar coated as they use to be. It could just be a matter of time before one of these kids from South Park impregnates Dora. I just pray global warming wipes us out before that happens.