Life Kills: December 2005 Archives

I’ve added a whole series of pictures to the gallery. And I’ve eliminated that crappy Other Gallery. The verdict on that is: done-zo! Wonky interface, lack of flexibility, and just overall grossness.

So the old one stays.

I recategorized a whole bunch of albums, so things are a bit mixed up. For the Spain categories, I put them in order from beginning to end for the trip. Makes things a little more ‘linear’ to those just looking at them for the first time. For the “Current Events”, however, they’re listed from the most recent one to the oldest. Since current events work that way, it just makes more sense.
I also divvied out the climbing albums and sub-categorized a bit more so people could skip right to the parts they might wanna see.

Oh, I have been busy! There’s lots of new pics up that I dug up from an old hard drive I rummaged through, some seriously old stuff. And I found a really old shoe-box filled to the brim with old pictures that I need to scan in and post up. Shots from high school (1993), shots from Boston University, shots from FAU, FSU, and even a few from Texas. Old school, for sure.

Speaking of Texas, there’s a bouldering area in the Austin area that needs to be visited… hmmm… climbing trip, anyone?
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Everyone’s a freakin’ poet. No training, no studying, no background. There’s no structure, no timing, no rhyming, no reason.

Just a bunch of words and sentences spaced dramatically. I might be wrong (it’s been a while), but I believe that’s called ‘prose’.

But everyone’s a poet. I’m a poet. I like the sound of that. It sounds artsy, and people can dig artsy. Maybe it’ll get me laid, or make me some new friends. And the best thing is that you don’t even have to show any work to still be a ‘poet.’ And if you do, it doesn’t have to be good. Because most people (most people) couldn’t tell good poetry from the menu at Denny’s (which, by the way, is poetic in its own special way). I could scribble a bunch of lines on napkins or take-out menus and stuff it all in my back pocket, or carry around a notebook where I write observations (the sky… is blue today…) and say “Hey. What’s up. I’m a poet. Check out my sweet, sweet poems.”

I’m a poet, a poetrist, the vocal stylist who puts words together in his/her own way and wants to sell you on their poetic identity. Maybe they want attention, maybe they really do love their art. No, not me personally, but I know plenty of people who do. Want attention. And love their art. And say they’re poets. Sometimes it’s a combination platter with extra cheese.

I don’t know if I could do it… don’t know if I could resist the urge to laugh. Especially if I ran across someone who read one of these seemingly poetic observations and said “Hey, yeah, that’s really cool… you’re really talented!” When they’re actually thinking “Okaaaay… what’s the point?”

What a line of crap all that is. If you want to take a dump in the woods and call it art, do it. I know plenty of people that do exactly that (and it smells terrible.) There’s a great sales/business adage that says: “What’s a nuclear submarine worth? Whatever someone will pay for it.”

Definitions and structure lose their value in an ever-evolving field. I might go so far as to say art (and all its cousins) would be considered ever-evolving. Unless you’re a creationist. Then you’re just screwed.

So I binked a curb in my car. I was tooling along, cruising down SR-84, tried to come around the underpass to head back west, and lost the rear. Sand, dirt, gravel, shit. Tons of crap probably caused that breakout.

But wait, there’s more!

So the all-wheel-drive kicks in, the rear catches. The front then breaks loose because of the angle, or the alignment of the planets, or just because I’m that unlucky. Farkin’ terrible. The front end swings straight across and binks the curb. The rear hops up and over, and I pull a sweet Dukes Of Hazzard in the dirt, kick up all kinds of junk, peel over the curb, and stall out in the middle of the road.
All very exciting.

And then Mark comes around the corner. As I watched him take the corner and figured I was about to eat the frontend of a VW, he managed to pop the curb and miss me by about 6 inches.

Yeah.

Now I gotta get severe amounts of bodywork and suspension work done. Let’s cross our fingers and hope for the best possible resolution of a crappy situation.

Been crazy busy the past few… weeks?

Putting up a few new projects, but the most exciting right now is the spanking new, spankingly delicious South Florida Dubs.

Geared to the Volkswagen and Audi enthusiasts in South Florida, this site offers all kinds of resources to the VAG community, including forums and videos. Lots of fun for everyone.

But it’s taking up a lot of my time. Eating it up like a ravenous creature. Crunch crunch, yum yum.
Jo decided I wasn’t worth it. That’s the problem with kids these days: no patience! No matter. I’ve got too much on my plate as it is. I’m not into the idea of anything more serious than “Hi.”

I’m so behind on the photo gallery, it’s not even funny. I have like, 15 galleries to put up. I’ll do it, I promise! I’m not liking the “new” style gallery, so I think I’m going to put ‘er down and stick with Coppermine. It’s easy to use, and people seem to like it more.