Did I mention I made (shot/edited) this?

A video of interviews and images reflecting on the difference that the students of Michigan both experience at the University and make in the world.



These people are each very happy with their trajectories, and appreciative of their education.
I like all of them.
And they are nice.

"PUSHING DAISIES"

that is, Pushing Daisies, the television series.
mm. yes, good.

http://abc.go.com/primetime/pushingdaisies/
http://www.youtube.com/user/47alias47?ob=4




ps.
oh yeah, did i mention: PUSHING DAISIES!

How come musicians get to have all the fun?

winning

I am starting to win.
I have a job... working in video editing and other media.
I may get to do some photography and documentary for the Ann Arbor Street Art Fair.
I've moved to a comfortable new house.
I am finding the desire to be creative once again.
And it snowed.. a lot.. and I'm happy about that.

Now, if I could only get paid.



PS.. I added a ONE page element on the right. They're about fighting poverty. It's worth checking out.

losing

I've lost all motivation to continue posting here
as few people actually read what I write.

Until further notice,
I am taking a break from this...
"accounting"
of the events of my mind.

Besides,
until further notice,
I am losing all battles with the world .. .

Stranger > Familiar > Neighbor

I went to the Matthaei Botanical Gardens on Saturday.
(Keep in mind: it is Autumn. So, the colors? Grand.)
U-M A&D professor Nick Tobier was hosting a performance
in their perennial garden.
I was the video documenteer.

While the performance was warm, musical, and comedic,
it was not the gesture that lightened my heart the most.
Rather
as I spent the few hours
beforehand and afterhand
roaming the grounds, the gardens, and the Flora & Fauna art fair,
I passed a myriad of patrons,
each of which (young, old, native, migrant, short, shorter...)
greeted me with a smile, a hello, or both.

It was this contact,
even the simple gesture of acknowledgment in eye contact,
that made my day.
It made my day. It made my week.
It renewed my appreciation
in the value of living in a community
where people are happy and they care,
"where everybody knows your name,"
or where
regardless of whether you are a stranger, someone familiar, or a neighbor,
you are always welcome.

This is the most welcome amongst strangers I've ever felt.
And now,
even though I still don't know their names,
they do not seem so strange any more.

Save Joey

Like most people, I am motivated when what I do is seen and encouraged.
Unlike most people , I need this motivation.
For some recent time, I (namely, my imagination, which is more important to my survival and personality than my brain and heart) has felt like a dead puppy.

Your mission - whether you choose to accept it or not - is to help bring me puppy back from the dead.
This is not a one person job; it is a community effort...
for all those who care about me, I challenge you to tell me what I could/should/(hell, what you would) do.

Joey needs your help.

cold air + sun sky = autumn

I like wearing long sleeves on days like this. It keeps you warm, but not too warm, and not too cool. It is almost - I wish every day was like this (but maybe with a few more clouds/sq.in.

ps. word math is fun

ps.ps. every day. like this.

Me and Me from This to That

Marla...
the little scratch on the roof of your mouth
that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it,
but you can't.
-Ed Norton, Fight Club, 1999

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I
-Bill Murray, What About Bob?, 1991

From that day on,
we was always together.
Jenny and me was like peas and carrots.
-Tom Hanks, Forrest Gump, 1994

Why Measure Age in Years? ...and who's counting?

It seems that the harder I try to forget my birthday - and how young I am each year - the more people remember it, and try to remember it, and make it a bigger deal than it needs to be. I feel like my birthday's become about the number.

I have a strange fascination in claiming to be 23 years old (or young.) After all, it was a great age to be. While it's all in good fun, some I know are put off by this as if I were playing a game reserved for older women,,, or somehow, staying young.

I do retain immature features -- a "baby face," clumsiness, a youthful sense of humor... and for those who know me well, often enough a sense of behavior close to half my actual age. Yet I can be a growed up when I so chose. Hell, I can often volunteer to play the selfless leader. (shameless plug of pride) See. Maturity at work, right?

I want all of you to know: while I am a man with fears - some of which I can admit and others I hide - I am not afraid to age. In fact, I relish in earning wrinkles, gaining wisdom, and counting days until something else happens. I cannot wait to turn 50. I cannot wait to tell grandchildren stories. I enjoy living, growing, aging...

To be quite honest, I think it's the waiting that seems to bother me. When life is moving slow, when there is little going on - eventlessness - I tend to notice that I'm getting older.. and without doing something, or being productive, or earning the life I've been offered.
Because, after all, time is not money, it's priceless.
And I feel I need to make the most of it all.
I ought to earn my hours and my breaths. Oughtn't I?

Who's counting years anyway? I'd rather my age be counted in good deeds,, in which case, I'm relatively old.
Maybe in the thousands of deeds... perhaps a million deeds old.

The Buick Is Dead

On Monday, last Monday, I did a bit of work at The Second City in Novi with Amy Duffy, stage manager. I helped her build a new set for the upcoming months. It was fun.
I drove out there in my proud vibrant colorful car of character. Though some of us do not, I know most of us like the Buick... some of us love it.
But on that fateful evening, after I made my way to the car
parked just adjacent to the fancy restaurant patio
for all the rich food eaters to marvel upon,
I found it would not start. This has been a problem for weeks, ever since I returned from my trip out west.

She had trouble starting once on Ann Arbor, but we were able to resuscitate her with help of Mitch from MSU's baby black Beamer.
She had trouble starting once when I stopped at a gas station for a refill. It almost seemed to much for her, but a mechanic helped me revive her.
And then she failed to start again outside The Second City Novi. Amy tried to help me bring her back once more. We tried for a half hour... maybe more. But... but it was hopeless. I had to pull the plug. I couldn't bear hearing her struggle just to crank her engine once. Every turn of the key built a larger frog in my throat. On the verge of tears, I told Amy, "It's over."

I called my father to come help me unload my belongings - the trunk of fun, the Buick paint, the change I kept in her console we would use to pay the occasional parking meter. She would have to carry these burdens no longer.
Before I left her, I painted her over one last time, making sure to tag under her hood and around her interior. I wanted to leave her as pretty as ever.
Now I have.

Her empty shell sits in the rear of a lot in Novi adjacent a barren swamp. As much as I know her soul rests in a better place now, I cannot help but miss our rides together. For my own selfish reasons, I long for her to come back. But she cannot live forever.

Although there is the possibility - perhaps the probability - that what is left of the Buick will become part of a new public sculpture being called The Detroit Dream Project.

Nevertheless our days together are over. Things may never be the same.

I am Lloyd Dobler

I think... that I am Lloyd Dobler.
I just watched 'Say Anything' for the first time today...
and I think it was a mistake..to have never known this story before.

Lloyd is a gentleman.
Everyone trusts Lloyd because he exudes responsibility and confidence, but at times he is nervous or fidgety.
Even when he is unsure of himself, at least he does what he believes in, what he wants.
That Ione Skye has a nice smile. It's big. And happy. And resonates a lot of the same things that Lloyd is.
Lloyd is also hopeless.
Lloyd is also vulnerable.
But he is passionate, persistent...
"I'm not going to meet someone like Diane Court at a kegger."
Lloyd rambles in the same way that I think.
Lloyd makes sacrifices for his friends.
Is Lloyd charming?

Am I Lloyd Dobler?
Maybe I give myself too much credit.
I mean, I'm not a fictional character...
but I think I try to be...
at least, a little bit...
sometimes.

"Nobody really thinks it's going to work..."

This Is Where I Go

Battle Scar Make Me Proud

I like my shiner. It is too bad it is only temporary. It makes me feel tough. Sometimes I squint my eye just to make it hurt because it makes me feel tough. Behold, my battle scar.

Tooths = Magnets

Today my teeth are magnets for licorice.
Not black licorice-flavored licorice, but the red licorice that they claim to be flavored like strawberries, but it isn't flavored like strawberries 'cause it tastes more like red-colored sugar than strawberries, and I hate strawberries - have nothing to do with 'em - and this sure as hell don't taste like no strawberries...
taste like...
I'll tell you what it taste like: taste like a little bit of love, little bit of warm in my soul.
These particular licorice, for the moment, plug any holes that may be there.
Red non-strawberry licorice...
filling my happiness back up for the time being...
because it's red...
but mostly because it's sweet.

"Doctors are now medicating unhappiness..."

It looks like there is a solution to waking up in the morning.
CDC: Antidepressants most prescribed drugs in U.S.

"'Depression is a major public health issue,' said Dr. Kelly Posner." And here I thought it was a fact of life.
"She added that 25 percent of adults will have a major depressive episode." I thought we all would. Is it not everyone? This would be depressing.

I understand that some people can be clinically depressed, but prescribing drugs to make someone happier = just one more reason I am disappointed in America.