Wednesday, October 18, 2006


Foie gras is an engorged duck liver. It is also sweet love.

Betta fish breathe sweet air. That's why they don't need fancy filters.

Dogfish Head Brewery in Delaware brews vodka and gin aside from their yummy tasty IPAs.

Friday, October 13, 2006


"A Return to Normalcy" was Warren Harding's campaign slogan in 1920. Harding won over his opponent James Cox, a democrat from New Jersey.

New Jersey's state motto is "Liberty and Prosperity."

The official name of the Statue of Liberty is "La Liberté Éclairant Le Monde" or "Liberty Enlightens the World."

The interior of the planet Earth remains active, with a solid layer of convecting earth mantle and a solid iron ore core that generates a magnetic field.

Act for Love is a dating service for activists. Best of all, just by using, you're helping to support progressive causes.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006


Listening is the ability and action of receiving information, often in the form of sound.

One of the traditional five senses and performed primarily by the auditory system, hearing is the ability to detect sound.

Active listening is the conscious decision to focus on a particular set of information, suspending one's own frame of reference and suspending judgement.

Meetings happen when two or more people agree to come together and discuss a predetermined topic.

Cognitive dissonance is the uncomfortable tension that comes from holding two conflicting thoughts at the same time.

I'm late for my appointment. Can we talk about this later?

Tuesday, October 03, 2006


Crowded spaces are:
a. choking.
b. inspiring.
c. both choking and inspiring.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006


I joined a church last weekend. I got dressed up, pinned a red flower to my shirt, repeated some words and had some folks congratulate me.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I really wanted more. Some sort of ritual involving bloodletting. Or a test. You know, take this pitcher of water and an everything bagel and sit on the banks of the Potomac for a month. So much for self-sacrifice.

This whole church business has reminded me how messed up the adult world is. We have our priorities all wack. Even in church. And so, I propose a New Reformed Church of Children.

Why do churches separate children from adults? If old people are allowed in, so should children. Old people and children have a lot in common, they're both chronologically closer to the meaning of life than the average adult. They may not be able to articulate it, but just watch a kid smile and you know you've got a little baby buddha throwing dharma at you in spades. Blow some bubbles from the altar and watch all the boys and girls do the right thing. Pop, pop, pop. Give a toddler the pulpit and you'll see Love in the darndest of places. Give up the structure of your important life and realize that you had this thing figured out years ago.

I'm going to bring this idea to the board of directors of my church. I think they'll eat it up.

[SECRET SERIOUS NOTE: Yes, I did join the church. Yes, I am happy. Yes, I think you are going to hell.]

Friday, September 22, 2006

Little Rocket

Two things first, then first things second:
1. This is really important.
2. I'm a fact.

Can we be friends?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Tap Tap

I want in ya bastard people.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Let's Do This Thing #2

"It's just so much."

"Eat what you can. I'll feed the rest to the dogs."

"That's a good idea."


"It's just so much."

"Take her for a spin. If you don't like it, take it back."

"That's a good thought."


"It's just so much."

"Focus on the positive. You'll never have to pay for a meal again."

"That's a good point."

Saturday, September 16, 2006

If I Were a Robot On Vacation

Using an advanced algorithm, I would forget the current day of the week.

Replace function would be used to convert work time to domino time, meeting time to shooting the shit time and break time to nap time.

The meaning of life would be compressed to food, water and pleasure.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

Matt Sesow is a good friend and a great painter. He let me chat with him on April Fool's Day 2006. I've finally found time to round the audio files up and transcribe the conversation.

The first installment of the interview is on Rock Heals today.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Predominantly comprised of metal and other carbon-based materials, weapons are a thing of wonder. Used for murder, slaughter, slicing, dicing, destroying, defending and decorating, weapons can give any person, group, municipality, country or room an air of danger and malice.

Sloppy, errant destruction is a thing of the past. Today's weapons are created with a keen sense of purpose. They are not weapons for weapon's sake. They mean business and that's good news for the world's military industrial complex.

Weapons makers, dealers and smugglers have become today's jet set. They're practically stars in their own right. Without them, there'd be no fear, no reason to look behind your back. Without them, life would be a tad bit boring.

Start Touching Weapons

It's a matter of survival.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Stay Fresh

are a potato chip product produced by Procter and Gamble. Made from a fried dough of reconsituted potatoes, they are uniform, scrumptious and available in a variety of flavors.

Earl Tupper
created a series of bowls with closures similar to paint can lids. Depending on the orientation of the closure, the lid is either slightly smaller or slightly bigger than the bowl's lip, creating an air-tight seal.

The modern wet suit is constructed of skintight neoprene, affording the human body limited protection from hypothermia in cold water conditions.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Turn Turn Turn

A pivot is a point or object on which something else turns. A shaft, a pin, a dime. A pivot doesn't do anything. But in being what it is, it lets other things do their thing.

BLOG SWARM OF NOTE: My friend Kate makes me love her even more with this brilliant and touching ode to her favorite South Korean food.

Friday, August 11, 2006

Critical Mass

Change can be intentional but it cannot be forced.
I want to be more attractive. I want to find my calling. I want to live in a paradise that includes but is not limited to: exquisite espresso, kind strangers and peaceful debates that end in community and a really cool block party.

The real subversive knows it's possible.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

The Space Between Things

Mathematical space is not a tightly defined concept. In fact, mathematical space is a series of loosely related concepts: Euclidean space, vector space and dimensional space being examples.

Physical space is a basic unit of reality. It can't be broken down further, thus it is defined by measurement. Five feet. Ten feet. One million feet.

Personal space is the place between things. It's my blank face. It's why I didn't get up this morning at seven to meet for coffee. Space can't be broken down further.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Action Figure

Maxwell's demon, a thought experiment meant to challenge the second law of thermodynamics, posits that the entropy of a system not at equilibrium may, with a little help, be able to decrease instead of increase.

In other words, a cup of hot water placed in a freezer could stay hot if something or someone could track all the molecules in the freezer, find the ones that are faster (thus hotter) than the majority and send them into the area around the cup.

Neofatalists believe our actions are predetermined by our personalities and that, in fact, the whole of existence was predetermined by the cause of events. In other words, neofatalists believe free-will is an illusion, not because we can't choose things, but because our very being is connected to those choices.

I took a walk to work on Monday. I decided to break every action down to its basics. I'm moving forward. I'm moving my left foot. My left foot is hitting the concrete. Every action, deconstructed and broadcast in my nifty little brain. I've taken this walk every day for a year. And I didn't realize, until this walk, that the wall closest to the door in the laundromat next to Moby's kabobs in Georgetown has a poster of Michael Bolton.
Life is School

Less time for foursquare.
More for homework.
Class is in session.

Friday, July 21, 2006

This Is Only Temporary

Hey you. Over here. Come on. Yeah, give me some sugar. Give me a hug. Yer a good person. No, really. You are. I just want to eat you up. I just want to take you and eat you up. I'm gonna eat everyone up. Just munch on em and consume them and be one big old sack of oneness and being slopping around taking it all in. Yeah, no, it's good. This is good. You'll just want to baste yourself in an herbed butter first.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Mommy, where do fish come from?

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Jokes I Made Up

Can I trade in for a self-wiping butt?
Frozen food doesn't get out much.
So, if we call it mellow, no one will freak out that it's yellow.
Fun Overlord

Thanks to Matt Sesow, I can now count myself as the "Andy Dick of the DC art scene."

BLOG SWARM OF NOTE: Go, go, go. Capital Fringe Fest starts tomorrow. Buy some tickets y'all.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Are They Allowed to Do That?

Canon Elph, how I love thee. While strolling around Dupont Circle on Saturday, I ran into Zafar, a travelling drum group from North Carolina. They're on their way to New Hampshire. In between, they're busking in cities and using found objects as their instruments.

They set up shop in front of Starbucks. In the middle of their set I realized, shnikeys, I have a camera. Yay!

When a group of buskers take over DuPont Circle using objects they've found on the streets, it gets my attention. And makes me wonder: Why can't we have this much fun all the time?

DC is thought of as a vanilla town. Not much going on. The subway closes at midnight during the weekend and 3am on the weekends. The mainstream theater scene was created mainly for lobbyists and the mainstream art scene creates stuff meant to show off the walls of over-priced brownstones and condos. But the potential is there.

Want to see the potential? Attend the Capital Fringe Fest.
I Made This

I'm happy to announce that one of my paintings is hanging in the "Banners from the Fringe" group show at the DC Economic Partnership from July 16 until July 30. The DC Economic Partnership is at 1495 F Street NW.

My painting is hanging with works from some of my favorite DC artists, including Scott Brooks, Dana Ellyn, Gregory Ferrand, and Matt Sesow.

Here's an image of the banner in situ.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Manhole Covers

I'm wondering what's underneath.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

IF I WERE: A Robot In Search of Enlightenment

Every prayer from Bible to Buddha would be pasted on my circuits.
Your soul would trip my compassion sensors.
I'd be a pious, justice-seeking piece of work.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

The Secret Order of Hipster Burnouts

THE ORDER: Seldom Higgins, Tulip McCoy, Mince Daniels and Wingnut Brown

THE PREMISE: During a Maypole ritual at the OHB headquarters, Seldom Higgins, in a fit of rage over the absence of vinyl records, throws the sacred salt shaker. The salt shaker is sullied. The order will be ruined unless someone can locate more salt from the Great Hipster Coffee Shop in the Sky (rumored to be flying over Wicker Park, Chicago as we speak).

Tuesday, July 11, 2006


MARTIN: Lars, you’re a genius.

LARS: I’m getting better.

MARTIN: Better? Do you know how much soup like this would be worth in the city?

LARS: No, I don’t.

MARTIN: Exactly.


MARTIN: Lars, you’re a genius.

LARS: Never felt better.

MARTIN: The cape. The costume. It suits you well.

LARS: It’s the life I was meant to lead.

MARTIN: You’ve found your calling.

LARS: I’m ready to save the world now.

MARTIN: Exactly.


MARTIN: Lars, you’re a genius.

LARS: I was stressed.

MARTIN: In double overtime, at the end of your career? What the hell?

LARS: I got angry.

MARTIN: About what?

LARS: He said I was going to lose the World Cup.

MARTIN: Exactly.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

I have the power to eat things that are alive.
It is Not Your Imagination

Something is wrong with you.
You should get help.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Cameron's Love Song to No One In Particular

I'm not in control. I don't know what I'll do next. I'm not sure how it will turn out. The only things I have to grab on to are grilled cheese, mine, moving pictures, mine, books, mine, crayons, mine, and the rhythm of your voice.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

IF I WERE: A Robot at the Ocean

I'd eat every 3.45 hours, making sure to drink dark beers for social lubrication.
The mosquitoes would be no match for my automatic hybrid fly swatter/bugsprayer plugin.
6 Megapixel manipulations of reality would take the place of reality. All the robots would be smiling and having a good time. The bad times would never have happened.
There would be no down time. Every moment would be calculated to achieve maximum fun and minimum expense.
The salt in the air would cleanse my circuits. I would be able to return to my city robot existence with more efficiency and less error messages.
I would be an ocean-loving, lobster-grubbing, tourist-hopping piece of work.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

The Grass is Green Right Now

Poop is funny. You're a baby!
I'm sorry bout the fit.

I don't spend a lot of time with kids. Toddlers. Babies. It's fun. Except for the tantrums.

That's mine.
Um. Okay.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

For Today I am a Child

On vacation, hanging with the fam.

Monday, July 03, 2006

, a term coined by Carl Jung, refers to "temporally coincident occurrences of acausal events." As in coincidences that cannot be explained by causality. It's about finding patterns in the chaos.

In May, when I was on my way to New Orleans to visit Peace Corps friends, I read a story in Atlantic Monthly about Moto, an experimental restaurant in Chicago formally filed under the genre of Molecular Gastronomy. The head chef Homaro Cantu is getting crazy kudos for his unorthodox methods, including carbonated fruit, edible paper and fun uses for Class IV lasers. I was interested in Cantu's creative translation of gourmet cuisine. It's like punk rock meets opera.

Friday night, some of my friends and I went to a concert at the Black Cat (DC's mecca for punk rockish music). The bands included Psapp, a group from Brooklyn that has an obsession with cats and funky sound loops. Smitten with the show, I purchased the band's disc and had the lead singer autograph it. When I sat back down, a dood was smoking near my group.

As I sat down and showed my new purchase, smoking guy commented about Psapp's cat obsession. And we started a conversation that would last the next four hours.

Smoking guy works for a nonprofit in DC. But he used to work as a chef for Moto. Cue synchronicity music. Seems creating avante garde food is a high-pressure, high-stakes industry. Smoking guy burnt out. He's still passionate about food but he had to take a break to find out how to balance his life and his passions. That's a very familiar conundrum for me.

Ever since Peace Corps, this type of coincidence has become run-of-the-mill. The fellow Peace Corps trainee who went to the same school and church as I did when I was a kid. The member of my current church who, as it turns out, became good friends with a friend of mine from high school after challenging him to a karaoke-off in a random bar in Illinois several years ago. The Peace Corps recruiter I worked with whose last name is also Lee and who also served in the Dominican Republic. It goes on.

Part of me wants to find order in all of this. To say it means something. But, like the subconscious creating the illusion of consciousness, I believe synchronicity is an illusion. There is a connection in everything. That dood next to me on the subway had the same kindergarten teacher as I did. The rock I just stepped on was once part of the house I grew up in. When I find these things out they seem fantastic. But they were always there. Nothing has changed. Just my perception.

Synchronicity is being aware. Synchronicity is making connections. Synchronicity is a parlor trick.

Keep on entertaining me life. The show's just starting to get interesting.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

This already happened.

Your brain's playing tricks on you. You are not controlling this moment. It is.

GLEANINGS: It takes up to .5 seconds for your conscious mind to be aware of any stimulus. Some parts of your body take longer to relay information than others. Once all the information arrives, the brain creates the illusion that the awareness happened at the same time as the stimulus. This illusion is called evocative time, and helps to explain the feeling of things taking more or less time than the clock on the wall says.

Dylan William on the delay and its implications for teaching
Benjamin Libet's experiments
Gazzaniga's theory that our unconscious is really running the show

Friday, June 30, 2006

Belong. Belong. Belong.

"Tell me who you spend time with and I'll tell you who you are."
-Dominican Aphorism

Thursday, June 29, 2006

No, really. I don't want the attention.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006


My friend Hotstream has posted a summary of Tap Tap, a comic we created while we were in Peace Corps. It's about zombies, talking dogs, missionaries and voodoo. The story was a bit unwieldy. But the pictures are beautiful.

FIELD TRIP: Head over to Head Sticks. Click on animated docs. Enjoy the short film "Hunting" by my friend Kate Gorman.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

The Order

I had this statue of Grumpy Bear from the Care Bears. My friend Josh and I pretended it was alive. And when we did bad things it would get grumpier.

I didn't know enough to laugh at myself when I was a kid.

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Love Poem to No One In Particular

The egg recipe WINNERS are Dave Hotstream and Jennifer Reeves. Here's a mash-up of their winning entries:


1. Fry baby bread hole coffee cup.

2. Salt pepper runny yummy toasty egg.
Grow Up

A SIMPLE IDEA: The Movement to end the Institution of Permission.
Stop following. Start touching.

I do not need permission to go to the bathroom.
I do not need permission for anything else.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

You're Not Safe

[Thanks for the photo shoot Rory and Topher. Oh and Jaime, thanks for being a good sport last Friday.]

Several academics, including the economist Christopher Garbacz, have pondered the seat belt paradox. The following comes from Garbacz's paper on New Zealand's seat belt law:

"It appears that the favorable effect [of seatbelts] on automobile occupants may be offset partially, or in some models perhaps completely, by deaths among cyclists and pedestrians that may be caused by more dangerous driving by drivers who feel safer."

In John Adams' book Risk, he suggests accidents would decrease if a sharp spike were installed in every steering wheel.

I've long been infatuated with the paradox of safety. The rush of an audience watching as my ensemble and I perform an improvised musical. The thrill of spending two years on a tropical island. The excitement of the next Big Thing. Those things only happen when the risk of failure is palpable.

I'm a normal guy -- maybe even a little boring. Maybe even a little risk averse. Which is why I need that spike, not the seatbelt. Without it, I'll just go crashing into life willy nilly.

NOTE TO READERS: No more new stuff till Saturday. In the meantime, read the good stuff:
Start Touching
If I Were A Robot
We All Need A Guru
I'm Wrapped In Goodness
Looking Down

Friday, June 16, 2006

Turn that Smile

Dearest reader. I'm in an existential funk. I want you to make me feel better. Right now. Right here. We'll do it together.

Pink monkeys. Unicorns. Duck ponds. Cotton candy. Holding hands. Singing songs. Hanging on someone's words. Having them hang on yours. Laughing because it's the right time to laugh.

Think of Cabbage Patch Dolls, My Little Pony and puggles (a mix of a beagle and a pug).

Now. Take a breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. You are the sea. You are one with the Earth. Now, for the love of God, go make some money.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

I'm This Big

INTERACTIVE: Post a good egg recipe in the comments. Bonus points for recipes that include food coloring. Best entry will be reposted on my blog.
It's My Fault

Remember that huge fish I caught when I was a kid?
3.7 foot carp, big and glugging?
I didn't catch it.

Another fisherman gave it me. I put it in my bucket and acted like it was mine. Tons of pictures. Calls to the grandparents. I smiled a lot that night.

We tried to eat that fish but it wouldn't die.
I cannot give everyone a hug.