Straight Edge Life

“…at this point, im afraid my computers are going to cluster in my sleep, and fuckin go TRON on me”

- Gabriel Siegrist

From imdb: A freak accident brings together a critically ill mathematician (Penn), a grieving mother (Watts) and a born-again ex-con (Del Toro).

I didn’t know Penn was playing a mathematician. It’s not important I guess. But I guess I can understand why they included it in their plot outline. As far as “plot” goes, this is pretty accurate. Because this movie doesn’t really have a plot. It’s a movie about intense physical acting. It’s about emotion and transition and collision above and beyond any plot. Above any story. It’s about storytelling.

You go and see this movie and you may or may not even care about plot, but you’ll care about the characters. You’ll watch the inevitable approach of chrusing pain and feel for those on the sharp end of the knife. Not many movies do this to me. And it’s taken me a couple of weeks to find out how to put all of this into words. It’s a good movie.

And if I do say so, Naomi Watts deserves high credit for her performance in this movie. As does Benico Del Toro and Penn. But Watts especially.

So I just thought of something. And I don’t mention this to be antagonistic… but if you don’t smoke, drink, do drugs, eat meat, visit doctors or have promiscuous sex, are you still “straight edge”. I think it’s pretty important to pay attention to who you are for a lot of reasons. But is this the right way to do it? Straight Edge…

When we’re young and when we are weak we frequently need definitions to help find direction. From lack of experience or strength we NEED them. But what of when we are men? All grown up and on our own? What is our mission? Where does our direction come from? What about when we are lost in the middle; neither in pain or in fear, perhaps numb, inbetween one extreme and another… What about then?

I’ll tell you what I think, I think it comes from choice. It’s choice that makes us who we are. It’s choice that makes us. It’s choice that gives us direction and puts a bit of soul into our lives. I often think that one of the greatest crimes we can commit is to avoid choices… to walk this earth without ever testing ourselves or living with the consequences of OUR actions. How can you know life, true life, if you do not know resolve? Can you? Because if you have no resolve and you make no choices you are living someone else’s life.

Do you ever think about this? About what makes you YOU. I don’t think so much about the definition of me, having traded those thoughts for thoughts of what defines me some time ago. It’s not so certain anymore. I don’t know what I am. But it makes me happy to feel like I can stand behind my actions. No excuses, no regrets. This is me. And I think that, for now at least, this is all I’m worried about. What about you?

Had a coversation with a friend the other day about legalizing marijuana. Well, about the strange nature of our government when it comes to this issue. Why, for example, is alcohol legal and marijuana is not? Why are cigarettes legal? I don’t choose to use any of them. Not pot, booze, cigarettes, or any drugs. And I don’t suggest that anyone else should use them. But it does boggle my mind to see the lack of logic in our system of deciding what people can and can’t do to their bodies. Especially when pot has a fairly sizeable list of medicinal properties, and was recommended by our former sugeon general to be legalized (or opened up for testing anyway). Anyway. I’m not especially concerned about this. I’m in more of a philosophical than militant mood tonight. In fact I’m just a few minutes away from bed, and what I hope will be hours of solid sleep.

This week has been a non-stop thing. So much work, so much damn work. Getting ready for friends coming to visit, taking care of clients, working on my own projects, and chilling with friends here in town. Life is best when it’s full yeah? Yeah.

I’m fucking psyched. Really. There’s something to thinking about something, loving it, developing the idea in your head and then finally seeing it created into something real… something really really real. There’s something about that which makes me smile. Big. And it’s not so different than I imagined it in the very beginning. It’s pretty close to what I expected it to be. But the thing about it that’s really cool is that this idea represents desire. My plain and simple desire to work as a photographer again. And I want that. Like I want nothing else, I want to be able to shoot again. 1/2 time, full time. Whatever. I just want to shoot. There’s a storm raging outside my house. Pine cones and branches are showering down on my roof, drowning out the white noise of the rain itself. The huge concussion of a transform pumping it’s final surge of energy as it explodes hammers my walls with a blast of air. And I, I am in here in total peace. Should a 40 inch trunk blast through my roof and strike me dead, I think tonight it would be alright. Tonight. Because for once the damn future feels like it’s looking up. And for now I’m going to hold on to it, like I’m holding on to the idea of photography in my soul. Today I present Pixenter. Enjoy.

“A venturesome minority will always be eager to set off on their own, and no obstacles should be placed in their path; let them take risks, for godsake, let them get lost, sunburnt, stranded, drowned, eaten by bears, buried alive under avalanches - that is the right and privilege of any free American.”
- Edward Abbey

“Desire lends strength. Aspiration creates inspiration, which, for the artist, is the breath of life.”
- Edward Abbey

So this is some crazy stuff. I live in Oregon. People who I know from Boston, St. Louis, California, and everywhere else don’t come to visit me. It’s too far from anything and not interesting enough just to see me. If I’m not travelling to visit people I suspect I could go years without seeing anyone from outside the state. And don’t get me wrong. I dig that most of the time.

So for whatever reason, as soon as my divorce finalized early last week I started getting calls and emails from far away people who want to come and see me. How funny is that? Given, it’s mostly work related stuff. But I’m still pretty psyched. Sara, Cam, and Lindsay. All good friends from my college years. Ah, the added benefits of being divorced. You don’t have to approve your visitors. They can just come and chill.

Oh, and I’m sorry if I haven’t updated the site all that much in the last few days. I’ve been working around the clock on a mountain of work I have for one of my clients and trying to finish up Pixenter. I think it will be worth the wait (if you are waiting). Pixenter is going to be quite nice. Oh, and it’s a damn cool thing, I’m moving my server out of my house and to a co-location facility on the backbone. Soon this site will be a lot faster. Until later…

I had a one man party dancing the other night when a couple of consecutive ska tunes popped up in my iTunes shuffle. I used to listen to Will Raymond and Tuck Rainwater’s ska show Planet Plaid in St. Louis when I was in college but didn’t bother to pay all that much attention to the names of artist or albums (too busy dancing to care). Killer music. So much fun.

So, this a call for ska. Anyone who knows good ska bands do me a favor and comment on this entry and hook me up with a list of good bands and albums. I’m dying to head down to House Of Records and score some tunes. ANYONE. Please. I’m beggin’ ya.

Will, where are you when I need you?

Willi? He’s out and about.

So I was thinking about writing a book. I have all these funny ideas for stories. Too many ideas really. I’d love to expand on one or two and help justify an indulgence in the pleasure of writing. Because writing is a lot of fun. Unexpectedly fun. It’s a different thing when you do it for yourself. I used to hate writing. Hate it. I doubt I have the patience or follow-through to write anything very long… But maybe I could write it in chapters. Er, rather, one chapter at a time. I don’t know. Why not right? Would you all read it? What if it were about a charming and charismatic programmer / photographer on the run from the FBI for a crime he didn’t commit? Riiight. Seriously though, maybe I’ll start on it.