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.: 11/08/05 :.

Laptop: unrecoverable crash.

All files for this site: gone

Job: Let go for insobordination due to a situation in which I was threatened by a coworker. I left the scene and got fired. Always stick around and see the situation through at work, you will win in the end.

Feeling: Shitty/Empowered

Life is funky.

.: 8/29/05 :.

Return to blogdom.

I took the blog down for a while because I was looking for a job. Now, I have a job. So, it's back up, and I can say whatever the fuck I want now.

1) Randstad : This is the employment agency that hooked me up. They got me an interview within days of enrolling, they were awesome. I got hooked up with a full time job within 4 weeks. Pretty hot.

Working is nice because I am completely self reliant, putting a lot of money in to my studio, and my schedule is ill because I can work full time and then still have time for free lance work and art during the night. Granted, I'm busy as hell, but I'm loving it. You only live once. Let your lumbar region go.

In the mean time I am working on my good friend Marlo's site for her fine art, Painted Birds. Marlo is a wonderful lady, and an incredible painter. I can't wait to finish her site, she's so happy that it's getting done.

I played at the Sublounge recently, and I totally had the best time. It was at Anthem, which is hosted by R3M, aka Mike Remson. Mike works at Senneca Center, which is a facility for emotionally disturbed children. Ever since I learned this I have a huge amount of respect for the fact that he is out there trying to help the world of Drum n Bass and also, in fact, lives and works a someone who is a caretaker of children. The world needs more caretakers, and not so many fucktards.

Hopefully I'll get more DJ work, I love spinning, and I think I'm pretty good.

My last 4 Dj Mixes:

http://swatchdogrecordings.com/powerstruggle.mp3

http://swatchdogrecordings.com/muslcememory.mp3

http://swatchdogrecordings.com/yes.mp3

http://swatchdogrecordings.com/flymaneu.mp3

.: 3/19/05 :.

I got my copy of Propellerheads Reason 3.0, and allow me to say to you that it is the most wonderful piece of software I have ever obtained. I have been using Reason for 4 years, and it is a staple in my production. Thanks to my father, who gave it to me for an early birthday present. He is the best. I love my dad a lot and I appreciate all that he has done for me. If it were not for my father I would not have anything, he's helped me through the roughest period of my life, and I am happy to say that his help has given me a great place to start from as a young adult.

My dreams have continued to be incredibly strange recently. The night before last I had a dream that I was with my girlfriend at a bar that showcased unique indie elctronic artists, and the one that we saw was a guy who had wired up his entire body with weird little devices and micrphones. Not like those douchy dorks with horns between their knees and a trombone on their hat, he had like a circuit board on his chest and little midi triggers in the creases of his pants.

There was a punk rock bus boy who decided to break wind the general direction of my girlfriend, to which she got very upset, so I decided I would pummel the guy. After knocking him out (I have never been in a fight in my life) I grabbed my girlfriend and tried to leave. Then this bulky but short bouncer got pissed because "That was my only busser."

We tried to leave but he insisted on the throw down, in fact, he called a bunch of his "Humungus" from "Mad Max" looking possee, and they were waiting for us by the parking lot.

Totally lame.

Then last night I had a dream that I was teaching children. What was I teaching them you ask? Good question.

Tiger Woods and I were teaching the children how to fish, but these were not ordinary fish, these fish had this crazy pet-like quality and would come up to the surface of the water to say "hello."

In fact, they could actually kick it outside of the water, which is totally some prehistoric sh*t. To catch them, all you had to do was find one that had surfaced, grab it under the fish-jaw, and yank him out with your finger.

At some point there was an alligator (not a crocodile) who decided it was a good time to come up on the shore and it scared everybody, but it wasn't all that threatening, I think it was just that there were all the kids around.

Do you know who Dred Scott was?

I have been saddened by the recent violence around the country, at least, the violence that has been reported recently. First, that little girl in Florida is definitely dead, and it was a registered sex offender that lived across the lot from her and her father and grandmother. The girl's body was buried less than a football field away from her distraut father. This man had an extensive criminal career before now. As I have said to many of my friends, we are to lenient on criminals. As I have grown older I have become much more hateful towards criminals. I believe that if you steal a car, you should be in jail for 10 years. I believe that if you assault someone (with great bodily injury) you should go to jail for a minimum of 20 years. I believe that if you kill someone, you should automatically be in jail for life. If you molest a child, it's life or the death penalty. If you rape someone, it's life or the death penalty.

And why not? Why is America so satisfied with it's leniency on criminals? What rights should someone who forcably had sex with a child have? Why should they have rights? They have ruined the entire life of a young innocent child, but we want to "rehabilitate them?" No no. If you want to rehabilitate a child-sex offender, you remove their testicals and/or their penis and leave them a catheter to pee from. Why should they have rights? I'm kind of sick of our criminal justice system, which is 1) racist, 2) ineficient, and 3) mostly concerned with drug offenders.

Another thing I am sick of is kids acting like savages. Case in point, two nights ago, a teenage girl walked up to a couple in the Berkeley hills and without provocation slashed a woman's throat open in front of her husband. She then fled in a BMW M3. Some 16 year old girl has been arrested. She is obviously wealthy.

Parents are not doing their job at all on a regular basis. They buy their kids expensive cars and they let them off the chain when they are in their mid teens. I am sick of seeing 16 year olds fly by me at 80 miles an hour on the freeway in the car their parents bought them. I am basically just sick of kids who don't want to be grown ups, who are content to emulate 50 cent, even though they don't connect with their financial stability, and have nothing in common with him. I am sick of this generation of barbarians coming up, parents who are more interested in being rich and impressing other people than monitoring their kids behavior.

Why are so many people concerned with the wrong thing?

I say they should try this chick as an adult, give her 35 years in prison, and when she gets out, a whole mob of people should spit at her.

We should not hold violent criminals in some light of rehabilitation, we should just put them away to rot.

.: 03/17/05 :.

OK, so, seriously, my dream last night was awesome and out of control weird, more so than the night before.

To start off with, I should preface this by saying my parents got separated 2 weeks after I graduated high school, and it ruined a lot of good times for me. I have longed for a long time to go back and be with my "family" again, which now is only reminants scattered across America. That in itself is a fantasy I have had, to go back in time and relive some of the moments I may have taken for granted, which later would haunt me endlessly.

In the beginning of this dream, I was with a friend, but I do not know exactly who it was. For the sake of story telling, we will call him Patrick, since that was my best friend when I was 14, and I haven't seen him in about 12 years, and that would make the most sense.

Patrick and I were walking in Oakland along Sacremento, and this is probably supposed to be present day, 2005 or a little later. We were definitely transients, we were dirty and were trying to think of licks we could pull to get some money for food. I thought, maybe we don't need to pull a lick, maybe we can go see an old housekeeper of mine named Janice. She is a great lady I haven't seen in years, she's super Christian, and I would be willing to bet she would at least give us some food.

So as we are walking along Sacremento to go and see her, we pass some thugs, and they start talking shit (what? In Oakland, no way). We are street (in the dream) enough to know not to fuck with these guys, so we try and just ignore them and keep our eyes on the prize, a good meal. Then the thugs give chase ans start to fuck with us, and it is at this point, via Deus Ex Machina, that we travel back in time. One of the thugs shoots at us, and I think the thing is that we got killed, but our dying wishes BOTH came true, his was to get a meal, and mine was to go back in time to be in some of the places I grew up in. I don't think we were really aware of the time warp, it just sort of happened.

When we awake from the gunshots, which is really like a split second later, we are at Janice's door, magically. We knock, and Janice answers. She lets us in and I sit down, and she asks me if I want to hold her baby. She says the baby has a strange malformity. The baby's head is about 8 times the size of her body, and she is all grey. I am holding her and suddenly, I realize that her head has separated from her body, and I realize that without the heart attached the head will die. I can't find the baby's body. It had been connected by a strange hinge. Janice isn't worried and she just takes the baby back, and suddenly the baby is ok, and her body and head are normal, and I am relieved.

I think the heart feeding the head is a metaphore, and I think that the baby is me, needing maternal love, and I feel still at 26 like I am dying without my mother.

Pat and I leave there, suddenly nourished, I think it's because we were dead and didn't really need food. We decide to hitch a ride back through the tunnel to where we both grew up, in the East Bay, by Pleasant Hill and Lafayette. Time lapses, and suddenly we are back there.

The next thing I know we are with a friend from junior high. His name was Chris. Chris was a huge stoner, way before I had ever smoked the herb (I didn't until I was out of high school). He had about an ounce with him, and was relating a story to us, something about being miffed that someone hadn't showed up to meet him. I said, "Man, I'm really sorry, that sucks, bro. I hope you feel better." He said, "I will," and then he gestured with the open bag for me to take some. I of course grab the biggest nugget I can and say, "Thanks," and bolt, afraid he might change his mind.

The next thing I remember, Patrick and I are meeting some people for dinner. We are at this place which I remember being 'that place that your family goes for a nice night to eat,' you know? That one special restaraunt every family goes to, every family has one. Ours was a place called "China Pavillion" which was down across from the Willows shopping center back when a mall was still a boring place to be. This must be circa 1987.

Pat and I go inside, and somehow the Matre D. knows me, and I reach out my hands to him, we join hands and I say, "Thank you so much for being here, I appreciate it so much, this restaraunt means so much to me." He smiles and seats us with a couple.

The couple is raving about some movie that just came out. Let's say it was "The Last Emporer," which won best film in 1987. They were raving about how mind opening it was, seeing the shift in China from the old way of an empire to the new way of a dictatorship in the Communist takeover. I say, "Wait until you see "The Matrix," after which Patrick elbows me, as to say, "Don't fuck with their world, man, they won't see that for a decade."

After this, we suddenly are back in our own time, and we are inside what would be the China Pavillion present day, which, unlike reality, is abandoned and empty and dark. We realize that we are locked in and have to break out. As we begin to, a time rift is forming, and the inside of the China Pavillion is present day, and outside is still 1987. We break out of a window on the upper floor of the Pavillion, and we see cops patrolling around (1987 cops). They spot us and radio in that there are people breaking in to the restaraunt. We flee. They send a 1987 chopper after us.

The chopper doesn't have infra-red detectors like 2005 choppers, so they miss us. I think what happens is we lay down like we are hiding from the chopper, and suddenly, we are in our last dying moments on the ground in Oakland, as a 2005 chopper is overhead looking for who shot us.

I can say that this was a beautiful dream, even though it hurt to go through it, I think it says a lot about what I feel in present time, and I miss all those places and faces that have passed through rifts, the type of rifts which we all fall into every day, deeper and deeper, into what was once the future, what will be the present, and then the past. Passage of time, movement forward and away from beginning towards what is the end. Little pieces of dying that feel so heavy.

I reccomend you fall in to a rift in time and space some time, it is an experience that only comes once in long while.

.: 03/16/05 :.

So I had this dream last night and it was f'ing bizarre. (Why does everyone start off with 'my dream was so weird?' Have you ever had a dream where sh*t was normal?)

To start off with, I get a knock on the door, and who should be there but Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee from Motley Crue. (For reals, dude, I told you it was wack.) And, here's the thing, they are REALLY NICE. I talk to them about the Crue, and they are so polite and smiley, especially Nikki. Tommy is kind of reserved (what?) and we are in this cheaufered Westafalia camper van.

For some reason they are taking me to a sober-living house. (Again, what?!) And when we get there, there are like 20 people living in this house, including some girl (who isn't a real person) who I knew from my days as a post-high school coffee house intellectual-whore. (I really did that, that's not just the dream, not a "whore" but you know, I smoked a lot of cigarettes in the dark and pontificated with other douche bags.)

This girl didn't recognize me at first, but her little brother did, and he was not happy to see me. It was this total guilt thing. Eveidentally when I had hung out with his sister I had promised him I would do something for him, and (the time was real, like, it had been about 7 or 8 years) I never did it. He felt rejected and hurt, and since he was now 14 or so, he had a spurned childhood kind of dislike for me.

The sober-living house came complete with den-parents, so it was like this half-way/foster care house. All of the people were really sad and depressed, and I had to get out of there.

When I did, nothing else really happened, but this dream was wiggity wack. Although the architecture around the house was lovely.

Watch "Last Night" by Don McKellar, it will change you.

.: 03/10/05 :.

Last night I played a set at Cannabass in Oakland, which comes highly commended in my humble junglist experience. I had 2 Heinekens (I only drink that there, they don't have Sierra in a bottle and glasses are for wusses) and I played a set of some my favorite Tech-Step jams from the past 5 years. If you know DnB I played some Ed Rush and Optical, Dillinja (All the Things and Killa Bees remix), Twisted Individual (October), and a bunch of stuff I might be able to remember if I had gotten more than 5 hours of sleep last night.

I ended up having a great discussion with a new friend about life force and chi, but I don't mean that in a flippant 'deep discussion at the cluhhhb' way, it was genuine and nice. I enjoy talking with people about their life force, and discussing with people how we can become further grounded through accepting the love that permeates the very air we breath, and accepting our special individuality. We are like lightening rods for God, in my mind, finely tuned antennas which never fail to allow the power to pass into our being. At times we flinch and shy from feeling the manifestation of joy, or shun the innate intelligence which saturates our lives, and it is this which causes us distress at times, to not feel a oneness with the universe around us. This is natural, because our hearts and minds are curious, but it is not so healthy for our souls. I believe that we can all alleviate our suffering by allowing the beauty and love which exists at all times around us to truly register and exist without having to attempt to interpret it through thinking or acting.

I could just be some dork who writes long sentences about stuff I think I know, too, that’s always a possibility. We’ll see, God hasn’t asked me to STFU yet, IMO, so, LOL and all that internet self deprecating crap we do now a days to feel like we aren’t offending anyone.

Snoochie Booches. Noige, Noige.

.: 02/27/05 :.

.: 02/19/05 :.

That Nike Pro Apparel "Masks" commercial, with the dudes in the weird scary helmets, kicks ass! The music is the best music I have ever seen in a commercial, and the visuals for those helmets is the shit!

Wieden & Kennedy Portland created this awesome 60 second spot, and @radical.media was the production company. The music in it which also stomps ass is "Migration" by Cop Shoot Cop. Big up Storm Tharp who was the art director (art directors make the cool shit you look at in commercials, hence, the masks. This is basically just a kick ass 1 minute movie. You should respect how much talent went in to this commercial. And money I guess.*

*Don't respect Nike though, all they did was make some crappy over-priced shirts and shoes, and they don't care about the socio-economic detriment they do with their subversiveness in aiding major league sports franchises in selling the image to young minorities that all they can become is a sports figure, and they also employ sweat shops.

.: 02/17/05 :.

I bought the director's cut of "Donnie Darko," which I have not seen yet. I am glad to finally have some closure on the parts of that movie that made no sense. It was obvious that the studio asked to have the movie cut more than once because it is both confusing and quite unfinished. Did I mention it's one of my favorite movies? But seriously, it's more about the texture of the movie that I've loved so far, not so much the substance, but now I think I will be groking on both.

I also got "Malcolm X," but I didn't get the super deluxe version. Really, I'm not mega-interested in Spike Lee's directorial dogma for this picture, it's great, it's visually as stunning as any classic piece of cinema I have ever witnessed, and the acting is incredible. I like listening to Tim Burton talk about "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" because that movie might well have been more of a challenge, considering it would never happen and Malcolm X did. Does that make me a bad person?

P.S.-I actually didn't want to spend the extra 5 bucks, and "Pee-Wee's" comes with the director's commentary on the regular version. So, maybe it's the added feeling of annoyance that "X" didn't come with Mr. Lee on it in the first place.

.: 02/15/05 :.

Did you have a good Valentine's Day? I hope so. Even though it's not a real holiday, people sure love to celebrate it. I would love to get some numbers on how this Valentine's day did fiscally as compared to others. It seems to me that there weren't as many people (that I knew of) who spent a lot of money or effort on it, even though a lot of people I know are in relationships. I am hoping that people are realizing that V's Day is actually a totally contrived holiday, created not for the benefit of lovers, but obviously for florists and card services. How sad is that really? That your lady might go ape shit because you didn't buy her anything.

A friend of mine made the suggestion that "Valentine's Day should just be called 'Love Day,' where it's about human love, not about romance. Every day should be about both," and to that I say, "Exactly."

Maybe there needs to be a more permanent solution to Valentine's Day where lovers feel appreciated all the time, and makes it possible so we don't feel so awkward spreading love and happiness to our fellow travelers to the grave. (That's Dickens, I didn't make that up). We are all here for a limited amount of time, why limit the amount that we spread the love? So the solution is: tell your lover that you love them all the time and give them small trinkets and tokens of your esteem on a regular basis. The one thing that is universally accepted: PEOPLE ALWAYS LOVE A BAUBLE.

.: 02/13/05 :.

I forgot how prevalent racism is. Shame on me, really. I would like to share an interaction I engaged in a week ago which was saddening...

I was at a flower shop, buying flowers for my great-grandmother. She just turned 98. While I was waiting for the older lady behind the counter to put together my bouqet, her husband (and I am sure the second owner) asked me if I was excited for the Super Bowl. I explained that I was not, I don't enjoy sports where people hurt eachother (physically, obviously you hurt someone's feelings if you rock their ass at some golf, mario kart, motocross, archery, etc.), and he then says to me, "So I guess you wouldn't like to go to Iraq," to which I replied, "No, that wouldn't be my first choice."

Without any provocation, he then told me, "I don't really like Muslim countries...I mean, I just didn't like any Muslims when I was over there. There are some good Muslims here, in America, but mostly I don't like Muslims."

Sometimes when things like this happen, I forget that I should just walk out, but I bought my flowers and then left. Later, to my dismay, I realized the woman had cut her hand and bled on the plastic outer wrapper, and I was totally pissed because I realized something sad. Her blood was a symbol of why I stayed there in the first place. I stayed in the flower shop after the guy said that stuff because I felt like, "He's entitled to his opinion, I can't make everyone feel like I do, can't believe everyone feels race and religion don't make someone different in value."

But now I think that I got the extra gore to remember that people who will say to you "I don't like Muslims," will easily do something repulsive and indiferent to another human as leaving a bunch of their nasty innards on some flowers for their customer's 98 year old great-grandmother. If someone "doesn't like Muslims," to me, that means "I don't have regard for other humans," and having basically been told so, I should have cut my losses, said, "Sir, my family is Muslim, and I can't buy your flowers because I can't pay someone who doesn't like my family," walked out, gone to Safeway, where at least due to the squeaky clean, flourescent-white light bathed reality of it's purpose, there is an enforced policy to not talk about race and religion with the customers, and I can believe that prejudice doesn't exist for long enough to enjoy buying some flowers.

.:02/12/05:.

Ryan hates my dots. I like them.:.:.:..

Today I signed an NDA to reveiw a short feature I might be composing for. That would be a lot of fun. I have to change the font on here. It's killing me.

This is much better.

.: 02/09/05 :.

Today I am finished constructing this site. I am proud to unveil my self-contained media presentation, and I am glad to have a place where my friends, family, and clients can interface with my art and work. I am continuing to develop my web design skills, and am sure that this site will continue to change and grow with the acquisition of new tricks. Thanks for visiting!

.: |H O M E| :.