here&now&today

new paths/adieu

2009-08-04T20:50:00.004-04:00

in this little box, i've made promises of consistency that have fallen apart like the soles of my favorite dunks. since this weekend has seen what i hope to be the most drastic (and anticipated) of lifestyle changes, i feel as though it's time to close the virtual page on this humdrum nonsense.

as we speak, laura is working on the introductory post at cigarettes & singalongs, our second attempt at blogging and our first real attempt at collaboration. what exactly we will create on this, i'm not so sure of yet, but as with everything to two of us have ever touched, i imagine it will take shape as we slowly mold it.

so, good-bye, spring breaks in here&now&today, or whatever else you like to call yourself. if you're one of the two folks that was following me, hopefully you'll come and play with laura and i. lord knows that the two of us are having fun already.

two day's worth

2009-06-04T17:12:00.008-04:00

parking garages remind me of you. you, the red atm machine in the bar across the street, your first draught guinness, the take of whit beer and pizza on your breath in the hotel bathroom. i used to stand still, but then i met you. we can see every parking garage in every small city in the country, honor. the lights will illuminate oil spills in fresno, burnt rubber in charleston. or anyone. we cuddled on a bean bag once, and i hadn't slept. you still say you were unsure of things back then, but i can't believe that. you held me by the pinkie once, on the floor of your dorm room. you kissed my ignorance after i quit. and what of us now? we're stains on a capet, cigarette ashes down a shower drain, a replaced street sign between worcester and berry. i forget these things. sometimes you mind and others you don't. but to me, none of it matters so long as we're turning double plays. <$3

scribble a few things off the list, but it still goes something like this:

days in june without rain: one

dollar bill airplanes: two
pages left in book: fifty-eight

new album i've never heard: au revoir simone - still light, still night

record from jerry's collection: this rediculous album

linkity-links:

song: defiance, ohio - the list

purchase at no idea or download the entire album for free at archive.org, because the band is just that awesome.

ten things

2009-06-01T17:01:00.008-04:00

1. i will spend june counting the days when it doesn't rain, and folding dollar bills into dollar bill airplanes.
2. i will read a minimum of 50 pages a day. this should be especially easy on days i work, considering i can read 18 pages between the silver spring and chinatown metro sations.
3. i will buy and build a new bookshelf.
4. i will write every day, with no set goal on word or page count.
5. i will right every day, with no set goal on soul count.
6. i will take one picture a day, with each ilaria and my phone.
7. i will remember july 1st, early august.
8. i will watch my sodium, and more beautiful things like FM airwaves and moving pictures.
9. i will listen to both sides of one pre-1985 record, and one newer album every day, from start to finish.
10. i will share at least two of the following things with the world every day: music, moving picture, still photography, my words, garbage.

i've made this list to keep my mind active, so active that at any given moment i might have an aneurysm or seizure. because right now, all we have is time, time, time, and someday, that time will run out.

that's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.

"there's nothing more boring than a well-traveled person."

linkity-links
photo: my good friend daggar slade of san marcos, texas. his flickr.
music: paul baribeau - ten things, purchase at amazon or
quote: from don delillo's great jones street. save the publishing industry, or save some dollars.

10th grade reading list

2009-04-28T13:55:00.003-04:00

the semester is drawing to a close, and as sad as it is to be on hiatus from the ever-so-inviting workshop environment, it's utterly exhilarating to suspend the workload that comes hand-in-hand when enrolled in an MFA program. spring is here, and the promise of leisure and productivity without hearing any disconcerting voices has me feeling happy to be alive. i want to i want to rope-swing into watson pond, to roll my windows down and blast my father's music on a drive through the chesapeake , to eat clam strips at a seafood shack in tiny maine vacation town, and (most importantly) read and write until the sun comes up.

my favorite AU graduate whose last name rhymes with ertania has this fantastic, masochistic habit of creating a much-too-large reading list over these sorts of breaks and laboring to complete the whole list before school starts again. i've completely hijacked this idea. he's set out to read 50; i'm setting out to read 30. i feel like a very good casual reader, but not a terrible writer-who-reads. so, to combat this, i've decided i'm going to knock a few things off the cannon that i haven't gotten to, and return to the classics that warrant a closer reading than i've given them.

the list! (bold means purchased)
Bread and Wine - Ignazio Silone
The Remains of the Day - Kazu Ishiguro
Rabbit, Run and Rabbit Redux - John Updike
Damned If I Do - Percival Everett
Lost in the City - Edward P. Jones
The Liar's Club - Mary Karr
Don't Cry - Mary Gaitskill
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Collected Stories - Grace Paley
Paddy Clark Ha Ha Ha - Roddy Doyle
Waiting - Jin Ha
Tree of Smoke - Denis Johnson
Portnoy's Complaint - Philip Roth
Independence Day - Richard Ford
Where I'm Calling From - Raymond Carver
A Sport & A Pastime - James Salter
Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
1984 - George Orwell
Great Jones Street - Don Delillo
Winesburg, Ohio - Sherwood Anderson
That Night - Alice McDermott
Snow Falling on Cedars - David Guterson

i've come up to twenty so far, and even these aren't set in stone. honestly, i'd really like some more suggestions. and some cohorts. really, trying this on my own feels damn near impossible. you should read some, too. it'll give us a reason to see each other and call each other beautiful.

island 01

2009-02-24T23:30:00.004-05:00

looking out my window one morning, i caught a homeless person in a stained brown blazer stifling through our recyclable bin. i couldn't have been older than 9 or 10. he held an industrial-sized trash bag over his shoulder. it was stuffed with empty cans and probably two times the size of his torso. i tapped my fist on the window to shoo him away, like he was raccoon. he looked up at me with tired eyes and slowly moved to our neighbor's can.

walking away from the window, i decided that staten island would be the perfect place for a homeless person to live. my logic was based on the newly-acquired knowledge that the train that ran from tottenville to st. george was free. it ran twice an hour, all evening. i imaged a homeless person hopping on one of the cars and heading towards the north shore for a slice of pizza on bay street. they could spend a few days there, blending in with the urban decay before cashing in their cans for change. from there, a relaxing hour-long ride would take them to the quiet, empty beaches of the south shore. this itinerary didn't include any of the 13 stops between the end points, every neighborhood possessing their own individual draw.

back then, the world didn't seem bigger than staten island. And it didn't need to.

from a milkcrate in the attic: buddy miles, them changes

2009-02-05T00:22:00.019-05:00

in december of 2008, my parents asked me what i wanted for a christmas gift. since i hadn't given anything of that sort a moment of thought, i used the recent economical crisis as an excuse to simply ask for the technics entertainment system that's been sitting in their living room, unused since the birth of the bose iPod dock. it came complete with a DC servo turntable, two-channel stereo equalizer (that doesn't exactly work), and a dual cassette player and recorder. my father informed me that there are at least 200 LPs floating around in the attic. i've found about 50 of them so far.

jerry says buddy miles was a session drummer, one of no particular fame. he said buddy did some spectacular sets, particularly with the beatles. my research found no evidence of such claims. he was, however, a pretty popular jam drummer. his played in electric flag with mike bloomfield, the short-lived band of gypsies with jimi hendrix, and later with carlos santana (in the late 80s, when santana was 35x less cool, but 100x less a poppy sell-out).

i picked this out the crate without ever having heard of buddy miles. looking at the jacket, i think it's pretty obvious to figure out what intrigued me. look. it's a fat dude with an afro, sitting behind a drum set with an american flag detail job. plus, he's straight grilling you. this guy was obviously the most gangster-looking mother fucker of 60s rock. try to deny it. you'd be out out of your mind.

the thing i love about them changes, buddy's third album and first after the band of gypsies experience, is that it's obviously not gangster, in any which way. sure, there are elements of hard rock sprinkled her and there throughout it, but this is r&b. soul. funk. buddy and his band take a journey across 60s pop, and they make every stop along the way. it opens with the title track, which was written for band of gypsies. wally rossunolo absolutely slays the hendrix-esque opening riff, and miles teams up with billy cox to deliver a flawless baseline. miles goes to town with his vocal range, and the dude can sing. this jam is funky as shit: if you hear it, you're dancing.

buddy's voice is pretty spot on. he kind of reminds me of a stevie wonder with a sore throat. he hits notes you don't expect a drummer to hit. he covers gary allman's "dreams" with such soul that it's almost unrecognizable. he hits notes he shouldn't hit and starts basslines that don't sound possible for an allman brothers song.

the album is, through and through, just solid. it's one of those records that once you know, you fiend for it every time you're sitting around in silence. you want to invite all your friends over so they can dance around to "them changes," day in and day out.

Buddy Miles - Them Changes

and purchase here
Amazon or

return from 524-day interval

2009-01-22T14:08:00.005-05:00

it's been a very long time since i updated this thing. i would tell you that i don't know why i deserted it, but to be completely honest, i don't remember why i created it in the first place. honestly, i've always hated the idea of blogging: it's egotistical, pretentious, and downright pointless. the market for published literature has broken it's leg and the blog is the brace that keeps the body in motion, and i find that downright despicable. we've strayed so far from where we once were, and predicting the future of the written word - be it fiction or poetry, nonfiction or journalism - is both petrifying and impossible.

i haven't returned to this medium to reinvent myself or rejuvenate blogtography. the truth is, a lot has changed since i created this thing. the scenery has changed and the people i called friends have disappeared. 500 miles away from me lives a life that i have abandoned that felt realer and truer than anything i had ever experienced. if epiphanies exist and coming of age tales are possible, i lived it, breathed it, and tasted it.

now i’m in a new place, where skylines have replaced rows of birch and the homeless replaced the bulls. everything is beautiful, and as my memories from the seacoast of new hampshire fade a tiny bit with every passing day, i’m paranoid that i’ll lose these moments in the shore of this impending sea of adulthood and responsibility that looms around the corner of tomorrow.

i’m scared of every tomorrow, really. life, no matter how dull it should be, feels extraordinary. i worry that one day, i’ll wake up and have grown past every opportunity presented to me. what’ll be worse is, since times have changed and today’s photo albums have been replaced by flickr and photobucket, i will have nothing to remember myself for the person i used to be. even though times have changed, our memories still fade like the corners of a polaroid. i don’t want to forget today or tomorrow, since yesterday feels so remote and distant.

so, i’m back to create a visual journal that’ll hopefully still exist years from now, when my youth is faded and my skin is worn from nicotine addiction. i’ve changed the name and the links, because the idealistic narra i was 2 years ago is not the no-nonsense narra i am today. “here & now & today” comes from one of my favorite against me! songs. i think it fits with my current personality better than the bloc party song does.

maybe in twenty years, when i’m balder and grayer, i’ll plop a 5-year old with pigtails and brown eyebrows down in my lap and point at my youth on a computer screen. maybe she’ll be in awe at the places i’ve seen, or maybe she’ll laugh at the way i dressed. chances are i’ll sit there with my chest swelling and my eyes watering, and remember that everything is worth remembering.

2007-08-16T01:04:00.002-04:00

about three months ago, i found myself laying on a bed in a sauna-like hotel room. there were three other people of the room, and none of them wanted to wake up to a naked mark. i threw the off of me, but it didn't seem to do anything. tossing and turning only made beads of sweat arise on my brow, and i wasn't drunk enough to think about passing out. it was painful.

so, i got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and, for the first time in my life, ran equal amounts of hot and cold water in a shower. i stepped in and was surprised at how comfortable i was.

throwing on only a pair of boxers, i sat on a windowsill and attentively listened to the street three stories below me. silence. nothing. the only thing i could hear was the crackling burn of thin paper every time i took a drag of the cigarette perched on my lips.

i had never been so comfortable in my life.

no matter what anyone tells you...

there's no place in the world more beautiful than venice.

stop breathing, lose a limb , cut out my heart, pollute my lung, drive my head directly into a brick wall. i'd give it all for one last smell of saltwater across a canal, one last sunset between sand-colored buildings, one last blinding streak of light as it glistens off that green water, one last bead of sweat swiped on my wrist as i desperately listen for something, anything, to pinch me and wake me from those sublime dreams on that windowsill.

venice. i'd die in venice.

tight with the ivy ankles.

2007-08-05T00:47:00.000-04:00

air force one japan. almost ended up spending money on shipping for these. i ended up finding them at a finish line in salem, new hampshire. i was baffled. still, they're absolutely fresh.

stayin' pasty in the summer. cyea.

in and out

2007-07-30T18:46:00.000-04:00

so july came and went. i can't believe summer is almost over. but, since it started. i moved, got a (terrible) new job (that i'm embarrassed to talk about), ruined my computer, (tried to) start writing again, sweated, cooked breakfast, turned twenty-two, and tried to adjust to a new lifestyle.

i need some sanity. honestly.

i met a bunch of people. they're all pretty good. i'm not sure if they actually consider me a friend yet, but they all seem nice. you'll see a few of them down there.

i'd promise you more posts, but we all know how that ends up working out. so, here's a few pictures. best i can do for you.

bunker avenue.

nice visit from lou in june. he lives for 4 a.m. smores.

good ideas.

merrydeath the monkey, formerly of the crouse family.

home.

we on award tour...

2007-06-09T19:31:00.000-04:00

i know i haven't been around much, but i have 93,000 excuses. the main one being that i'm in the process of moving. tomorrow, actually. much has been going on, and i plan on posting about all the happening in the coming week. don't worry; i promise pictures from europe real soon, too.

i do want to take this time (because i might never remember to do it otherwise) to show you The Award Tour crew out of Jersey. the dude LochNess comes up with the designs himself, draws inspiration from 90s comics and Pogs (fucking POGS). the site is kind of new, i think, but the posts are pretty interesting, and the line is sweet. come'on-- a clothing line named after ATCQ? you can't go wrong with that. i'm plain thrilled to see what else they're gonna come up with, but for the time being, i'm really feeling the fuck out of this tee.

you best believe i'm buying it the minute it drops. but stop by, show some love. i'm gonna link them permanently in the sidebar right now.

and on the other thing, i'll miss you new york city. a 'lil.

oh, boysie.

2007-05-16T18:31:00.000-04:00

so, i'm trying to update my pictures to flickr. but, this fool left his laptop in the heathrow airport. i'm going to try to upload the pics to my flickr, but i dont know how well that'll work. maybe tomorrow?

yeah?!
yeah?!

trust me, there's ALOT you need to hear. and you will before tomorrow.

<3

caio/bonjour/'ello.

2007-05-14T01:59:00.000-04:00

this is jeff emerging after a seventeen-minute long excretion. his reading material: midsummer’s night dream. i don’t believe this is what shakesphere intended.

this is me, finishing a research presentation i have to do on pompeii. i cannot determine what my mouth is doing.
this is my belly, as it is being itched.

we current sit in a hotel in manchester, new hampshire, our home away from home-home. tomorrow, we begin traveling across time zones foreign to both of us. right now, we wait. we wait so that when we arrive, we're awake.

ilaria will be accompanying us, as well as eight other people that might find their way onto this domain.

tomorrow, we begin to document the reason why this was created.

i can’t promise daily updates, but i can promise as many as possible. you all should check back as much and possible.

because this is sure to get interesting.

in the mean time, peep the flickr for a bunch of stuff that should have found its way up earlier, but didn't in preparation for tomorrow.

but it's going to get interesting.

a quick ride

2007-05-01T23:49:00.000-04:00

he doesn't smile; he can't. but if he could, he would have. the best i could muster from him is the occasional smirk. it didn't leave his face, even while the subaru slipped out of gear, or while he hugged corners i wouldn't think of accelerating on.

it didn't matter. he spoke quick, without hesitation, and i whipped my head from side to side. it was tough to keep up with him. former employers. businesses that friends had owned. bars he hustled at.

it didn't matter. i occasionally shook my head and was consistently left speechless as the sun set. we didn't get out of the car when he spoke of the narrow streets he rode his bike down, and rocks he and his fiance would sit on and be quiet together.

several times, he admitted he believed in ghosts.

he lifted one finger off the steering wheel to point at the police station where he was born. he tells me this is the place where he'll first take his daughter when she's old enough to understand its significance.

he told me, "one day, i'll tell my daughter everything."

i told him, "maybe we could give you something else to tell her."

manchester explorations

2007-05-01T04:18:00.000-04:00

it's going to be a terribly long week. i mean, it's already been a terribly long night, but since i don't think i'll be around too much, i figured i might as well make a post whilst i still have some energy.

this pictures are quite old, and are from two separate trips i took to manchester; one with laura, one with ben. on one i found a bunch of neat tags in an alley (i'll always love manchester for it's alley graffiti. it's such a nice juxtaposition to what you see in new york), and on the other the graffed-up remains of a blacksmith shop that seemed to implode due to an electical fire. the ashes smelt fresh. it was intense.

she's very attractive, they tell me.

don't worry. he didn't do it.

(i don't know why this makes me so happy.)

so as botany kicks me in the ass, enjoy your next few days. i plan on taking a bunch more lovely pictures before i go home (friday night is the annual writer's party as the crouse residence. sure to be a night of great moments), a few when i'm home, and then... well, i'm not going to tell you where until i actually leave. but in 13 days i begin the best three weeks of my life, and i plan on documenting every day of them.

sleep is for the weak, they say.

and it ends

2007-04-30T02:06:00.000-04:00

i could make another long-winded post about how fantastic wednesday night's reading was, but at this point, i don't think i'd be able to do the emotions justice. still, it was another special moment in all of those that have happened here at chester.

i would, however, like to take a minute to congratulate troy edward robbins. if you had been at the reading, you've already heard how much this gentlemen has touched my heart. if you haven't, you missed a powerful moment (and i don't mean my introduction. i mean his graphic novel. it was spectacular). for two years, i've shared a bond with troy that has just come natural. i think we've both tried as hard as we possibly could to be there for each other when it was needed.

i also think we've shared the same struggles with self-confidence. the first thing i ever heard troy say about his stories were that they were either fantastic ideas that could never reach fruition, or a fantastically narrated piece of shit. to make a long story short, none of this is true. troy has come up with some of the most innovative ideas that would be unbelievable if it wasn't for his brilliant understanding of human emotion. i was never bored with one of his stories; not once.

and for all the other junk; no one i know has endured so much hardship. i've seen him battle temporary bouts of insanity, only to emerge with a sense of strength i could only gasp at. like alot of us, the future might look terribly cloudy and unpredictable. but, i've seen him fight through this hard time, and if he could do it now, i know he can accomplish anything. i hope there's one he never forgets about me:

cap and gown.

sean cashman and w.t. abernathy also did fantastic jobs, respectively. i don't think i'd be able to say one bad thing about sean if i wanted to, and todd has always been someone who i've looked up to. i drew alot of inspiration from both, and i congratulate them.

so much can be said, not only about tuesday and wednesday night, but about my last two years here at chester. i've said a lot already. i could probably say a lot more.

i'm no longer emotional, though. that time has passed. i can't keep crying and patting myself on the back every time i feel accomplished. it's about time for me to use this energy and focus it on something more positive, to keep my feet grinding and to keep striving for something a bit better than what i've made for myself.

so, for the last time, thank you. to my seven fellow seniors who've done nothing but promise me i'm better than what i think of myself. and especially to david crouse, jenn monroe, michael deragon, monica o'brien, liz buckley, ed staple, and the rest of the faculty who've made chester into such a pleasant and positive learning experience for me. this has been the best two years of my life, and i have all of you to thank for it. i wouldn't know who mark cugini was if you wouldn't have inspired me to figure it out.

thank you, thank you, thank you. i'll never want this to end.

it should never end...

2007-04-25T02:12:00.000-04:00

i'm afraid to sleep. i'm afraid that i'll wake up and this euphoria will float away with my exhaustion. i'm afraid the power will go out while i doze, and the 56 songs give my life meaning, the ones that my jukebox has been looping for the last 32 hours, will stop playing.

it's one of those 24-hour spans that leech themselves to the depths of your mind and suck negative influence and digest them, never to return again.

i'd love to avoid the schematics, to leave you feeling airy and weightless, but i guess they're too wonderful to ignore.

as told, i read tonight. excuse me, we read. tonight was not about me. on the debut of what will (hopefully) be an annual event, we shared a podium and culminated our college careers as best as we could. this place is special. if it wasn't, applications wouldn't be steadily rising, and the administration wouldn't be struggling to find seats for the some 250 students who attend classes here.

if this place wasn't special, i wouldn't have spent the entire night choking on my tears (i do so even now).

i feel as if the four of us are the last of a dying breed at our school, aside from the work we've done. i do feel as if the three people i read with tonight are extremely talented, but that's not the avenue i'm venturing. besides our literary accomplishments, each person i read with possesses a quality unique to themselves. i love and respect these men for these characteristics.

on my first visit to chester college, brandon gretter was my tour guide. he was my mother's favorite part of the school. this was immediately made apparent when her first response, everytime, to the question "how was that college mark visited in new hampshire?" was a description of brandon's tie-dyed dreadlocks and burly facial hair. a life-long new yorker, this, apparently was not the sort of diversity she was used to.

brandon impressed me. you wouldn't think it, but he's the same person i am. opinionated. shameless. outspoken. out of everyone i've ever met in my lifetime, he is probably the most confident. he's the only i know that is completely unafraid to be himself. not only that, butno one at this place understands what literature is better than him. even as a student, i imagine everyone whose had an oportunity to know him has learned something from him. even teachers.

it's safe to say that if it wasn't for brandon gretter, i wouldn't be at this college. his criticism is nothing but constructive (and correct; he's not wrong very often), his energy is contagious, and his company is nothing but pleasant. to me, he's everything a writer should be.

randy tompkins used to scare the ever-loving shit out of me. i don't think i've ever told him that, and he might not believe me. my first semester here, i took two workshop classes: advanced fiction and introduction to poetry. when he spoke, i would shake my head and think i will never know as much as this kid knows. i'm not the kind of person who goes out of his way to try to impress someone, but i wanted to win randy's approval. i didn't want to change a thing about myself; i wanted him to approve of the person i was, the opinions i had (different they were from his own), and the work i did.

this was all because of what randy stood for. the first time we read a shit poem in workshop, he waited his turn as everyone in the class blew smoke up the authors ass, then looked her in the eye and told her that she wrote a shit poem. he criticized her diction, subject matter, word choices, title and punctuation. what made is worse is that he's probably the best-spoken twenty-two year old since creation. he's like a phonics notebook. it's mind-boggling.

randy possesses a sense of honesty that i don't think he can control. i like to think that if randy tried to turn a negative into a positive, he'd combust in a burst of chocolate syrup. my favorite chester pastime occurs when randy compliments the work of someone he admittingly loathes. i watched it happen twice a week in consecutive classes a year ago. it was hysterically glorious.

all that aside; never in my entire life did i think we'd be as close as we are, but i know how blessed i am to be able to call him a friend. i'm not saying that because today was an emotional day. i've known this for a while now. we've had our disagreements, but like a marriage, they've only helped us grow as friends. the last two years have spoiled me. i know we've built the kind of relationship that would allow us to go 50 years without seeing each other, and when we'd meet again, overweight and drinking the beers he's taught me to appreciate, it'd be exactly the same as things are now. but i don't want that to happen. i can't imagine having him around any less than i do now, and i don't want to. i want to go lawnmower shopping with him, i want our kids to call each other cousins, and i want to have him around when i'm 40 so when i'm 40 i'm not the 40 year-old husband who has no idea how to fix a leaky faucet. if randy's not around when i'm forty, that faucet will leak 'til i'm dead.

i call randy tompkins "brother." he's the only one i have.

(i know i said i wasn't going to talk about our work, but i feel as if it's my duty to make this available to you. "things to tell my daughter" was read last night, and make me shake my head in amazement. this is the best work i've seen in my years as a writing student. i've read it three times since tonight, and probably will once more, so i can sleep tonight.)

there's been much debate between chris sumner and myself about the conversation i'm about to reference, and when he begins telling his version, i usually ignore him. to me, it doesn't matter how it happened. it's how it affected me that's important.

i had sat through three workshops making an attempt to comprehend the fiction of ten students who had spent two years of craftmanship together. they wrote of subject matters that were foreign to me, and they dominated their critiques of each other's work. i fought to get words in, and when i spoke, the looked at me cautiously, nodding their heads slowly as they tried their hardest to understand my points of view, ones i barely understood myself. i didn't know what they thought of me, but i didn't care. i was excited, to be around intelligent people who shared the same devotion for their craft that i did.

i was outside smoking a cigarette during a break when chris sumner stepped out to make a phone call. He left a voicemail for someone, and i watched out the corner of my eye as he walked past me and then turned back and faced me. we made small talk; where i was from, how i was liking the school. i forget his exact words, but chris told me that it was nice to see a transfer student trying to partake in conversations instead of sitting with their head down.

chris sumner was the first person in the department, student or faculty, that made me feel welcome.

that semester, i watched chris begin to develop into his own voice. i read as he relentlessly blew past boundaries and found his own particular niche. he was at a point i was envious of, and one that i hoped i could one day achieve myself.

chris sumner is a dreamer. he doesn't see things for face value, but for their potential. that applies to every aspect of his life. he speaks with a passion makes him hard to dislike. it was chris who told me "we can," when we were both at a point in our lives when the only thing i could think was "i can't." his faith in himself inspired me to find that same faith for myself.

i know things haven't been easy for chris, but through all his ups and downs, i've never once worried about him. whether by himself, with my help or the help of others, i know chris sumner will be okay, because he's chris sumner. no one i've ever met has shown such optimism in times when others would begin to feel sorry for themselves.

i call chris sumner "brother," as well. he's the only other one i have.

a few voices not to forget.
(from left: brandon gretter, mark cugini, randy tompkins, chris sumner)

i could spend the rest of my life trying to find the words, but they'll never be enough space or time to recover all the adjectives and nouns to give these men proper due. without them, i'd be lost, i'd be nothing, and i'd be struggling. i have drawn so much inspiration from them that i'd never be able to pay them proper tribute. it's going to be incredibly tough to watch them graduate as i wait another year to receive my own diploma. not because i'm disappointed to be spending another semester here, but because i can't imagine these three not being by my side when it happens. they've all been such a major influence on both my writing and my life that i doubt they'll ever understand how much thanks i owe them.

now for the hard part:

myself.

as i already said, tonight was not about me, and, although i've worked terribly hard on it, it was not about the excerpts from my senior project. still, tonight was the best night of my life. i have no questions about that.

one of my favorite songs has a lyric in it, one that barely seems as important as the rest. it's one of those lyrics that you don't even need to hear to understand its concept. it's not even a full sentence.

"still twenty-two days left 'til the end of the world."

when i sing the song (which i do often, at the top of my lungs), i change that lyric to something that's a bit more personal.

"twenty-two years left after the end of the world."

it's a slight modification that makes the song complete for me.

i thank whatever being it was that saved my life. i've been blessed. not only was i given a chance to live, but i was placed in an environment that was both loving and supportive. my family has been nothing short of amazing to me for as long as i can remember.

however, (and this might be the toughest thing i've ever admitted to) a mother is not something you can erase from your being, even if your physical connection is minute. when someone who should be so close to you exists in nothing but worn pieces of loose-lead, it takes a toll on you. i don't think i've ever had a clear sense of self.

i thank my birth mother for giving me a chance at life. i did nothing to deserve it. after being so close to death, i owe her. since i was old enough to understand what happen, i've promised myself to prove to her she made the right decision.

it may seem awkward to be bringing this up right now, but it all relates. this is where all these strong emotions come from. i feel that everything i do now is either a step towards or away from achieving this goal.

life has been quite the roller coaster. in grade school, i was studious, ambitious, and focused. an alter boy. my mother would glow when she looked at me, my side-parted hair a sign of a white-color, well-paying future. then look at me in high school. watch my grades fall, listen to my father yell in disbelieve, taste my moms tears on the edge of her pillow every night. go to parent-teacher night, and listen to every one of them say the "potential" a minimum of eight times. see me struggle to graduate high school and barely get accepted to the worst colleges in staten island. my future is inevitable: two, maybe three, semesters before i drop out and get a job slicing deli meat that i'll have 'til i'm 73.

i challenge you to find someone from my graduating class. tell them mark cugini isn't at the college of staten island. tell them four schools offered him scholarships, and he ended up at a better program. see if they don't walk away from you.

better yet, go back in time, around 2002, and find 17 year-old mark cugini and just try to convince him he's going to graduate college one day. actually, the first cugini to ever graduate from college. listen to how loud his laugh gets.

It's not about a reading.

i don't think any writer could go his or her entire career without questioning themselves, and if they do, i question their awareness to the craft. this is not the kind of field that guarantees job security and a 401k. any one who decides to do this for a living is taking a risk, banking that their talent is substantial enough to secure themselves some sort of satisfaction.

i believe alot of people have different goals when the declare creative writing as their major. unlike other fields, success cannot be taught from a text book. much of has to do with instinct and ability, and your willingness to trust both of these.

if i said that i found myself confident in my abilities and satisfied by my achievements, i would be lying out my teeth. more often then not, i find myself questioning my decision-making, whether it be in a story or in everyday life. considering this is my last year of college, i don't think a day has gone by where i wasn't scared shitless.

most of this has to do with my goals. i don't think i'd be satisfied with a career that was anything short of life-altering. people write for different reasons. some do it to further explore nonexistant fantasy worlds. some do it for shock value, to provoke controversy.

my time at chester helped me realize why this is what i want to do for a living. i don't want to be a writer who tells an entertaining story. i want to touch people, to move them, be it through laughter or dire heartbreak. i want someone to read something i wrote and think, this has changed my life.
as every day passes, i find myself striving to do this to more and more people. i think of the books i've read that made me feign for something more than i have, and i think about writing something that made a million people feel the same way.

every morning i wake up, i get at myself for my inability to change the world. i wonder, if no one thinks anything of me here, at a small art school, how can i expect to generate a larger reaction from the rest of human existence.

when i think of what my legacy will be when i leave chester (if i even have one), i always drew a blank. i know what i think of my peers, but i wonder if i'll ever be anything besides a occasional punchline.

those who've read my work and have spoken to me about it know how seriously i take it, though. i didn't come to college to write because i couldn't think of anything else to major in. i want to work in this field until i can no longer see what i'm writing. i came here to learn how to control and manipulate language to its fullest strength.

from the feeling everyone gave me tonight, especially my introduction, it felt like i was doing something right. i feel like i carry my devotion to the craft on my shoulders, exposing my flaws so i can learn.

everything culminated tonight. everything just fit.

(ps- i know whose handwriting that is, and i plan on giving them an even bigger hug tomorrow than i did tonight.)
i could have dealt "a kind" instead of "unforgettables." but to be put in such a category might have been the tip of the iceberg. if i really have made such a lasting impression on people, i'm going to jump for joy.

it's not about me. it's not about the senior project. it's not about the last 17 days i'll be able to spend with the truest friends i've ever had.

it's about that day i'm handed that piece of paper in bounded leather, and the clouds that are filling my body and the tears running down my cheek as i sit here, typing this and just thinking about it. it's about the friends that have passed, the high school nights spent drinking like a sailor, the report cards for the third semester that always came around valentine's day. it's about my deseased grandmother maybe, just maybe, getting a chance to see me succeed again. it's about proving my biggest doubter that i can do anything, that if i keep my act together, i will make another night.

it's about proving to myself that i would not have been better-off aborted. it's about loving every mistake i've ever made, because it's put me in a position to be so ridiculously proud of myself and emotional. it's about all my friends having so much faith in me.

it's about proving myself wrong.

what makes this even heavier is i'm in such a transitional stage; leaving both staten island and the campus. to each and every person whose taken the time out to get to know me, and to everyone whose been comfortable in letting me get to know them, and even those who just occasionally found a way to inspire me. i thank you, and i hope you like what you see. i understand i could come off as arrogant, sheltered, and unappreciative sometimes, but if tonight wasn't the ultimate slap in the face, than i don't know what is. a lot of people have a whole bunch of appreciation headed their way, and there's a few people i'd like to get to know a bit better. i'll work on that.

lastly, i would like to give a special thank you to david crouse. last night, it finally sunk in that you'll never teach in that room again. but you were there last night. sitting at the table we workshopped around, sitting in the second row laughing at charles, and mainly in our line edits. (god, am i funny). it caught me so off-guard that you were leaving that i didn't even have time to process it.

more than anything, though, i owe you thanks that no one else deserves. solely speaking on creative writing, you've taught us all a lot, but when it comes down to it, i think you influenced me more than you taught me. not only that, you were a great father-figure when i needed one.

this place has a huge gap to fill with your absence. i wonder if anyone could do 1/3 of the stuff you've done. it's so different with you gone. we all miss you.

i'm not going to sleep tonight. i'm going to try to run off of this euphoria until tomorrow's reading is over.

if you actually read this whole thing, you're incredible.

Not for another night, but this night...

2007-04-24T09:40:00.000-04:00

(i feel terrible. i thought april was going to be the month to turn this blog around. damn spring. it's okay, though: i'll get back on track. a post for every day of the rest of the month, i swear it.)

i've spent the last week dreading and preparing for today, and now that it's here, i don't think it's possible to be more excited than i am. i didn't even sleep much last night.

i don't know your plans for the evening, but whatever they are, you need to cancel them. tonight's the big night; the first night of chester college's first-ever senior reading. and we're doing it big tonight. the four readers tonight are not just incredible writers (yayselfconfidence!)-- they're fantastic friends (yayselffriendship!).

featuring:
mark cugini
brandon "our hero" gretter
randy tompkins
chris sumner

place: chester college of new hampshire, powers building
time: 6:30 P.M.

i really think you should come. not for my sake; for your own. i really don't think i need the support, nor do my fellow readers. but it's just one of those things you don't want to miss out on, trust me. the four of us could probably change the world one day, and this will probably the last time we'll all be in a room together with our work. it's going to be the event of a lifetime, i swear it.

if you decide you want to come, and need better directions or a ride (BRIE!) or anything, just give me a call (can't believe i'm doing this): 646-201-0891. i'll be happy to help you out. and hey, if you can't make it just then, we're gonna be doing something afterwards to celebrate (probably burgandy's so the underage folk can show up if they'd like). call me after 8:30 and i'll let you know our plans.

i'm telling you, i can't wait. i'm going to have butterflies even when i'm done reading.

This is one voice not to forget;

2007-04-10T01:22:00.000-04:00

(i could tell you about my weekend, but what's the point? it's all filler, even when it feels like something else.)

i'd love to pretend like i've been an against me! fan since day one. but if i said i was, it'd be a ruse. i still feel like i've been there throughout the long haul, since i really only listen to the first lp, is reinventing axl rose. sometimes you find an album that's just too solid to even bother expanding on. everyone tells me the other ones are nothing like this, but still great. i don't want to set myself up for disappointment, though.

it's not that i'm closed-minded. i'm not. thing is, these are probably the best eleven songs i've heard in my entire life, when played together. not many bands understand the beauty of an album anymore, but they should-- there's something mind-shattering about it when it's done right. my favorite bands are the ones that have the ability to pull forty-minutes to an hour's worth of music together and turn it into heaven.

is reinventing axl rose opens and closes (i stop listening at track ten) with two of the best scream-along-when-your-shitfaced songs ever made. but there's something incredible about "walking is still honest." my life has been filled with numerous ups-and-downs, and it's fascinating that i've made it this far. this song reminds me of all the good times, all the terrible ones, and, most importantly, all the ones when i've felt like the world has knocked me out; when it laughs at me and tells me to give up.

"but not today."

this reminds me that i've picked myself the fuck up and thrown another punch, not for anyone but myself. it reminds me to prove everyone who doubts me wrong, and that the few people who are still behind me are holding me up.

i drove 267 miles sunday night, and blasted this at full volume and screamed it as tears flew down my cheeks for probably 80 of those miles.

there's a few lines you should probably scream yourself.

This is one voice not to forget;
"Fight every fight like you can win;
An iron fisted champion,
An iron willed fuck up."

Can anybody tell me why God won't speak to me?
Why Jesus never called on me to part the fucking seas?
Why death is easier than living?
You can be almost anything
When you're on your fucking knees.
Not today,
Not my son,
Not my family,
Not while walking is still honest,
And you haven't given up on me.

do it while i spend more time trying to figure out how to do something right.
<3

We were going to play some ball, but

2007-04-05T02:13:00.000-04:00

this happened.

only in goddamn new hampshire could i wear shorts for three straight days, only to watch my friggin' world come crumbling down over a botany paper and 4-6 cumulative inches over the next 4-6 hours. probably could happen in maine, too. point: this is frickin' lame.
tomorrow might be a bit of a hectic day for me; i have some school work to do and a flight to new york at 10:00 p.m. don't expect many posts, if any. friday night is the big vinyl reunion event, and i'm pumped. i'll also be bringing ilaria on the trip, just to show her where daddy's from. she's pumped, as well.

happy ghost-jesus day. i love you again.

How we do.

2007-04-04T03:36:00.000-04:00

The Real Live Monastery Artists Art Show

2007-04-02T20:39:00.000-04:00

we showed up a bit late to the monastery, but the place was still bumpin'. the dip was fantastic, the ambient noise was delicious, and the electro was damn funky (oh, and the DJ was female, and my future wife). the tandem was up to no good, as usual. here's a few pictures.

the most thought-provoking piece i've seen in some time.

employees of the month, March '07.

more thought-provoking things coming your way ASAP.

ilaria the princess

2007-03-30T22:27:00.000-04:00

quite the busy week. bloc party was fantastic on wednesday. wish i read the rules correctly; i could have brought the princess in, but i didn't. oh well. life goes on, and i'll see them a few more times. actually, many times,

i plan on posting a free write at some point by tonight or tomorrow night. i need to do it.

ben and i took ilaria to manch for a bit of a field trip. she laughed when i told her that some people call it new hampshire's ghetto. that's my little girl. she's just as hood as daddy.

here's what she saw.

(what i'm famous for)

(what a gem, my ilaria.)

got a nice little event at the monastery tomorrow night (that place is becoming my second home). kind of excited. expect to see those on sunday.

love you.

The New Baby/deuceseven

2007-03-26T22:20:00.000-04:00

i got it today, at about noon. that's right. the digital rebel XTi. 10.1 megapixels of pure, unadulterated fun. her name is ilaria. she's a good kid.

she hasn't left my side all day. i'm going to be the most annoying person to be around for the next month. actually, i'll probably be just as obnoxious as always, but include the constant click of ilaria. just remember, it's her telling you that you're beautiful.

i'd show you pictures of her, but i can't exactly take pictures of a camera. but here's just some of the things she can do. and remember-- these are just snapshots. i haven't even toyed with the manual settings yet. when i do. game over. soho and williamsburg, here i come.

(getting up on people's calenders. no jokes.)ilaria loves her.

this one's my favorite so far. shows what she can do.

i hope blogger doesn't blow at photo hosting. if it does, i'll be sure to go ahead and purchase a flickr account by the end of the week. and oh yeah: it's supposed to be 65 degrees and sunny tomorrow. and i have nothing to do after 2:30. expect some more pictures.

but in other news, my boy(or girl) deuceseven has been putting in some serious work back home. i mean, real serious, to the point where even real heads are flailing like infants over his (or her) stuff. honestly, sickest shit i've seen since i've been paying attention to the scene. check it out here.

(i didn't take this one. props to jake over at streetsy.com.)

but either way, i like you. and fuck photosynthesis! (i have a botany test tomorrow. boo.)

Excitement

2007-03-23T23:28:00.000-04:00

spring, huh? i wish it would make me as happy as i probably should be.

anyway, as my luggage is finally headed my direction (we won't get into it), some things are starting to look up. but the things i'm most excited about, eh?

plaid party - tomorrow night, laura, ben, louie, and i will be attending a party for our good friend tony. we're all supposed to be in plaid, but my boys have decided to one-up it and take a page out of the narra play book. i won't ruin the surprise; i'll just say check back sunday for pictures of good-looking people.
new camera - i've just purchased a Cannon Digital Rebel XTi. which is 10.1 megapixels. and a regular ol' sex machine. i promised myself a while ago that i'd never go digital, but finally, i've bitten the bullet, and i honestly couldn't be more excited about it. and you should be, too. with a 2 GB memory card a computer always at my side, this is going to change the whole concept of this blog. expect posts every day: more things i see, more things i hear. it's arriving monday. uh-huh.
bloc party - surprise, huh? well, laura bought tickets for the show at the orpheum theatre in bahston. i can't wait. all the new material. all the banquet. all the kele. <3.

that's the fun stuff headed your way. i'd stay and babble for longer but i've got to run. i'm special, you know?

Cheeky Brits

2007-03-20T21:10:00.000-04:00

so i'm against ugly brits. especially ones who come to the bronx to shoot music videos in my personal fucking heaven!

i don't know the first thing about this broad. i don't particularly like the song. but, if you think this "set" is pretty, it's because it is. it's beautiful. it's probably the most incredible place one could see. i'm not supposed to reveal the location. it's sort of like a code. but apparently, an american director Bryan Barber decided to take this chick here and shoot a dumb video. and even paint her!

ack! ack! ack!

anyway, if you'd like to see the pictures i've taken of this place, go here. and say hi to mr. cheekzy while you're at it.

springbreaks on spring break

2007-03-10T20:29:00.000-05:00

so after a little bit of water damage to the circuit board of a sprinkler system, my spring break has begun. now, this will either lead to alot of post or very little posting, depending on how eventual the next 9 days are.

considering i'm bathing in heineken right now, i'd go with little.

either way, i like your face.

throw my mobile phone into the sea.

2007-03-07T04:11:00.000-05:00

bloc party: debuting at 12 on the billboard top 200.

i debated about posting another live recording of "two more years" before deciding it'd be a tad redundant for those who've heard it already. instead, here's "vision of heaven," an exclusive download (the internet's answer to the b-side) that could be found for free at purevolume.

download here

enjoy the funky tale of solitude and misery of a twenty-something dark-skinned englishmen whilst he enjoys some penne.

danceoff of teh year.

2007-03-01T02:09:00.000-05:00

so for the last two months or so, i've been having a love affair with this lily allen.

and for the last year or so, i've been having a love affair with this milkcrate.

so, when my favorite British pop star and my favorite quasi-underground clothing line get together and have a love affair, the end product being a deliciously delicious music video, i get very happy. it's a weird fuckin' video, i won't deny that. but i cant stop laughing at it. and i want lily allen to spoon me. since she's taller than me, and all.

but enjoy the fun. and can someone tell me if that's piss?

links:
lilyallenmusic.com
milkcratenyc.com (peep the blog)

edit: so i've watched the seven seconds of the video where the chick with the fade gets to work about 30 times in the last five minutes. not only do i know realize that this beat is going to be stuck in my head while i sleep and wake up, but i think it has brought ben to the brink of insanity.)

Seen in NYC, Probably Months Ago.

2007-02-26T20:19:00.000-05:00

two street art posts in a row. i'm getting lazy. at least there's two posts in a row. yay.

Duece Seven

2007-02-25T18:49:00.000-05:00

click it.

Maybe I'll just sit here and bleed at you.

2007-02-22T16:09:00.000-05:00

The word noir just confuses people. it does. it's one of those words that graduate students will throw at you when they can't think of anything else to say. that's the main reason i've avoided film noir flicks; i know it's basically a fancy detective story. but the word noir makes me want to throw kittens off a roof.

taking that into consideration-- you need to watch Brick, one of the most fascinating films i have ever seen. long story short, it's a film noir set in a high school. i don't want to reveal to many plot points, so i'll simply state that it's the story of a kid, Brendan, whose searching for his ex-girlfriend.

i don't know if i'll watch more noir because of this movie. i don't even think that's what makes the story so compelling. but these kids in the story are kids, playing an adult's part. and you don't question their motives, maturity, or honesty throughout the whole story.

i could rant and rave about this picture all day. but, long story short: a stand-up job by everyone involved in this picture. just watch it, and let me know how right i am.

<$3

2007-02-20T04:30:00.000-05:00

Our Country Today, Not Our Country Tomorrow

2007-01-25T01:28:00.000-05:00

(i know; i've been gone again. no more promises, just more work. anyway, i'm taking an class on oppinion writing, so i figured there's no better place for these than right here. so, even if i forget to update everything else, you'll continuously see these jammies, probably every week. kloveyoubye!)

This Tuesday, both political parties in our country announced the potential candidates for the 2008 presidential election. So far, four Democrats (Senator Christopher J. Dodd of Connecticut, John Edwards, former senator from North Carolina, Tom Vilsack, former governor of Iowa, and Representative of Ohio) have officially announced their intentions to run, while only one Republican (Senator Sam Brownback of Kansas) did the same. Many more hopefuls for both parties (including powerhouses Barack Obama, Hilly Clinton, Rudy Giuliani, and John McCain) have established “exploratory committees” designed to begin fundraising and raise interest for their potential campaigns.

America: we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The past six years have been eventual and, in some cases, disappointing. After the 2004 elections, it began to seem as if Americans had grown tired of our current presidential regime. For months now, we’ve seen campaign analysts pushing Obama down our throats, while having theoretical debates about who is generating more strength in polls about an election that is twenty-one months away.

Shouldn’t be begin listening about today instead of planning for the distant tomorrow? Like it or not, the man is in charge for another three years. Americans have decided to ignore the developments of our campaign in Iraq, and simply ask, “Why are we still there?” It comes to no surprise that the biggest complaint about President Bush’s new strategy for the conflict is the increased amount of troops. We should be more concerned about “what for?,” instead of “why?”

President Bush’s State of The Union Address involved more of his domestic agenda than our foreign plans. These are issues we are tending to ignore nowadays. He has made big promises to truly change course on issues such as healthcare and education, topics that affect far more Americans than a war a hemisphere away.

It’s time to pay attention to our country’s reality in January 2007 before we begin dreaming about January 2009 with candidates that haven’t even committed to running for presidency.

balloon-popping fun.

2006-12-27T14:12:00.000-05:00

i just went out for my lunch break, thinking i could take a nice little walk to barnes & noble, and then eat a hot dog at the zoo. sounded like a nice afternoon. right? right?

oh, yeah. the week after christmas. infestation week. (and in case you didn't know, i work on 5th and 52nd. perfect.)

for a few minutes, your typical new yorker will ignore these annoying heards of people, but when you have to wait at a corner while the traffic light changes from red to greenthree times, you tend to get a little aggrivated about a fifteen-foot walk that ends up taking ten minutes.

so, tourists, i understand: this is your vacation, this is your big chance to look at gigantic fucking trees and eat overpriced salads. you plan this all year. you want to shop in overpriced stores for clothes you either can't afforf, or own three of already. you want to look at "the greatest city on earth" at night, its skycrapers lit up as people work overtime and it's high-end stores brightly decorated for the season. i get it. you love this place.

but, you need to understand: this is my fucking lunch hour. this is the only hour, out of 12, where i get to do whatever i please. i want to go pick up a book to read on my hour and a half commute back home. i want to shop from deli to deli to find an underpriced salad. i want to take a train to chinatown and get knock-off rolexes and mixtapes. i want to walk accross the street when i want, instead of having to walk next to a barrier because one of you was too stupid to judge the speed of a taxi years ago.

us new yorkers have a reputation for being rude. that's great. we probably are. but if someone stood in front of you every five minutes to take a picture of a building, if someone burned your arm with a cigarette butt trying to squeeze into a cliche toy store, if someone told you they couldn't count (yes, all NYC blocks are numbers. if you're looking at sixth avenue, and you're trying to get to fifth, shouldn't you subtract one and walk to the left? is that tough?) four times over, if a three-year-old spit up on your deisel shoes, all in a matter of five minutes, while you were just trying to smoke a cigarette and get back to work, i'm pretty sure you'd be rude to.

maybe we're not rude. maybe you're the rude ones. or maybe you're all just fucking retarted. you want to shop? go to fuckin' ebay. you'll save on shipping. you're ruining my birthplace. so, please,

Lord, Give Me Grace

2006-12-26T19:58:00.000-05:00

so, i'm a either a terrible blogger, or a terrible fan.

either way, the bloc party album leaked about a month ago. i gave it one run-through before deciding that i'd wait 'til it came out. i think it's going to suprise alot of people, and not nessicarily in a good way.

i posted the lyrics to the first single, "the prayer", about a month ago. i heard the song then, and loved it. every bloc party song is danceable, even the ballads, so it's really nice to listen to them talk about it.

either way, i tend to ramble. here's the video. the single could be purchased from recordstore.co.uk here for £7. i haven't found a US store that's preselling either the single or the album, but as soon as i find out, i'll let you know.

Under the GrnApple Tree (ya know, like the reggae song)

2006-12-26T13:37:00.000-05:00

i know, i need to focus more. sorry, again. but, i hope everyone had as terrific and nostalgic holiday season as i had.

i'm sort of emotional today (like that's unusual), and was going to give sort of a pre-"State of the Narra" address today. however, any rambling i feel obliged to do can wait 'til then. i'm going to act in the now for the next few days. unfortunately, now is surrounded by a bunch of legal binders and document production files. yay, fulbright!

anyway, since i'm a huge t-shirt and hoodie addict, i've kind of been kicking myself in the ass for not blogging about clothes yet. today, though, I stumbled across one of the most absurdly fresh things i've ever seen.

GrnApple Tree has been on the scene for a minute now, and their last series of hoodies have sold like hotcakes. (think LRG, minus the commercialism.) Above is the "Ornate" hoodie, chair, and beg set. yes, that's right. Not only can you pick up one of the hottest-selling hoodies of the year (the only one i can think of that had a bigger buzz was 10 Deep's "Chain Gang" jump-off), but you can get MATCHING FURNITURE. i'm sorry. i have absolutely nothing to say about this, besides this is the dopest fucking idea i've ever heard of. imagine if BAPE started doing shit like that? i mean, is this even a logical purchase? maybe not. but holy dope.

there's only about four or five pieces worldwide, so act fast. i think.

LINKAGE: @ DIGITAL GRAVEL

Artist of the Week

2006-12-12T23:10:00.000-05:00

So, since i'm in art school, and do greatly appreciate a good astetic, i've decided that i'm going to start posting a new artist profile once a week. it might be a photographer, it might be a poet, it might be a goddamn juggler. all i can say is that i promise you, once a week, i'll declare someone artist of the week.

so, the first work i'd like to exhibit is a video from Emma Haskins, Laura Spencer, and Brooke Sahlstrom. this video is made solely of still-frames, over 2,000 of them in all. unfortunately, much of the quality has been lost due to converting the movie to a AVI. Still, it's worth checking out.

Alot of Surrealist work involves a bunch of ranbling, but i'll let this talk for itself. trust me, it does.

Pictures from The Empty Show

2006-12-11T00:18:00.000-05:00

Sorry that it's been so long since i've posted anything, guys. With finals week finally coming to a close, i'll have more time on my hands and i'll be able to update this fun 'lil piece.

This is a picture from The Empty Show in Melbourne. I honestly have no idea what the show was about, but i figured this was so bad-ass that i had to show it off.

more pics here

Wooster on Spring St.

2006-11-24T05:40:00.000-05:00

in case you don't know, the mighty fine people at wooster collective have been working intensly on making the biggest piece of collaborated street art we've seen in quite some time. they've somehow been commishioned to do a bit of work at 11 Spring St. in SoHo. since the website hasn't released many details about what's going on, the only thing i can tell you about the project is that if you're in the city in the second week of December, you best be checkin' the website, because i imagine something glorious is about to happen.

for the time being, get down to spring street and check what's going on. just don't bring your camera. because i need to get there first, ya know?

Fuck Mr. Metcho

2006-11-24T05:34:00.000-05:00

well, not really, at all. but, since he hates this place, and i love this song, and i bought the hat that might cost me my life because of the song, he can suck a duck.

the prayer

2006-11-18T15:37:00.000-05:00

Lord give me grace and dancing feet
And the power to impress
Lord give me grace and dancing feet
Let me outshine them all

Is it so wrong to crave recognition?
Second best, runner-up
Is it so wrong to want rewarding?
To want more than is given to you?
Than is given to you

Tonight make me unstoppable
And I will charm, I will slice
I will dazzle them with my wit
Tonight make me unstoppable
And I will charm, I will slice
I will dazzle, I will outshine them all

Standing on the packed dance floor
Our bodies thrown in time
Silent on the weekdays
Tonight I claim what's mine

Is it so wrong…

Tonight make me unstoppable…

Tonight make me unstoppable…

oh, lord.

2006-11-13T02:37:00.000-05:00

so, senior project.

i've spent the last three days staring at page 34 of my novella, and i can't get a damn thing done. i don't know why, either. i've set up a really interesting world with a really interesting character, and i know exactly what i want to do and how i want to do it, but something's just not clicking. can't really figure it out.

not going to lie: a lot of people have read it, and i don't mean writers, i mean people, have read it, and so far, i've gotten really good reviews. my mother and my father have both passed it on to family members and friends, and people seem to be raving about it. all of the acclaim should probably be making my head grow (and in some ways, it is. if ordinary readers are enjoying it, i do realize it's probably publishable), but it's doing the opposite, in fact; i'm petrified. and i don't know why. now, a bunch of people have these expectations, and i'm worried that i won't fulfill them.

in reality, i know it's a mute point, because this is an issue i typically deal with and, once i relax, can overcome. but, considering i have a deadline to meet at some point this week, i really need to find a way to get over it.

i did, however, just see that there's a freshman here working on National Novel Writing Month, and she has written about 7,000 words of fantasy work that i imagine to be terrible. considering that i 1) hate being shown up, 2) want to kill all the freshmen at my school, 3) despise fantasy writing, and 4) am the fucking man, seeing that she might catch up to me might be enough of a kick in the ass to get me working.

anyway, back to Hagherman, Colorado.

like giving birth

2006-11-12T21:58:00.000-05:00

December 22nd, 2002. I was in my senior year of high school. I had only been driving a car for two months. I couldn't legally buy a pack of cigarettes, let alone a beer. That was the last time it happened. That is, until today.

Until today.

December 22nd, 2002. It was the first year of Project Chad, the second year of The Edwards Regime. After a depressing loss to the lowly Bears, the New York Jets went into to Foxboro, Massachuessetts and defeated the defending-champion Patriots, 30-17, keeping their playoff dreams alive in the process. Pennington threw for 285 yards and three touchdowns. They would end up making the playoffs, defeating Payton Manning's Colts 41-0 in the Wild Card Round only to get pummelled by the Raiders the next week.

As a Jet fan, I still big expectations for the franchise, though. With a solid new quarterback, a dependable coach, and a slew of new draft picks, the sky was the limit.

Or so it seemed. In the next few years, the front office let a bunch of key players leave, Herm Edwards proved he couldn't tell time, and Chad Pennington's spaghetti-like shoulder ligaments took a worse beating than Tina Turner. While this happened, Bill Belichick led his homo-erotic looking quarterback and rival Patriots to two more Super Bowl victory.

December 22nd, 2002. That was the last time the New York Jets had beaten the New England Patriots, the poster boys of the NFL. It was also the last time the Patriots had lost consecutive games.

That is, until today.

17-14. The Jets beat the Patriots today, 17-14, for the first time in four years. Even going into the half with a 7-6 lead, it felt too good to be true. It wasn't until after a 34-yard Mike Nugent field goal in the fourth quarter that it felt like a game the Jets could win, but once I realized that a win was attainable, I began to have mild seizures. When Pennington hooked up with Jerricho Cotchery in the back of the endzone to give the Jets a 17-6 lead, it still felt too good to be true. The Patriots retailiated with a 4 play, 64 yard drive that ended in a touchdown and a two-point conversation.

But, on the final drive of the game, 46 yards away from the endzone, Shawn Ellis sacked Tom Brady, forcing him to fuble the ball and let the clock expire.

And, that was it. The Jets had won, improving their record to 5-4, with a relatively light scheduele ahead of them. The Patriots fall to 6-3, and hold a single game lead over the Jets in the AFC East.

That means, the Jets can win the division for the first time since 2002.

After four years of question marks, mirery, and heartbreak, this win is extremely important for the Jets. In their first season under new Head Coach Eric Mangini, the Jets have proven they can do a lot with a little. Their record is somewhat misleading, considering there are absolutely no real stars on the team. Mangini has convinced a group of sub-par players that they are alot better than they actually are, and it has left them playing the best football Jet fans have seen in years.

For myself, this is a huge day. This is the best feeling I've had after a win since the 2002 playoff victory. This team is promising, and intimidating. After spending the last year in New England, being surronded by their ignorant fans, I feel like I've won the lotto. And I can glow, as brightly as I want today. Oh man. After watching a Patriot organization that continues to get better and better every year, even after losing so many key players, it's so satisfying. I haven't been so proud to be a Jet fan in my entire life. So, please, humor me, and scream the phrase below.

J-E-T-S!
JETS!!!!
JETS!!!!
JETS!!!!

just like we used to do every wednesday

2006-11-08T01:25:00.000-05:00

Hungry?

2006-11-07T02:22:00.000-05:00

Abe back in the streets

2006-11-06T06:12:00.000-05:00

courtesy Streetsy.

"It's my birthday; I'm forty-one today!"

2006-11-01T01:54:00.000-05:00

I promise, this will be the last time I offer such a long-winded complaint on the subject, but how about that New York City clubscene, huh? I won't lie and say that i'm some sort of old-timer or original, but come on. When i was going to Vinyl every week, at least I'd meet some original people who were there for the music (OK, well, some went for the drugs, but, i mean, it was a juice bar. can you blame them?). Nowadays, it seems as if there's only two types of people you run into.

Button-Down Crowd: These are the people you run into more often than not, especially during peak-hours. They, obviously, are wearing cheap button-down shirts and cheaper jeans, and can be found at tables with bottle service, hitting on every girl in the joint.
Super-Kewl-Club-Kids: The same topless, tanned, bandana'ed fools who hog circles, doing the same step over and over again. Usually tweaking, found mostly during after-hours.

I can't really knock any of these people, but what's so strange about trying to be original? I mean, I know my history: the scene was founded by people who didn't fit in anywhere else, ecclectic people who took pride in being different. Nowadays, it's carbon copies everywhere, all of them in discount Paper, Denim, and Cloth. It's slightly heartbreaking. I wonder if anyone is even listening to the music anymore.

Anyway, here's the cute little video that spawned this rant.

New Bloc Party Album

2006-10-30T04:30:00.000-05:00

Since this is only the first real post i'm making, i should say that i have been a huge bloc party fan for quite some time now (actually, the title of this blog is from a bloc party song). they're really the only band i've ever been obsessed over, the only band that has ever had an impact on the daily goings-ons of my life. anywho, they've spent the last year touring, with little drips of information about the album being dropped throughout the summer. they've been playing some songs from the new album from as far back as tuesday, but there has been nothing but speculation about the album itself since then.

that is, until now. last week, on their official webpage, the band announced that the new Bloc Party album, A Weekend in the City, will be released Tuesday, February 6th here in the states. The tracklist is as follows:

Song For Clay (Disappear Here)
Hunting for Witches
Waiting for the 7.1.8.
The Prayer
Uniform
On
Where is Home?
Kreuzberg
I Still Remember
Sunday
SRXT

Alot of great tracks have been left off the album, but that leads to alot of excitement about B-sides and the sort.

Anyway, you should check it out. the album is going to be amazing, alot different from their last one. if you haven't heard any bloc songs before (or any of the new ones), you should most certainly check out this video of "Hunting for Witches," played at the Paredes de Coura Festival over the summer. It isn't the best version of the song, but it is the best quality i've been able to find since hearing it at McCarren Park in Brooklyn.

Long Live, and God Bless Bloc Party.

So, here we are.

2006-10-30T03:39:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the first post on the sure to be fantastically fantastic blog of yours truly, Mr. Mark Cugini. After all the time spent knocking these things, I still can't believe I've actually decided to run my own. I guess if you use them for the quickest form of news updates, you get into the habit of thinking you could do it, too.

So, to spare you drawn-out details, I’ll say there is absolutely no theme to this jammy. i'm just going to post a bunch of things that I find interesting. it's going to be very ADD. or HDAD. Whatever the kids are calling it nowadays.

But, I will tell you a few things about myself. My name's Mark. I'm from New York, Staten Island, specifically (not proud of that), and I'm currently living in New Hampshire. I'm twenty-one. I'm a writer, and I’m currently studying how one should write. I don't know how good I am at it. I'm pretty anti-popular. I'm punctuation obsessed. I love the Jets. I hate capitalization. I love music, and all types of it. I love bright clothing. I hate generic clothing lines. I hate commercial literature, music, and art. I love beer. I believe in surrealism. I hate superficial people. I'm not going to live my life trying to have millions and millions of dollars; i just want to be happy. i hate being in the same place for more than twenty minutes. I hate racism, immaturity, and naive people. I'm a fan of street art, Bloc Party, and strange movies. I'm a terrible heterosexual.

So, in a nutshell, that's me. And I don't know how devoted I’m going to be to this little blog, but I do imagine I’ll update it at least a few times a day, for my audiences sake. that is, if I have an audience. so, until my first update (which will likely be in a few minutes), have a good evening. Sexy.