…super fricking cold.

Just finished watching “Helvetica” the documentary about the font. It focused on the proliferation of the font and it’s origins. It basically breaks down to two groups: designer who believe that type should not be expressive and only be used as a tool for delivering a message. And the anti-Helvetica camp who believes that type should be illustrative and express meaning on it’s own. I have to say I’m with the former rather than the latter. A graphic designer’s first job is to convey a message. I thought it was funny that they included David Carson (Raygun magazine) in a movie about typography. As an artist, I am fully behind his work, as a designer he doesn’t belong in the discussion about conveying a message clearly and efficiently. He talked about not liking a article in Raygun about Bryan Ferry he didn’t like. So his solution was to typeset it all in Dingbat. This is a great reason he is not a great or even good graphic designer. He’s a visual artist. Designers convey a message, artists editorialize, which is what he did in this case.
All in all I liked this movie, it gave me a greater appreciation of Helvetica.

ciao

Well I’m off the school again. I hope this time I’m better at it. Better planning that is. Forty is the new 18. A lot of folks retraining after a lifetime of their first choice. I’m going to have problems paying 108 dollars for a text I’m using for eleven weeks. Likely won’t. I hate crooks.

I love the solitude of night classes,

A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us – if at all – not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer -

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Draft time again. This year I choose to be present, as if that could make a difference.

he didn’t die in the floorshow! He moved to the middle east and became a nuttier dictator!

A successful trip if I say so myself! Some of my best photographic work.

Like Georgetown for landscapes like this.

Yesterday my production guy, Chris and I were taking about eating and how far a hundred bucks a month can go. My thoughts on this were, Pretty damn far, so long as your willing to cook. We spoke about making bread, or buying flour, salt and yeast. Also about the food value of things like beans, lentils, rice, etc. In fact, you can eat really well on those staples. In keeping with that theme, I’m going to impart some of my limited knowledge of cookery, starting with how to fry an egg in a non-teflon coated skillet. (teflon pans are needlessly expensive, aluminium skillets are cheap and plentiful at restaurant stores and way better for cooking.) Understanding how the process works is pretty cool and gratifying. So here we go:

First, heat up the skillet (check that, first invest in a good aluminium skillet. They are cheap and plentiful at kitchen supply stores) And I mean really heat it up. You should see wisps of smoke curling up the sides of the skillet. (Needless to say, you have to pay attention to what your doing.)

Second:
Once it is smoking hot, remove it from the heat.

Third:
Pour a liberal amount of oil into the pan.

Fourth:
Swoosh it around to coat the sides. (this is an important step to facilitate a wee bit of coolness later on.) Once again, heat the hell out of it until you see wisp of smoke coming off the oil. (PLEASE pay attention to this step, oil and grease fires suck)

Fifth:
Pour the excess hot oil out.

Sixth:
Put it back on the heat then put a good hunk of butter in the pan. Swoosh it around the sides thoroughly coat the surface of the pan. You are now ready to fry eggs! And they won’t stick to the skillet!

See how awesome those look?! Because they won’t stick, you can impress your friends by flipping the eggs in the pan without a spatula. After you are done, just use a paper towel to wipe out the pan, that way it will stay “seasoned” for next time. All you will need to do is butter it.