K,
Standing ovation.
L,
V.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Re: Atramentous
V,
It had occurred to me that might have been the case, post the zwhoop noise of my email sending, as well did the thought to send future responses as one long sentence, concocted with commas and conjunctions and the like that help to connect phrases with supposed complete thoughts but that really do nothing more than act as chain links of droning verbiage by stringing together meaninglessness, taking clarity and simplicity and muddling it into gurbble surrounded by an overly busied tattoo of conscious (and sometimes subconscious) thought, reaction and incrimination toward a seemingly innocuous and humorous self-depracation on the part of my friend, the writer, who keeps me thinking that somewhere between these two ears rests a set of synapses and gray (or grey, depending on continent) matter conceivably capable of crunching capricious (alliteration fully intended) data, creating a compendium of nonsensicals, non sequiturs, nanananah's and falling somehow into boredom despite a working biological thought simulator, since as we all now accept the reality of perception exhibits no more truth than a home movie thanks to today's technological advances in gaming and the psychological foundations set by sci-fi and horror fictions of the last two decades (Dreamscape, Nightmare on Elm Street, Fight Club, Total Recall, etc.)
K.
It had occurred to me that might have been the case, post the zwhoop noise of my email sending, as well did the thought to send future responses as one long sentence, concocted with commas and conjunctions and the like that help to connect phrases with supposed complete thoughts but that really do nothing more than act as chain links of droning verbiage by stringing together meaninglessness, taking clarity and simplicity and muddling it into gurbble surrounded by an overly busied tattoo of conscious (and sometimes subconscious) thought, reaction and incrimination toward a seemingly innocuous and humorous self-depracation on the part of my friend, the writer, who keeps me thinking that somewhere between these two ears rests a set of synapses and gray (or grey, depending on continent) matter conceivably capable of crunching capricious (alliteration fully intended) data, creating a compendium of nonsensicals, non sequiturs, nanananah's and falling somehow into boredom despite a working biological thought simulator, since as we all now accept the reality of perception exhibits no more truth than a home movie thanks to today's technological advances in gaming and the psychological foundations set by sci-fi and horror fictions of the last two decades (Dreamscape, Nightmare on Elm Street, Fight Club, Total Recall, etc.)
K.
Atramentous closest living relative
Atramentarious
At`ra*men*ta"ri*ous\, a. [Cf. F. atramentaire. See Atramentaceous.] Like ink; suitable for making ink. Sulphate of iron (copperas, green vitriol) is called atramentarious, as being used in making ink.
At`ra*men*ta"ri*ous\, a. [Cf. F. atramentaire. See Atramentaceous.] Like ink; suitable for making ink. Sulphate of iron (copperas, green vitriol) is called atramentarious, as being used in making ink.
Atramentous
K,
Obviously (,) abandoning footnotes has crippled me.
New Rule was meant to refer to my contributions; hence the single sentence message(s).
The placement, precision (in the context ((sure, context)) of readerly definition), and possible (okay, I went for the alliteration, sue me) colloquial understanding of the written word haunts me like the ghost of Cappeluti. A couple conveniently placed slits in a pancake and you have her floating visage in mind as my editor. Thanks, bitch. Thanks for the blood-drained imagery of you fumbling with the (Blaine would disagree with my usage here) Homeric...
Shit, gotta go...
Love,
V.
Obviously (,) abandoning footnotes has crippled me.
New Rule was meant to refer to my contributions; hence the single sentence message(s).
The placement, precision (in the context ((sure, context)) of readerly definition), and possible (okay, I went for the alliteration, sue me) colloquial understanding of the written word haunts me like the ghost of Cappeluti. A couple conveniently placed slits in a pancake and you have her floating visage in mind as my editor. Thanks, bitch. Thanks for the blood-drained imagery of you fumbling with the (Blaine would disagree with my usage here) Homeric...
Shit, gotta go...
Love,
V.
Invisible Ink
K,
You can still fucking write.
Conjuring up affirmations has never been a strength of mine.
V.
You can still fucking write.
Conjuring up affirmations has never been a strength of mine.
V.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
How else to write yours truly (do you see the words)
V,
I keep listening to same song, over and over. Over and Over, over and over. I'm over... Nothing. "A little bit funny and a little bit sad. You think I'll ever find you again at our kissing place? I wonder why didn't you work out." - over and over this banshee beat in my ears.
I no longer know who to lean on.
I know nothing
But I'm certain of so much. And in that instantaneous switch, I lose all sense of certainty.
I really don't give a fuck about healthcare, and taxes, baseball (any sport or accomplishment of any sort, for that matter). I no longer wish to create. I want nothing of fortune. I simply long to travel north. For some reason it's always been north for me. Wherever that leads.
To the line that marks the edge of the coast along the Euro-Asian continent, and simply witness how the waves wash up upon the boulders, resting on one another, drunken wanderers along the progression of earth to sea, too inebriated to stand, too witless to care, Silently resigned. Lapped against. Beaten. Decaying. Eroding. Becoming sand upon the ocean's floor. Dug into by sand crabs and burrowed by the beaks of sandpipers, stuck to the skins of seals, collected, lost, sifted, heated into solidified clarity. Framed, boarded, installed. Saw through, no secrets, always exposed, visible but looked beyond. Sorrow at assumption. Broken, shattered. swept up and collected. Discarded, confined, contained and transported. Bumpy roads, bouncing. breaking further. becoming something again, mingled with dust and debris, detritus, exfoliation, darkness.
Or lapped and pulled upon, brought out to the depths where once again things appear dark. one among many. Ground and grown over. Lost in the unknown. Cold. uncertain, but defined. Convinced by touch and sensory deprivation. You don't have to be down here with me. Light, little spears of glitter from above. You can't help but swim to it now that you've acknowledged its place in this vision. How long does it take to break through the surface? Seems an eternity and too soon gone. Just like this song that I can't stop repeating over and over. Over and Over. Over...
K.
I keep listening to same song, over and over. Over and Over, over and over. I'm over... Nothing. "A little bit funny and a little bit sad. You think I'll ever find you again at our kissing place? I wonder why didn't you work out." - over and over this banshee beat in my ears.
I no longer know who to lean on.
I know nothing
But I'm certain of so much. And in that instantaneous switch, I lose all sense of certainty.
I really don't give a fuck about healthcare, and taxes, baseball (any sport or accomplishment of any sort, for that matter). I no longer wish to create. I want nothing of fortune. I simply long to travel north. For some reason it's always been north for me. Wherever that leads.
To the line that marks the edge of the coast along the Euro-Asian continent, and simply witness how the waves wash up upon the boulders, resting on one another, drunken wanderers along the progression of earth to sea, too inebriated to stand, too witless to care, Silently resigned. Lapped against. Beaten. Decaying. Eroding. Becoming sand upon the ocean's floor. Dug into by sand crabs and burrowed by the beaks of sandpipers, stuck to the skins of seals, collected, lost, sifted, heated into solidified clarity. Framed, boarded, installed. Saw through, no secrets, always exposed, visible but looked beyond. Sorrow at assumption. Broken, shattered. swept up and collected. Discarded, confined, contained and transported. Bumpy roads, bouncing. breaking further. becoming something again, mingled with dust and debris, detritus, exfoliation, darkness.
Or lapped and pulled upon, brought out to the depths where once again things appear dark. one among many. Ground and grown over. Lost in the unknown. Cold. uncertain, but defined. Convinced by touch and sensory deprivation. You don't have to be down here with me. Light, little spears of glitter from above. You can't help but swim to it now that you've acknowledged its place in this vision. How long does it take to break through the surface? Seems an eternity and too soon gone. Just like this song that I can't stop repeating over and over. Over and Over. Over...
K.
Letters from Ludmilla - Re: Rats that...
V,
Come to realize that you have created these email caricatures surrounding one human entity in a similar fashion with which Calvino muddled his Ludmilla and Main Character in If On a Winter's Night....
Have I been the only one privy to this emailvolution over the last seven or so years? Probably no, but I can pretend. Therein lies the point of the exercise, no?
Kaye
Come to realize that you have created these email caricatures surrounding one human entity in a similar fashion with which Calvino muddled his Ludmilla and Main Character in If On a Winter's Night....
Have I been the only one privy to this emailvolution over the last seven or so years? Probably no, but I can pretend. Therein lies the point of the exercise, no?
Kaye
Letters from Vincent - The mental landscape of approximately 120 minutes
K,
Textual re-creation and/or flowchart of subjects researched concomitant with The Clean Air Act:
Clean Air Act→Historical context of the Clean Air Act→Concept of legislation→Concept of concept→Definition of Conceptual Metaphor→Correlation with synecdoche→Correlation with macrocosm→Academia as a cognitive metaphor for government→Term embedded ontology→Concept of ontology→Concept of metaontology→The question "Are any of the words we use to describe any of the things these words represent the actual things themselves?"→Instances of quoted question appearing/existing verbatim→Definition of verbatim→Implied rules of verbatim→Evidence of verbatim referring to text rather than speech→Term rabbit hole→Possible use of rabbit hole predating Alice's Adventures in Wonderland→Concept of obsession→Concept of obsessive-compulsive disorder→Concept of Primarily Obsessional OCD→Evidence linking previous two concepts to above-average intelligence→Definition of comorbidity→Baseball scores
V.
Textual re-creation and/or flowchart of subjects researched concomitant with The Clean Air Act:
Clean Air Act→Historical context of the Clean Air Act→Concept of legislation→Concept of concept→Definition of Conceptual Metaphor→Correlation with synecdoche→Correlation with macrocosm→Academia as a cognitive metaphor for government→Term embedded ontology→Concept of ontology→Concept of metaontology→The question "Are any of the words we use to describe any of the things these words represent the actual things themselves?"→Instances of quoted question appearing/existing verbatim→Definition of verbatim→Implied rules of verbatim→Evidence of verbatim referring to text rather than speech→Term rabbit hole→Possible use of rabbit hole predating Alice's Adventures in Wonderland→Concept of obsession→Concept of obsessive-compulsive disorder→Concept of Primarily Obsessional OCD→Evidence linking previous two concepts to above-average intelligence→Definition of comorbidity→Baseball scores
V.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
So, apparently my favorite artist and the inspiration for my sleeve, Patrick Woodroffe, was a consulting artist creating creatures and whatnot for Neverending Story II... starring Jonathan Brandis (RIP). My one time crush, among the many, Brandis plays young Bastian, revisted, who returns to Fantasia in order to, this time, battle the Emptiness I believe. According to the site:
Patrick worked for approximately six months in Munich, which suited him very well, especially as this gave him the chance to do some models and sculptures in collaboration with a nice friendly team. Not only has his work been included in several exhibitions - "Chemins de Traverse" (Yverdon), "NIFFF" (Neuchâtel) and "Vide-Poches" (Marsens) - but he has also given several talks to French students. Patrick also did some work for a proposed TV version of this story.
A little bit about our friend Woodroffe from his website:
Born in Halifax, Yorkshire, U.K. 1940. World War II was already giving my parents nightmares, reality just as stressful, but I was too young to be aware of it, my dreams already in bright colours. My mother tongue is English, but there are web-site texts in French and German because I had a language degree at Leeds University in 1964. I was taught neither painting nor writing, and although I worked as a schoolmaster for eight years, my paintbrush and my typewriter already active, I became a professional creator of Text & Images in 1972. I have had about 17 projects of my own, 11 of them already realised. I have lived in CORNWALL since 1964.
| Courtesy of Patrick Woodroffe's website. |
Charlie Sheen Winning - 4 Reasons Charlie Sheen Matters in the World of Inbound Marketing | The Customer Collective
4 Reasons Charlie Sheen Matters in the World of Inbound Marketing | The Customer Collective
Valuable business lessons often come from unpredictable places—from outside your industry or outside your comfort zone. They might come from a TV show, from a rock band, from a political figure or even from the life of celebrities. And they might place question marks on things you have long taken for granted, inspiring you to, as Seth Godin might say, “poke the box.”
Charlie Sheen definitely poked the box of conformity. His personal views and beliefs aside, he has proven to be an amazing inbound marketer. Why? I was able to catch up with David Meerman Scott about why Sheen matters in the world of marketing:
1. He Owns Content Creation.
Sheen realized that he was fully equipped with the tools of self-publishing and social networking: his website, YouTube, Twitter and Facebook. He is actively using the power of search and social media to his benefit. You will see him tweet at people, post photos and even entertain fans with his new App. “He is doing exactly what I've been talking about for nearly a decade,” says David. “He publishes interesting and valuable information that people want to consume and that they are eager to share with their friends.”
2. He Enjoys Tons of Media Coverage.
Now that Sheen is putting up controversial and curious content on the Web, he has sparked the interest of the mainstream media and bloggers alike. You will see him mentioned on The Washington Post, the Huffington Post and Fox News among other popular channels. These outlets are all becoming a voice for the celebrity, analyzing his behavior and promoting his performances. “The media report his every move in real-time,” says David.
3. He Doesn’t Spend Money on Ads.
The combination of his own content creation with the widespread media coverage he receives has eliminated the need for Sheen to use traditional advertising to make profits. For instance, David points out, Sheen hasn’t spent a penny to promote his tour. “Nearly 1,000 media outlets happily do that for him at no cost,” David says.
4. He Sees Marketing As a Performance.
If you want to distinguish your business from everyone else on the Web, you’d better be remarkable. One way to accomplish this is by communicating well with your audience, a type of performance, if you will. Charlie Sheen does that with his series of tours, Violent Torpedo of Truth / Defeat is Not an Option Show. You could do that by hosting educational webinar series, recording videos or producing an industry podcast.
So these are some of the reasons why David Meerman Scott recognizes Sheen as “a marketing & PR superstar.”
Image Credit: jedidiah44
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