Interesting. But I must disagree.

To claim that the creative act is one of selflessness is to cast plagiarism on every human act that has been followed through. By casting our ego away, we become disassociated with that which is borne of our efforts. In believing that our ego is having no effect on our actions, we are admitting that some other force is working through us, whether it be prophet, muse, or deity.

I believe all great creations come from someone's Ego working in full control.

I believe that we have difficulty creating things because we struggle with the dilemma of creating things in our own "image" or in the image of what we want people to see. If we create to please others, we are disappointed because we have betrayed ourselves; the thing is not ours, just an imposter. Even when we do create according to images that are true to the Ego, we may be embarrassed of what we see because the work reflects what we don't like about ourselves.

Yet, the reward of creating for oneself does come when we are true to our ego. Truly, we do send our creations out into an unkind and unforgiving world to be judged, plagiarized, and even destroyed. However, this process is not a "budding off" of a piece of us, living and existing separately; rather, it is an establishment of a symbiotic link. Therefore, through this transition, when another person makes a connection with something you've created -- whether it be a paper you wrote, a painting you made, or a song you sang -- when they truly understand the thing you have put there for the world to see, they have understood you. And that is a handsome reward.

(I also believe this will make alot less sense in the morning. Night.)

I had a dream that I was driving around Paris with Melissa, Missy, Beth, and Christine in my antique Suburban. We went into this neighborhood that looked like Paris' wannabe version of Bourbon St, except it was on a comically smaller scale. We kept driving down the street every few hours and I kept saying that I was going to get my nose pierced. Everyone said that it would look stupid, but I was pretty determined.

So on our third trip down this odd street, I pulled ole Bessie over and went into this body parlour. They gave me an Icee that I had to drink through my nose to make my septum numb. Then they just did it. I got a metallic green barbell through my septum, with two little rings hanging off each end of the barbell. And sure enough, when I turned to look in the mirror, I looked pretty stupid.

And when I looked around, everyone was gone, and I was alone with my stupid nose piercing.

Read it, even if you have no plans to see the movie. via megnut.

What is happiness?

Happiness is tearing a floor to ceiling piece of wallpaper off in one big whumph!

Happiness is getting a call from someone you haven't talked to in a while.

Happiness is freaking out on your guitar at 4 in the morn while alone in your room.

Happiness is finding out that your girlfriend just got a well deserved scholarship for med school.

Happiness is getting a royal flush in a poker game, even if you are just playing your dad.

In concordance with the other New Orleans fitness blogs, I have a bit of bragging I'd like to get out of the way before my chauvinistic ego unswells. I just completed a full set of bench press reps at 200 lbs. Now, rather than being just a tall, skinny freak, I'm a tall, skinny freak who can bench press your momma!

This picture pretty much sums up what this summer has been like so far...all day I sit at home and work on web sites and eat pasta. I think I am going to get my old job at Borders back so that I can have some human interaction during the daytime. I miss Melissa quite a bit.



Read any good books lately?

About a week ago, I started reading the Jungle by Upton Sinclair which is about the atrocious working conditions in the Chicago meat packing industry at the turn of the century. Good book, but the entire story leads up to the the finale, in the last chapter: a passionate Socialist rant. Directly, I picked up Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, which was probably the most dramatic change in philosophy and writing style that I could have planned. Both capture the spirit and essence of what MAN is is such different ways, opposite ways. Not to mentions their polar views on capitalist systems. But I didn't plan it; I knew nothing about either novel before I read them.

At first I was a little skeptical...


but then...

Happy birthday Gretchen! Well well well...last night was pretty interesting. I met a slew (sleaux?) of interesting hipsters, and watched their progression from untouchably cool to untouchably covered in their own vomit. It started out with just the folks I see at the shows around town, and at Rue de la Course, and as the night went on, all these freaks in velvet sport coats strolled in who looked like they just got out of a strokes show. And they started talking about how great New York was...and I actually started laughing out loud everytime one of them said something.

This hangover would be alot easier to deal with if my CD changer wasn't bleating. I want to listen to the CD that Beth made me, and this worthless machine will not work. While means that in about 10 minutes it will be scattered on my floor in several pieces next to carefully collected piles of screws.

For some reason, the first thing I wanted to do after getting back from vacation was caulk my room.



Hey man, did you know that I am a snake? Did you know that I am a snake-man? A snake, man! Hiss...

Second in a series of three:

I lied.

I didn't really have that conversation with my mom. It's actually an early Faith No More song. Since this is the internet, you are inclined to believe everything I write on my web page, even though I may have a history of telling lies (which I obviously don't). But since it's not true, it instantly becomes funny. So, I am sacrificing orginality for humor.

I'm going to start posting conversations that I have had on my website. See, I've been accused of not having anything original to say or write, so my natural response is to rebuke the Treya haters by posting things that are completely original to my life experience. Like this conversation I had with my mom, the first in a series of three:

"HEY!"
"WHAT??"
"Oh nothing just wondering what it if you're doing that whatever it is you're doing."
"Oh yeah, why?"
"I dunno, it just doesn't seem like something you'd be doing that's all, you of all people, know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know it's been bugging you since the day I was born, huh?"

"Tall, slender. Somewhat angular -- straight lines, straight angles, hard muscles. Walks swiftly, easily, too easily, slouching a little, a loose kind of ease in motion, as if movement requires no effort whatever, a body to which movement is as natural as immobility, without a definite line to divide them, a light, flowing, lazy ease of motion, an energy so complete that is assumes the ease of laziness. Large, long hands -- prominent joints and knuckles and wristbones, with hard, prominent veins on the backs of the hands; hands that look neither young nor old, but exceedingly strong. His clothes always disheveled, disarranged, loose and suggesting...a certain savage unfitness for clothes. Definitely red, loose, straight hair, always dishevelled."

"A hard, forbidding face, not in the least attractive according to conventional standards. More liable to be considered homely than handsome. Very prominent cheek-bones. A hard, straight nose. A large mouth -- long and narrow, with a thin upper lip and a rather prominent lower one, which gives him the appearance of an eternal, frozen half-smile, and ironic, hard, uncomfortable smile, mocking and contemptuous. Wrinkles or dimples or slightly prominent muscles, all of that or none definitely, around the corners of his mouth. A rather pale face, without color on the cheeks and with freckles over the bridge of the nose and the cheekbones. Dark red eyebrows, straight and thin. Dark gray, expressionless eyes -- eyes that refuse to show expression, to be exact. Very long straight, dark red eyelashes -- the only soft, gentle touch of the face -- a surprising touch in his grim expression. And when he laughs -- which happens seldom -- his mouth opens wide, with a complete, loose kind of abandon. A low, hard, throaty voice -- not rasping, but rather blurred in its tone, but rather distinct in its sound, with the same soft, lazy fluency as his movements, neither one being soft or lazy..."

- a description of Howard Roark. My favorite novel character yet, perhaps because he reminds me so much of myself.

Well, I was waiting until I was completely finished with the kitchen to put any pictures up, but it may be a little while because I am waiting for a special order to come in. Anyway, presenting Stage One of the remodeling - Before and After.

Dephex Enterprises has introduced a new product for Q2 2002. In conjunction with Snarky Farky Inc., we are proud to release Avian Telephone Tranquilizers (ATT). This product will be targeting those work-from-home business owners who happen to own one or more loudass pet birds who freak the fuck out whenever the telephone rings. And who don't shut the hell up until important conference calls are over. From now on, when the phone rings, all your birds will have smaller little birdies flying circles around their heads, thanks to ATT. Buy it for all of your stupid, dumb, dumb ass, ass birds.

Booger, Booger, & Fartybutt is proud to be the sole distributor of Avian Telephone Tranquilizers.

One year ago today, I kissed the girl I had a crush on...




And then I went and fell in love with her...




Happy Anniversary, zoo baby.

This next seven days are a good week for the Shim Sham. Maybe I will go every night, starting tomorrow, and just not go home for a week. From Dita Von Teese & the Shim Sham Revue Sunday, to the Impotent Sea Snakes the next Sunday, we've got your entertainment right here. Not to mention the Melvins...