Bzzzz Bzzzzz

In honor of this weeks national spelling bee,
I thought it would be fun to take a look back at some of the past years contestants.
holy shit.


my personal favorite


did he just say numb nuts?

did anyone else catch that crazy look in her eye?

Young Stevie Nicks

love this recording of her backstage

Samson

An Allegory of Prudence

Titian 1565-1570
EX PRAETERITO/PRAESENS PRUDENTER AGIT/NE FUTURA ACTIONẼ DETURPET
"Learning from yesterday, today acts prudently, lest by his action he spoil tomorrow"

The three heads allude to the three ages of man: youth, maturity and old age. The inscription is arranged in three sections associated with the respective heads underneath.

The left head resembles Titian himself in old age; the bearded central man has been thought to represent his son Orazio, while the youth may depict his cousin and heir, Marco Vecellio (born 1545).

The triple-headed beast - wolf, lion and dog - is a symbol of prudence.

Saw this today at the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square and it drew me in.

Follow up

I just received my 225th e-mail for the day. No, this does not include spam, facebook or any other non-related work message.

Actual ring is definitely worse.

Phantom Ring vs. Actual Ring

Though I chose the peaceful Chi Gong as my e-mail notifier, at the current rate it is chiming, I'm not sure what is worse...phantom ring or actual ring.

going going gong.

Sculpting beauty

this is great.

Phoenix Remixes

Every freakin remix you could want: http://fairtilizer.com/tracks/38832/

WANTED:

Members to form street performance band.
-Guitarist
-Trash can drummer
-Megaphone singer
-Accordionist
With yours truly on tambourine

#97 Patrick Watson / Part 4 - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

London Calling

Notes to self: Mind the goddamn gap and try not to offend by speaking in my horribly-off English accent.

For my own safety:

"...or look a bit foreign."

The Five Environments: A Lesson is Yours and Yours Alone

First off, I want to thank the teachers and faculty of Broad Run High School for first considering and then inviting me to speak here. It was flattering, I am touched and humbled, and you have made a grave mistake.

I’m being paid for this, right? Oh, wait, there’s some advice, right off the bat – always get paid. If you make enough money in this world you can smoke pot all day and have people killed.

I’m sorry, that was irresponsible.

You shouldn’t have people killed.

Boom! Marijuana endorsement eleven seconds into my speech! Too late to cancel me now!

It’s dumb-ass remarks like that which kept me out of the National Honor Society and also made me insanely wealthy. If I move to Brazil.

I graduated from Broad Run High School 21 years ago. That means, theoretically, I could be – each and every one of you – your father. And I’m speaking especially to the black and Asian students.

So now I’m going to try to give all of you some advice as if I contained fatherly wisdom, which I do not. I contain mostly caffeine, Cheet-o dust, fear and scotch.

I know most of you worked very hard to get here today but guess what? The Universe sent you a pasty goblin to welcome you into the world. Were The Greaseman and Arch Campbell not available?

So, 1987. That’s when I got my diploma. But I want to tell you something that happened the week before I graduated. It was life-changing, it was profound, and it was deeper than I realized at the time.

The week before graduation I strangled a hobo. Oh wait, that’s a different story. That was college. I’m speaking at my college later this month. I’ve got both speeches here. Let me sum up the college speech – always have a gallon of bleach in your trunk.

High school. A week before I graduated high school I had dinner, in Leesburg, with a local banker who was giving me a partial scholarship. I still don’t understand why. Maybe he had me confused with another student, someone who hadn’t written his AP English paper on comparisons between Jay Gatsby and Spider-Man. But, I was getting away with it, and I love money and food, so double win.

And I remember, I’m sitting at this dinner, with a bunch of other kids from the other local high schools. And I’m trying my pathetic best to look cool and mysterious, because I was 17 and so into the myth of myself. Remember, this dinner and this scholarship was happening to me.

And I figured this banker guy was a nice guy but hey, I’m the special one at the table. I had a view of the world, where I was eternally Bill Murray in Stripes. I’d be the one with the quips and insights at this dinner. This old man in a suit doesn’t have anything to teach me beyond signing that check. I’ve got a cool mullet and a skinny leather tie from Chess King. And check out my crazy suspenders with the piano keys on them. Have you ever seen Blackadder? ‘Cuz I’ll recite it.

And then this banker – clean-shaven, grey suit and vest – you’d never look twice at him on the street – he told me about The Five Environments.

He leans forward, near the end of the dinner, and he says to me, “There are Five Environments you can live in on this planet. There’s The City. The Desert. The Mountains. The Plains. And The Beach.

You can live in combinations of them. Maybe a city in the desert, or in the mountains by the ocean. Or you could choose just one. Out in the plains somewhere, perhaps.

“But you need to get out there and travel, and figure out where you thrive.

“Some places you’ll go to and you’ll feel yourself wither. Your brain will fog up, your body won’t respond to your thoughts and desires, and you’ll feel sad and angry.

“You need to find out which of the Five Environments are yours. If you belong by the ocean, then the mountains will ruin you. If you’re suited for the blue solitude of the plains, then the city will be a tight, roaring prison cell that’ll eat you alive.

He was right. I’ve traveled and tested his theory and he was absolutely right. There are Five Environments. If you find the right combination, or the perfect singularity, your life will click…into…place. You will click into place.

And I remember, so clearly, driving home from that dinner, how lucky I felt to have met someone who affirmed what I was already planning to do after high school. I was going to roam and blitz and blaze my way all over the planet.

Anywhere but here. Anywhere but Northern Virginia. NoVa. You know what a “nova” is? It’s when a white dwarf star gobbles up so much hydrogen from a neighboring star it causes a cataclysmic nuclear explosion. A cosmic event.

Well, I was a white dwarf and I was definitely doing my share of gobbling up material. But I didn’t feel like any events in my life were cosmic. The “nova” I lived in was a rural coma sprinkled with chunks of strip mall numbness. I had two stable, loving parents, a sane and wise little brother and I was living in Sugarland Run, whose motto is, “Ooooh! A bee! Shut the door!”

I wanted to explode. I devoured books and movies and music and anything that would kick open windows to other worlds real or imagined. Sugarland Run, and Sterling and Ashburn and Northern Virginia were, for me, a sprawling batter’s box before real experience began.

And I followed that banker’s advice. I had to get college out of the way but once I got my paper I lit out hard.

Oh this world. Ladies and gentlemen, this world rocks and it never lets up.

I’ve seen endless daylight and darkness in Alaska. I’ve swum in volcanic craters in Hawaii and saw the mystical green flash when the sun sinks behind the Pacific. I got ripped on absinthe in Prague and watched the sun rise over the synagogue where the Golem is supposedly locked in the attic. I stood under the creepy shadow of Christchurch Spitafields, in London’s East End, and sank a pint next door at The Ten Bells, where two of Jack the Ripper’s victims were last seen drinking. I’ve fed gulls at the harbor in Galway, Ireland. I’ve done impromptu Bloomsday tours of Dublin.

I cried my eyes out on the third floor of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, all those paintings that Vincent and his circle have to each other as gifts because they were all broke some cold Christmas long ago. I’ve eaten crocodile in the Laneways of Melbourne Australia and ortolans on the Left Bank of Paris, France.

I’ve been to Canada.

I’ve been to every state in this country. I’ve been to hidden, subterranean restaurants in New York with the guys from Anthrax and eaten at L.A. taquieras with “Weird” Al Yankovic. I held the guitar that Hendrix torched at Monterey Pop and watched Woodstock ’99 burn to the ground. I’ve lingered at the corner of Bush and Stockton in San Francisco where Miles Archer took a bullet in The Maltese Falcon, and brooded over the grave of H.P. Lovecraft in Providence, R.I. I’ve hung out with Donny Osmond and Jim Goad, Suge Knight and Aimee Mann, Bill Hicks and Don Rickles.

I’ve done stand-up comedy in laundromats, soup kitchens and frat houses, and onstage at Lollapalooza and Coachella. I’ve toured with bands, been to the Oscars and the Superbowl, and been killed in movies by vampires, forest fires and air-to-air missiles.

And I missed the banker’s lesson. 100%, I completely missed it.

In my defense, he didn’t even know he was teaching it.

Telling me about the 5 Environments and urging me to travel? That was advice. It wasn’t a lesson. Advice is everywhere in this world. Your friends, family, teachers and strangers are all happy to give it.

A lesson is yours and yours alone. Some of them take years to recognize and utilize.

My lesson was this – experience, and reward and glory are meaningless unless you’re open and present with the people you share them with in the moment.

Let me go back to that dinner, 21 years ago. There I was, shut off from this wise, amazing old man. Then he zaps me with one of the top 5 pieces of information I’ve ever received in this life, and all I was thankful for was how it benefited me.

I completely ignored the deeper lesson which is do not judge, and get outside yourself, and realize that everyone and everything has its own story, and something to teach you, and that they’re also trying – consciously or unconsciously – to learn and grow from you and everything else around them. And they’re trying with the same passion and hunger and confusion that I was feeling – no matter where they were in their lives, no matter how old or how young.

I’m not saying that you guys shouldn’t go out there and see and do everything there is to see and do. Go. As fast as you can. I don’t know how much longer this world has got, to be honest.

All of you have been given a harsh gift. It’s the same gift the graduating class of 1917, and 1938, and 1968 and now you guys got – the chance to enter adulthood when the world teeters on the rim of the sphincter of oblivion. You’re jumping into the deep end. You have no choice but to be exceptional.

But please don’t mistake miles traveled, and money earned, and fame accumulated for who you are.

Because now I understand how the miraculous, horrifying and memorable lurk everywhere. But they’re hidden to the kind of person I was when I graduated high school. And now – and it’s because of my traveling and living and some pretty profound mistakes along the way – they’re all laid open to me. They’re mine for the feasting. In the Sistine Chapel and in a Taco Bell. In Bach’s Goldberg Variations and in the half-heard brain dead chatter of a woman on her cell phone behind me on an airplane. In Baghdad, Berlin and Sterling, Virginia.

I think now about the amazing thunderstorms in the summer evenings. And how – late at night, during a blizzard, you can stand outside and hear the collective, thumping murmur of a million snowflakes hitting the earth, like you’re inside a sleeping god’s thoughts.

I think of the zombie movies I shot back in the gnarled, grey woods and the sad, suburban punks I waited on at Waxie Maxie’s. I think of the disastrous redneck weddings I deejay’d for when I was working for Sounds Unlimited and the Lego spaceships my friends and I would build after seeing Star Wars.

I think about my dad, and how he consoled me when I’d first moved to L.A. and called him, saying I was going into therapy for depression, and how ashamed I was. And he laughed and said, “What the hell’s to be ashamed of?” And I said, “Man, you got your leg machine-gunned in Vietnam. You never went to therapy. Humphrey Bogart never went to therapy.” And my dad said, “Yeah, but Bogie smoked three cartons of cigarettes a day.” And how my mom came down to the kitchen when I was studying for my trig final, at 2 o’clock in the morning, and said, “Haven’t you already been accepted to college?” And I said, “Yeah, but this test is really going to be hard.” And she asked, “What’s the test for again?” And I said, “Calculus” and she closed my notebook and said, “You’ll never use this. Ever. Go to bed or watch a movie.” And how when I got my first ever acting gig, on Seinfeld, my brother sent me a postcard of Minnie Pearl, and he wrote on it, “Never forget, you and her are in the same profession.”

I didn’t realize how all of these places and people and events were just as crucial in shaping me as anything I roamed to the corners of the Earth to see. And they’ve shaped you, and will shape you, whether you realize it now or later. All of you are richer and wiser than you know.

So I will leave you with some final advice. You’ll decide later if this was a lesson. And if you realize there was no lesson in any of this, then that was a lesson.

But I’d like all of you to enter this world, and your exploration of the Five Environments, better armed then I was. And without a mullet. Which I see you’re all way ahead of me on.

First off: Reputation, Posterity and Cool are traps. They’ll drain the life from your life. Reputation, Posterity and Cool = Fear.

Let me put that another way. Bob Hope once said, “When I was twenty, I worried what everything thought of me. When I turned forty, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. And then I made it to sixty, and I realized no one was ever thinking of me.” And then he pooed his pants, but that didn’t make what he said any less profound.

Secondly: The path is made by walking. And when you’re walking that path, you choose how things affect you. You always have that freedom, no matter how much your liberty it curtailed. You…get to choose…how things affect you.

And lastly, and I guarantee this. It’s the one thing I know ‘cause I’ve experienced it:

There Is No Them.

I’m going to get out of your way now. Get out there. Let’s see which one of you is up here in twenty years. If you’re lacking confidence, remember – I wouldn’t have picked me.

-- Patton Oswalt, speech given at his former high school 6.18.08

I'm a giraffe

Feathered limbs

dope. me likey.

This summer, we should fly kites

This summer, we should fly kites.

It's a young Dylan kind of day

Awesome inspired by Awesome!!!

Felt a little loopy today and needed some inspiration.

Street Performers

I need a crowd. Any crowd will do.

Wifey Material

"I Want to Marry a Producer"

Producers are great. They are my favorite people in advertising. And I want to marry one. Since every single person I've met over the last 15 years works in advertising or some related industry, I've realized that I'm destined to marry an ad person. After a brief panic attack, I thought about producers and felt much better. I want to marry a producer.

I don't want to marry an account services person. Sure, they can take lots of pressure and abuse from the world, and they're organized (a definite prerequisite for my future spouse), but we'd quickly realize that while we share many goals, ultimately, she may not care enough about my goals. And caring about my goals, or at least seeming to, is very important.

I'm not going to marry a traffic person. They propel jobs through the agency and thus are obviously good at getting stuff done. But they cry too much. Or they yell too much. Or they cry while yelling. There is crying and yelling at some point in every marriage. I wish to keep it to the bare minimum in mine.

Marrying another creative seems like a great idea. We would laugh together. We would dream together. We would make amazing plans together. But we wouldn't know how to get any of those plans done or how to actually make anything happen. And then we would blame each other.

I could marry one of my clients. We would have a great initial relationship. She would find me really funny and inventive, but over time, she might begin to doubt my motives and commitment. And she'd be right. Am I bored? Am I ultimately looking to trade up? Am I looking for a newer, fresher challenge? I'd be coy and say no. But the real answer would be... maybe.

No, I want to marry a producer. A producer listens to the most batshit crazy idea and doesn't say yes or no or ask why, but instantly asks "How?" She could talk me out of dumb things with grace and logic, or conversely show me what it's possible to do with virtually nothing. A producer realizes that just as business and creativity need each other, responsibility (her) and irresponsibility (me) do too. A producer wouldn't be afraid of different challenges, no matter what form they took. A producer would be tough, fighting battles I'd neither see nor even know about. A producer would plan for a rainy day and not even tell me she was doing it and then, when it started to rain, she'd say, "It's covered, go over to the food table." A producer would stay up all night partying with me, then make sure what needs to get done gets done, while I sleep. Marrying a producer would allow me to be as self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-congratulatory, naval-gazing and "creative" as I want to be.

Of course, I could always date someone outside of the industry and see what the rest of the world is like. But that would be weird.

by Ted Royer, ECD Droga5

The Laughing Heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

~ Charles Bukowski

Next Piece

Thinking I'm going to need to treat myself to something. And soon.

I'm pretty close to getting a new piece from Nouveau Motely.
This is an AWESOME necklace she made from an antique sterling silver plated chain and an antique pocket watch made in the late 1800s. The added golden swallow is what sold me.
this one is nice too.
oh man. this one too.
totally torn.

Helloooo Monday

Lost in my little world

RAMF

Sometimes i think i'm so street, i say things like "oh no you di'int" or " daaaaamn gina" or "street4lyf"

Powerlinerflyers

powerlinerflyers from wes johnson on Vimeo.

The chaos and organic motion in this video is wonderful. i imagine them playing musical chairs.

Help, I'm Alive

Emily Haines of Metric talks about writing her last album in Buenos Aires. Mad love for this girl.

Take a sad song and make it better

How do you sell your brand and bring people together? Mass karaoke in Trafalgar Square. Pretty awesome.

Psssst...

Wolf Like Me

Say say my playmate
wont you lay hands on me
mirror my malady
transfer my tragedy

Got a curse i cannot lift
shines when the sunset shifts
when the moon is round and full
gotta bust that box gotta gut that fish

My mind's aflame

We could jet in a stolen car
but i bet we wouldnt get too far
before the transformation takes
and bloodlust tanks and
crave gets slaked

My mind has changed
my bodys frame but god i like it
my hearts aflame
my bodys strained but god i like it

My mind has changed
my bodys frame but god i like it
my hearts aflame
my bodys strained but god i like it

Charge me your day rate
ill turn you out in kind
when the moon is round and full
gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your
mongrel mind
baby doll i recognize
you're a hideous thing inside
if ever there were a lucky kind it's
you you you you

I know its strange another way to get to know you
you'll never know unless we go so let me show you
i know its strange another way to get to know you
we've got till noon here comes the moon
so let it show you
show you now

Dream me oh dreamer
down to the floor
open my hands and let them
weave onto yours

Feel me, completer
down to my core
open my heart and let it
bleed onto yours

Feeding on fever
down all fours
show you what all that
howl is for

Hey hey my playmate
let me lay waste to thee
burned down their hanging trees
it's hot here hot here hot here hot here

Got a curse we cannot lift
shines when the sunshine shifts
there's a cure comes with a kiss
the bite that binds the gift that gives

now that we got gone for good
writhing under your riding hood
tell your gra'ma and your mama too
it's true
we're howling forever