#2 - TASTE

I first became inspired with this while I was doing my sound sense. My friend Richard mentioned banana peppers...and when I thought of how they crunched and tasted so delicious, my mouth immediately began to water. In fact, it still does if I think about it enough. ^_^

So, taste is in conjunction with what I see, smell, and remember. The brain often tells me what I'm tasting if I see it or smell it first. I'm going to try to eliminate as many factors as possible and see what I feel I'm tasting...or whatever. Just go with it.

I had my friend blind fold me, and I plugged my nose.
He is going to feed me 4 things, and I'm going to type what I think after I eat each one, without really knowing what they are 'til the end.

Okay,

#1
It was slimy and scared me at first. I didn't want to swallow it even though I had to. It was sweet, but not a "good" sweet and it was watered down "lemony." I told myself it was the lemon puddings we had.

#2
I knew the second one right of the bat. It was one of those cherry sized tomatoes. I hate them. It was disgusting when it burst in my mouth. The juices and seeds...blech! Initially, it was just a silky tasteless ball. But there was no mistaking it once I bit in.

#3
It was runny, and sweet, but seemed more like Robotussen when I swallowed it. My next guess was honey. I accidentally unplugged my nose and immediately knew it was maple syrup.

#4
This one I knew only by its shape. It felt like a green bean. It however was tasteless. How it squished in my mouth made me feel sick. This is odd, because I LOVE green beans.

Now, here's what I was fed: 1) whipped cream 2) a cherry tomato 3) maple syrup 4) a green bean.

(I'll finish this later)

This is hard to start - SOUND

Okay, I'm a busy person...by choice. But, I like to spend time on my projects, and it just wasn't working last night. My mind was jumbled, and I didn't even know which sense to pick. I fell asleep before I knew what to do. So...I'm going to listen to some music and just write what I feel for the next few hours.

Sense #1 - Sound/Hearing

Song: Kal Ho Naa Ho (Hindi)

I'm almost instantly relaxed. I remember scenes from the Bollywood film that the song is from. Vividly. Red, black, and white. Shahrukh Khan keeps popping up in wide shots and extreme close ups. The drum beat is relaxing. I feel positive and yet sad because I remember the outcome of the movie. It's strange, but I remember exactly how I felt during the movie. It made me cry the first time I watched it.

Song: Main Vari Vari (Hindi)

I never saw the movie that goes along with this song...so, I find my mind trying to give it images. I don't know what the lady who sings it looks like, and yet I give her a face. I fill in the image with clothes and scenery...instruments being played. The overall color scheme seems to be a smoky yellow with red and orange hues. The song in a way helps me create. I can fill in anything for the first few times I watch it...

Game: Final Fantasy VIII (RPG/Gameing music)

My friend Richard came over and decided to replay my FF7 video game. It has an awesome soundtrack. For how old the game is, I'm surprised that I still get engrossed in listening to it. I'm trying to just listen, but it like begs me to look at it. Maybe it's a result of me being a gamer addict in the first place, but the music gets me excited. It makes me want to fight or just run and tackle someone for the fun of it. I'm also trying to listen to what he "sounds like" when he talks. It's weird, because my mind can't just focus on his sound, it has to make sense of his words also, I wonder if that's why I had to make pictures in my head whenever I just listen to music.

Okay, that's enough of sound. I've been racking my brain for a while trying to come up with some way to prove that I care about this "sound sense" buuut nothing is coming to me. Lately, I've been really trying to take advantage of when I AM inspired and learning to cope with it when I'm not.

Redux Prehuntas

Brockin's Seeing Sideways...or something. Thank's for your question.
3. What if we sat in that classroom we had for class for 24 hours talking about nonsense.

What if...

I'm game.

Initially, I'd love to, I'd consider daring you to let us do it some class time...it's like one of those strange scenarios that people like me would thrive in...or at least dream of being "trapped" in. The whole "elevator" malfunction thing. And I would suppose if it WAS like a movie, I'd love it...but here's to Joker and his theory of men. People never fail to dissapoint. A few interesting conversations would take place, maybe a few games. One or two people would come more out of their shells. All the same questions about life would come up like clock work...never having definite answers...serving only for temporary inspiration. A fleeting moment of communion, loved and almost instantly forgotten. Just another memory to add to all our memories...for what? To grow? To be a better human? Let me know when a more satisfying answer dares suffice this.

Brockin was right. Nonsense.



and another interesting question...more one that just begged me to post a picture...
33. Ghosts hung around and talked to us from cloudedchaos

Last Week...agian

Last week's class was fun...I can't say it was insanely inspiring, but it was nice to hear from other people. I find myself disappointed in this weeks assignment. It seems next to pointless to do anything with somebody else's question...idk, I just find myself wanting you to give the class some really fun/weird assignment to work on...and then I realize that there's some twisted lesson like - I should inspire myself and not expect an assignment to do it for me...or whatever. But what's really wrong with that? Is anything wrong with it? It's like asking Alexander to stop wanting a challenge...he wouldn't be who he was, ya know?

What if

Last Week

Ghost images, time projects, boredom, and relations...last week's class is not on a scale. Some days are more insightful than others, more happy, more crazy, more bright. Last class was another day to be remembered, if not in words, in feelings. I loved it and hated it. The first half sucked until my brain finally got words to chew on. I think about that stuff all the time...it comes naturally. The most interesting conversation was the one with the dude who loves crunching numbers. That makes my mind go crazy because he thinks differently than I do. (apologies for not remembering your name...I remember faces...and by "crazy" I mean in a good way) Contemplating boredom bored me. Contemplating the meaning of time was cool for about 2 seconds. Deeper things can get me talking and keep my attention, but they're not as inspiring when they follow my natural train of thought. I know the "deeper" side! I want to know the different sides now. For instance, why do some people seem to neglect the "insightful" side of life? What do they think about when they're alone if they don't ponder life and time, etc.? How can you not get addicted to electronica and techno? It shouldn't sound odd to you. Where is a mental patient's self? If we do almost everything the same as each other, where'd we get the idea that we're so different and that some of us lack feeling? Why the hell are you reading this?

laugh and cry on cue
trip, fall, flutter
nothing happened.

Time's Hands

There is a place where time ended,
And a place before it began.

And in between, soft single moments,
Blended like palms and hands.

Light holds these unseen moments,
And moves them one by one.

Dreams unfold their passing power,
And our eyes keep them undone.

The sky will be soon clearer,
While water turns cold and dark.

And this moment will move quickly,
Just before the dark.

There was a time when this place ended,
And a time when it began.

Each and every dream we give,
To time's still turning hands.


Time in a lot of ways reminds me of poems. You can guess and guess all day why the writer wrote what he did, but there's no guarantee that you're right. You'd have to ask him yourself.
So, for this assignment, I wrote a poem and for the first time ever, explained the meaning behind it in as best I could. I added how the photo-shopped picture refers to parts of the poem as well.

"There is a place where time ended, and a place before it began." These lines refer to time being set down, and in a sense having become unalterable. We cannot physically enter these places, only in our imagination. The picture shows this through the sense of light coming from a place above, and the sense of darkness covering a place beneath.

"And in between, soft single moments, blended like palms and hands." These lines reference my idea of human lives being separate but still strung together or attached like fingers on a hand. I used the word soft to describe our moments or memories because regardless of disposition, our memories are dear to us. The picture shows this by a hand reaching gently up or "forward" (in my mind).

"Light holds these unseen moments, and moves them one by one." Light designates where we get our idea of time, a sun dial. It holds the invisible hands of time along with our visible memories or images...we can only see (to remember) when there is light. The random particles and dots represent our memories flowing through time.

"Dreams unfold their passing power, and our eyes keep them undone." We dream often taking time along with us. We can dream of the past and the future...it is powerful...and it passes by us every second. We can usually only dream fully with our eyes closed. When our eyes are opened, the dreams become undone. It is sad in a sense because we can seemingly only do one or the other...dream or live. The picture does not represent these lines, the reader does.

"The sky will be soon clearer, while water turns cold and dark." Reminding us that our dream must be met by a reality. The sun is setting, and the sky will be clearer to see the stars. The water will follow suit...but will keep turning or flowing on with time. The blue hues in the picture give the illusion of water.

"And this moment will move quickly, just before the dark." As if to catch ourselves before waking from a dream, reminding us that time still moves quickly to it's end. Referring back to the darkening sky and water...each of our lives will end, but new ones will continue moving (water). There is a beauty to be seen after our time, when our sun shines no longer (night/dark) there will be the stars for us to see and continue our memories (life/place after death/time).

"There was a time when this place ended, and a time when it began." Remembering how similar these lines were to the first few. That's when this time/place began...and now this moment/memory will end soon.

"Each and every dream we give, to time's still turning hands." Telling us to see reality for what it is (we are bound by time), but not to fear it, because it is still moving onward to a clearer dawn.

Bible Dipping - the cover

I'm sitting in bed...a friend woke me up with a phone call...there's a stuffed moogle and pikachu starring at me...I looked at the Seeing Sideways book and read the whole cover for the first time. I feel like the words hold meaning, and tell myself I understand them...when I realize it's more likely that I don't understand them at all. I want to write about the cover, but try to find a scapegoat by getting a "deeper", "easier to write about and prove I'm smarter" page in the book. And I just realized it's almost impossible to direct you to the page I opened. It's yellow...and has chopstick instructions at the binding. It talks a lot about great artists...musicians...tatoo-ists...all strangely of the asian variety. You know, I feel like that sometimes. When I draw I picture or write a poem...when I try to convey any message...it's like trying to direct you to a page in a numberless book...a page in my mind. Why does it take so much effort to express oneself? Should it be that way? I can see it from the "labor of love" angle and the "free your mind" angle. Time never answers life's questions until it's over. I guess another thing that erks me is why I want you to know whats in my head anyway...IT DRIVES ME! And, to an extent I don't even know why. Yes, I care about your wellbeing and such...but it's not that I can suddenly give you peace...it's more like I'm a child who has a pretty picture that looks like crap, but really wants to show it to someone. I want you to smile. I want love in return. I want an excuse for why I want affection in some form reciprocated...but I have none that justify it being...typed.
My mind paused. Why do I write to "you"? I was skimming that first half and wondered who "you" was. Yeah, I'm writing to the whole class/teacher, but I'm not imagining you and your reaction like I would with a paper for W131. To a degree, it feels like I'm writing to my mind...I won't type anything down until it is satisfactory to me...and yet I'll give up and just splotch anything down randomly. I'm not an artist. I'm a person. This is it so far, I need to get in the shower now...brb
Okay, so now I'm sitting here with a bowl of cereal. Raisin Bran Crunch...the best ever cereal. Showers are good for thinking. I find I can get frustrated easily because I personalize everything. And I feel like normal people don't do this - like they get some aspect of life that enables them to not care about eachother. But truth is, I love to take things to a deeper level...and if I'm sitting over in a corner staring at a tiny acorn, pondering it's existence, while everyone else is gazing at the forest...so be it.
My brother just came home with a double-decker from tacobell for me and I didn't even ask for it...raisins and beans...that's a lovely combo.
So, why is there hatred and bitterness in the world? Everyone thinks differently. I would come over and look at your forest, but I'm still engrossed by an acorn. How about we have dinner later and you can tell me what you find beautiful, and I'll share mine. We won't change each other's minds; but the next time you look at a forest, or I look at an acorn...we'll think of something different. And then, just maybe, we'll get somewhere.

Egg & Zachly

So, I went in circles for two weeks trying to make a billion things from this egg. In the end, I only developed an extreme hatred for chicken eggs. It wasn't until I went to an Art Show at Harrison Center for the Arts on Friday (yeah, I was cutting it close) that I started considering a comic strip. The name for the comic came from a previous idea that flopped. (trying to see how many different words had "egg" in them - it was sad.) I drew sketches Sunday morning (during church...forgive me.) and then re-drew them with a graphic pen when I got home. I also bought a scanner/printer/fax combo - I'd wanted one for forever! Then I scanned the images and cleaned em up in Photoshop. I'm happy with it, ya know? I've never made a comic before, so I learned a little. And, in the end, I did something that I actually enjoyed!