I come fresh from my first ever Moth here in the D.  The Moth is a interesting event where people get 5 minutes to tell a story.  There is a basic theme for the night and you just go up and tell your story.  A few caveats, no notes, stand-up or ranting.  It needs to be real and pretty much of the moment.  I put my name in the hat thinking I wouldn’t be called but as the ninth name was pulled from the hat it just happen to sound like my name.  So I made my way to the stage and stood in front of the microphone with the stage lights in my eyes.  I’ve been in that position before so knowing what to do came pretty easy.  The lights make it difficult to see the audience so the nerves calm a bit.  I told my story pausing for laughter and awes.  All in all it went really well and the applause when I was done was invigorating. I walked back to my drink with people saying that was a great story and great delivery and so on and so forth.  The adulation was amazing, I could have done that all night.

I heard the news and stared blankly at my computer. People asked me if I was ok, I told them he died.  When they didn’t know who he was I could do little with my vision.  Suddenly the figures asking me questions evaporated like funny smells in the winter cold.  I closed my eyes and tasted salt for a second and continued working.

I kept typing and those figures walked off.  I kept typing and wondered if the figures would appear again.  I kept typing.

Dear he, Thank you.

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny “failed to take into account man’s almost infinite appetite for distractions.” In 1984, Orwell added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we fear will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we desire will ruin us.

- Neil Postman

I was listening to Off the Wall two nights ago thinking about remixing it with something for a gig I’m dj’ing tonight. Then to my horror MJ dies the very following day. It’s rare that I put on a Michael Jackson album but I own all of them up to History so it was strange when I heard the news. A coincidence by all means but the 10yr old boy in me wants to put some part of the blame on myself. Not sure why that is. Then the more awful thought came into my mind, I can’t play a remix tonight. It would be too cliche. *sigh*

Thanks for the music Michael.

Made my way to a local theatre called the Ringwald last night. They put on a production of Killer Joe which was really well done. The theatre seats about 60 people which is a perfect for creating a true intimate setting. The company was immensely talented and every member pulled their weight. A few of the actors stood out right away and received a well deserved roaring applause from the audience.

The play itself was violent and beautifully horrific at times. There are a few scenes that are very difficult to watch; suddenly your chair is very uncomfortable and the back of the persons head in front of you seems like a new friend. There are some twists to the play but nothing that a veteran culture whore wouldn’t see coming. I take some issue with how blatant the Dottie character is but I loved the interpretation by Christa Coulter. She was meticulous in her facial expressions and not a single muscular effort wasted.

Despite the dark overtones of the play there are some amazing comedic moments through out the piece. Often at the expense of peoples genetalia but a good gates of hell joke should not be wasted.

I must make note of the set design, mise en place, a place for everything and everythign in its place. From the Texas flag magnet on the fridge to a bar beer mirror on the wall, it simply needed to be there.

The play runs until April 27th, if in the Detroit area I implore you to see it. Sunday’s performances are Pay-What-You-Can, for those of you on a budget. Those not on a budget please Pay-What-You-Can and help out local theatre.

As for me, I’ll be at the next opening.

There is this interesting mashup site called YouTube Doubler that basically plays two Youtube videos at the same time. Well a couple of more famed tubers decided to really exploit this and created whats below. No matter what you think of the song itself this is rather interesting. This new read/write culture that we’ve created never ceases to amaze me. Not only are the two collaborating without being in the same room but they added a third layer ever so slightly, we have to collaborate with them to get it to work right. Even something as simple as playing to videos together gives another layer to this project.

Hit play on both videos below and then pause the one on the left. Wait for the countdown to hit :00 on the right then hit play on the left video and enjoy. It might take you a few tries before you get it in sync.

I stumbled across this short film on the internets and I liked its premise. This idea of finding a common ground between intellectual and social classes.

I’ve been having small conversations about how the labor worker is endangered in this country for a while now. Moreover thanks to technology and necessity there will be a need for more and more knowledge workers. Which we are currently at a deficit, I believe. Mainly because we’ve made it terribly difficult to become a creative knowledge worker. First, its expensive and second, we tend to pinhole a specific discipline and beat them over the head with it. So much so that it begins to dominate their lives. Architects that believe everything is Architecture, because of the very nature of the metaphor. We build relationships and design the very boundaries of our existence, etc… In every discipline as the focus becomes narrower I think a persons entire scope also becomes narrow and they believe that all life subsists of their discipline. Which is an easy correlation to make but we make it at the sacrifice of the myriad of possibilities from every other discipline. Artists love to believe that what they do and what a mathematician does is hugely different. When we know for a fact that both are interrelated. The golden ratio is a prime example as it relates to aesthetics. More over plenty of mathematicians can submit to the idea that a proof can be elegant or even beautiful. Using terms of aesthetics to describe mathematics. Sometimes science becomes more about creativity, rather than logic. Take string theory for example which states that all possibilities exists and are collapsed to a reality by an observer. Granted that being a rather simplistic statement of a particular part of string theory, nonetheless it almost sounds like philosophy rather than physics. These field experts are knowledge workers but they work at a deficit of interdisciplinary knowledge. Which is why collaboration is so important. But what if we were able to collaborate in our own heads as well as with other people. What if an Artist could put down the paint brush and discuss metallurgy or the kazimir effect. Or a chemist having a conversation on color theory or Calvino’s Lightness. What if we found a common ground in our own heads, would it be easier to talk to each other? Would the conversation be good?

So, utterly bored one day, me and my buddy Rollie decided to revive a podcast we did together called september29th named after his blog. This time however, we decided to make it video. Below is the end result. If you dig it you can subscribe via iTunes or RSS, as I’m sure this won’t be the last of them.

There is a true art to saying nothing and having people think it’s profound. Some are excellent at it and some fall short and let their cohorts do most of the talking. Nevertheless, I’m astounded at the amount of wealth and power can come from saying absolutely nothing. I should probably start rehearsing my versions of elaborate nothing.

I found myself having lunch at a Buffalo Wild Wings recently. Not my choice mind you, there is something about a restaurant/bar that has multiple televisions on the walls that makes me throw up a little in my mouth. Never-the-less I was with family so in we go. The clientele never ceases to amaze me in a BW3′s, you will always find frosted tips on both the guys and girls. I should have bought stock in BW3′s as the douchebag index seems to be on the rise in this country. And somehow the enticement of hot sauce and sports is too much for the average douchebag. So they congregate there and beat there chests in vocal ritualistic methods, guzzling beer and using the worst pick up lines in existence. However the female version of the douchebag, sometimes referred to as a douche baguette or slut for short, seems to think of these lame attempts as peacock feathers. When presented with such mating calls they tend to emit a repetitive high pitched response. I was thankful the Olympics were on one of the TV’s so I could zone out and refrain from burning my esophagus with stomach acid. Despite the clade of butterfly tattoos, I was still able to enjoy some synchronized diving.

By the by, the sauce is good but the urge to buy peroxide soon after paying the bill is eerie.