It's overcasty and raining in Phoenix. Go figure. Rain can even visit the desert from time to time. I think it's just mother nature's way of telling me that I do indeed have a packing problem. Radically inclusive is a writing technique and not recommended for application in areas of packing or travel. For ventures away from home one needs a sharp focus and an appreciation of the freedom that brings. Worry about only your next meal and let everything else fall away.
My sharp focus made me forget all about the lunar eclipse last night. B tried to remind me but I was sincerely focused on not checking my phone. I bet it was fun to watch the moon dissapear. Of course I can always recreate the same thing in Aftereffects or outside with a sheet of construction paper but there is something to be said for an authentic eclipse. Again, I wouldn't know for sure since I didn't see it.
2.21.2008
2.11.2008
I think I might be the first person to say this but, teens have no respect.
They also are oblivious to the standard rules of the Library. I am listening to some full-volume-idiotic cell phone conversation right now. It's bleeding through my new Philips noise cancelling earbuds. I'd kick some A** but I am afraid of groups of teens. Alone they are weak and insecure but together they form a powerful superconductor that translates insecure energies into supersonic interference.
Yesterday I spent nine hours at the Los Angeles Athletic Club for the group fitness certification.
As an aside, if anyone is interested in helping me bring my dream of air guitar aerobics to the world, I am looking for investors. I was stoked that it was at the LAAC because I have been dying to see the inside of it but never had the pocket change to pay for the parking garage or the gumption to finagle a tour. The place has some excellent photos of strong men in unitards holding dumbbells, the kind of dumbbells men used before interchangeable weights.
They throw a hundred wanna-be aerobics instructors in the gymnasium (the same one many famous athletes trained in. Many of them probably from my favorite historical moment, the 84 Olympics) This is the kind of gym that has a track above it so the gym members that were there for a Sunday workout were treated to watching 100 ladies and three men practice warm-up and cardio choreography.
For the final test you have to perform a three minute warm-up routine, a four minute cardio routine, and a one minute cool-down. Here is the kicker: everybody, all one hundred plus, is divided into three groups and sectioned off in the same gymnasium. And everyone has to do their routine at the same time. No one is leading. It’s just mayhem. So picture three sets of 35 people doing their own aerobics thing (not just dancing, that would be like a rave) to some really crappy techno music while the towel guy and some older dudes from the LAAC look on from the top track. After that part is over the examiners shout, “now show me a strength exercises for the gluteus maximus, now one for the rhomboid….” And everyone has to simulate movements like they are holding weights or resistance bands.
It was probably one of the most amazing things I have participated in in a long time (and that saying a lot since the day before I had just participated in the shoot for the second episode of TBABC). I wish I could have videotaped the exam part. Framed just so, the whole ordeal would have looked like a perverse internment camp activity. Now I am going to have to go to all the trouble of getting back into the class just for videotaping purposes. I need some more material for my upcoming short film titled “Towel Boy and Group Girl.”
They also are oblivious to the standard rules of the Library. I am listening to some full-volume-idiotic cell phone conversation right now. It's bleeding through my new Philips noise cancelling earbuds. I'd kick some A** but I am afraid of groups of teens. Alone they are weak and insecure but together they form a powerful superconductor that translates insecure energies into supersonic interference.
Yesterday I spent nine hours at the Los Angeles Athletic Club for the group fitness certification.
As an aside, if anyone is interested in helping me bring my dream of air guitar aerobics to the world, I am looking for investors. I was stoked that it was at the LAAC because I have been dying to see the inside of it but never had the pocket change to pay for the parking garage or the gumption to finagle a tour. The place has some excellent photos of strong men in unitards holding dumbbells, the kind of dumbbells men used before interchangeable weights.
They throw a hundred wanna-be aerobics instructors in the gymnasium (the same one many famous athletes trained in. Many of them probably from my favorite historical moment, the 84 Olympics) This is the kind of gym that has a track above it so the gym members that were there for a Sunday workout were treated to watching 100 ladies and three men practice warm-up and cardio choreography.
For the final test you have to perform a three minute warm-up routine, a four minute cardio routine, and a one minute cool-down. Here is the kicker: everybody, all one hundred plus, is divided into three groups and sectioned off in the same gymnasium. And everyone has to do their routine at the same time. No one is leading. It’s just mayhem. So picture three sets of 35 people doing their own aerobics thing (not just dancing, that would be like a rave) to some really crappy techno music while the towel guy and some older dudes from the LAAC look on from the top track. After that part is over the examiners shout, “now show me a strength exercises for the gluteus maximus, now one for the rhomboid….” And everyone has to simulate movements like they are holding weights or resistance bands.
It was probably one of the most amazing things I have participated in in a long time (and that saying a lot since the day before I had just participated in the shoot for the second episode of TBABC). I wish I could have videotaped the exam part. Framed just so, the whole ordeal would have looked like a perverse internment camp activity. Now I am going to have to go to all the trouble of getting back into the class just for videotaping purposes. I need some more material for my upcoming short film titled “Towel Boy and Group Girl.”
2.09.2008
2.07.2008
P1060469
Originally uploaded by kayekilla.
I now have a special black orb on all of my digital photos. Even after scrubbing my camera lens with my scarf, some paper towel, and the bottom of my forever 21 t-shirt, the orb was still there. It's on all of my pictures now. It's very noticable when you see all the pics lined up side by side.
It's a dark spirit circle trapped in my camera. My friend N says to send it away to panasonic but what will I do in the meantime? What if the orb follows me around? I can't imagine going a day without my dig. I think it's a censor, I mean sensor problem. Maybe the orb will be my trademark.
At the gym that I go to the fitness classes are sectioned off by a clear wall so you can see all the people working out on the stairclimbers and treadmills behind you while you are in aerobics class. My spin instructor likes to make fun of people who are using the equipment wrong. I also think she plays illegal music. It's totally lawless an irresponsible. I have begun to model my life after her.
I feel pretty good writing about my silly camera problems before even mentioning the fact that a huge building that housed one of my friends and about who knows how many other people and a rad independent record store burnt down in Detroit today. I think it is something so crappy that I prefer to just bury it away. I feel totally helpless not being able to do anything for her. I can't imagine what it is like to have your home and all your stuff burned up.
2.03.2008
Pear Blossom Winter
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