Jeff Phillips's Blog, page 17
May 15, 2011
Quality
I was flipping through the television and came across one of those auction hunter shows, where they bid for an abandoned storage unit and its contents and then collect the items to resell. In this one I caught a piece of, they had found an old old Victrola with an original Thomas Edison seal on it. They put together, tested it out, and it played! Roughly a hundred years old, and they flipped an old switch on it, to find that it still worked.
Over a year ago I saw the Titanic exhibit at the Museum of Science Minnesota in Minneapolis. An expansive display of old artifacts retrieved from the wrecked ship looked pristine, solid. Toothbrushes, shoe polish containers. Fairly intact. And I was struck with how solid things appeared to be built back in the "old days" (minus the Titanic). In our current times things seem so cheap. My iPod from three years ago hardly works, nor does my old stereo system from 10 years ago. Yet a Victrola from the early 1900s long sitting in a dusty unheated storage room still operates.
It makes sense though. The businessmen who orchestrated the commercial work of engineers soon learned that it's good business to build things NOT to last. Keeps the customers coming back for another round.
On another note, Friday night I watched The Shining on VHS. I reckoned to myself for a moment how much I enjoyed the look and feel of an old VHS movie on an old TV. There is a grainy murkiness that in a way makes it all the more dream like. The fading of the quality is both distancing and narcotic for me. And the images start to sink in further to my subconscious in a trance-like manner. I sort of now prefer an old degraded VHS movie watching experience to an Blu Ray display on an HDTV. On such a high tech flicker the picture is almost too crisp for nostalgia to lurk. But they way they make things now, I'm curious to check out the picture quality on one of those flatscreen TVs in 15 years.
Over a year ago I saw the Titanic exhibit at the Museum of Science Minnesota in Minneapolis. An expansive display of old artifacts retrieved from the wrecked ship looked pristine, solid. Toothbrushes, shoe polish containers. Fairly intact. And I was struck with how solid things appeared to be built back in the "old days" (minus the Titanic). In our current times things seem so cheap. My iPod from three years ago hardly works, nor does my old stereo system from 10 years ago. Yet a Victrola from the early 1900s long sitting in a dusty unheated storage room still operates.
It makes sense though. The businessmen who orchestrated the commercial work of engineers soon learned that it's good business to build things NOT to last. Keeps the customers coming back for another round.
On another note, Friday night I watched The Shining on VHS. I reckoned to myself for a moment how much I enjoyed the look and feel of an old VHS movie on an old TV. There is a grainy murkiness that in a way makes it all the more dream like. The fading of the quality is both distancing and narcotic for me. And the images start to sink in further to my subconscious in a trance-like manner. I sort of now prefer an old degraded VHS movie watching experience to an Blu Ray display on an HDTV. On such a high tech flicker the picture is almost too crisp for nostalgia to lurk. But they way they make things now, I'm curious to check out the picture quality on one of those flatscreen TVs in 15 years.
May 13, 2011
Trece de Viernes
I made beer battered onion rings and mushrooms for dinner. Cutting the onions was much fiercer a battle than expected. I teared up like a tragic player, and the old eyes stung sharply! At one point I had to close my eyes and had difficulty opening them. They were stung shut! I went on cutting in blindness. I can feel my way around. Kinesthetically, I'm astute. I had to take a break, splash my eyes with cool water, which almost worsened it momentarily. Then I pulled out an old pair of swimming goggles from under the bathroom sink and resumed chopping that fat, organic white onion. I'm a culinary pansy.
These were delicious. I popped open a Labatt's Blue this morning and let it sit out all day to flatten. It served its purpose well.
As a prelude into Friday the 13th I had a wicked dream which combined two of my favorite interests; ghosts and brewing. I dreamt I owned a lot of land in the woods in which I set out to till the soil and grow barley and hops. Soon I learned this land was haunted. I forget the cerebral flicker of details but I learned the history of the accumulation of ghosts through old maps of a failed, small town bus system. An old man, not quite a shaman, or perhaps a shaman well hidden in modern garb, introduced me to a thick mud out in the woods. There was a spread of white fungus, doing its thing within the dark brown, thickened soil. He taught me to eat it. It tasted like a brownie! It had hallucinogenic properties which were supposed to heighten my awareness of these bus inflicted ghosts. Unfortunately it didn't do the trick for me. The old man told me I needed to eat more. So I did. I only felt full. Then I was suddenly on a business trip in the Wisconsin Dells and drove past outdoor hotel pools, shallow ones for the kids. Little babies were swimming around with baby dolphins under fountains. It was more like wiggling and worming than swimming. It looked a bit grotesque.
This morning on my way to work I crossed the path of a penny on the ground, heads side up! I reckoned this should be good luck on this Friday the 13th of May! Yet when I got to work I found both toilets in the men's to not have been flushed the previous evening. I did a good deed and flushed both. But the bowl was stained so I went up to the fifth floor bathroom and there was a gross something floating in the bowl there too. And cocky was I from the weather this week that I wore a short sleeved polo shirt and no coat. When I stepped out for lunch, a cold front had swept in and dropped the air temperature about twenty degrees. I think that penny is laughing at me. Day was redeemed when beer battered onion rings and mushrooms entered my belly. Now I'm going to ring in the "holiday" watching Kubrick's The Shining with my cat. On Halloween after drinking it up with pumpkin ale I wound the night down with The Shining. My cat watched it intently! His eyes were glued! He wants to see it again!
These were delicious. I popped open a Labatt's Blue this morning and let it sit out all day to flatten. It served its purpose well.
As a prelude into Friday the 13th I had a wicked dream which combined two of my favorite interests; ghosts and brewing. I dreamt I owned a lot of land in the woods in which I set out to till the soil and grow barley and hops. Soon I learned this land was haunted. I forget the cerebral flicker of details but I learned the history of the accumulation of ghosts through old maps of a failed, small town bus system. An old man, not quite a shaman, or perhaps a shaman well hidden in modern garb, introduced me to a thick mud out in the woods. There was a spread of white fungus, doing its thing within the dark brown, thickened soil. He taught me to eat it. It tasted like a brownie! It had hallucinogenic properties which were supposed to heighten my awareness of these bus inflicted ghosts. Unfortunately it didn't do the trick for me. The old man told me I needed to eat more. So I did. I only felt full. Then I was suddenly on a business trip in the Wisconsin Dells and drove past outdoor hotel pools, shallow ones for the kids. Little babies were swimming around with baby dolphins under fountains. It was more like wiggling and worming than swimming. It looked a bit grotesque.
This morning on my way to work I crossed the path of a penny on the ground, heads side up! I reckoned this should be good luck on this Friday the 13th of May! Yet when I got to work I found both toilets in the men's to not have been flushed the previous evening. I did a good deed and flushed both. But the bowl was stained so I went up to the fifth floor bathroom and there was a gross something floating in the bowl there too. And cocky was I from the weather this week that I wore a short sleeved polo shirt and no coat. When I stepped out for lunch, a cold front had swept in and dropped the air temperature about twenty degrees. I think that penny is laughing at me. Day was redeemed when beer battered onion rings and mushrooms entered my belly. Now I'm going to ring in the "holiday" watching Kubrick's The Shining with my cat. On Halloween after drinking it up with pumpkin ale I wound the night down with The Shining. My cat watched it intently! His eyes were glued! He wants to see it again!
Friends or Benefits
This a short sketch video I'm in over at Wood Sugars. We did a bunch of these as part of the "Friends or Benefits" series. Be sure to browse our channel for more of them. I had a blast. I was originally just helping with sound on this project but had a last minute idea for a character I wanted to try. These type of short short movies takes me back...growing up, what my friends and I did for fun was make movies. Just make them up as we went along. As a grown man, that sort of thing is still a blast.
Friends of Benefits
This a short sketch video I'm in over at Wood Sugars. We did a bunch of these as part of the "Friends or Benefits" series. Be sure to browse our channel for more of them. I had a blast. I was originally just helping with sound on this project but had a last minute idea for a character I wanted to try. These type of short short movies takes me back...growing up, what my friends and I did for fun was make movies. Just make them up as we went along. As a grown man, that sort of thing is still a blast.
May 12, 2011
Spray
I just sneezed all of a sudden and sprayed snot all over my laptop. I think I got it all cleaned up but I still feel dirty now typing away here. Sometimes I hate sneezing. I know they say that to feel a sneeze is to feel 1/10th of an orgasm, or 1/100th of an orgasm, some stat like that. (I'm curious how this is measured. Do they set people up neuro-sensors and record their brain waves while having sex as a control experiment? Then wave pepper up their noses to compare?) I feel more irritation than anything when I sneeze. Particularly, after eating a granola or cereal bar. I think I'm allergic to something in them. I sneeze harshly after the first couple of bites. Yet I keep eating them because they are a convenient form of breakfast in a go-go-go society. Store brands make me sneeze most viciously and it's painful when I get granola chunks flung up my nasal passage. So I steer away from generic granola bars. I'm a granola bar snob. Or granola bar snot, if I may work in a pun.
I'm thinking on the correlation maybe, of this sudden sneeze spasm. I am sitting here drinking cold water and hot coffee simultaneously. Work day appropriate double fisting. Perhaps the alternating temperatures are doing weird things to my interior systems. After all, alternating from cold air conditioning and hot muggy outdoors does odd things to my body, like summer colds. But I like drinking a lot of coffee. And I like drinking a lot of water. I drink too much of each. I am a liquid fiend. I'm also curious on the psychology of this. Like a fixation. I always like to be drinking something. I get this way with beer too, I like to keep going. Not necessarily in an alcoholic way. I'm less interested in the buzz or the inebriation then I am in the taste and flow. What would Freud say about me?
I also tend to write a lot of stories about liquids. Last night at our monthly dystopian reading series I read a short story of mine about indie craft soda pop making scenesters. I had a lot of fun reading/writing this one. Add it to the collection of other liquid oriented tales; Church Decaf, Whiskey Pike, Tea Man, Steep!, Sake Date in a Mustard Field, Nagasaki Lagoon. Etc. Maybe I'll put together a liquid themed story collection. Or just submit them around like random corks riding the ocean waves. [Insert poetic conclusion]
Bottoms up.I feel sneeze coming o-n-
I'm thinking on the correlation maybe, of this sudden sneeze spasm. I am sitting here drinking cold water and hot coffee simultaneously. Work day appropriate double fisting. Perhaps the alternating temperatures are doing weird things to my interior systems. After all, alternating from cold air conditioning and hot muggy outdoors does odd things to my body, like summer colds. But I like drinking a lot of coffee. And I like drinking a lot of water. I drink too much of each. I am a liquid fiend. I'm also curious on the psychology of this. Like a fixation. I always like to be drinking something. I get this way with beer too, I like to keep going. Not necessarily in an alcoholic way. I'm less interested in the buzz or the inebriation then I am in the taste and flow. What would Freud say about me?
I also tend to write a lot of stories about liquids. Last night at our monthly dystopian reading series I read a short story of mine about indie craft soda pop making scenesters. I had a lot of fun reading/writing this one. Add it to the collection of other liquid oriented tales; Church Decaf, Whiskey Pike, Tea Man, Steep!, Sake Date in a Mustard Field, Nagasaki Lagoon. Etc. Maybe I'll put together a liquid themed story collection. Or just submit them around like random corks riding the ocean waves. [Insert poetic conclusion]
Bottoms up.I feel sneeze coming o-n-
May 10, 2011
8x8
I will be both reading a short story and performing sketch comedy with my group Wood Sugars tonight at this thing!
May 8, 2011
Kentucky Derby for Beer Bucks
Last night I dreamt I was at work. Making sales from a large office set up like stadium seating, an exaggerated lecture hall configuration. The whole thing flowed like a bizarre game. Make a sale, pop a crumbled piece of paper into a basket at the front of the room. Make it in there. Then wiggle out from the seat and slide down to the next row via a dry slip and slide aisle. This continued until finally one made it out of the front row, towards the door, and on our way home. Pretty symbolic of life, of careers if you ask me. I continued to wiggle on my belly along the median of Lake Shore Drive on a slimy slip and slide all of the way home, while shifting slivers of paper out from my pockets, leaving them behind to the drift of cars to my sides.
Yesterday was the Kentucky Derby! I'm not usually intense about sports but Animal Kingdom's sprint to the finish stirred my blood. It was a neat turn of events for that team of horse, jockey, trainer, owner. I thought about my Dad quite a bit yesterday (he passed away from a battle with cancer in 2002). He had fervently made his way to the Kentucky Derby for many (30 some?) years to partake in the debauchery of the infield. He began his venture there in his early college days by hitchhiking down there, clothes in a brown grocery bag. I've often heard stories from him while listening to ball games on the radio during a hot summer night's ride in the car, and recently my Mother found a folder of his writings - memoirs of his experiences at the Derby. These are quite educational. My coworker Andrew actually went to the Derby this weekend. I've been meaning to make my way down there one of these days, carry on my father's tradition. Maybe next year I'll finally do it. Andrew offered to place a bet for me. I passed on the offer as I'm not necessarily in the financial position to be betting on horses.
But the urge did come to me. When I was 8 at we lived in Pittsburgh my Dad would often take us to a "Downs" outside the city and place bets for us. This was something I got quite into, and overly passionate about. When my horse did not do well, I'd be in angry tears. I liked winning some dollars and the fast paced announcement of the hard trotting positions. So this weekend I devised a betting system with my girlfriend. We'd each write down our picks for places 1, 2, 3. We'd compare our first place picks with the final results, whoever finished best, got 3 points. We'd do the same for our second place picks for 2 points. And the same for third for 1 point. Whoever had the most points got to drag the other to Binny's and choose up to $20 of liquor. Despite my best pick placing 8th (Stay Thirsty, I picked in homage to my hero, the Most Interesting Man in the World) I won! So next weekend I will be redeeming for some tasty craft beers. Or maybe some Mint Juleps to keep the taste in my mouth.
Yesterday was the Kentucky Derby! I'm not usually intense about sports but Animal Kingdom's sprint to the finish stirred my blood. It was a neat turn of events for that team of horse, jockey, trainer, owner. I thought about my Dad quite a bit yesterday (he passed away from a battle with cancer in 2002). He had fervently made his way to the Kentucky Derby for many (30 some?) years to partake in the debauchery of the infield. He began his venture there in his early college days by hitchhiking down there, clothes in a brown grocery bag. I've often heard stories from him while listening to ball games on the radio during a hot summer night's ride in the car, and recently my Mother found a folder of his writings - memoirs of his experiences at the Derby. These are quite educational. My coworker Andrew actually went to the Derby this weekend. I've been meaning to make my way down there one of these days, carry on my father's tradition. Maybe next year I'll finally do it. Andrew offered to place a bet for me. I passed on the offer as I'm not necessarily in the financial position to be betting on horses.
But the urge did come to me. When I was 8 at we lived in Pittsburgh my Dad would often take us to a "Downs" outside the city and place bets for us. This was something I got quite into, and overly passionate about. When my horse did not do well, I'd be in angry tears. I liked winning some dollars and the fast paced announcement of the hard trotting positions. So this weekend I devised a betting system with my girlfriend. We'd each write down our picks for places 1, 2, 3. We'd compare our first place picks with the final results, whoever finished best, got 3 points. We'd do the same for our second place picks for 2 points. And the same for third for 1 point. Whoever had the most points got to drag the other to Binny's and choose up to $20 of liquor. Despite my best pick placing 8th (Stay Thirsty, I picked in homage to my hero, the Most Interesting Man in the World) I won! So next weekend I will be redeeming for some tasty craft beers. Or maybe some Mint Juleps to keep the taste in my mouth.
May 1, 2011
A scene with Bluetooth Man
The following is a scene which took place on the corner of Cornelia/Broadway in Chicago.
A car parks at the side of the road. Two men and a young woman exit the car. The two men are both wearing Cubs hats. One of them is younger, he has a Bluetooth in his ear. The other is older, could be his father. A third man struggles to get out of the back seat. The Bluetooth Man goes to pay the parking meter. The older man paces in the quiet street. He might be slightly intoxicated. No traffic passes.
BLUETOOTH MAN: Jim! Get out of the road!JIM: What?BLUETOOTH MAN: You're stumbling in the road.WOMAN: Do you want some money for parking?BLUETOOTH MAN: No. I think I can afford three dollars.
The man in the backseat finally gets out. He limps. The woman helps him close the door.
BLUETOOTH MAN: Jim! Stop walking around in the road!LIMPER: What's he doing?BLUETOOTH MAN: He's stumbling around in the street! (Chuckles)JIM: Oh well.
The Bluetooth Man places the parking slip in the window. All of them walk away from the car, j-walking at the lead of the Bluetooth Man.
I felt I had to write this. The demeanor of the Bluetooth Man was beyond douche bag. I hope that it is apparent in the behavior exchange above.
A car parks at the side of the road. Two men and a young woman exit the car. The two men are both wearing Cubs hats. One of them is younger, he has a Bluetooth in his ear. The other is older, could be his father. A third man struggles to get out of the back seat. The Bluetooth Man goes to pay the parking meter. The older man paces in the quiet street. He might be slightly intoxicated. No traffic passes.
BLUETOOTH MAN: Jim! Get out of the road!JIM: What?BLUETOOTH MAN: You're stumbling in the road.WOMAN: Do you want some money for parking?BLUETOOTH MAN: No. I think I can afford three dollars.
The man in the backseat finally gets out. He limps. The woman helps him close the door.
BLUETOOTH MAN: Jim! Stop walking around in the road!LIMPER: What's he doing?BLUETOOTH MAN: He's stumbling around in the street! (Chuckles)JIM: Oh well.
The Bluetooth Man places the parking slip in the window. All of them walk away from the car, j-walking at the lead of the Bluetooth Man.
I felt I had to write this. The demeanor of the Bluetooth Man was beyond douche bag. I hope that it is apparent in the behavior exchange above.
Repost or Die (this is just a title, don't take seriously)
I always have a tough time when I see those types of messages, either e-mailed as a forward or posted on a status that mention something along the lines of "you must repost or you will get bad luck for such and such years." My rational thought process lets me know it is bullshit, it is imaginary consequences for something to go viral for inane, anonymous motivations. But still, fear gets stirred in me for the moment, especially when it points to bad luck with money. Living paycheck to paycheck, that, well, freaks me out, just thinking about it. I'm susceptible to some degree of superstition. Growing up I did some small boat sailing, and I found in races, when the wind would lull, if I spat over the side of the boat in odd numbers, for instance, if I spat 3 times, I'd get a little gust of wind, a boost of momentum. And as I kept this up, I won races! So, if spit helped me win sailing regattas, perhaps there is substance in a goofy chain letter. What if there is a curse involved? I think, is it worth risking, shan't I just repost it for good measure? But when I get ultra rational and metaphysical, I think on the fact that most "curses" are brought on through calling up the help of spirits or demons. And when it comes down to it, to incant a curse through facebook or an AOL message...I'm pretty certain spirits and demons do not pay attention to any shit that goes down on the internet. Beelzebub does not have a facebook account. So I am probably pretty safe for not reposting that status I saw about Chinese money luck.
April 30, 2011
Soap Sud/Lingering Drain Formations
I was taking a shower and noticed the formation of soap and shampoo foam looking like a little white head, with two bubbles opening up - the eyes. And a tiny bubble, a little gaping mouth. The foam pointed into a little edge, a little tail that flickered and wavered in the rushing water. It looked like a happy little sperm man.
At work, in one of the bathroom stalls, there are little holes and indentations in the bricks of the wall. They line up like constellations to form little faces. Some look like rabbits, dogs, old grimacing men. Dramatic faces yawning and bellowing.
I like seeing things configured in the shading of objects. Perhaps it is a healthy function of Gestalt psychology being sound. The brain is filling in patterns and adding flavor to perception. The imagination is being exercised. Or perhaps this a bad habit, for some day down the road when dementia sets it sails, these patterns recognized become all too vivid and undecipherable from reality. A frightening face on the bathroom wall would stop my bowels.
At work, in one of the bathroom stalls, there are little holes and indentations in the bricks of the wall. They line up like constellations to form little faces. Some look like rabbits, dogs, old grimacing men. Dramatic faces yawning and bellowing.
I like seeing things configured in the shading of objects. Perhaps it is a healthy function of Gestalt psychology being sound. The brain is filling in patterns and adding flavor to perception. The imagination is being exercised. Or perhaps this a bad habit, for some day down the road when dementia sets it sails, these patterns recognized become all too vivid and undecipherable from reality. A frightening face on the bathroom wall would stop my bowels.
