oh well

The blazers lost. Life goes on. Come Autumn we will have another exciting season.

P.S. I know that my blog posts have been sucking as of late, I will try to do better. It is difficult to produce engaging content on a daily basis.


Song of the Day: Build a Church with Your Fear , Animals on Wheels

Blazers

WON!!! very exciting. Let's see if they can upset the Rockets in Houston on Thursday. The Blazers are becoming very distracting, keeping me from my school work. The games keep landing on dates and times that I have set aside for school, which means I have gotten little done recently. Oh well, it will probably be over on Thursday.



Song of the Day: No Quarter, Led Zeppelin

Camping trip

Camping was a blast. Cape lookout was beautiful, if only a little drizzly at times. I made a very boneheaded mistake and forgot the propane stove and tarps which I had stacked next to the car but somehow had not loaded into the car. We made do by cooking directly on the camp fire. This proved quite fun and challenging.

We stopped at the Tillamook Cheese Factory twice (coming and going), walked on the beach, explored tide pools, played frisbee, made each other laugh, spent many hours struggling with the fire so we could cook, ate loads of snacks, laid in our hammocks, and in general had a good time.

The hike out to the point of Cape Lookout was beautiful and arduous. The first time I walked this trail it was shrouded in mist and fog, concealing all of these beautiful shots of the ocean you see here.

This is what my hair does without shampoo and a brush:


Song of the Day: Tanto Tempo, Bebel Gilberto

Camping

I am going camping tomorrow! w00t! None of the places that I usually go camping are open yet for the season so we have to "settle" for Cape Lookout State Park. Here are some pictures other people have taken of the park:

This day FTW

Today was good. I got a good amount of work done in the metals studio and a little bit of printmaking done as well. I then met up with some pals and went to Ben & Jerry's Free Cone Day at both the Pioneer Square location AND the Pearl location (which NEVER has a line). I had three cones which has proved too much for my frail, lactose intolent stomach. We then walked along the water front and across the Hawthorne Bridge to Roots brewpub where we watched the Blazers beat the Rockets. Unfortunately, my sore tummy cut the night short. The walk home in the warm night was wonderful though.

Good day. Much sun. Very tired. Studio work. Sun burnt. Tasty lunch. Taco salad. Tasty dinner. BBQ chicken. Frisbee lessons. Easy chatter. Two parks. One twice. Gross Slurpees. Never again. Fine ladies. Naughty dog. Blistered feet. Warm night. Brother Mexico. Airport pickup. Today relaxed. Tomorrow studious.

Mason Bees. and something else about thievery corporation

My dad has created a happy little Mason Bee community in the tool shed in his back yard. Mason Bees are a group of species from the Megachilidae family that find there homes in reeds and other small holes, mortaring up the entrances with mud and clay.

As far as I can tell, we have two different species living back there. One is the Orchard Mason Bee and the other is…

WE INTERRUPT THIS MESSAGE WITH AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.

THIEVERY CORPORATION!

These folks put on one of the best live shows I have ever seen. When I first saw them three years ago I thought it was just gonna be two dudes standing behind their turntables and drum machines fiddling nobs. Boy was I wrong. almost every instrument was played live, there where a half dozen vocalists, and the music was nonstop. Tonight's show exceeded my expectations left over from the first one.

Tonight had fourteen performers on stage, all of them fucking tearing it up. There were Rob Garza and Eric Hilton (the founding members), two percussionists (one of which also sang), two horn players, a bassist, a guitar/sitar player, a french singer from Iran, a Portuguese singer from Brazil, an American singing in English, a singer from Jamaica, and two singers from different parts of Africa. whoa.

They played FOUR encores! my ears are ringing right now, not so much from the music, but from the deafening crowd. I know bands on tour always say that whatever city they are in is the best, but all of the performerd seemed really sincere about it. The crowds enthusiasm raised several eyebrows and parted many grins on stage. There was a reason they had to add a second night in Portland; Portland loves them.



My dad and I had loads of fun. They play again tomorrow night. If you don't already have tickets to the sold out show, try getting some from scalpers at the door, it'll be worth it!


Song of the Day: Radio Retaliation, Thievery Corporation

Taken out…

…to the ball game that is!

Last night I enjoyed my second professional, local sporting event this week. The Weaver clan took me to see the Portland Beavers' opening night against the Fresno Grizzlies at PGE Park.

Papa Weaver, Mama Weaver, R-Rizzle, The Weava Weav, and Myself. From left to right

For all intents and purposes, this was my first real baseball game; something Weave Weav and I have been trying to remedy for over a year now. I found it quite enjoyable. Though, the pace was achingly slow after the stimuli blitz that was the Blazers game on Monday.

The stands seemed a little empty to me for an opening night with 6,834 fans:


The Beavers went on to beat the Grizzlies 4-3. Good for them!


Mama and Papa Weaver with Lucky the Beaver:




Song of the Day: Honey, Erykah Badu

Hands

I am working on a series of prints that explore the form of functional hands. Most hands when seen in art are fairly posed and idealized. Nothing wrong with this, it's just not what the hands I see from day to day look like. I few months ago I was sipping tea and eating noodles. I noticed that the hand holding the tea cup (my left) was in a very interesting shape. Using my other hand, I lifted the cup from where I was cradling it, trying my darnedest to keep the left hand as it was when holding the cup. What I found was a very appealing shape. It was my hand, functioning as it is meant to do, i.e. completely intuitively and adaptively. I had not willed it into this unique shape, with the ring and pinky finger tucked beneath the base of the cup, and the thumb bookending the cup with the middle and index fingers. My hand had created this perfect chassis completely on its own, without conscious edict from the brain. I find this fascinating.

I became curious about what the right hand was doing. It was feeding my face noodles with some chopsticks is what it was doing! I was a little more familiar with this hand posture, having waxed technical in a knowing (read: annoying) manner about Princess Masako's instructions on proper chopstick form and official technique and how they vary from my own to anyone who would listen. Like I did with the cup, I carefully removed the chopsticks without disturbing the posture of the hand. What I saw looked something like this:


I began playing around with different objects and seeing what the "functional hand" (as I am calling it) looked like. It looked good. The appeal of the functional hand lingered but I wasn't sure what to do with it. But while packing my portfolio of prints to go to Chicago, I took a look at a print I made two years ago; The print is a 16 foot long scroll detailing the historical ninja (as apposed to the modern, fictional ninja). One of the sections depicted some of the Mudra that ninja used in their spiritual practice. Here is one from the scroll:

My functional hand idea immediately came to mind and I came up with the idea of presenting these hand postures with lino-cuts.

Here is the first (chopsticks):

I originally planned to have the black background, but then thought of maybe having a white background with a simple border to frame it in. Here is a bad photoshop mock up of what that might look like:

Which style do you prefer?

I have already begun compiling photos of my hands doing various things with and without objects. But I don't want to just show my hands, I would like to do yours too! let me know if you are interested. I would love to draw your hands!

Song of the Day: El Pueblo Unido, Thievery Corporation. Today I bought my tickets to Sunday night's show. w00t!

What the fuck is a Trail Cat?

So I got a call yesterday from my friend Weava Weav who gave me the most exciting news: She had free Blazers tickets. EFF YEAH! Her mother in law (not really, it's complicated) had bought tickets for the last three home games and couldn't make it to the last one against the Oklahoma City Thunder, and the tickets ended up in her paws. She is an awesome friend who thought of me to share the two seats with. Not only were they tickets to a sold out Blazers game, they were awesome tickets to a sold out blazers game. $140 tickets. Each. HOORAH!

When we arrived we thought we would have to go up some stairs to find our seats. An usher halted us and directed us down, toward the court. As you can see from the above picture, we were only a handful of rows back from the action. Amazing. Look at our glee:

We were right behind one of the baskets, which meant we were given some of those inflatable tube things that you bang together when the apposing team is shooting free throws.

These games are events far beyond what is happening on the court. Everywhere we looked our eyes were filled with flashing lights, twirling streamers, jumbo-trons, Blazer Dancers, Blaze the Trail Cat, and screaming fans. I was extremely over stimulated for several hours.

The game was a complete blowout. At some point in the second quarter the Blazers had above a thirty point lead and pretty much held it there for the rest of the game. The final score was 113-83 Blazers. Incredible.

After the game we went and ate meat and veggie burgers w/ Tatter-tots, drank beer, and played pool. What an awesome night.


Song of the Day: Halcyon & on & on, Orbital. This song was on constant rotation on my stereo when I was in middle school.

Phobias

Fear and phobia are not the same thing. I believe fear is a reaction, left over from our flight/fight days, that helps us deal with the threat of potentially real harm. Phobias are quite different. Phobias are often highly irrational fears of rather innocuous things. For much of my life my primary phobia was clowns, I just didn't like them ONE BIT. I refuse to watch any movie that involves a scary clown (IT, Poltergeist, Killer Clowns from Outer Space, etc.), I avoid them at Saturday Market, and the clown covered facade of the Wonderland arcade will always displease me. But over the years clowns have bothered me less and less. Don't get me wrong, I still hate the fuckers, but I no longer cringe away in fright.

For me, the absolute worst thing for me to encounter is the Common House Centipede

Just finding that image on Google made my heart race.

This is a completely irrational, unfounded phobia. I have never had any traumatic experience with these little fuckers to account for my extreme fear of them. When I see one I shriek loudly, leap in the air, and quickly get very far away from it. But I can't let my eye off of it! Oh no! Because if I take my eye off of it I will no longer know where it is. And the only thing worse than a terror is an unseen terror.

I have read up on this species of centipede (all centipedes I am phobic of actually, but these are the worst) and learned that they are an extremely beneficial pest control species, feeding on spiders, bedbugs, termites, cockroaches, silverfish, and ants. In fact, unlike house spiders, they are extremely unlikely to bite humans. I have no logical reason to be absolutely horrified by them. But I am.

So tonight, I am laying on the floor next to the fire place, the warm embers lulling me to a nice, sleepy state of mind. Suddenly, Walter comes along and shoves his nose up my right pant leg and begins to snuffle like mad. For a moment I laugh and let him because he is always doing hilarious things like this, but then his tail began to wave wildly, in the special way that he does only when he has found a small creature to chase and eat. For a split second a house centipede flashes across my mind as a potential denizen of my pants, the thought quickly pushed aside as something too horrible to be true. As this brief line of thoughts is running through my head, I stand up and shake my leg out.

A two inch long house centipede smacks audibly into the floor. Walter lunges at the writhing horror as I lose my shit and launch myself towards the other corner of the room. It vanished as quickly as it appeared into Walters gnashing maw, leaving a gooey smear on the floor. AAAAAAHHHH! IT! WAS! IN! MY! PANTS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.




Song of the Day: Great Gig in the Sky (Live), Pink Floyd. This version always gives me chills.

Pugilism part two

Over the years I have studied many martial arts styles. Primarily Chinese Kung Fu such as Hung Gar, Choi Lee Fut, Lau Gar, Wing Chun, Bak Siu Lum, Yang and Chen Tai Chi Chuan, and others. I have also studied principles from various Japanese Aiki systems, striking arts, and grappling arts. These have all been pivotal to my understanding of the fighting arts, crucially so, but my skill lies in the principles that govern the Black Dragon Kung Fu style.

Black Dragon Kung Fu can be described with three concepts: Iron Hand, Poison Hand, and Dragon Tail. Yes, these may sound wankerishly esoteric, but this is how they are referenced. Iron Hand is the study and application of hard, external techniques. This means sharp punches, heavy kicks, gruesome elbows and knees. Iron Hand is trained with push-ups, punching the bag, breaking rocks, kicking poles; it is the hard, brawny side of martial arts.

Poison Hand is a little more cerebral. It utilizes "softer" techniques like joint manipulation, evasive footwork, and pressure point fighting. Poison Hand is trained with meditation, Sticky hands/Chi Sau, and Chi Gung. Poison Hand is viewed by many who see martial arts as hard and aggressive as an ineffective, wussy approach to the art. I understand this belief, but know first hand how effectively debilitating a well placed joint lock or Dim Mak strike can be. I am the first to admit that Poison Hand is far less effective at quickly creating an effective fighter, but that is not the point of it; Poison Hand allows a martial artist to have the greatest effect with the least effort, it just takes much longer to master than punching someone in the face.

Dragon Tail is a fanciful, old Chinese way of saying "Leg Techniques." But this does not simply mean kicking. The beginning of all martial arts, and I could say any physical activity, is in the stance, or the way you stand. "Stance is the engine that drives the waist, the waist is the engine that drives the hands." Dragon Tail training builds strength, balance, and suppleness in the legs/stance. All martial arts have the concept of the stance, whether it's the strictly defined catalog of kung fu stances, or the loose, dynamic dance of western boxing. Beyond stance work, Dragon Tail also defines kicks, the variety of techniques and ideas of which is staggering.

These three ideas, Iron and Poison Hand and Dragon Tail, is the lens through which I view the martial arts. They make up what is Black Dragon Kung Fu. The Black Dragon Society has a long and complicated history. I will concentrate it by saying simply that it saw its beginning in the early eighties in the mind of Charles Wilk under the tutelage of Isidro "Iron Hand" Archibeque. Charles taught hundreds of people throughout Washington and Oregon, finally settling in Portland. My dad began training with him in the late eighties/early nineties when the school was more focused on Japanese martial arts. Throughout the years the school saw its home in various locations, from garages, to the after hours of acupuncture clinic waiting rooms. I believe the school found residence in the former autobody garage on 21st and Division sometime around 1997. This space became the White Tiger Training Hall and carried the school through it's heyday; it is where I first attended class in 1999.

Charles retired the school to my dad and Sean sometime in the early 2000's and went his separate way. A few years later we all had a very convoluted falling out with Charles. This is regrettable, for Charles is an amazing teacher, healer, and friend, but one can't deny the recognizable pattern of him pushing away those who are near to him throughout his life. I cherish my time spent with him, but do not shed any tears over his repellent behavior. Our lives, and the school, have moved on without him just fine.

In the Summer of 2007, the building that housed the White Tiger Training hall was sold out from underneath us for millions of dollars. This was rather traumatic and distressing at the time, but the school found a new home in the garage and backyard of Tracy and Sean's house. This may seem like a downgrade to the outside observer, but in practice it is a healthy evolution of the school. The black Dragon Society has never been a public, profit driven school. Instead we are an underground, word of mouth institution. Standing outside our doors, an observer would be unlikely to finger us as a martial arts training hall. Our school, in a lot of ways, has a lot more in common with a club house than the Cobra Kai Dojo. We are a group of friends, brought together by the inexplicable urge to beat the crap out of each other on Sunday mornings.

And this is what is so appealing to me about my martial practice. The Black Dragon Society has expanded my number of family members by several hundred percent. Over the years the martial arts have turned casual friends into best friends (hello Katelyn, Robert, and Jesse!) and deepened my respect and understanding of people that are unlike me. I would not be, even remotely, the person I am today without the Martial Arts.




Song of the Day: Hip Hop Barrio, Up, Bustle and Out

Pugilism

Ten years ago this month I went to my first kung fu class. I remember it well. It was a Saturday morning, and I was going to go to Sean's class with my dad. He recommended that I wear some comfortable workout clothes, I put on some sweat pants and a thermal top and we took off on our bikes. Along the way we passed my girlfriend of the time (Hi Whitney!) who was doing some sort of activity with her Girl's Science Club. She later mocked me ruthlessly for my dorky "Bicycling Garb." I have never again worn sweat pants to work out. Arriving at the Kung Fu school, we were greeted by Sean and Wendy. I remember feeling so awkward and feeble against these three titans of Kung Fu.

I was instantly hooked. I attended all of the classes I could. I soaked up everything my teachers said. I emulated the moves and techniques of my classmates. I watched Jackie Chan and Jet Li movies over and over. I gave it my all. At the time it never really occurred to me that I was thirteen years old in a school full of people in their thirties and forties, they were like my family.

I was soon allowed to participate in the black sash classes. This rocketed my practice, I was attending four classes a week under the tutelage of three masters. Not to mention that I lived with one of them, trading blows in the kitchen (leading to my mother's only rule: NO KUNG FU IN THE KITCHEN!) and sharing new techniques after dinner. I soaked kung fu up.

I soon had my black belt, a symbol in our school not of absolute mastery, but a sign of a practitioners commitment to the art and the community of the school. It is the beginning, not the end, of training. I wore it proudly for some time, but then gradually wore it less and less. It was important only that I knew I had it, and not so much that others did. It inspired me to train harder.

A few years later I was awarded my third degree black sash, symbolizing that, should I desire, I could begin teaching. In the Fall of 2002 I began teaching kung fu at my high school. It was after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I had it set up so that any student could earn PE credits through working with me on an independent study. I had expected perhaps five people to register for the class, a size I thought would be quite good. When I received the class list a week before school began my jaw hit the floor. Thirty people were registered for my silly little kung fu class. The registrar said that more had signed up but all classes were capped at thirty students. I had not expected this. The largest class I had ever taught was probably four people while substituting for Sean. I had never even participated in a martial arts class of that size.

The first day of my kung fu class, the people came streaming in. I had decided that I had to at least halve the class size to fifteen, which was still considerably larger than I felt comfortable with. First I begged and pleaded for volunteers to drop the class, which yielded low results. I then tried to convince them that the weren't XTREME enough by brutally tossing Jesse around a little bit, thinking it might dissuade some people from wanting to participate. This had the opposite effect, garnering oohs and aahs from class. Finally I had to pull the dick move and kick out all the Freshman and Sophomore students, Junior and Senior students having priority in classes. I was able to get it down to fifteen students eventually, which was very difficult to handle.

I learned a lot from this experience, mostly about my art and some valuable lessons about instruction. It is amazing how much you learn something at a deeper level when you begin to teach it, everything that has become automatic and subconscious must be dragged up to the surface and explained in full detail to inquiring minds.

The class only lasted six moths. I would say that only a hand full of people out of the fifteen were actually interested in learning martial arts, the rest just needed the easy PE credits or were there to just hang out with friends. To get anything done this meant I had to be a hard ass with my peers, and even students who were older than me. I didn't enjoy this, and I don't feel it lead to any real learning. It all came to a head when I was forced to ask one of my best friends to not attend any more classes because she was just not taking it seriously. This of course went very badly and I became burnt out in a matter of moments.


Oops, I've gotta go to class, I will finish this later.

Le Monde

I am tired. Here is the song of the day:


Tomorrow I plan to write a more substantial post about something that is very important to me. Tune in.

My current plan:

1) Graduate
2) Get a job
3) In September apply for JET program
4) Live life
. . . until August 2010
5) Leave for Japan(!)
6) Teach English in Japan for a minimum of one year
7) Become fluent in the native tongue.

I am so ready for summer

as confirmed by today. It's still early in the term, which means I have things I could be doing, but nothing that I must be doing. So I took the day off. I mean, I did a few things that were required of me. But mostly I just slacked off in a glorious fashion. Tomorrow I hope to begin working on work. I have two back-to-back three hour classes in rooms with no windows. So, though I will miss the sun, I will not be dissuaded from work by the sight of it. This is the plan anyway.

Much of the Talking Heads oeuvre is, in my mind, synonymous with the warmer seasons (I'm listening to Little Creatures as I write this) So when I ran across this video today I threw up my hands and said "Yes!" It's a pretty sweet mix by some DJ I've never heard of before. Enjoy:



Song of the Day: See above video.

What a beautiful day

I was happy to see the sun and feel the warm breeze.



Song of the Day: Everyday People, Arrested Development (don't make fun of me)

A list of things

°A green candle stub
°A combination desk/chair for elementary schools
°The state of Kansas
°A house Plant
°The ring finger on my left hand
°The setting sun
°A bowl of stale candies
°Your mothers bra
°A dog's chew toy
°A steaming loaf of fresh bread
°The way my mouth tastes when I wake up
°A sleeping tiger in Siberia
°A snow globe
°The mole on your neck
°Electricity
°A string of Salami in a store window
°The landfill containing the rubble from the Trojan Nuclear cooling tower
°A cup of crushed ice
°Dryer lint
°Mother of Pearl earrings
°A dusting of gray hairs in a man's beard
°The flame in a chef's pan
°A flaring nostril
°An empty picture frame from the Goodwill
°HVAC duct work
°A fashionable hairstyle
°The last roll at the dinner table
°A Jenga tower
°His father's last tooth
°A discarded sweater
°A fine collection of folk records
°The droppings of a gull
°The asteroid belt
°Your dog's foot pad
°An analog alarm clock
°A piece of the Hindenburg
°Limited collectors edition Back to the Future Laser Disc
°Napoleon's tomb
°San Fransisco
°A Two-hole punch
°Doctor Who's robotic dog, K9
°My pocket spatula
°A thermos full of bisque
°The last Mastodon to die


Song of the Day: Many Moons, Janelle Monae

Spring Term

I have finished the first week of the last term of my college career. I did nothing. I blame the flu. Mostly. I mean, the first day of class is always just spent getting the syllabus and that's it, which took up all of Monday and Tuesday. I took Wednesday off as a sick day. And today I had my metalsmithing class, which I felt totally out of place in. To get my degree I must take an upper division art class elective outside of my emphasis (printmaking), thus this metals class. All the other students in the class are advanced jewelry students who know exactly what they are doing and are familiar with one another. I spent the first hour today scribbling out some stupid ideas for a project in my notebook, keeping to myself, while everyone else was already bustling around, hammering copper, soldering silver, and raising brass. I felt in over my head. There was no work for me to do so I took off early.

I'm gonna do some thinking this weekend about all the projects I hope to work on/finish this term and make some game plans. My classes are all very self guided which deserves to be a good thing but could end up being a big slacking fest. I believe I will be motivated though, last term was lacking in motivation and I really didn't enjoy it. Also, I am a little pumped from the Chicago trip and that should light a fire under me.


Song of the Day: Movements, Roots Manuva

Influenza

Good God Damn do I hate being sick. My 30+ hours without sleep on my return trip from Chicago started it all off. Since Sunday I have just been feeling worse and worse. Well, actually I think I may have plateaued around noon today. I took today off from school and lazed about feeling sorry for myself. I watched a lot of stand up comedy on youtube, which made me feel better, but also started coughing fits every time I laughed. Luis C.K. is a highly offensive man that I just couldn't stop laughing at. The man is goddamned funny.

Ooh! Katelyn just surprised me with some to-go house special wonton soup from Wong's King. She is the Best!

Anyway, don't get the flu. That is my advice to you.



Song of the Day: Your Koolest Smile, Flunk