Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Attacked by a bird!


I was walking down the street under a low hanging tree and this little guy pecked me on the head twice and was going for more until I batted him away. Nerd that I am I had to Google this little shit. i remembered he was yellow breasted and aggressive. This is what I found:

"The western kingbird is very aggressive and will attack hawks, crows, and ravens which come close to its nest. Humans have also been dived upon by this bird, however, the outcome is more surprising than harmful."

Labels:

Friday, January 05, 2007

Some things I have learned in life up to now (29 years.)

Some things I have learned in life up to now (29 years.)

  1. Do whatever it takes to stay busy and out of trouble.
  2. Find work; enroll in school even if just for one class.
  3. Worry only about being content and patient for success.
  4. Then worry about your family and pleasing and helping them.
  5. Friends come and go. Family is forever.
  6. Pray when times are hard.
  7. Pray when times are good to give thanks.
  8. Read, write, listen to music, ride a bike or skate.
  9. If your mind is still racing, write down what it is racing about.
  10. Find someone to play chess or dominoes or cards with once a week.
  11. Exercise and eat right.
  12. Sleep when you are tired at night and stay up all day.
  13. Remember where trouble and temptation have taken you, but do not live in the past.
  14. The past is behind us, the future is uncertain; all we have is now so make the best of now.
  15. When you fail do not take it personally.
  16. Do not let other peoples views of you mean anything (unless it is a family member.)
  17. Take care of number one, and number one is you.
  18. Stay away from women until you can afford them, which means more than money, it means time and attention…a lot of all three.
  19. Find a girl that you can just be friends with and not want to hook up with.
  20. Remember silence is okay and so is loneliness, make these things your friends, enjoy them. Then everything else becomes a real treat.
  21. Learn to look at things from another perspective than your first view. This means pausing inside your mind and then re-evaluating the situation.
  22. Do not worry about drinking or doing drugs or getting into trouble, if you aren't thinking about this stuff it will not occur to you to even get involved with them.
  23. There is nothing you are missing out on that you haven't already seen or done when it comes to partying with your so called friends.
  24. Most people say they are your friend because they like to party with you. In life, we may be lucky to have a handful of REAL friends.
  25. Don't be in a hurry, patience is everything, you will get to where you are going soon enough. Soak up the moments as the hit you.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Remebering

When I was young my mother was poor. My father was not in the picture much. My mom could not afford cable TV, but she knew my sister and I both really loved the Muppets Show. The only thing better than the Muppets show, is the Muppets movie…the original 70’s version. You see Jim Henson tapped into a very special part of us kids. There was no Muppet that was ordinary, except Kermit, and even he was just happy being green though he told us all that it wasn’t an easy job. It was existentialism on its most preschool level. It spoke to children in a way I don’t see being done anymore. So long before I ran into Hemingway or Melville or Cooper, it was all about the Muppets and Sesame Street of course. Oh, wait, and Mr. Rogers. Yes I did like his show. Where else can a kid see how vinyl records and trombones are made…or crayons. I mean shit, the man had a train come through his house and deliver him messages. So anyways…the Muppets. My mom knew we loved them and we had never been able to see the movie when it was in theaters. So she saved here and there. She had heard that the movie was going to be aired on HBO. So she subscribed without telling us. Then she invited all of our friends over for a party. She bought a cake with Kermit and Miss Piggy depicted in sweet sweet colored frosting on the top. The day was glorious. We all watched the movie and ate cake and cookies and ice cream. We gave ourselves stomach aches and laughed in the afternoon, while our single mothers sipped Tab and ‘talked story’ as they say in the islands. Than afternoon, you could have told me that I have the best mom in the world. I would have smiled and said yes. But I didn’t really know it. I didn’t think about those things. I took whatever kindess given or showed to me for granted the way all children do. Now though, I look back and realize that my mother was selfless. When she had children, she started living for them and sacrificed anything and everything for them. It brings to mind another instance in which my mother was a shining example of a selfless parent. When I was a bit older the film ET came out. She took me to a downtown Honolulu theater to see it. After the movie I was so thrilled and pleased within my little world. I remember thinking that when ET got sick he looked an awful lot like dog poo does when it gets really old and no one picks it up. But my mother walked me out of the theater and I stopped and looked one last time at the poster for the film. The movies images ran over and over again in my mind. My mother looked down at me and asked me if I liked the movie. She knew the answer. Then she asked if I would like to see it again.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Rant

Yes, driving will inspire some reflection upon our state of being. Actually I find that large crowds of people do this for me. Occasionally, I will find myself at a ball game or an amusement park or something and large groups of people are milling around. I start to think, 'what is this experience like for each one of these people?' I wonder about the feelings, and thoughts that are being generated by so many people just being in such a close proximity to one another. Are all of these people focused on the game, the line for the ride? I don't think so, these are only distractions, things we do to break the monotony that would set in without such diversions. So one must conclude that 'no, this isn't working for everyone.' Some of these people are still trapped in their little worlds (like me) and are spinning their brains on the mortgage, the kids college tuition, extra-marital affairs, the latest golf shoe technology...whatever. And this is what fascinates me...how are all of these people able to set aside their true desires, inclinations, pre-occupations, obsessions...just to stand in line for a 'jungle cruise?' You look into their faces, and some of them you can tell are fighting it, the diversion isn't working as expected. Some of the men look as if they are wearing an invisible neck-tie that is too tight. Some of the women are thinking, 'can we just skip this shit and go shopping?' Meanwhile the children (most of them) are fine. So when dose this change in our mentality take place? I think Freud might say whenever the ego has come to a maturity. The world no longer holds the surprises it once did for us, and we have constructed what we believe to be reality. So what should be a shared 'amusement' is not what it seems. It is a façade and yet in our minds we are all convincing ourselves that it is working, that we are content. Rant, rant, rant......

One last thing though…all of those thoughts (about mortgages, affairs, golf shoes)…those are actually measurable brainwaves. Thoughts and feelings are created by chemical/electrical pulses in our mushy grey matter. Just think about that. This is all energy; if it could be measured in a quantitative manner it would probably amount to epic proportions, or at least power a light bulb. So, all of this stuff is floating around us in a sense. Energy! Stuff we can not see but nevertheless is still there and is just beyond the tangible.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Lierre

Lierre

lierre, lierre
one with golden-brown hairone with silken skin, silken legs
as if stalks of wheat in summer air
with warm arms around me
with shea butter rubbed
in the crest of her breast
she came to mewrapped in brilliant aura
i sat upon the papa-san
she seduced me
feather from the peacock twined about her wrist
lilac blossom cradledabove her ear

one with evil, lustfull eyesone
with heat upon her thighs
heat of the ovens in Hades skies
she came to me
in bittersweet dreams
twisted me about her
twined around her wrist
she breaks me like a dove given to Saturn
glass swans given to Hephaestus
an oiled and annointed laurel mispent upon the beggar
becomes a poison arrow

like a stream, river of words
i never want it to end
but lierre...lierre
she belongs to no one

~for Ivy Ribbons
by Aaron Mendonca

Letter to the editor of JUXTAPOZ magazine.

September 11, 2005

Dear Mr. Williams,

For the first time in quite a while your editorial input, specifically your essay on pg.4 struck a chord deep within me. I believe it is due to the fact that I (like many other artists, including you) am deeply concerned with symbolism, iconography, and language (both spoken and visual). In fact sometimes my fascination with the aforementioned subjects has bordered on obsessive, crossing the line from practical observation into and unhealthy pre-occupation.

I gather that what you are interested in and in fact are addressing is the oral tradition. In the art world the issues you raise have been explored by Magritte and his contemporary Duchamp, and many others; perhaps most notable in recent history is the work of Andy Warhol. But many if not all of these explorations of the visual language have their roots in the works of Roland Barthes and his studies in the dynamic field of Semiotics. I should rephrase this a bit. The endeavor to visually explore language and the nature of its uses by artists can be tidied up into a nice little envelope. That envelope is not Barthes himself or even his literature, but rather it is the concepts proposed in his work, which in essence exist even if they had not been scrutinized by Barthes. Also of note is the deconstruction of language as proposed by Jacques Derrida. (Both of these philosophers were recently introduced to me by a rather enlightening college professor of mine, and to those interested in learning more about visual language much can be gleaned from studying their work). Its been my observation that with few exceptions the spoken word (if it has any profound cultural significance) will inevitably become the written word or the visual representation. The folk tale begets the poem, the song turns into the sonnet which becomes a painting, and the myths of our ancestors are recorded in thick leather-bound volumes or sculpted by the artisan. Furthermore, at some point in the transition, a certain liberty is taken with the subject matter. This is what you have termed artistic license. Is this not then the true nature of all artistic endeavor, to build on that which already exists and to embellish it in the process?

To create that which is our unique expression of our unique worldview is in essence a confession of what we value in the cultures that have become before us. And this is no simple task. Faulkner had this to say about his art: We have never got and probably will never get, anywhere with music or the plastic forms. We need to talk, to tell, since oratory is our heritage. We seem to try in the simple furious breathing (or writing) span of the individual to draw a savage indictment of the contemporary scene or to escape from it into a make-believe region of swords and magnolias and mockingbirds which perhaps never existed anywhere. Both of the courses are rooted in sentiment; perhaps the ones who write savagely and bitterly of the incest in clay-floored cabins are the most sentimental. Anyway, each course is a matter of violent partisanship, in which the writer unconsciously writes into every line and phrase his violent despairs and rages and frustrations or his violent prophesies of still more violent hopes. That cold intellect which can write with calm and complete detachment and gusto of its contemporary scene is not among us; I do not believe there lives the Southern writer who can say without lying that writing is any fun to him. Perhaps we do not want it to be.

Isnt it true that art is difficult and at times even painful to create? This is not to say that painting or sculpting is technically difficult (though at times this is true). The hard part is accurately expressing ones personal vision to the point where one is comfortable wearing it like an old pair of jeans. This was touched upon by Michael Hussar in your excellent feature on his personal approach to painting. Faulkner basically says that this is as it should be. True and honest art should break the creators heart, or at least crack it a bit regardless of what the audience thinks.

In 1989 an animated film about a cute adolescent mermaid was put forth before an audience comprised mostly of small children and their parents. This film like many of its kind was a huge success. I noticed that many people took this story to be a new interpretation of a classic fairy tale. In fact the plot of this 1989 film is entirely new and original story. The only folk tale Ive found which closely resembles it is a 17th century fable about a French priest who falls in love with a mermaid. Indeed the mermaid is enamored by the priest as well. However the problem is that the priest will only marry her if she converts to Catholicism at which point by acceptance of the body of Christ she will be transformed into a human and thereby able to marry the priest and inhabit his world. But the mermaid refuses to believe in the priests god and is condemned to a life of sorrow and grief over her lost love. To me this is an incredible tale that involves religion, magic, mythical creatures and unrequited love. It has the potential of being made into an amazing animated film. But it probably wouldnt sell to todays audience. Indeed in 1989 most people agreed that the hit film as produced by the worlds premier animated feature mogul was the definitive version of the story of the mermaid. Why? What is it culturally that changes and influences artistic interpretation? I have no answer.

I think Vikings look cool with horns on their helmets. And so what if William Tell never existed? Youve become comfortable with these inconsistencies by placing them in the context of psychological and poetic anarchy. Fine, if that works for you. I agree with much of where you are coming from. But Ive noticed that much of your artwork seems to be exploring the concept of anarchy and perhaps this has caused you to have a kind of tunnel vision when it comes to how youve chosen to analyze things. My intent is not to argue with you or to insult your worldview. However, I also believe that the nature of these folk tales is neither anarchy nor order. Theyre just natural.

You hit it right on the head in the end of your article with the elephant illustration. In fact it almost sounds as though through your essay youve worked out the answers to your own questions. As Philip Dick wrote, It is obvious, then, what role language plays in human life: It is the cardinal instrument by which the individual worldviews are linked so that a shared, for all intents and purposes common reality is constructed. What is actually subjective becomes objective-agreed on. I concur.

Thank you for addressing this topic in your column. I do have just a few requests. Could you please do an article on Mucha or Lempicka and their work? Also it seems that for a while now youve covered a lot of artists that weve all heard enough about, there must be some new talent out their. Sick your dogs on the new art thieves. Please. Thanks for your time and for continuing to swim upstream with your magazine.


Sincerely,

Aaron Mendonca