pastoral delight

through muted wind chimes i think to myself...
i still love the city.

chaux redux : a city of bits

The adjacencies of a paperless environment have left a sour taste in my mouth. Old gods of the city and its national deity of city walls as national frontiers are in part becoming pre-historic. Its extinction, a cause for concern whilst communicative embargos sanctioned by invading parties are viewed on our television screens. After the binary dust settles we find a city ripe for invasion. The song of communication is sung from mountaintops as our new-fangled national deity. Where is the romance in a city constructed of connectivity and bandwidth?



"lenghts that i will go to,
the distance in your eyes"

john brack's bar : forgotten goodbyes set flight

i was rumaging through my old collection and found a piece i did that befits my current mood.

melancholic with deep undertones of absolute blah-ness.

i can finally blame age as a factor for moodiness and absolute grumpiness....hey i can milk it for what its worth can't i? but then again i have always found grumpy old people the cutest of the lot. they seem to have never lost their zeal and are experienced best when their facial expressions are at maximum overload. oh kodak moment that. so here is to forgotten goodbyes and long lasting auld lang's whilst we sip on calcium enriched powdered milk of anti-osteoporosis fame.
Growing older has never been this exciting..... please god let me grow up to be grumpy and oh so lumpy.

i am blessed with beautiful friends that envelope me with kindness on my birthday.
i love trying to catch blow bubbles and i miss my family and mates that are not here.
ho-ho-homies !!! (picture killa spinning bling and fat low runners. woot woot?) word !
ha ha. thanks for all the unforgetable times.

arrival : a city of bits

"Think of the ship: it is a floating part of space. Closed in on itself and at the same time poised in the infinite ocean, and yet from port to port it goes as far as the colonies, looking for the most precious things hidden in their gardens... In civilizations where it is lacking, dreams dry up, adventure is replaced by espionage, and privateers by the police." Michel Foucault