new shit

okonomiyaki vol. ii

is coming along / rounding up final collaborators & looking to put this out next month

posted at 01:00 on 19 November 2019 to Personal

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in understanding that i have to actually grow up soon, i am thoroughly enjoying my days living in warehouses and making midnight snacks of tortillas dipped in peanut butter and jelly and skateboarding across the floor thank you very much

posted at 00:30 on 19 November 2019 to Personal

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ride it out

confirmation for european residency+first solo international exhibitions next summer. probably a few asterisk dates between denmark and berlin.

used to riding out the storm in life, not so much riding the waves when they break my way. just trying to stay balanced,

posted at 10:00 on 17 November 2019 to Personal

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last night

Last Night

posted at 17:00 on 16 November 2019 to Personal

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Downtown Seattle


—earlier this year—

posted at 12:00 on 16 November 2019 to Work

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tick tock

in just under a year we’re all going to be waking up with election hangovers and there’s a very specific set of events that needs to take place between now and then for the future not to just be an episode of American Ninja Warrior but the obstacles are natural disasters and riot police instead of giant foam pads and slippery ladders and we’re all out of time.

posted at 19:00 on 13 November 2019 to Commentary

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a world ago & a lifetime away


Ibiza is a strange place because I had absolutely no clue it was some international club destination for Rich Kids, so when I was looking over the wine menu at a spot I stopped for lunch to find glasses for $20, I was a bit taken aback. It made more sense after I figured it out, however, when I left the Museum of Contemporary Art to find three girls hobbling down the rocky street in shoes with heels longer than their skirts.

I’m never really interested in places for their Designated Tourism Purpose, and they’re often more enjoyable for it. All the best discoveries are off the beaten path.

(that is what I usually say, however on this particular day in Ibiza it was fucking hot, and I forgot my hat, so I basically spent the time walking from one shaded area to another.)


Tourist Destinations like this have a certain class scale. Luxury storefronts, fine dining. Ibiza felt sort of like Disney Luxury, where these massive yachts were just parked row by row, advertising Wealth Is Here like a glowing neon sign.

Taking photos of a central square where Extinction Rebellion was later to set up a sizeable protest, a houseless person or two occupy nearly every bench in sight. That’s the other problem with tourist destinations these days: they are epicenters of inequality, opulence, waste, and a world charging, full steam ahead, into whatever comes from it.


I was leaving for my ferry just before dusk. the Hairstyles and Outfits began appearing all around me, products of an afternoon spent in front of a mirror. I suppose it’s on par with one spent in front of a screen. Everything is a mirror in its own way, like that.

how the sun would glisten off the sea with a light just as blinding.

Walking through the square toward my water taxi, a woman in a red dress with bright red paint dripping from her hands dances through the gathering protesters. She pirouettes around to me as I get up from taking a picture, puts her hands on my cheeks, looks at me and smiles, and dances away. For a moment I wonder if the red paint will ever come out of my beard, then I remember the planet is on fire so it doesn’t matter much anyway.


posted at 11:30 on 13 November 2019 to Personal

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The Old Internet

“The best thing about the old internet…” was the start of a brief rant I heard on a recent episode of Chapo Trap House, followed by a recount of the era of online that existed between 2000 and 2005, heavily influenced by Blogger Culture and before social media had really taken off (MySpace existed, Facebook was in early development).

The Old Internet, to me—someone roughly 5-10 years older than the guys on the podcast—is the one that existed from 1995 to 2000, during the Instant Messenger era—first with ICQ and then with AIM. Netscape was the main browser and message boards had replaced Listservs as the popular discourse method. Blogs existed but the internet, as a whole, was considered to be a handy but unnecessary alternative to the physical world.

But during this time, the people on those message boards and messaging services called The Old Internet the version in the early ’90s, comprised mostly of IRC and the most basic of pages on the web itself. Kids Like Me had it Easy and all that.

Nothing has really confronted our day-to-day relationship with time the way the internet has. When I was in sixth grade, any kids that talked to someone at the high school was cool. Anyone who still hung out with fifth graders was a loser. Now, at 36, it’s more than likely I read the opinions of high-schoolers and fifth-graders alike whenever I check out a random basketball highlight on /r/nba.

Jobs can now reach you 24/7. The person you are online arguing with may actually be half—or twice—your age. Thousands of years of human history where social classes are largely defined by age and nobody is considering how we’ve seemed to switch our internal notions of time to technological development as well as literal personal and physical development. Even while listening to a podcast hosted by people not even a decade my junior, and they speak about the online world from a point of reference so foreign to me it’s sometimes barely recognizable.

It’s hard to predict what comes of this, but when I think of the complete collapse of our psychic reality, it is this concept which strikes me most. A lack of understanding between generations is nothing new, however the equivocation of those voices and the general social interaction offered by the internet is. There’s this entire intangible, natural division between people as it pertains to place in time which has collapsed in on itself with the force of a dying star. What happens in the aftermath is anyone’s guess.

posted at 09:00 on 13 November 2019 to Commentary

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I spent some time near Point Hannon not too long ago. There was a loft-cabin, a wood stove, no electricity. On the Point there was a driftwood sculpture of a dragon made by the locals. It was the middle of fall and so the trees were still strong in their greens while some paths were covered in yellow leaves, saturated so bright as if they were daring the seasons to continue to change.

One of the pathways that left the cabin immediately turned downward into a slight valley, to which a combination of roots and mud then created a hill upward. At the top of this hill was another, more significant downward slope which continued on to the beach. Perched on this small pathway hilltop was a white, plastic patio chair, which seemed like it had gone all season without being sat in.

(I admit to sitting on it at least once to rest and have a sip of wine.)


The chair atop the hill

I’d walk by this chair more than a couple times each day, as this hill was a part of our main path to and from the beach. It sat with the presence of a throne. The ferns and firs almost seem to have grown in anticipation of its eventuality. I was instantly drawn to it, and with each walk past grew more curious. Why here?

The view from the chair was mundane compared to how it appeared. It didn’t face any direct sunlight during the day and the vantage was mostly looking down on Joe’s lawn. Sitting in it, one was exposed to the elements and there was no where to build a fire. Yet it is the perfect object for this spot: a completely unnatural, cheap and bland American symbol of relaxation here in the thick of one of the most naturally relaxing places in America I’ve ever been. This grotesque piece of plastic in the middle of some of the most remarkable nature and it still just vibed. The fuck is this chair doing here?

I never asked about it, partially because I just enjoy the mystery. There’s something disarming about finding objects juxtaposed with nature like this; their being out-of-place makes them fit right in. That they all serve some strange purpose, are all perfect in distinct moments. Maybe that’s it—maybe the perfection of the chair isn’t in its view, but of the view of it.

Or it could be that it’s a good place to sit if you’re drunk and tired of hiking up a shit-ton of stairs back from the beach and need a rest before getting back to the fire.

posted at 22:00 on 12 November 2019 to Personal

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these two

Drew Olive

Drew & Olive at Jake’s

i have not been the best with people over the years but i’m trying to turn that ship around

posted at 15:00 on 12 November 2019 to Personal

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