Creative Juices

On losing 120 pounds

2011-08-25T17:20:00.001-07:00

So I've now lost 120 pounds. It's really an exciting time in my life, being able to play sports and wear normal clothes for the first time really ever. I will never be able to properly explain what a long hard trip it has been.

For frame of reference, here are some things that weigh 120 pounds:

These tires:

These gallon jugs:

ALL of these babies:

This person:

So I think (and hope) it's safe to say that this is the highest mountain I'll ever have to climb. There's still more work to be done, and I guess there always will be, but man do I feel good right now.

Songs on the radio

2011-07-28T18:00:00.001-07:00

The right song on the radio at the perfect time solves almost anything. I guess the thing I most dislike about iPods is that they steal those sacred moments of healing.

A God Machine

2011-02-25T14:04:00.001-08:00

I wanna build a nanoGod. We'll all be constantly surrounded by sound-receiving nanobots that hear our prayers, and transmit them back to a central processing machine at the center of the earth. That machine will run billions of simulations to judge the rightness of our prayers, and dispatch an army of matter-altering nanobots (which I call nanoAngels) if our prayers are found to be in the general interest of humanity and ecology. If a farmer prays for a bountiful harvest, and nanoGod decides the land can sustain it, nanoAngels arrive and enrich the soil. If a young girl prays for the love of her highschool school crush, and nanoGod decides that they would be happier together, nanoAngels arrive and affect a biochemical process on his brain causing him to run to her home with a fist full of daisies. And if a sports team holds a team prayer, and honestly does want it more, nanoAngels will come and reduce the lactic acid content of their muscles, allowing them to run faster and longer.

Perhaps we won't get everything we want. Perhaps there will still be great suffering--so be it, nanoGod works in mysterious ways.

Or maybe nanoGod will decide in all cases that we are better off without his intervention--that free will is always more important than material gain. And instantly, the question "is there a God?" will become outmoded, because a perfect God and a fictional god have the exact same policy: leave them be, they'll be better for it. And the believer and the nonbeliever will be united, because both had been equally correct all along.

In hope and solidarity,
Matt Korostoff

I believe...

2011-02-24T10:34:00.000-08:00

I believe in the human spirit. I believe that the heart is an untamed wilderness, where only the adventurous dare travel. I believe in stolen glances across a crowded room. I believe in the power of words that pass between two lovers in the privacy of their bed. I believe in knock-down, drag-out fights that leave you both destroyed. I believe in dancing, I believe in hand holding, and I believe in love.

I believe in simplicity. I believe in home-grown spices and fresh baked bread. I believe that you can be redeemed through art, and you can be redeemed through sport, and that neither is any better than the other. I believe in barefootness, and I believe in midnight, and I believe in summer squalls. And after a hard day, I believe that it's a man's absolute right to drink beer outdoors.

I believe that you should be reckless in your willingness to go without sleep or drive long distances, but never at the same time. I believe that no one should have to cry without being touched. I believe that having the right to be angry doesn't give you the right to be cruel. And I believe that everything that moves you matters.

I believe that all prayers are heard by a force inside yourself, and that alone is why they work. I believe that we're all our own saviors. I believe that omens are important, because they tell you what you had been looking for. I believe in aliens, but I don't believe in ghosts.

I believe that we get to do all this exactly once, and I believe in second chances. I believe that life is long, and I believe that life is short, and I believe that we should try not to learn too much from our mistakes. I believe what's past is prologue. And I believe that what comes next is up to you and me.

In hope and solidarity,
Matt Korostoff

(source)

New Webcomic

2009-01-10T14:18:00.000-08:00

I have launched a new webcomic at www.whaleocalypse.com/

I hope it is to everyone's liking.

Liberia

2008-08-12T14:44:00.000-07:00

I read this article last year in the school dining hall. It's among the best things I've ever read:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/14/nyregion/14liberians.html?pagewanted=all

Hope you enjoy.

Iraq

2008-06-29T04:38:00.000-07:00

Dwight Eisenhower once said the following about Korea:

When the enemy struck, on that June day of 1950, what did America do? It did what it always has done in all its times of peril. It appealed to the heroism of its youth.

This appeal was utterly right and utterly inescapable. It was inescapable not only because this was the only way to defend the idea of collective freedom against savage aggression. That appeal was inescapable because there was now in the plight into which we had stumbled no other way to save honor and self-respect.

The answer to that appeal has been what any American knew it would be. It has been sheer valor-valor on all the Korean mountainsides that, each day, bear fresh scars of new graves.

Now-in this anxious autumn-from these heroic men there comes back an answering appeal. It is no whine, no whimpering plea. It is a question that addresses itself to simple reason. It asks: Where do we go from here? When comes the end? Is there an end?

These questions touch all of us. They demand truthful answers. Neither glib promises nor glib excuses will serve. They would be no better than the glib prophecies that brought us to this pass.

To these questions there are two false answers-both equally false. The first would be any answer that dishonestly pledged an end to war in Korea by any imminent, exact date. Such a pledge would brand its speaker as a deceiver.

The second and equally false answer declares that nothing can be done to speed a secure peace. It dares to tell us that we, the strongest nation in the history of freedom, can only wait-and wait-and wait. Such a statement brands its speaker as a defeatist.

My answer-candid and complete-is this:

The first task of a new Administration will be to review and re-examine every course of action open to us with one goal in view: To bring the Korean war to an early and honorable end. This is my pledge to the American people.

I think the parallel is apparent.

Stress

2008-03-18T16:44:00.000-07:00

The Holmes and Rahe stress scale gives the value of different stress causing events in "life change units". That is to say, the stress caused by any given event is--basically--judged by how much it changes your life. Changing residence gets a 20 point rating. Getting fired from your job gets 47 points. Death of a Spouse, the highest scoring indexed event, gets a 100 point rating.

I've noticed that a few things in life have a surprisingly high "Life Change" to stress ratio. They may cause basically zero life change, but somehow make you want to pull your hair out in a way that similarly momentous events do not. For instance:

Spilling coffee.
Getting a speeding ticket.
Having a pen break in your pocket.

These things change basically nothing in your life, but still manage to ruin most or all of your day.

I've just discovered a new one, the hard way: dropping an entire, freshly cooked lasagna on the floor. Aaargh!

It's a cold one out

2008-02-21T09:36:00.000-08:00

Why is it that they never give you the wind chill on hot days?

The world ends tomorrow, so tonight we should dance.

2007-11-05T12:42:00.000-08:00

I went to "this town needs a parade" this weekend and it was FANTASTIC. It happens every year, Halloween week. The literalness of the name captures perfectly what the event is all about. The town needed a parade, so they gave it one. There is nothing more to it than that. It is an elegantly shallow idea, and great fun.

This isn't your ordinary Halloween festival. None of the costumes are particularly spooky or even decipherable. The idea here is to be loud and strange. Basically no one was dressed up as anything in particular and literally no one did the traditional near-naked costume. I went as "guy with big wig and zorro mask." My friend Jamie went as "girl with pink cape and big decorated stick." On lookers didn't understand the operation--neither did we. We're talking Bakunin on LSD: now is the time for fun...the ideas will come later. I love that.

"Parade" isn't exactly a perfect description; it was more of a protest for and against nothing. People showed up with signs containing nonsensical phrases like "honk if you like cookies" (many honked) and "shake it like a polaroid picture". There was an accordion player, a xylophone, dozens of new-years noise makers, and a well decorated mini school bus. It was an apocalyptic nihilism of joy. It's the end of the world and everyone is wearing silly costumes! Nothing means anything anymore, so we might as well dance.

This is the "float" I was in charge of pushing. It was a mannequin in a wheelchair with a baby doll head glued on top. It also had moving arms with baby doll heads for hands.

And here's a gathering of people dancing to some fresh beats. You can see me holding a baby doll head on a stick on the far right.

The spirit of the event is perhaps best expressed through an interchange on the online facebook forum for the event. Someone posted a thread with the title "don't we need a permit?" Mark, one of the fabulous parade organizers replied:

did the american colonies need a permit to dump britain's tea into the boston harbor? do monkeys need a permit to throw poop at each other?

in this great country, we have the freedom to wear costumes. and the freedom to be ridiculous. and the freedom to make noise...now, if a great many group of ridiculous individuals just happen to be walking int he same direction at the same time and the sidewalks get overcrowded, i fail to see that someone should be punished.

On the march, one guy actually shouted from an SUV, "what's this for??" "You got me bro" I expressed by shaking the disembodied baby doll head at him. The only thing missing was pigasus.

Good night princess. Thanks for the memories.

We are a city of wanderers!

2007-09-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

This city is a sewer. It is a sprawling tenement. It is an endless suburb, with no corresponding urban area.

Everyone in this city is poor for one reason or another. Or, more to the point, no one is financially independent. This is an island built of credit: subprime mortgages and student loans. The lowest of the low of the lending world. It is built on the premise that all this is temporary. That you can pay it off later, once your stint at RU or the barrio is complete.

New Brunswick—in a word—is transience. A passing thought that this all just for the moment and that someday, somehow, we can leave. “Just get through the day” we say with our spending and our dwellings. Our unease with our home is built into the walls. Repeatedly patched with tarps, and masking tape, and ply wood. They need only last until June the 1st of this year, maybe the next. Then we can move back and out to the places where real people live. “Real People” is an idiom of which we are aware.

June First. Once a year, the entire place breaths out and then in. June 1st is move in day for the entire city and with it comes a new crop of nameless neighbors and silent stories.

“Residents” doesn’t quite describe the young people of this town. They’re more like campers or guests. They don’t vote here and don’t pay taxes here. Some get there mail here. But every residence endlessly receives letters to former residents, whose correspondents can’t keep up with the constantly changing addresses. Not so much a city as a waiting room to the world. Each of us, always saving, planning, and preparing to leave.

But we don’t leave. We grow used to late nights and burnt out street lights. After a year or so, we are no longer squeamish about stepping on broken glass, and on a weekend night, we’ll break some of our own. New Brunswick on the weekends is a city of the walking dead. Exhausted and inebriated, we wander down Easton avenue, in search of nothing whatsoever.

“The street is the club” a friend once remarked. “Not quite.” I replied.

It is not so much the need to do something fun as it is the need to do anything at all. To be alive just now, just once, in the place where we are young. The term “bar crawl” doesn’t even come close to describing it.

That is the other side of our transient city: its endless newness, oneness, youth and vigor. We haven’t been here long enough to have broken dreams. We are a city of wanderers!

Happless, meaningless, useless, and free. Most of all free. This is not the story of a boy who comes of age in the big city. This is a story of stagnation, lustily, thoughtlessly, and furiously enjoyed. This is the place where we are young. We drink an unhealthy amount. The question is not so much “why?” but “why not?”

This is the nihilism that makes our city—no matter how barren—complete. Those that say there is nothing to do here have missed the point: there’s nothing to do anywhere. But we are here now. This is new and fun now.

This place is a sewer, but it is our sewer. Here, for the first time, we are wowed together. It is the place where we are. Do not disparage it.

Would I trade it for something better? Yes. But I haven’t yet, and I wont anytime soon. This is our city, this is our home, this is New Brunswick.

God damn I love this place, whatever it is.

Peace,
MK

And only weeks before the guns/all came and rained on everyone

2007-09-28T11:35:00.000-07:00

I just read this article on Jeff Mangum, from Neutral Milk Hotel. It blew me away. Reading it is such an emotional journey that after I was finished I felt exhausted.

Radio

2007-09-26T18:47:00.000-07:00

Oh, and I have a radio show on Fridays at five on click radio.

New Nash Past today

2007-09-23T15:41:00.000-07:00

New comic today.

I'm not positive that this is really written for anyone other than me.

Rediscovered File

2007-09-16T23:41:00.001-07:00

I just found this file on my computer called "South Carolina travel journal". It's one of a few gems I've come across which I barely remember making:

Saturday, May 27th – Hilton Head, South Carolina.

Today was a good day. One of the best. It was not a great day in the sense that I might add it to my list of "the best nights of my life" but still a generally great day. I will do what I can to record the events of today as best I can. There's a little to much to get it all down on paper.

At about 9:45 last night (24 hours ago, almost down to the minute) Dan and I left for Hilton Head, South Carolina. The nature of the trip changed drastically and repeatedly from when we began planning it. In one encarnation, our trip was a grand tour of the American south that would have taken us from New Jersey to Florida (stop overs in Washington and South Carolina), then north again into Tennessee, and then home. Without further explaination, the trip[s] as it has ended up is: New Jersey > South Carolina > Washington D.C. > Home for two weeks > Florida > Home. Today was day one.

The planned drive down was to begin friday morning, reaching DC by early afternoon, where we would stay the night. That changed in the last 12 hours of planning, and DC has now been moved to the return trip. So we drove around 16/17 hours through the night. That time frame, however, includes a few fun pit stops.

Driving through the middle of the night meant we faced no traffic, which allowed us to make great time to the Mason-Dixon. We passed the Philip Morris national headquarters (we assume it was national anyway) and Dan had a freakout spiritual moment. He pretended to be moved to near tears by the beauty of their corporate evil and immediately lit up a cigarette. Dan smokes way too much, but I couldnt begrudge him a smoke in this holliest of places. The headquarters is, incidentally, two windowless grey boxes, set back 200 yards from the highway, just enough to be non-menacing. i reffered to it as Evil-Headquarters-R-US. That was probably a bit of a "you had to be there" moment.

We reached Southern virginia at around 4:30. We stopped for food (this was the third such stop, but it stands out in my mind because I didn't eat at the previous stops). Apparently, in the south there is a corporation called Pilot which builds highway reststops. This particular one was complete with shower rooms and washing machines. Dan observed how weird it was to be in a place where a gallon on gas costs more than a pack of cigarettes. We pumped our own gas (in true New Jersey fashion, it was a two man job). You could tell that we weren't in Kansas anymore from the fact that they sold liquour in convenience stores. That will ALWAYS seem out of the ordinary to me.

After that, Dan asked me to take over the driving and the trip began to get good (for both of us). This is incidentally the point that the story would probably begin if I were writing it for a larger audience. The sun broke over virginia at around 5:30. Open land is an attraction in NJ but down here it is the rule. As the sky turned pink over the rolling Virginia landscape, I said to dan "Now that is one beautiful virginia sunrise." For all the times that I've seen the night grow into day, this may be the first time have actually truly seen the sun rise. It always seems to be obscured by houses and trees at home. With the sunrise came a new energy and fun for our trip.

I drove cautiously for the remainder of Virginia, having been instructed that Virginia traffic tickets must be paid IN PERSON. In the day light and with the change in scenery came a hillarious dose of Southern Culture. We began seeing signs for (seriously) Bojangles Fried Chicken and "Cafe Risque" (more on that in a moment). The second we hit North Carolina we knew it was going to be our favorite state. This was made possible by a few things. First, the sun shine was begining to get inside us a little, and we were SUPER cheered up from the night's drive. We began high-fiving every 15 minutes or so for one reason or another. The second thing that made North Carolina great was the highway. The highway is planted with yellow flowers (maybe weeds, but i doubt it) and the speed limit is 70. The land is so flat and open that the cops have no where to hide. I'm a little embarrassed to admit, I hit 108 mph mostly to be able to say that I had done it. North Carolina infused us with a great spirit and an irraional exhuberance that just wouldn't quit.

At around exit 70, we came accross a place called "Cafe Risque" (mentioned above). It was a little difficult to figure out from the billboards what this place was, but it turned out to be a 24 hour dinner, staffed by topless waitresses (or, in this case, one topless waitress). At Dan's insistance, I sat with him at 8 in the morning, while a topless North Carolinian woman served him a breakfast buritto. This was one of the most hillarious experiences either of us have ever had. I could write more on this, but its getting late, and there are more thoughts I want to get down.

South Carolina brought "Pedro's Camp Ground" better known as South of the Border. For those who don't know, South of the Border is this bizarre tourist trap just bellow the border between north and south carolina. The whole thing is a mexico themed rest area thing, complete with restaurants, theme park, fireworks shop, giant space-needle styled sombrero shapped observatory, leather shop (?), and pharmacy labeled "El Drug Store." As far as I can tell, the whole place is a giant gift shop for an attraction that doesnt actually exist. The best part of south of the border was their mascot, Pedro, was the most racist carricature of a sombrero-wearing sleepy Mexican. They had about half a dozen fibre glass sculptures of this character. I hoped to get a rice and black-bean burrito, but the I was yelled at indignantly asking (apparently, these are not ingredients they had). They did however sell us 2 bottles of MadDog 20/20 without ID, so I can't complain. So we pushed on to Hilton Head.

On final leg of the journey I was, I'm sorry to report, stopped by the police and given a speeding ticket. I was doing 83 in a 70 and the fine is 120 dollars. I could go into a long explaination of how it didn't really make sense for us to get stopped on that particular highway at that particular time, but what happened happend. I was speeding (so was everyone) and I knew it was illegal. So I wont complain. Dan's "Kerry-Edwards" and "I did not vote 4 bush" stickers may not have helped us. Well, at least he didn't search the car.

When we got to the island, I crashed for about two hours, and awoke to find Dan stoned laying on the couch. Dan announced that he was going to bed, so (after managing to check my e-mail the old fashioned way) went down to the beach. I had expected to stay at the beach for a minute or two: get my feet wet, and maybe go back to the room to get my poi (I can't wait to spin on the beach!). I ended up walking the shoreline for 2 hours. The sand was just a little bit softened and clumpy from a light shower we had had earlier in the day. There was a minor storm brewing out at sea, and everynow and then I could pick out a flash of lightning. The sun was setting and the beach was whiped up with--you know--that hot wet air which seemed to massage me everywhere. I sat on this odd wooden structure and watched as the lights came on along the shore line. As the beach faded to black, the shore seemed to warm and you could see a pleasant glow streatching for miles (even though they tell you to turn your lights off or it will disorient the turtles). I pondered my life and the universe and my place in it to no great end. I got a very unexpected call from Tanya Pastor. She was not expecting me to be watching a perfect sunset on a beach in South Carolina, I'm sure of that. In that moment, as I watched the kite fliers flying and the crabs digging their holes, everything grew so big and so simple. I wasn't worried about anything. Me and the wind seemed to sort of breath together. In and out. In and out. In and out. And then it was dark.

As I walked the beach back to my room, I stopped to write in the sand with a stick I had found "nothing and everything is." I was filled by one thought: you can't get to perfect, but you can get to damn good. DAMN good.

Sunday, May 28. - 7:14am

Woke up at 4:30, went out onto the deserted beach at low low tide. With the water all receaded, and without anyone to mark it up with their feet, it was like I imagine the salt flats must be. Spun poi as I watched the sun rise, stopping now and then literally laughing with glee. Stripped down to my shorts and jumped into the ocean. I spun a little more, soaking wet in just my undershorts. Then I came back here and did a load of laundry. Dan is still sleeping. I think I will watch an episode of Lost and then try to wake him again.

Monday, May 29 - 9:00am.

Memorial Day. I cannot believe how bored I am here. This is probably the most bored I've ever been. I actually can't sleep because I'm that bored. It's like when you have some big terrifying event comming up in the morning and you stay up all night thinking about it--as if that's going to delay it. I'm dreading the idea of waking up and continuing to be this bored.

Dan's been sleeping a lot since we got here. We tried to go to the beach today, and brought a canteen half filled with the maddog we bought at South of the Border. Neither of us really got buzzed off of it. It was to windy to play frisbee. Dan didn't want to swim and it was no fun to swim alone. I tried to spin a little but it was weird with everyone watching. With nothing to do at the beach, we went back to the room and smoked some pot, which was actually lame. I made vegetarian burittos. We ate them while we played trivial pursuit. I wasn't that into it, and dan read the questions for both of us. I think I lost, but I couldn't care less.

Then I pretty much fell asleep until 2 or 3 in the morning. I haven't been able to get back to sleep since then. Tomorrow should be a little better. We'll go out to eat, play mini-golf, and (hopefully) get drunk. I'm kind of nervous about it. I really need SOMETHING to happen tomorrow.

10:08am.
To make myself feel better, I got drunk at 10 in the morning. One of the stranger things I've done my life time, but I'm feeling pretty good now. If I wake up before dan tomorrow, I think I'm going to set all the clocks in the place to a time other than the correct one, and try to fuck with his head a little.

The Jaw.

Probably Gotta Audit Some Stuff

2007-07-11T08:51:00.000-07:00

(11:49:31 AM) x no holding on: i picked up a job doing night audit two nights a week
(11:49:39 AM) x no holding on: which is to say, getting paid $9/hr to sit in a chair
(11:49:52 AM) mattio2: wow, we have the same job!
(11:50:11 AM) mattio2: what is night audit?
(11:51:04 AM) x no holding on: hahah
(11:51:12 AM) x no holding on: workin' the lobby overnight
(11:51:16 AM) x no holding on: i probably gotta audit some stuff
(11:51:25 AM) x no holding on: but mostly i think i just sit

This Just In: My Grandmothers were Hot.

2007-07-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

So I'm doing this family photo project, where I'm trying to digitize all of our old family photos. We are talking about thousands of pictures here. Yestarday, I drove out to long island to look through my [maternal] grandmother's archive. The woman is a pack rat. She was born in 1931 and she has kept every photograph she's ever owned. Her collection is now +3000 strong, not including old cards, hospital records, birth certificates, and letters, all of which she kept. There was a lot to love about her collection. For instance, there is this photo of my Romanian Great, Great Grandfather which I estimate to have been taken in 1890 or earlier. But my definite favorite photo is this:

Look at that! She gave birth to my mom! And there she is in a bathing suit, being totally hot! What gives?

But it doesn't stop there, check out this photo of my father's mother, Celia Korostoff:

These women where babes! And they dated men in my family! I suppose that is good news for me.

This project has been astoundingly fun so far. The only thing I can compare it to is the paper I did on my home town last semester. It's been a fascinating journey through my roots, and it is one everyone should get to take at least once.

Imagine this: an engineer builds a giant roller coaster and sends it on a million year ride. 50,000 generations will be born and die on the roller coaster. Whole civilizations will rise and fall. We'll grow crops on the roller coaster, get married on the roller coaster, and bury our dead on the roller coaster. Though there is a definite moment of origin for the coaster, and a definite moment of destruction, after a few generations, the idea of the beginning is distant and abstract. The roller coaster is strange and scary. We don't know why we're on it, how it got here, or where it's going. Life on the coaster is the only life we've ever known.

If you can look back into the past and know "this is where I came from," things are a little less solitary and strange. Doing this photo project has allowed me to form a coherent narrative of my past in a way I never thought I could. And that is pretty cool.

Another thing I've learned from both this and the home town paper is the way historical archives work. We historians are so totally and completely indebted to those that came before us and made a conscious choice to preserve historical relics. Without these people, history is NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY nothing. So a thanks goes out to those who have worked to preserve the present for the future. History would not exists were it not for them.

This photo archive is my effort to be one of those people. My hope is that by digitizing, cataloging, and restoring my family history those that come after me will have the coherent narrative that I never had.

Much love,
MK

National Dash Pastime

2007-06-28T06:06:00.001-07:00

After a hiatus, I've begun updating my comic "National Pastime" again.

You'll find it here, on the internet:

http://national-pastime.blogspot.com/

Good day.

Photos

2007-06-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

I've been doing some photo retouches the past few days. I'm pretty pleased with the results:

Me as a baby, ruined in storage:

Becomes:

My dad and his mom at his law school graduation:

Becomes:

I'm also creating a digital family photo album.

September

2007-05-11T05:26:00.000-07:00

I've had the word "September" stuck in my head for a while now. Like song lyrics, it just sort of lurks there and forms in my mouth sometimes. When I'm doodling, sometimes I just find myself writing it. I don't know why.

I am beginning to think that it is in someway prophetic. I hope it doesn't mean I'm going to die in september.

Beer

2007-05-03T17:29:00.000-07:00

I've learned a lot of things this past year, but the one that is perhaps most universally true is this:

After a really long day, a man ought to be able to drink beer outdoors.

It should be a law.

I'm affraid I can't let you do that, Hal

2007-04-17T01:38:00.000-07:00

I just logged onto hospitalityclub.org for the first time in a few months, and I discovered this new bulletin:

24.01. A few hours ago we experienced a bug that could be seen as pretty funny if it didn't also mean a lot of work for the involved volunteers to fix. While working on our geo database, one unfortunate volunteer was renaming the small German town of Nohfelden (1 member there). Imagine his horror when after clicking the button in our tool ALL cities in HC had been renamed to "Nohfelden". All of them! Instead of dying from a heart attack, he did the right thing, alerting our programmers, and jyetcathy already restored the big majority of city names(thank you!!). The Nohfeldens left (you can see a few here in the search) seem to be mostly cities without members. To make things worse, the geo coordinates for all cities were also replaced with those of Nohfelden, so some parts of the map will not work until a backup is restored in a couple of days. Sometimes one small click can have huge effects. Thanks for your understanding should you have been affected by the bug.

:-P

Sincerity is the new black

2006-11-26T00:49:00.000-08:00

Irony is dead.

Here's to folk music and pop. May we one day appreicate them the same way their authors do.

Apropos of nothing, I need a name for my new webcomic

2006-11-06T01:02:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to get in the habit of blogging regularly. It feels right.

I now know everything there is to know about Andrew Johnson.

EDIT: Also, I found one of the weiredest concepts for a webcomic that I've ever seen. It's called Dead Funny, and you have to read two or three strips before you get why its funny.
-matt

Mr. Big Project

2006-11-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

OK, so day two, and still blogging.

The next few days should be very difficult. I have to get around a dozen substantive pages done on my RMC brief as well as a few more non-substantive. I'm going to sleep in the lounge tonight, if only for a few hours.

Also, my roommate, my friend Chris and I have decided to begin publishing a webcomic. It is photographic in nature and will include at least one gourd. I will link it when it goes live, probably this weekend. There are a lot of inspirations for it, but I suppose the most direct influences are triangle and robert, a softer world, and dinosaur comics. These aren't exactly my favorite comics, just those that most closely resemble the work I'm hoping to do.

Discalceate

2006-11-01T23:24:00.000-08:00

Today, for the first time in my life, I was thrown out of an establishment for being barefoot. It was the Rutgers dinning hall, and the gentleman who removed me was pissed. I'm not sure that he would remember, but he's spoken to me about my shoe state before, but it was always as I was on my way out the door. "You gotta remember to where shoes," he would say disingenuously, as if he legitimately could have believed it was just a mistake.

This time I was caught red handed, and was forced to go back to my dorm for shoes. Oh well, shit happens. I think my barefoot phase may be coming to a close anyway, so I'm not too concerned.

I think I will add him to my arch nemesis list just in case though.

3A.M. & Mysticism

2006-10-15T17:38:00.000-07:00

So last night Ari Kennan, a guy from my dorm read my palms. It was a new experience, and strangely intimate for something I consider to be complete bull. He told me I would get to live a long time but I wouldn't get the chance to accomplish many goals. Also, I'm going to have some weird stuff going on in my life a few years from now. I rolled my eyes to Rebecca a couple of times throughout.

But somehow today I can't help but sit and examine my hands trying to see what it was that he saw.

And I just know I'll return to this thought in a few years, when inevitably, something weird does happen.

If this were livejournal, this post would end:

Current music: The Weakerthans
Current mood: Introspective

Thoughts on the Web

2006-05-26T01:12:00.000-07:00

So, I may soon choose to start using this blog as an actual blog, rather than just a space retainer kept only to express approval in Google Inc. This has a little to do with the fact that I am decreasingly filled with wonder by Google. I think the novelty of being the best has worn off.

But that is only a sliver of why I *may* turn this into a real blog. I have been very vocal about my disapproval for the use of online mediums as replacements for traditional means of communication and social interaction. AIM instead of the phone or (better yet) in F2F. Online shopping instead of in-person shopping. Blogs instead of news. Myspace instead of sanity and reality. I have felt and in some ways continue to feel that these things decrease intimacy and provide the illusion of social interaction while actually distracting from meaningful relationships.

But recently, I have increasingly come to feel like online mediums are being used to extend the reach of traditional social institutions, not replace them. AIM can be used to maintain friendships in a way that the phone truly cannot, save for the very best friends who are willing to put in the effort. It can be used to arrange "real" social interactions with greater ease. I am also finding that online social institutions are being used to augment traditional institutions, not replace them. A great example of this is photography. In just a few years--five tops--the ability to share photos on the net has completely transformed the nature of photography as a social experience. Whereas a person with a camera has been traditionally been treated as a nuisance, because the stop-enjoying-life-and-pose-for-me moment was only for their enjoyment or the enjoyment of the very few who went to the trouble of getting doubles, now picture time is a fun experience. Picture time is accompanied by the knowledge that photos will be accessible via Flikr or Webshots or Facebook and is thereby made more enjoyable. In this way, picture taking has been converted from a semi-selfish activity to a community activity. My sister, Melissa, tells the story of taking pictures of the young children for whom she cares at work. After a picture is taken, she says, the kids all erupt into a frenzy of "can I see!? can I see!?" They all understand that the nature of the digital camera allows them to take part in the experience as more than just a model. I believe this is a positive impact. Also, it doesn't hurt that you no longer have to worry that the picture wont "come out" :-).

Blogs I have regarded as particularly dangerous. Or, perhaps not dangerous, but at least one of the stranger institutions of the new virtual-social sphere. I believe they provide the illusion of anonymity and privacy while allowing for an unprecedented and new found degree of openness. This illusion of anonymity causes people to record thoughts that they otherwise would keep private. Moreover, it causes wider access to these thoughts. The digital medium makes it easier to say hurtful or dangerous things. It allows the author to be just removed enough to comfortably publish something they regret. Any young person in America today has seen a war started and a friendship ended on livejournal. And for what? Even in the best case scenario, I fail to see any advantage to posting your personal thoughts or feelings on the internet for all to see. The blog movement strikes me, largely, as a failed experiment in voyeurism with very real interpersonal consequences.

I continue to hold this view of blogs, and believe that they are, in general, a negative force on personal relationships. Regardless, my view of blogs has softened a bit. A good demonstration of why is this recent post from the Official Google Blog:

Ever since Google Blog Search launched, we've noticed that the universe of blogs has truly exploded--our index is doubling every six months. Perhaps even more striking, though, is that there's no one region in the world that leads the growth of blogs. Self-publishing clearly has global appeal, and blogging makes it easy for everyone on the web to share their voices and connect.

It's not hard to pick out my earlier assessment of the "blogosphere" as "Blogs instead of news" as rubbish. Rather, blogs are being used to call the media establishment on its BS for the first time IN HISTORY. That is an exciting fact and in and of itself makes right now an exciting time to be alive. Blogs are a means of keeping the powerful in check and an effective way of democratizing information. This is an element of one of the most important developments in communication to ever occur, and cannot be dismissed on the basis that teenagers have used it irresponsibly.

I have had a further revelation on blogs and that is this: people REALLY do read them. I have seen and read blogs whose authors would be shocked to know I am part of there audience. One need look no further than the Jeff Gannon story to see how bloggers are helping to find the cracks and fissures in the system that help to take apart the establishment. And, moreover, people really are paying attention to them.

So for these reasons, I'm going to go on record (if this truly counts as "on record") as being pro-Blog. But I have a few qualifiers. I think blogs are an amazing tool for creating open communication and diversity of opinion. In the wrong hands, however, a blog does little at best, and great harm at worst. How then, do I know that I am not the wrong hands? Well, I don't, which is why I have still not chosen definitively to open my blog to the public (if you have come here from any sort of link I provided, obviously that situation has changed). But I have made up a set of ground rules which I think will, at least, prevent this blog from being a force for evil (how melodramatic of me). They are as follows:

1. I will never write anything unless I am comfortable with the worst case scenario of potential readership. This includes friends, non-friends, potential employers, students from IDIA conferences, etc. If a post is accompanied by the thought "It would suck if so-and-so saw this..." I will not make the post. Because if you press your luck enough times, one day so-and-so will see it, EVEN if you have privacy features enabled.

2. I will never write anything I would not be comfortable saying in person to any concerned parties. For me, this rule is easy to follow. I am generally comfortable speaking my mind to anyone. This has probably been a liability to me rather than an asset, but that is neither here nor there. This blog will not be a veil used to make it easier for me to say emotionally charged things. This is not to say that I will never make an emotionally charged post, but rather that I will not allow my level of emotional openness to be increased by the most public and least intimate form of communication ever devised.

3. I will not make cryptic posts. The most tell tale sign that blog users suffer from the delusion that blogs provide some sort of privacy shield is when the post can only be understood by the author. Anything I write is intended to be read. If I have a thought so private that all I can reveal of it is "I have this thought"--and even that only implicitly--I will write it in my notebook. This blog is meant to be read, not squinted at hopelessly by people completely unequiped to understand it.

The later rule borders on the philosophical. I believe that blogs reveal a desperation in people. A desperation to reach out and communicate, a desperation to be heard, a desperation to be healed. But at the same time, they reveal a fear of all these things. So we pull people in just far enough that we can feel a little less alone, while still maintaining a safe distance. We want to connect but are terrified of doing so. Blogs are not the place to find that sort of connection, and I will not come here looking for it.

But one final note. I don't want to set a tone here that this will be some sort of serious publication where I post thoughts on the world. Generally, this will be about me. People to not read personal blogs because they want another schmuck's opinion, they read them because they are interested in that individual. I also want this blog to be fun and whimsical. I want it to be a place where I post jokes, weird stuff I found on the net, stories from my life, and yes, things of emotional significance. If I continue writing in this, it will be in every way indistinguishable from a thousand other blogs you have read, just lacking some of the annoying crap. A good example of what I have in mind is kevin's blog. Just with different content. But if my own reading habits are any indication, absolutely no one will read this post to the end.

Tomorrow I'm going to Hilton Head, South Carolina with dan for a week. That may be a good time to start blogging. Then again, it may be the worst time. We'll see.
-matt

Woa! Google Blog!

2005-01-25T18:00:00.000-08:00

I'll probably write in this rarely (if ever), i just love google and everything they stand for, so i want to participate in all their available services.