In case you were wondering:
There is a link from my website to this blog now. My portfolio website is at www.mattikai.com .
Also, I am looking for an illustrator position in the DC metro area. So, if you hear anything, let me know.
Enough self promotion.
What do I want to say this time around?
Here goes another summer. It is almost July 4th and I will not be taking enough vacation like always. I will not be spending enough time at the beach. A couple of 3-4 day weekends will be all I can afford. How is that fair?
Independence Day has really lost its allure for me recently. About three or four years ago we would watch the DC fireworks test at Harpers Ferry on the Saturday before the 4th; only the most tolerable crowds and so much fun. The recent administration put and end to that. Republican administrations sure do have a way of screwing up public entertainment. Remember when Reagan's admin couldn't tolerate the Beach Boys playing on the Mall in DC during the 4th? I guess republicans don't want us spreading "good vibrations."
I know it seems to be fading but I can't wait to hear all the national security warnings this weekend. It would be funny to see the Washington Monument launch like a rocket into space during the grand finale. That's the problem with terrorism. No concern for aesthetics.
I think I will celebrate this weekend with a satirically nationalistic attitude. My distaste for ineffectual holidays continues. I start out by seeing comedian Patton Oswalt at the State Theater in Falls Church Friday night. Patton likens the country to a retarded trust fund child on his critically acclaimed CD... classic! I look forward to some more America vs. retard analogies. Saturday we plan to attend a barbeque with some family and friends. I want to bring a small flag and wave it a lot but then "accidentally" drop it into the barbeque, singeing it a little. "Oops, it was an accident I swear. I was trying to spear a hotdog with it. I'm really hungry." Then just have it sticking out of my can of Coors light the rest of the day while I mumble quasi-patriotic axioms drunkenly from the security of a plastic lawn chair.
The rest of the weekend is a wash and the 4th is a Monday so except for getting the day off work I couldn't be less excited about another played out holiday. Oh, I also wouldn't mind seeing someone blow their fingers off with an M80 or something. I've never seen anything like that. That would be exciting.
Happy Birthday (or whatever) America!!
Your independence was not begotten in vain.
The British turned out to be a bunch of pansies, Innit? (that's English for "Isn't it?" in case you were wondering.)
Monday, June 27, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Iffin yous don't like it...
What a waste of time this is. No one reads this. No one cares. Why bother. If I have something to say I guess I should notify folks. But I don't have anything important to say and don't care to notify folks as a result. You can decide but who are you?
What do you have to say? Yeah you. You are the only one reading this.
I haven't got time to criticize. No need to praise. No interest in commenting.
Think for yourself. Don't ask me. There is nothing to it but to do it. You haven't got time for this fluff, I can tell. Don't waste your time. It's nothing new.
Wait,
Tell me your secrets, your lies. I can tell you a story but you have to be patient.
Wait for my call. Don't tell them I can't live up to expectations. Communicate.
Carry a burden for someone but try to relax. Don't take it too seriously, but don't fake a laugh. Repent but not in vain. Succumb to what is impossible. Avoid the plausibility of the cynical. Be aware of its doubtful consequences. Open your mind to the idea of nothingness and be persistent about your opinions.
Then,
Ask questions about meanings. Leave time for discussion. Look-up the definition. Fight the powers but accept what is not always obvious. Authority always wins.
Back-up your convictions with a hardy "Iffin yous don't like it..."
And make-up for a life ignored with a passion for obscurity.
—Mattikai, June 23, 2005
What do you have to say? Yeah you. You are the only one reading this.
I haven't got time to criticize. No need to praise. No interest in commenting.
Think for yourself. Don't ask me. There is nothing to it but to do it. You haven't got time for this fluff, I can tell. Don't waste your time. It's nothing new.
Wait,
Tell me your secrets, your lies. I can tell you a story but you have to be patient.
Wait for my call. Don't tell them I can't live up to expectations. Communicate.
Carry a burden for someone but try to relax. Don't take it too seriously, but don't fake a laugh. Repent but not in vain. Succumb to what is impossible. Avoid the plausibility of the cynical. Be aware of its doubtful consequences. Open your mind to the idea of nothingness and be persistent about your opinions.
Then,
Ask questions about meanings. Leave time for discussion. Look-up the definition. Fight the powers but accept what is not always obvious. Authority always wins.
Back-up your convictions with a hardy "Iffin yous don't like it..."
And make-up for a life ignored with a passion for obscurity.
—Mattikai, June 23, 2005
Thursday, June 09, 2005
I need to float a blog
Here is a posting that I plan to have resemble poop.
(I would have said s**t but it is a terrible word that some people don't want to hear, or... I guess see here.)
I used to write short stories that were mostly stream-of-conciousness inspired, just for fun. Some came out good. Others were totally incoherent. I want to take another stab at it now.
Mixed-up Condiments Stew (not a recipe)
by Matt Payne
"Made in Mangenese" the label read. I thought mangenese was an element not a place. The object attached to the label was less interesting than the label itself. It was pulled out of an oversized hat box that originally held an unusually large hat. Before we could analyze it completely a small child came into the room eating a multicolored icecream cone.
"hey kid!" Carl exclaimed, desiring the colored treat. "gimme that cone or i'm gonna go buy my own!" "Nien!" the kid shouted. "Oh, are you from the land down under?" I asked. "No, stupid, i'm Swiss. Can't you tell?" "Wait, the Swiss aren't from Austria." I pondered.
I wanted to see if the kid knew where Mangenese was and I wanted to ask him many questions involving cool treats and elusive elemental properties, but I had very little time to spare. I didn't need to know these things but it drove me crazy not to at least try to find out.
Before we put the object away and forgot about the mysterious label, the kid ran up and grabbed it out of our hands and ran from the room. I looked at Carl and smiled before I bolted from the room after the ballsy Australian child. "he's not gonna burgle my-whatever it is-with the label." I thought angrily. I didn't know why I felt so attached to the thing at this point. It was all but unidentifiable still and we were just coming to the conclusion that it was some sort of stuffed doll, which would have been perfect for the feisty foreign kid as a gift I suppose. Except that he rudely decided to snatch it from our probing hands.
"Halt, kleine kinder!" I yelled, thinking it would make me sound more Swedish, so the kid would understand.
"Nein, nein!!" the kid yelled, giggling a little.
"Bring back our... thingy... kid! It's our... thinga-ma-bobbie... you!"
We sprinted full speed down the hallway and around the corner. The Aussie brat exploded through the emergency exit as the alarm sounded. As I approached the exit I stopped and stood in the doorway observing an enormous empty parking lot stretching as far as the eye could see. The kid nowhere in sight.
"What?..." i questioned.
"...in the hell." i finished.
"Surreal," i concluded.
I closed the door, which didn't kill the alarm like I thought it would.
"Carl!!!" i yelled.
"Yo!" i heard faintly.
"Kid gotta way."
"Who?"
"Kid, you know, wunderkind, sticky fingers McGee, sneaky Swiss mister, uberbrat... the freak with the snowcone. You know!!?!"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Uberbrat?"
"Yeah, he ran out the emergency door out into the huge parking lot. Then I lost him."
"What the heck are you talking about? Help me with this unusually large hat box."
I helped.
"Was there a kid... ?" I stopped, feeling a little uneasy.
"What's in the box?" I asked.
"Hat." Carl said looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Big hat I suppose."
"Yep."
"For a big head."
"Don't flatter me."
What are we talking about? I thought.
The alarm slowly faded and Carl was uneffected by its call and subsequent decline. As if he didn't hear it at all.
"i'm waiting for a call from the main office and then we can head out. You hungry?" Carl inquired.
"I could go for a vegemite sandwich with swiss cheese. Any good asian delis around here?"
"They got a Euro Meat Corp take out place that carries Australian sausage. Will that do?"
"i heard a rumor that place was run by cannibals."
"You're the one that wanted to eat that kid's icecream."
"Nuh, uh; you said that."
"Huh?"
To be continued?
probably not.
(I would have said s**t but it is a terrible word that some people don't want to hear, or... I guess see here.)
I used to write short stories that were mostly stream-of-conciousness inspired, just for fun. Some came out good. Others were totally incoherent. I want to take another stab at it now.
Mixed-up Condiments Stew (not a recipe)
by Matt Payne
"Made in Mangenese" the label read. I thought mangenese was an element not a place. The object attached to the label was less interesting than the label itself. It was pulled out of an oversized hat box that originally held an unusually large hat. Before we could analyze it completely a small child came into the room eating a multicolored icecream cone.
"hey kid!" Carl exclaimed, desiring the colored treat. "gimme that cone or i'm gonna go buy my own!" "Nien!" the kid shouted. "Oh, are you from the land down under?" I asked. "No, stupid, i'm Swiss. Can't you tell?" "Wait, the Swiss aren't from Austria." I pondered.
I wanted to see if the kid knew where Mangenese was and I wanted to ask him many questions involving cool treats and elusive elemental properties, but I had very little time to spare. I didn't need to know these things but it drove me crazy not to at least try to find out.
Before we put the object away and forgot about the mysterious label, the kid ran up and grabbed it out of our hands and ran from the room. I looked at Carl and smiled before I bolted from the room after the ballsy Australian child. "he's not gonna burgle my-whatever it is-with the label." I thought angrily. I didn't know why I felt so attached to the thing at this point. It was all but unidentifiable still and we were just coming to the conclusion that it was some sort of stuffed doll, which would have been perfect for the feisty foreign kid as a gift I suppose. Except that he rudely decided to snatch it from our probing hands.
"Halt, kleine kinder!" I yelled, thinking it would make me sound more Swedish, so the kid would understand.
"Nein, nein!!" the kid yelled, giggling a little.
"Bring back our... thingy... kid! It's our... thinga-ma-bobbie... you!"
We sprinted full speed down the hallway and around the corner. The Aussie brat exploded through the emergency exit as the alarm sounded. As I approached the exit I stopped and stood in the doorway observing an enormous empty parking lot stretching as far as the eye could see. The kid nowhere in sight.
"What?..." i questioned.
"...in the hell." i finished.
"Surreal," i concluded.
I closed the door, which didn't kill the alarm like I thought it would.
"Carl!!!" i yelled.
"Yo!" i heard faintly.
"Kid gotta way."
"Who?"
"Kid, you know, wunderkind, sticky fingers McGee, sneaky Swiss mister, uberbrat... the freak with the snowcone. You know!!?!"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Uberbrat?"
"Yeah, he ran out the emergency door out into the huge parking lot. Then I lost him."
"What the heck are you talking about? Help me with this unusually large hat box."
I helped.
"Was there a kid... ?" I stopped, feeling a little uneasy.
"What's in the box?" I asked.
"Hat." Carl said looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Big hat I suppose."
"Yep."
"For a big head."
"Don't flatter me."
What are we talking about? I thought.
The alarm slowly faded and Carl was uneffected by its call and subsequent decline. As if he didn't hear it at all.
"i'm waiting for a call from the main office and then we can head out. You hungry?" Carl inquired.
"I could go for a vegemite sandwich with swiss cheese. Any good asian delis around here?"
"They got a Euro Meat Corp take out place that carries Australian sausage. Will that do?"
"i heard a rumor that place was run by cannibals."
"You're the one that wanted to eat that kid's icecream."
"Nuh, uh; you said that."
"Huh?"
To be continued?
probably not.
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