systemic compression.

visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon forvisual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for visual communication is not enough, writing coming soon for

China Takeover:

ad-venture capitalism... the propaganda aesthetics of a chinese takeover.

information wars…

the image my cell phone recorded

the image I attempted to photograph (appears in preview windows)

how my computer compressed and recognized the file

Since when was Chicago built on a hill? or is it a decline? Call me crazy, but could it just be a Chicago police officer’s parking spot for his new Hummer?

Entrance to the Chicago Police station on Palmer and California

flight patterns of gnats: paying the [tab] for parametric design

I stumbled upon an old series of images I shot of the flight patterns of gnats as they encircled sodium vapor streetlights.  It was an unconscious or a purely aesthetic fascination at the time, but over the previous year or so, having been bombarded with formal pragmatisms of the Foucault/Deleuze/Guatteri trifecta, they have assumed a much more poignant dynamic.

a structuralist composition of marriage

I always have equated making sense with the making or production of sensation. ‘believe in nieve.’ A life in uxorio, from sense to sensation.

a “coital” conceit

I have begun to quote myself. Not because of any particular brilliance I pretend to represent, but out of recognition of the potency of the construct itself. The quote has long since been used to tie essays, exposes, and lyrics into a more culturally relevant weave, as if to say “No, I didn’t sew this myself, I just help maintain the looms”… conceding the conceit of authorship to the more wistful and articulate masters… submissively posturing oneself beneath the shrouds of criticism.

but no longer… No longer, I say! Quote yourself, and as Deleuze/Guatteri have said, begin to “write in slogans!”

(and contradictions)

So I have begun to quote my own writing and citing the various pseudonyms in the bibliography. “…like a nation of planes, designing the skin of the earth.” (Justin T. Sleaves- 1988). The result? Not only does this felate one’s ego, it also alludes to the reader a depth and pursuit into an omnibus nether-region of literati that they 1.)have never heard of. 2.) will never find. What’s more frustrating (and extolling for the author) than feeling left out of an invisible loop? To be “Caught in the loupe,” (Fredrick Millnesbargh- 1879) is to live through “[self]referential hell.” (Gnoland Polar- 1996)N

blogging… gagging in room 109

I have been reluctant to blog or start a blog or to describe any activity as ‘blogging’… purely because of the redundant stigma attached to it.  Such a silly stigma.  The decision to start blogging as a pseudo daily activity came to me as a light in the dark… and as I begin to pull this beaded little chain, it becomes apparent of how foreign writing has become for me.   I fill volumes of notebooks with jots and notes of things to pursue, but leave most to the mnemonic devices and reverent dreams saved up for that rainy day when internet pornography finally loses it’s charm…