Brad Walsh

When the Birds Fly South

Monday, February 26th, 2007

I’m moving my blog to JunkMag. This place will still be updated, but it will mostly be things relating to my music or photos. Updates on shows, new songs, anytime I end up in a magazine or something. My personal blog is now part of the regular Junk roundup. Also, I’m on buzznet now.

For A Little While

Thursday, February 22nd, 2007

Get Myself Into It

Wednesday, February 21st, 2007

I am just so confused by the world right now! I don’t even know what the questions are, but the answers are all “who knows.” The Cardigans’ “Erase & Rewind” came on shuffle last night in my bedroom and at the time I thought, YEAH! Thanks.

It was very nice to paint again last week. I forgot how much I enjoy doing it, but I made the mistake of doing it not by myself, it’s much better alone. I’m not very good, but it’s so satisfying to make something from nothing and then just look at it, or listen to it.

Hmm. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

Kathy got a new tattoo, from Where the Sidewalk Ends.

Morgan had a redlight headlight which shone in everyone’s face.

Monday: Aunt Romina making pancakes, Morgan about to kill himself biting the top off a champagne bottle, and beach blanket madness:

More pictures here.

How do I feel about being lumped? When did this go from so good to so bad?

For the last month all my photos for JunkMag have been of the same fifty or so people, give or take a few surprises here and there. It’s been pointed out to me, as if it was news. Yeah, it’s the same people. It’s the people I hang out with, and we haven’t really been going out very much. It’s been hibernation winter house parties for the most part, and these are the people I love to be around. The nightlife photos section is a documentary of my night-life, not the world’s. And I’ve been getting steadily more hits, anyway, so apparently the strangers who visit enjoy seeing a cast of identifiable characters. Give us a new jolt that doesn’t blow and perhaps things will change. Spring, something new, a reason to stay.

Wow, is Britney Spears fucked.

Off the Florida Keeeeys

Tuesday, February 20th, 2007

Rocked the weekend like polar bears on rollerskates. Though maybe I should have stopped before Monday. But, as I asked in my drunken MySpace bulletin, “WHAT ELSE DID THE PRESIDENTS DO BUT PAAERTY ON THE BEEEEEEEACH?”

Friday was a party at my place, which was terrible amounts of fun for me because lots of people I love showed up. And then I pretty much stayed at Cameron and Romina’s the rest of the weekend, until this morning when I woke up and began to bumble my way through daylight hours again.

Seasonally defiant! The group decided that Presidents’ Monday was going to be summer, so the curtains were opened, Romina turned up the heaters and cooked hot dogs, everyone put on beach outfits and sunglasses, the Beach Boys played in the background, and the drinking began at two in the afternoon. You can have Christmas in July, so why not July in February? I never remember that champagne and wine drunk are very different from other types of drunk, so I got myself sick by dinner, marking maybe the third time ever in my life I’ve felt like I was going to throw up from alcohol. The only successful time was once in college when I lost a few hours and my underwear (but not my pants).

President Emily Quincy Adams
Born in a hailstorm and known for this image, her official portrait, which was deemed too racy for autographs to kindergartners. Personally repainted the Presidential plane with the phrase “Err Force One” and believed the film The Craft was a documentary.

President Benjamin W. Bush
Laughed so much at his own name that he fell out of a cherry tree on Easter and snapped his neck.

President Anna Rexia Taft
Pioneered emancipation of the Yarnbabys and sought to abolish separate bathrooms for Yarns and Norms (unsuccessful). In the summer of dicketythree she put on a mask of makeup and convinced several DC commoners that she was an angel made of taffy.

President Cassaddiena De Beer O’Washington
First and only three-headed ruler of the free world. Signed into law a constitutional amendment requiring all sweatshirts to be manufactured with three hoods.

President Cameron B. Johnson VI
Flanked by Secretary of Treasury Dianna and Attorney Jineral. Outlawed shorts on Mondays. This resulted in a storming of the White House, which was found to be completely redecorated with taxidermy and thrift store portraits.

President Kylene “Snakebite” Clinton
Died when she tried to smoke a rattler. Left behind a litter of fifteen First Babies, each one more stylish than the last.

President Katharine Harding
Pictured here with a portrait of her sister, Watermelon Slice Harding, a mostly immobile member of one of the most peculiar families in all of United States history. Watermelon Slice later bleached her hair, hired someone to beat a woman with a pipe, and made a sex tape on her wedding night. President Katharine disowned her sister publicly, but was seen purchasing the DVD on two occasions.

President Janelle Jefferson
Pretty much had this look on her face 24/7 because everyone knew she slept with the help and mothered many mixed-race children, all of whom she named Pinecone.

President Geneva Convention and VP Bradley Accord
Commander-in-Chief sent 21,500 troops to Ibiza while high because she thought they’d “really get a kick out of it.” Congress attempted to block the order, which resulted in a four-day filibuster of giggles and penis jokes.

President Sarah S Trumaneater and VP Kate Roosesvelte
The President and “Two-Fisted Kate” were impeached when these photos were found in a lockbox on a ranch in Texas and e-mailed to Lt. Zoe Bandersnatch,

who made them the desktop background on every computer in the Pentagon network.

Prez Lez
Lost a pistol duel to Judge Fudge.

More pictures here.

Inappropriate IMs I’ve Gotten in the Last 12 Hours

Friday, February 16th, 2007

V: You should see my ass right now. I’m wearing some TIGHT superman underwear.

N: lets make out this weekend
Me: the boy i’m seeing might take issue with that
N: hmm, lets see him together

J: why are people asking me if you’re the hot lover that gave me the pokemon game???

G: So, I’ve been thinking about it… And I think that I need to develop a library of pictures/video of you naked

And the winner:
D: i cant get my boner down!!
Me: wow
D: but like i need to go get lunch and i cant stand up
Me: and you’re at work?
D: yea. its raging
Me: how long
[silence]
Me: i mean. how long has this been occurring…

Dysplasia

Thursday, February 15th, 2007

Hmm, I feel kind of like a little kid sometimes. Like maybe I’m too slow for the real world, or unfair. But little things make me so much happier. Looming conversations, too; wish I didn’t have to say things I don’t want to say right then. Nobody’s fault but my own, though, and just the way of the world. Odd things. I am happy and this train is running prettily, with a nice old country nose. What, on the other hand, is to be done about the friend with misguided love and boiling blood in her veins?

The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine

Wednesday, February 14th, 2007

I have mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day. On one hand it’s nice to be romantic and cutesy for no good reason, but then of course when you think about it for more than five seconds, it’s very clear that the day is way corporate and fabricated and fosters herd mentality and other liberal arts school catch phrases. In years past I’ve mostly been single on Valentine’s Day; for some reason I often had breakups in December or January. And it hasn’t been bad or depressing, because usually the only way I’ve paid attention to the day has been by making valentines for my friends. Though I haven’t done that, either, in the last couple of years, probably because I have a real life now and I’m not in college in the middle of rural Ohio with nothing better to do.

But so this year it’s February 14th and I happen to like someone. We’re not having a Valentine’s Day date (because that’s the part that seriously makes me want to puke when I think about it), but we are hanging out this evening indoors. Which is nice.

Exactly one year ago right this very moment, Nicole Richie gave me a Dr. Pepper.

I love me some candy hearts. A year or two ago I bought three big bags of them in March from a thrift store because 1. I am cheap and 2. I am disgusting. They lasted maybe until the summer, which was very controlled of me. On February 15 sometime in middle school I stayed home “sick” and God worked justice on me by making me taste twice all ten pounds of candy hearts that I ate on my own all day. I threw up pink and it was horrible but also awesome.

My Valentine’s Day gift to you is an image of my kidney stone:

It looks much scarier in photo than it does in person. In actuality it’s maybe half the size of a pea, which is still large, but those pictures make me feel apocalyptic. I am not a cavernous mine. How did my body make a crystal like that? Are there fraggles living inside me? Bodies are gross and amazing.

I got this at a junk store in Williamsburg with Cameron last weekend and I love it so much:

I’m not on crack or mushrooms or psychedelics, by the way. Those last few entries have been the product of boredom and Wikipedia and introspection.

If you are a photographer and know anything about external flashes for Canon digitals, pleeease get in contact with me, I have a (probably simple) problem that I need help with.

Also, Aimee from Bad Girls Club looks just like my friend Sharon, if Sharon were less pretty and more ghetto.

Mobius Dick

Tuesday, February 13th, 2007

I suppose I’m getting less and less concrete because there’s nothing I can say anymore, but lately I’m constantly antsy with anticipation, excitement, commotion, and/or trepidation. There are sizeable new presences.

I remember years ago when I used to be able to type everything because nobody read this but a few friends and my mother. I wonder if this is why many of my friends who keep blogs have slowed or stopped. Kathy and Gurj and Faran and Sarah are slower than usual; Karen stopped altogether in October. I have lots to say, but I’ve been saying it in a low voice over the phone, or through a scarf on the street, or writing it into a song, or writing it in a nearly illegible essay to Geneva.

Many/most people, myself included, verbally dismiss blogs and MySpace and the internet in general as immature or impure or flawed forms of communication and documentation. And yes, they are empirically impure and flawed, but I don’t really think they are immature. There are certainly plenty of people who are immature via their blogs and the like (er, myself included), but that doesn’t make the act of using the medium an immature one. As long as it enhances and doesn’t replace other forms of communication, what’s wrong with it? It’s been my experience that people who hate technology simply don’t know how to use it, or at least they don’t know how to use it to help themselves.

Brain exercises:
1. A mobius strip has only one side. It’s in my three-dimensional world, it’s here, existing right in front of me and I can look at it and touch it, but there is only one side to it. It has an X dimension (about an inch) and an infinite Y. Is there anything else in three dimensions that is basically two dimensional?
2. “No candle in the wind, Anna Nicole Smith was more like a bonfire in a hailstorm.” (Salon/Cintra Wilson)
3. Is there enough dead skin dust in your house to create a whole new person?
4. If you were a donkey you would be able to see all four of your legs at once, always.
5. Back on dimensions: I used to have this conversation with a girl in high school about higher dimensional objects passing through lower dimensions. Say you wanted to pass a two-dimensional object (a full circle, with just a length and width) through a one-dimensional space. One dimension is just length; so, a line. Passing a circle through a single-line space… when the circle touched the edge of the single dimension, the point of contact would appear in the first dimension as just a dot. Then as the circle got in deeper and the length of it was made known, the dot in the first dimension would turn into a line that expanded as the length of the part of the 2D circle passing through the 1D space increased. Then as the circle passed completely through, the line would get smaller again and eventually turn back into a dot (the point of exit) and disappear. 2D circle through a 1D space = dot, expanding then decreasing line, dot, empty.

Now say you wanted to pass a 3D circle (a sphere) through a 2D space. A sphere has the length and width that a 2D circle does, only it also has a depth. When the sphere touched the 2D plane, the point of contact would again be a dot, then instead of an increasing and decreasing line (like the circle through the 1D line), the 3D sphere would show up in the 2D plane as an increasing then decreasing circle, again leaving as a dot. Because the only way to represent a 3D object in 2D is depthless slice by depthless slice. 3D sphere through a 2D space = dot, expanding then decreasing circle, dot, empty.

So, logically, what would happen if a fourth-dimensional equivalent of a circle were to pass through our 3D world? It would probably appear to us first as a dot, then as a tiny but increasing sphere, right? And it would get big and then smaller as the 4D circle passed through completely, and it would leave as a dot. Are there any spheres in our 3D world that start off as a dot and then get bigger and smaller and disappear? Anything we know of that can be described as: dot, increasing then decreasing sphere, dot, empty?

Q: What is great and white and only has one side?

Put On Your Moon Suit

Monday, February 12th, 2007

Sinking couch purple spandex dirty records and swords in frames, too expensive taxidermy and warped candles packed on their sides in a hot truck. An actor voice-over demos and practice, shirt-cutter and tabloid caricaturist, asking questions and saying I don’t ask enough. Plans without plans and impending notorious Day. I don’t know what to do about that. Apologies for not being nearby enough, agreed. Preoccupation, from that disappearing to indelible ink, so quickly! Out of the blue, and out of the blue filter that I should really stop using. I am lazy when I am singly spellbound. I am also incredibly doubtful of the content, or that a feather can tell any truth by sitting on a balance.

But before the Weighing of the Heart, each dead man’s Ka spoke in his own defense, saying: ‘I am pure! I am pure! I am pure! I am pure! My purity is as that of the Bennu bird, the bright Phoenix whose nest is upon the stone persea-tree, the obelisk at Heliopolis. Behold me, I have come to you without sin, without guilt, without evil, without a witness against me, without one against whom I have taken action. I live on truth and I eat of truth … so preserve me from the Eater-up of Souls, so protect me.”

A locally foreign chocolatier. Another dandy. More familiar. There’s only one way… to my galaxy. Click and re-load minute by minute, fangirls don’t realize that this is my morning. Fangirls and fanboys and fanwomen and fanmen and climbers and lovers and lovers and climbers. I’m tired of making myself so available, but it’s what makes the loops loop.

I cut a piece of yellow lined paper, made a mobius strip, took a pencil and dragged it down, across the bridge, came back upon my line and kept going. I listened to the six month old voicemail that I listen to when I need to calm down, because it’s comfortable and familiar and soothing, an older man’s voice explaining the simplest tasks to me, almost five minutes long, saved by pressing the number seven. What happens when you cut a mobius strip down the continuous middle line? Project: do it and tell me, I’d rather hear from you on this one than find out for myself.

Resuscitation

Monday, February 12th, 2007

On Friday Eoin and Lauren came and did photos.

On Saturday we were all pretty gay.

And on Sunday I slummed around Williamsburg with Anna buying junk I don’t need.


Thanks, Williamsburg!