Craig Damrauer

Yeah, that pretty much sums up my first Crit experience. I did learn from it, though. So I don't regret going. 

 I found these awesome images by Craig Damrauer on, well, fffound.

.This is my kind of math. 

Pregunta, Answer.

My body, however, did a great deal. Sorry about the poisoning last night, body. Je t'adore. 

I have come to the realization that the people that qualify as my closest friends have an uncanny ability to dispense quotable phrases and words. Now,  as someone who's in love with words and phrases, this is not entirely profound or surprising. But something I would like to honor. Thanks, friends. 

For example, today I was given insight and advice about my, uh, "condition" that rendered me immobile for the greater part of the day. 

From my Mom, I received a motto that she says she used to live by on business trips. 

"If you're gonna play, you gotta pay."

Meaning, she used to go out and get shitblasted and then have seminars to attend the next morning. And she owned it. (It's hard to imagine my Mom hungover at a business conference). It is a good motto though. And I paid in full today. And missed my WS class. In all honesty, I suffer for that more than the class does. Every session missed is a missed opportunity to become more conscious of the dynamics and forces that govern the life I lead. Not something I would like to make a trend. I did have an awesome time raging and bonding with some of my lady friends last night, to be sure. It's a trade off. 

From Roja, I received this: 

" You can either eat some pills or wait it out. That's my life motto. Either way, you're gonna get through it." 

Although it was hilarious when I first heard it, it seems fairly applicable to my last week. I took the last few days to process some recent events and relationships. And it's true, each day it got easier to address the emotions that had been idling in my brain and body.

Pills or not. 

My headspace feels wholly less polluted. Now if only I could get the toxins out of my body...

Oh, hey. Got my bike back. 

STOKED. 

Mixed Bag

Random Thoughts and Insights from the Last Week:

"Stop shoving things up me. Stop shoving and stop cleaning it up. My vagina doesn't need to be cleaned up. It smells good already. Not like rose petals. Don't try to decorate. Don't believe him when he tells you it smells like rose petals when it's supposed to smell like pussy. That's what they're doing- trying to to clean it up, make it smell like bathroom spray or a garden. All those douche sprays- floral, berry, rain. I don't want my pussy to smell like rain. All cleaned up like washing a fish after you cook it. Want to taste the fish. That's why I ordered it." 

- from My Angry Vagina, The Vagina Monologues, and possibly the most hilarious 

monologue I had witnessed. 

Basic arithmetic: 

(Beer consumption - hydration - dinner )+ orange juice the next morning = headachitus vomitus 

Extra, Extra: Chris Brown's a Bastard

I usually do not read celebrity news or gossip because, despite finding some joy in the shallow products they produce, celebrities themselves do not pique my interest. However, the mention of the Chris Brown and Rihanna domestic abuse incident on a couple of blogs provoked  efforts on my part to read more into the situation. 

The long and short of it is that Chris Brown and Rihanna were involved in an argument after the Grammys that turned violent and culminated in Rihanna taking some blows from her celebrity, teen-dream boyfriend. There is a photo of Rihanna's wounded face circulating on the internet that was supposedly 'leaked' (unbeknownst to the LAPD) to the gossip site TMZ. Chris Brown turned himself into the police and was released on 50,000 dollars bond. Rihanna identified him as the one that caused the trauma.

Here are some of my thoughts on the matter:

1) Police photos do not get leaked without someone knowing about it. Gossip sites and tabloids pay a lot of money for their 'material'. People know that. It's disgusting that a site like TMZ will use an image of a woman's beaten face for sensationalism to get more hits. Celebrities or not. Yet, it's even more disgusting that someone saw the  picture- one  of a woman who had been involved in a domestic violence dispute- as a way to make money. And that those opportunities exist everywhere. 

1a) That said, I am somewhat glad that the photo is being circulated, even if it will not garner the most positive type of attention. The image of a beaten woman, and especially, a woman that is usually in 

the spotlight without a physical blemish, makes the issue real. Domestic Violence seems to be the

urban myth of the media- it's rarely mentioned, and if it is, it's in the form of nameless/faceless 

statistics that make it seem impersonal. Actually seeing Rihanna's face battered and bruised solidifies

the fact that yes, she was physically attacked and harmed, and that 

2) just because Chris Brown is a celebrity, doesn't mean he's not a misogynistic bastard, or susceptible to effects of  the patriarchal attitudes and institutions of the Entertainment Industry. In fact, I would argue that he, and most celebrities, are the embodiment of everything that's wrong with our society. The elevation of the celebrity to god-like status, and the public's pre-occupation with their personal lives, almost inevitably means that most celebrities are total sociopaths. It is amazing that we do not hear about more stories like this. I guess that's why most have publicists and good lawyers, though.

 Thus, am I surprised Chris Brown hit Rihanna? Hell no. 

I'm thrilled she was courageous enough to report it and has not shied away from pressing charges. Because, inevitably, there will be people, men and women, who will take Chris Brown's side and say she deserved it, or provoked him or also hit him, or he's a nice guy. Sure. 

He still hit her. 

Do my feelings about celebrities make me a hypocrite for listening or consuming their products? Maybe. I own it. 

There's something wrong

with mini-vans. I don't like them. They make me uncomfortable. Mini-vans and their drivers form a large number of the population who honk angrily and unnecessarily at cyclists. They are surprisingly fast, and their drivers, astonishingly aggro. Maybe it's because a great deal of them are toting around too many kids and the drivers have had too many starbucks lattes and the combination makes for one overbearing and aggressive human being. I don't know. I can only guess. I don't like never statements, but I will never own a mini-van. 

Bedtime. Love. 

Tucson

Big Mountains. Pastel Skies. Wide Open Space.

Room to breathe

On a day when it feels like life is shitting in your oatmeal...

Sometimes the little things matter the most. 

I love this city.

Counterpoint

I was so excited to stumble upon Robert and Shana Parkeharrison's new body of work, titled "Counterpoint". Since I discovered the Parkeharrison's work four years ago, I have been an avid fan of their mixed-media images and find them to be some of the most profound and significant contemporary artistic commentaries being produced. 

As per usual, the Parkeharrison's center their efforts around environmental concerns and themes of human and spiritual interaction with the material world. Although I am usually not a huge fan of color photography, I find their use of the medium to be extremely effective. Please check it out. 

Robert and Shana Parkeharrison

www.parkeharrison.com

Hope everyone is having a peaceful Sunday. 

Bite the Bullet... Before It Bites You.

On our ride today, Kate asked the very profound question:

"What would it be like to poop your chamois?"

Once I realized I was not going to choke from laughter- all I could offer was a simple "I don't know!?" 

I have never had the pleasure of such an experience. 

My guess, though, is that the feeling would be akin that that which I experienced, multiple times, in my previous week. 

Certainly, some of my cloudy disposition was not entirely unwarranted or unforeseen. This week just happened to be the one where I chose to take responsibility for spreading myself too thin socially and physically in the previous months. Thus, self-reflection (instigated by my previous week's drama) forced me to confront some situations and emotions that I had been neglecting to deal with as of late. To continue the metaphor, it was time to take care of the poop in my chamois. 

And I did. To the best of my ability. 

And I felt better. 

Until I got sick on Thursday morning and missed the same class I missed on Tuesday. My physical and mental spheres were apparently incommunicado about the whole 'sacred tuesday of healing'. 

And then, on Thursday, I had the pleasure of  meeting Bullet. And Bullet met my leg.  Or attacked it, rather. Bullet's doppelganger can be seen at the top of this post. Cuddly Pitbull he is. Thanks to his owners for letting him get out, nibble my knee, and take off while I was bleeding. 

I don't know if the painful, shitty, headwind-filled ride that Kate and I took today is even worth complaining about. It was physically miserable, but mentally strengthening. 

And without it, and my good friend (and Valentine) Kate, I would not have a poop metaphor to work with for the whole of my weeklong smackdown.  

In the end, it's all good, I suppose. But I am hoping for an accident and clean chamois week-next. 

Cheers.