Sadly so true

Boredom beyond Sequins

The Winter Olympics are nothing more than a two week serendipitous media blitz bookend by pompous melodramatic ceremonies. The ceremonies, multi-million dollar escapades punctuate the Games while distilling a host culture to a glorified simplistic haiku; an easily palatable capsule developed for ease of global consumption. Give me another pyrotechnic exclamation chased with a cinematic shot of North and South Korean walking hand-in-hand with a splash of pop culture musical melange. The substance of the winter games is figure skating. The athletes constantly injected by a stream of media bravado that just like their sequin encrusted leotards (hot pants) blinds them to their own Olympic egocentrism. The Olympics are the only platform where ice skating matters; even if just in a feigned capacity. They are a place for young gay boys to sit around a living room and openly giggle. A place for even the most metro to exude a fluffed up essence of testosterone; a truly detestable event that women force men to watch just so they can get even. These 'hallmarks' of daring and dance are propped up by a tepidly constructed foundation of athlete montages (where every athlete is deserving and resilient) and Bob Costas fireside chats. We deserve better, a more holistic view of the adrenaline that is the Olympics. High definition replays of Anja Paerson's crash and Skeleton dashboard cams. I want to live the Games, to feel the power, the sensation; like when you bite into a York Peppermint Patty. Instead I idly wait, wondering if Cris Collinsworth is going to make out with Shaun White during the next gold medal interview.

Adobe Photoshop Cook

Adobe Photoshop Cook from Lait Noir on Vimeo.

Political Graphics

Commute

Life's 30 second deviation.

face forward

I sit,

mind staring away

mouse strokes rhythmically click

...towards 5pm.

Melancholic humdrum of cars,

endless shuffle of soulful music

fluorescent jumps of corporate brilliance.

My mind wanders,

I find myself thinking of

you.

I love your smile,

your intoxicatingly charismatic optimism

...your authentic hug.

smiles; all smiles.

Guttersnipes beseech Demeter

Upon returning from my jaunt to the grocery store I stumbled upon a seemingly pallid activity. Crisscrossing through parking lots and back alleys to walk the shortest distance home I frequently witness rather innocuous events; the dumpster diving street urchin or rebellious minor getting a quick fix. This time appeared to be no different...but the apparently pallid rapidly blossomed into a surreal experience. Rounding the corner of a large blue dumpster I discover two vagrants huddled around an object. Jumping to unjustified conclusions I fully expect them to be up to no good. But as I continue walking, my vantage point dynamically shifting in relation to the squatting men, I realize they are hunched around a rather plain ficus. An errantly discarded plant has now become the focal point of these men's afternoon. As if practicing some ancient pagan ritual, the two begin to shift, chant, and rotate about this botanical behemoth. My feet continue to move me further from this sacrament while my eyes remain transfixed, mouth aghast. Ode to the guttersnipe!

A long time coming.

I know it has been some time since I wrote. And this is by no means is going to catch up for all the chaos my life has been undergoing. But it is more or less a list of things for me to recall, epic chapters in my life for me to expand upon. Deep breath...knee surgery, Las Vegas, loss of faith, work, and so many more. I promise once I return to Seattle to update my blog, fill in the gaps, and return to society.

May down in Flames

Ever have one of those months where nothing seems to go right? Well May was quite honestly the worst single month of my life. It was marked by illness, death, uncertainty, hardship, and surprise. It was a tumultuous thirty-one days where things that should be constant were dynamic and things that should be dynamic were constant. A good example could be my dating life. Now it should be dynamic, but no...it was all too stagnant. Of course it doesn't help when you are working 60 hours a week. But this is not a platform for glorified bitching. No, instead it is a place of celebration. May is finally behind me, and the final vulgarity was resolved today. See, May was coming to a screeching end, when I decided to go play a soccer game the night of the 30th. I should have known better. Not more than 12 minutes into the match and I pivot, knee collapses and down I go--never to return. Well today I got the diagnosis for my right knee. A beautiful meniscus tear and a fantastic surgery. The true beauty of May lie in its ability to inflict damage well beyond its 31 day gestation. Now my referee trip to Vegas in June is shot. Oh May, at least it will be 11 wonderful months until I see you again.

The Zimmers

You may think that I just design space for old people, but these are your grandmother's generation and they are not fading away. Just another example of the barriers I confront with design daily.