Post-Christmas Livin'

Christmas detoxing is an important part of the process that is often overlooked. After gorging ourselves with food and unwrapping gifts like madmen, it's usually a good idea to take it easy for the next few days, slip on the slippers and chill on the couch, surfing the web or doing whatever it is you do best.

I'm up in Connecticut which I have to say is a pretty perfect place to relax. Watching TV and drinking buds I did something out of character: I started and completed a puzzle.

I have never done one before. I'm hooked. I'm about to do another. I felt like an old lady sitting there. An awesome old lady.

In other news I have acquired two of the hottest items in the world: Zhu Zhu Hamsters. I don't want them and I'm giving them away to two very special ladies. I haven't felt so powerful in my life. This is like having two tickle me Elmos or two Furbies and saying "eh....I don't care"

So, I go on record:

Eh, I don't care.

So, as I sit here trying to rebuild what I broke during yesterday's insane festivities I ask you, dear starlets: how do you re-coop after heavy Christmasing?

UPDATE:

I'm so hardcore. I finished another puzzle.

I can't stop partying but I need to slow down. If I keep this up I'll have the worst hangover tomorrow.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

This Christmas has shaped up to be something pretty damn wonderful. For the first time in a long while I don't care about presents or the tree or even the food. 

I came back from Chicago yearning to see as many of my friends as possible and that's what I did, putting in quality chill time with some A grade folks in an A+ town. 

Riding the 6 train felt great. 

Sitting at Carlos' with a beer in hand, Bella the puppy in the other felt even better. 

Point is, it feels great to be home. Chicago has grown on me and the past few months I have been digging deeper and deeper into that city and I'm liking what I find. Still, coming back and seeing what's good with the city I love the most was much needed. 

I might not live as decadently as the Blodgett's but this is the best Christmas I have had in a long while. Not to get sappy or anything, but seeing my pals and my home is the best gift a guy could ask for. 

I haven't seen everyone yet, but trust me: I will. 

Merry Christmas, everyone. 

Il to NY, Baby

Here's the good news: Yesterday I had my last two classes of the semester which means the unofficial blog hiatus can be lifted. Today I fly back to New York and look forward to posting like a regular K-Dog and living like a champion. I can't wait. 

Bad news?

I like flying out of O'Hare airport. It's one of the best I have ever seen and can't say a single bad thing about the joint. Except, from my experience, the minute a single snow flake touches the runways the entire place shuts down, resulting in me twiddling my thumbs for hours.

I don't mind this, I'd prefer safety over travel deadlines any day. Still, it's unfortunate the day I need to fly looks like this:

I might be a while, folks. 

Duped!

Today the company that hosts the Broke Toe Productions site let me know that the domain had fallen victim to a mean, angry hacker. All of the files are still online and no information has been lost but aesthetically it's seen better days. 

Take a look:

It's strange. These baddies didn't remove any files, didn't secretly upload anything in hopes of free storage space and left everything else alone. All they did was delete my hard work. They gained nothing other than happiness from my misery. Because of this, it is safe to conclude that the attack was done out of maliciousness against me or someone in Broke Toe. 

I thought about it all day. Who? Why? I piss a lot of people off, sure, but nothing like this. Someone is very angry and I can't think of who it could be. 

That's when it hit me. The Broke Toe Site gets no traffic. We don't plug it anymore, I don't talk about it with anyone and it isn't linked on any of my regularly used outlets (like this blog). The only pace that links to the site that time forgot is Youtube. 

Who is on Youtube that hates me? Who is on Youtube that let me know at least once every two days that I am a moron and deserve to die? Who floods my inbox with blank emails and hate mail in hopes I will shut down the account? 

Well, I don't want to say anyone specifically. Why? Because I do not have enough information to be 100% certain that the people I think did this are actually the ones who did. 

Otherwise, I would be a conspiracy theorist. Nobody likes them. Right?

Hint. Hint.

Time Warp

My sleep cycle has been so screwed up in the past week or so but today something very strange happened. Two of my buddies came over, we ordered Pizza and watched the Day of the Triffids mini-series from way back when. They left at 9 and I closed my eyes for a minute. 

When I say "I closed my eyes for a minute" I mean it. There on the futon I decided to relax for a few seconds, eyes closed. A minute turned into an hour. Fine. I took a nap.

I got up and went to the kitchen. That's when I saw the clock and nearly fainted. 

6:00 A.M.

Wow. Some hour.

More Dust

Today was my photo critique and things went pretty damn well. Now that I got responses to this series I feel good sharing the rest with you. 

I might re-do this in a studio next semester and really get it right. We'll see.

 

Dusty

Tonight I worked on a project I have been wanting to do for a long while. It's not as successful as I'd like it to be so I hope when I get critiqued on this series people give me some good advice. Long story short: I had to get pretty messy.

The idea came to me a few months ago when I read that a lot of New Yorkers still have little dust particles from 9/11 stuck to the sides of their lungs. It's really no big deal, we have a lot of shit in our lungs, especially those of us who live in urban environments. Still, the idea of carrying pieces of The World Trade Center with us physically has some serious parallels to our emotional luggage. 

Right now it's about 15 photos of individuals doing normal, everyday tasks while completely covered in dust, dried blood and soot. 

I'm going to wait until I get a crituqe on these suckers before sharing them with you. 

Putting that shit on myself was strange. When I first looked in the mirror I froze for a few minutes and felt very odd. It felt disgusting. It made me realize how lucky I was to be safe on that day. It also made me realize how horrible people must have felt after getting home and standing in the shower for a few hours trying to get cement out of their hair while still thinking about what happened. 

Yeesh.

Corn Cob Of Shit

My Zines have been printed and they look beautiful, sleek and sexy. 

I got 50 of the things and they turned out exactly how I wanted. They are pretty fucking funny and I can't wait till' people read them.

Each is numbered because that's what artists do. Some will be sold at Quimby's Bookstore and the rest will be given out to my closest bros and bras. 

Morning Motivation

I don't want to sound like a broken record but I'm going to anyway: I have a lot of work this week.

This country has a rich history of young men valiantly marching directly into the mouths of madness in the hopes of a greater good. During World War II there was D-Day. During the Civil Rights Movement, young men and women defied mob rule and sat non-violently at a "whites only" diner counter. During the American Revolution, Washington crossed the icy Delaware River with courageous elegance. During critique week, I had a big fucking to-do list. 

Today was the day to do it.

I'll break it down for you:

1. Drop off/pick up zines from printer

2. Go to loop, rent camera

3. Buy a few pounds of powdered cement (don't ask...)

4. Prep-order shipment of 50 buttons

5. Finishing touches on a short story

There was no room to slack off on this daunting day. I prepared myself for it last night and went over to my buddies house to ask for some artistic advice.

Long story short, I ended up crashing there. The night before last I slept for 15 hours and that really screwed me up. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Staring at my friend's ceiling, twiddling my thumbs, the night slowly inched onward. I knew I needed every minute of sleep I could get but I knew even better I wasn't going to get it. The moment sunlight hit the streets of Chicago, I packed my shit up and left. 6:00A.M.

IT'S SO COLD. I can't stop shivering and my hands are numbing up disturbingly fast. The wind is so strong at one point that I had to stop walking. The ground was slick with ice and putting all my weight on one foot risked me slamming my head onto the concrete. As I took this photo I was literally being pushed backwards.

I was tired. I was fucked. 

I knew I needed a big boost if I was going to get through the day on no sleep. I decided to go to Jewel Osco, stock up on a huge breakfast and promptly go home and cook it. I needed carbs, protein, caffeine and a little bit of sugar to keep myself going for the rest of the day. 

On the way to Jewel, I slipped in the parking lot and landed in a puddle. 

I, filthy, cold and wet, crawled into the supermarket. They had been open for twenty minutes and the place was completely empty. I can't tell you how strange it was strolling around the gigantic market, no elevator music playing, no people walking around pushing carts, just the sounds of my boots squeaking on the floor. 

It was very creepy. 

I got the hell out of there with my grub and ran home to start cooking. It was early and I felt like shit. I needed this bad. 

Standing over the gigantic meal on the stove, something came over me. I wasn't scared about working all day. I knew I would get it done. I knew the breakfast would work. Today was my fucking day. In fact, cooking that meal, I realized something. Today was going to be the best day of my life.

I'm not kidding, folks. I was 100% ready to take on the responsibilities I have as an artist, student and K-Dog with conviction and excitement. Because this should have been my worst day and I was going to rock it, it really was going to be the best day of my life. I couldn't believe it.

I sat down with my power meal and watched an episode of Law and Order: SVU like any other care-free day. When it was over I intended to take on the world. 

Breakfast of the Champion (me):

Three Sausages

A Shitload of Home Fries

Scrambled Eggs with Cheese and a Few Seasonings

One Five Hour Energy Shot

One Cup of Earl Grey

Good to go. 

I ate, I threw on my jacket and I walked out of the house. That's when it hit me. 

I was wearing my slippers. 

O.K, the power-food and energy drink didn't kick in yet. I went inside, put on my shoes and walked out again. 

That's when something else hit me and I threw up in the middle of the fucking street. 

Moral of this long, long story, folks?

NO FOOD, NO ENERGY DRINK, NO MENTAL PREPARATION CAN REPLACE SLEEP!

I'm screwed....

Disturbing Facts

I have posted once in the past five days but ordered Dominos' pizza three times. 

That's disgusting. When work hits you this hard, desperate measures must be taken. 

That is all. I can't wait to be back in web-o-world. Till' then, listen to a radio show. ---->

New Zine

Holy cow am I busy. So busy that this blog seems to have gone on a unofficial hiatus. I have a lot of shit to do for a lot of classes but in two weeks I'll be free as a bird flying around the island of Manhattan. 

Tonight I'm working on a new Zine. The idea behind this one is to, essentially, write my four most horrifyingly embarrassing stories and make them public. It's pretty fucking funny and I think it's going to work out pretty well. I'll share the cover with you folks:

The title makes sense once you read it, I promise. Tomorrow I drop her off to get printed and I should be sitting on 50 copies in two days. I'll sell some at Quimby's for let's say, seventy five cents. The rest go to folks like you (if you want em').

Is Blogger Trying To Tell Me Something?

I was leaving a comment on brother blogger Ezra's site and the word verification shocked me a little bit.

Yeesh.

Thanksgiving Radio Fail

Wow. I feel like I have been gone for months. Has it been that long?

Obviously things got pretty busy in the past couple of days. Thanksgiving had me munching on grub back in the home state and Miller High Life had me too tired to touch a keyboard for most of the trip. 

A few friends were supposed to come over but the plans fell through which meant the days prior to turkey eating (we celebrate late) were very boring. I didn't really know what to do so at one point I found myself recording a radio show. The "Kevin Gannon Back To Basics Thanksgiving Special" or "KGBBTS" as I liked to call it. It was nice to be sitting in the third floor bedroom of Connecticut all alone at night, sipping on a beer and talking into the microphone. It had been so long since I had a solo format and it was a lot harder than I remembered. 

Needless to say, I have three godawful radio shows. I have never listened to an episode and thought it was so bad that I didn't post it. Either my standards are getting higher or my radio is getting worst.

On the third night I got about 15 minutes into one and literally, had to stop recording. It was a failure. It's still fun to listen to and I felt like I should share my first and (hopefully last) radio fail with you all. It's better than nothing and honestly folks, right now, I got nothing. Hit the link to listen.

WARNING: Only attempt listening to this unless incredibly bored. 

Also, if you are a n00b and want to enjoy a real show click on any of the beautiful pictures to the right. I suggest "The Camp Out Special", "The Reunion Special" or (the crowd favorite) "Cooking With Kevin and Ludwig".

Most Expensive Post

I am writing the most expensive post in history of my two years writing this blog. If you note the post written a few hours before this one you will realize that right now I am thirty thousand feet in the air. 

Amazingly, there there is Wifi available on this flight. The Internet is totally accessible and pretty damn fast. I'm shocked, actually.

This technological breakthrough comes at a cost, though. For 24 hours of internets (which is crazy because it's a 2 hour flight) I had to pay $7.99.

Ouch. 

Still, I'm about to hit "publish post" and I must say the feeling is so cool that this was worth it.

Bon Voyage

Today at 7:50 I'll be sitting in a cramped American Airlines seat being projected through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet up off the ground all while safely and comfortably (sort of) listening to my iPod.

I'll be in Connecticut for our traditional "Thanksgiving Saturday" feast. Hopefully a few of my buddies will tag along. 

As usual, I dressed up nicely (suit, tie, dress shoes) because I find every time I fly and dress up I get treated better by 90% of the people I encounter. 

My flight isn't for hours but I'm crazy and must get there hours early so in 30 minutes I'll be hoping on the blue line to start my adventure home. 

Until then, I wish you all a happy thanksgiving. Peace!

Vanitas? Check.

After the shower photos were received well by my class (which was a first. For the entire semester I was putting up shit on the walls, it was looking grim...) I was assigned a project by the professors based on my work thus far. 

The conclusion we came to was something vaguely along these lines: I sucked at still life photography. I rocked at self posed scenes. How about I do both?

The assignment I was given was to take a photograph of a Vanitas still life while including myself in the frame. This concept challenged me immediately, which was exciting. After doing some thought I came to a simple, funny solution. 

In most Vanitas paintings there is a skull or two staring out of frame. I figured rather than have a skull how about having my own head on a table? Then, instead of fruits and feathers and shit, how about fluorescent toys and trinkets? Sounds perfect. Too perfect. 

For the life of me, I couldn't get it to work. Tables fell over, you could see the slit of the cloth I was sticking my head through and the shutter of the camera would go off too soon. This image, in variation, is what I got. I could never get my head through so it instead looked like a crowning baby with a full set of hair:

Defeat. Long story short, I was fucked. No idea, no time and no motivation. I sat on the futon staring into space and said out loud:

"Fuck Vanitas. Who gives a shit?"

And that's when it hit me. How funny would a photo be of some dumbass, schmuck of an art student who made a shitty Vanitas out of crap laying around his apartment? Even better, what if we could see him celebrating the fact he just created an arrangement that (in theory) allowed him to acknowledge, accept and celebrate his own demise? Celebrating by, let's say, getting drunk in his underwear while watching TV?

Perfect. 

I'm so proud of the humor in these. From the sticker on the orange to the fish tank skull, it seeps of "last minute art school" and has a real, bonified fartist in action.

I Still Can't Shake the Taste

Yesterday I got home from class, sat by the fireplace and got ready to watch some Law and Order: SVU. As I had the remote in my hand I thought to myself "Don't I have something to do?"

I stared at the blank television screen for a long while. I racked my mind but couldn't think of anything. I shrugged it off figuring it was just "one of those days" and dove into the world of the dedicated detectives who investigate vicious felonies. 

A few hours later I hit the sack. That's when a realization hit me harder: I had to take some photos for my midterm next week. 

Damn.

Point is, tonight I have a butt load of work to do. I needed a college approved boost of some sort so I took a stroll to the drug store.

Monster Energy Drink. Sure, that shit works. Everyone drinks it, I have had it before and ran up the walls while writing twelve page papers. Perfect. Too bad it tastes like shit. At least, I thought it tasted like shit. Then I saw the new "Mean Bean Mocha" energy drink. That's more like it.

Paid my three dollars, took this baby home, cracked her open and took a sip. HOLY SHIT.

Of all the commercial products I have ever consumed in my entire life, this is the absolute worst that has touched my taste buds. It is so horrible, so wretched, that I cannot find the words to describe the misery induced after swallowing a gulp of such trash.

The taste was so bad, in fact, that it was worth stopping everything I was doing to get this message out to you. I insist, go to the store and buy a can of this. I want you to experience the horrors that until now I didn't know could exist in the back of a deli.

Jesus. I'm going to vomit.

The Virus and The Damage Done

This whole swine flu thing has really taken our way of life and flipped it on it's side. I feel like a pretty big asshole complaining about the situation because I'm not the one who is going through horrible pain and discomfort.

Still, the past few days have been weird. Aside from having to watch my friend deteriorate on our futon, knowing that one wrong move could make me wind up like him scared the shit out of me. I watched what I touched and where I stepped. I hand sanitized skin off of my sensitive hands. I looked at sections of my own home and said:

"You cannot go there, Kevin. 

That place is contaminated."

Very strange stuff. What was the most noticeable effect of this virus? Oh, boy. Step into my kitchen.

I talked to a pharmacist and he told me to be extra careful around the bathroom and the kitchen. He told me that dishes and sink faucets are a very easy way to get infected, especially if it's a roommate situation. This man doesn't know it but he may have saved my life but also ruined it: essentially, this means that Preston and I have been treating the kitchen like a war zone until he gets better and it's safe to do the dishes. The whole house is beautifully clean right now (as usual), but Jesus Christ. Look at that. 

All of this drama aside, Preston is starting to make a good recovery. I feel like a million bucks and I'm glad my partner in crime is getting back up on his feet. It's upsetting to see an amigo down for the count. What's more upsetting? Not being able to high five him when he single handedly clears a room of thirty terrorist on "hard" playing Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas: 2. That's no way to live.

The kicker? The beautiful, full circle ending every blogger yearns for? For the first time I feel comfortable retiring the mask. Good riddance, baby.

Also, the pig says "Hey"

Fashionistas?

I have an idea for a photo shoot (luckily, I have decided to do it on my own time so there are no deadlines) involving my Corporate Camouflage I made a few weeks back.

Problem is, one element of the piece will require a great deal of collaboration. You see, I intend on getting that camouflage printed onto a few yards of fabric and then getting someone to sew together a military uniform of perfect detail out of it. Something like this:

I don't want to get into the specifics because I think it's actually a really solid idea and don't want it out there until I'm hanging a gigantic print on the wall.

I'm a schmuck with a sewing machine and have no idea how much time this would take and if it's even a reasonable thing to ask of someone. I would pay the individual unless they refuse, which, in this economy, I doubt will happen. 

While that works itself out I'm figuring the money out. This project (unlike most I usually make) will actually require a bit of cash. Yeesh. Making Art Farts can be expensive.

I'm trying to hit up the fashion department kids at my school. Are you one? Do you know many? If so, please let me know. 

This Machine Kills Swine

My roommate and friend is sick with what the doctors believe is the notorious Swine Flu. The poor guy is a mess, huddled up in blankets trying to get some work done. 

I'm taking some OD precautions like wearing a mask around the house and vowing to never touch my eyes or mouth. I can't afford to get sick in the coming weeks, I have too much work and too many plans and losing any time would cost me dearly. More importantly, I wouldn't get caught dead with a dirty person's disease. 

Ludwig Did My Job Tonight

I had something in mind worth posting but Ludwig's entry tonight on his blog was funnier so I quit.

Before school started me and a few of the brothers kicked it at Luddie's place. We were partying pretty hardy and the night for us had been going on for a long, long while. Near the end of it all Ludwig started strumming the guitar and we had a little sing along.

The best track was our rendition of "All Star" by Smash Mouth and I think the intro to this is so fucking funny and (despite it's comic genius) 100% unscripted. 

Enjoy.

P.S.

Tell Ludwig Kevin sent you in his comments. Let's teach the kid a lesson.

I'm getting old

Pushing twenty years on this earth, my fast paced lifestyle is beginning to catch up to me. Father time has opened up my records and declared that I have been in my prime far too long. He has wrought a sinister plan for me to partake in, one that every man and woman too must eventually face. He has laid a road for me to walk down (or, eventually, hobble down) and it says "AGE...NO EXIT"

I'm getting old, folks. The grim reaper isn't looming or anything but I have noticed a few things that have been happening to me and when they do I say to myself "it's happening". What's scary is it is going to continue happening for a very long while. 

You think I'm crazy? I think not. I think I'm observational. Take the following points as proof:

1. My Bladder is That of an Old Man's

Most old people I know frequently make pit stops to the restroom. I never understood why they have to piss so much. For a long while I thought most of the world over forty had secret drinking problems. Now, more realistically, I can safely say it is their own bladders giving way. Folks, when I'm in class I expect to drop by the little boys room at least three times before the day is up. That's super annoying for me considering public restrooms are the bane of my existence, but that's going to be saved for another post.

2. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

I'm sleepy, goddamnit! I remember back in the day when I was a young lad I could easily stay up until 5 working, take a two hour power nap, wake up and then take on the world. Two hours of sleep now? Forget it. Six? HA! I need at least seven to be a functioning human being. It's sad.

3. Taste.

In recent weeks I have found myself eating greens during lunch. I'm not referring to Jolly Ranchers, I'm talking straight up greens composed of whatever it is the earth spits up when it's in a good mood. I have gone my entire life hating salad and all things that mildly resembled it. Somehow after my taste buds have begun to atrophy I get hungry for a salad. Can you believe that? Pathetic. What's next, Ensure and jello?

4. Art

This one is a doozey. If you were to come up to me three years ago and say "Kevin what sort of artists do you like?" I would have told you Jeff Koons, Damien Hirst, Joe Coleman, Bruce Nauman and other loonies raking in that contemporary cheddar. I wouldn't be caught dead in any museum that didn't have "Modern" in it's name and I hated painting. Now? Jacques-Louis David, Edward Hopper, Grant Wood and sometimes, dare I say it, Jean Baptiste Chardin. Still life? How fucking boring.

5. Attitude

When I see a bunch of kids sitting around doing nothing I think to myself "Look at those fucking hooligans, sitting around doing nothing. They don't know what life is like. They don't know what they need to be getting ready for. I worry for the future of this country..." which is silly, because they are usually a year younger than me and I'm usually sitting around doing nothing. I wonder if they are looking at me thinking: "Look at that old, bastard. He suxx :p lolz"

Here is where I ask the question to make myself feel better. What about you people? Are you getting older? Do you feel like the next stop is a lazy boy by the fire place, glass of whiskey in hand, loyal dog keeping your feet warm and an empty shotgun by your side to scare punks off of your porch? If so, please let me know. 

WHAT?

I'm over the Bacon Weave. I thought that I had made and eaten the greatest dish man could fathom. That is until I came across this:

Yes. You read right. PASTRAMI CHICKEN WINGS. Are you kidding me? Have I died and went to heaven? 

I know what I'm making for dinner tomorrow night.

Good Weekend

For some reason everyone's friends were in town this weekend. That meant I got to chill with some new faces and some familiar ones I haven't seen in too long. 

All in all, I had a blast for the past couple of days. A lot of people walked in and out of the living room, many a drinks were poured and everyone seemed to have a good time. 

To all those I encountered in the past two days, it was nice to meet you or see you again. 

Now, back to work. Hopefully things will pick up and this blog will be worthy of writing again. As I have mentioned earlier, things are slow.

Fact or Fiction?

There really hasn't been much to post about recently and you all know my philosophy: if it feels forced, don't force it. 

That philosophy is swell and fine until you have a few days in a row with nothing posted. I like Cop Killer, I really do, but I don't like it enough to see it every time I load this page.

Most of my classes are taking it easy considering we just had our midterms. That means I haven't churned anything out worth talking about. I have, however, began looking at classes and found one that really interests me.

It's a video studio called "Bordering Fiction" that explores documentary and television blurring the line between reality and falsehoods. This sounds simple, but it's sort of a calling for me. You see over the past few years I have began forming in my head what sort of films I want to make. It is the sort of film I did make. Remember these?

Hell, in a strange way, even the gun reviews do it. I know that this is usually referred to as a "Mockumentary Film" but I don't like that term. For one reason, it's not mocking documentary style. It is documentary style. I would love to make a film that perfectly replicates how a factual documentary would be shot. Flawlessly. Another reason I don't like that is it seems goofy. What if I want to do this about something serious? Something heavy? Would that be accepted as OK like these two films are or is that just packaging a lie as something else to cut corners? Who knows. 

About a year ago this thought was kicking around my head. I was starting my first year at Fart School and thoughts like this were encouraged. It was a great environment to ask myself: how could I do that without having to make a documentary? 

I have never been good at directing actors. It's not something I want to do and couldn't if I tried (ask anyone who was on the set of our last film). A few films ago, however, something clicked. Thinking about that blur between what was happening in the film and what was happening in real life, I would ask actors questions that were (in a basic way) relevant in their own life and the life of their characters. 

When they were deep in the conversation, I'd call action and they would have to turn on whatever character they were acting immediately. It works beautifully. It takes skill on both ends but I think it works out very well. It's not a new idea but I had never tried it. It worked well.

Point is, this class should help me formulate exactly what to call this. Point me in the direction of other artists who do this better. It should allow me to practice this some more until I really get it down. I cannot wait.

Cop Killer

Am I the only person who didn't know Ice-T was in a west coast punk band?

Falling in the Shower

I got a really good critique on the photos I mentioned in my last post. So good, in fact, that some of them didn't even need exposed weenies to effect the viewer. That's good for you because it means a) you don't have to see my exposed weenie and b) you get to see them. 

Like every good art student I did a reversed reference to David's Death of Marat. How Neo-Neo Classic:

This was a fun shoot and it's the first time I have put something up on the wall during a crit that I didn't think was garbage. Essentially, what we talked about in class is that there are two types of photographers: hunters and farmers. 

I am not a hunter. I grow my own shit. Still, I have a hunter mentality that kicks in by storing images in my head through experience, film, literature and other art. It's good stuff and it's a huge breakthrough. I always looked at photographers (at least in the art world) as hunters and said to myself "That's no place for me"

Boy was I wrong. I loved doing this. It's not a new idea to be a farmer but to me it is.  I can't wait to plant some more crops.

Cut my foot!

I cut myself while in the shower. It was horrible.

Just kidding. I had a photo shoot where I had to enact one of my worst fears. I chose falling in the shower and hitting my head as the water washes away blood until there is none left. The photos came out dope and I'd post them but I can't. Why?

Dey got Kevin weenies in em'

I'm cool with showing my schlong to a group of fellow artists in a critique environment. Sharing my schlong with the internet? 

Sorry, folks. 

Puke-Fest 2009

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling funny. My friend Monty came by and after chilling with him for a bit I started to get horrible stomach cramps. Soon a headache came along with a very high fever. Then, I threw up.

Then I drank some water and threw up some more. 

Then I drank some more water and threw that up also.

Then I drank some water and Pedialyte (so I wouldn't die of dehydration) and threw that up too. 

All in all, throughout the day, I threw up six or seven times. More interestingly, in retrospect I realize now that I was delusional (probably from the fever). At one point I remember covering myself with blankets and saying

"This is our land now, Kevin.

It's warm here. We own it."

over and over again. I actually thought I was going to die. Ask Preston, we talked about it.

I'm OK now, though. Except for the fact that I lost a full 24 hours of work during what has been my most busy week this semester. Balls.

Dislike Button?

Already, you shudder. I don't even need to explain what is going on. If you have a Facebook account you have noticed the "WE DEMAND A DISLIKE BUTTON! 2 MILLION MEMBERS TO GO! JOIN NOW! ASAP! LET'S DO IT YEAAAH!" groups popping up allover the place. I think we have all pretty much grown immune to stupid Facebook things like this but still, I can't help but make a few observations...

When this all first started, some schmucks were under the impression that Facebook was a democracy and that if 1,000,000 people joined a group, Facebook would be forced to meet their demands.  Every day afterwords new groups would pop up increasing the number needed to convince Facebook to add the button. Today I logged in and saw a new group:

"IF SEVEN MILLION PEOPLE

JOIN THIS GROUP WE

WILL GET A DISLIKE BUTTON!"

Seven million fucking people? Are you kidding me? Did I miss something? All for a Dislike button? Holy shit, folks. This is incredible.

I decided to check out what some of these people were saying in the forums. I have never seen such an angry group on Facebook (with the exception of Mafia Wars which threatened I join today or It'd kill me). Reading these comments you would think that something serious was going on. Nope, not actually. It's just hysteria on Facebook. 

Take Donya, for example. She's a bright girl and she understands why Facebook isn't too anxious to have a "dislike" button. She thinks it will be abused by people and create tension between users. Still, what about those who would use it properly?

It's a valid point. People need a way to "SHOW THT THY DONT RLY LIKE SOMTHING". What a conundrum.

Some people are just being ridiculous and proving that once you give somebody something they want more and more. 

Jeffrey, come on. Do you also want a sack of money, asshole? 

My favorite comment of them all came from Aisha. It's simple, it's clear and it gets the point across nicely:

She should look into politics. 

This is all fun and games until I saw the most upsetting thing of all. A young lady suggesting each member of each group donating $1 and coming up with millions which they could then give to Facebook in exchange for a Dislike button.

Isn't that what you would do too? If I had millions I would most certainly give them to a website that I probably won't be using in two years. 

In all honesty, actually, if I had the money I would do everything but give the money to Facebook. That wouldn't even be an option that crossed my mind. I would buy a car and drive it into a pool of Cottage cheese before I gave my cash to Facebook.

Zoe, I totally agree. Let's do that. Just tell everyone to make the donations to Kevin Gannon's paypal account.