nineohtoo

[nineohtoo]

It’s been a weird few months for us all, and I suspect it’s only going to continue on this path for the near future... 

I just returned from Oahu where I snagged a Jacob Campbell shaped 5′4″ MBLV from a local. It was fun when riding south shore with my brother, but a revelation here around OBSF. Took it around Judah in chest high surf the other night and had so much speed to the point where I felt like I was too much on top of the water and struggled to control it. Took it out to Sloat this morning in slightly smaller surf and glided over sections and pumped faster than I ever had before. At this rate, I’m never going to ride a modern thruster again :)

[nineohtoo]

WG and me during the SF stop for Agency. Dude had the cleanest pair of black ACR Lunar Force 1s I’ve ever seen in person, even cleaner than YMFY’s pair... hmu if you got a us8

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Some taken last month.

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I think I came about Jeffrey Alan Love’s work from Warren Ellis’ Orbital Operations. It’s been in one of my tabs and I’ve only begun skimming through his work, but I love how much it’s grabbing me. Feels very much in line with the Tarkovsky quote below.  

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Never try to convey your idea to the audience —it is a thankless and senseless task. Show them life, and they’ll find within themselves the means to assess and appreciate it.

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[chikodelportiko-blog]

Evangelion: Final.

[nineohtoo]

A few from the past few weeks. One of my favorite quotes while getting Thanksgiving morning coffee, rock climbing around Castle Rock, and Kele during the SF stop for Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm tour. 

[nineohtoo]

Most of us float in the direction of the current, swimming a little, or walking, or treading water. Many employ some form of flotation device—rubber rings, tubes rafts—placing these items strategically under their arms or necks or backsides, creating buoyancy, and thus rendering what is already almost effortless easier still. Life is struggle! But we are on vacation, from life and from struggle both. We are “going with the flow.” And having entered the Lazy River, we must have a flotation device, even though we know, rationally, that the artificial current is buoyancy enough. Still, we want one. Branded floats, too-large floats, comically shaped floats. 

They are a novelty, a luxury: they fill the time. We will complete many revolutions before their charm wears off—and for a few lucky souls it never will. For the rest of us, the moment arrives when we come to see that the lifeguard was right: these devices are too large; they are awkward to manage, tiresome. The plain fact is that we will all be carried along by the Lazy River, at the same rate, under the same relentless Spanish sun, for ever, until we are not. 

[weirdlandtv]

Carlo Rambaldi designs for ALIEN (1979). Effects artist Rambaldi was hired to make the head do its thing basically, the original design of course was Giger’s.

That skull one though. Nightmare.

[nineohtoo]

It’s been a while since I’ve looked around or posted on here. Enjoyed Peru for a bit, went to DC for work, and am continuing to spend a lot of my time with L, here in SF and elsewhere. Too much time is still behind a keyboard though... but fall is here and I’ve managed to ride some of the best waves I’ve had in what feels like years. 

[nineohtoo]

[nineohtoo]

The term Spotification has been used in contexts as far-ranging as real estate, automobiles, banking, and book publishing to refer to a commercial logic that prioritizes access over ownership, breadth over depth of consumption, and instant ease of use over more deliberate exploration as a prerequisite for enjoyment.

[nineohtoo]

James Jean in Visvim.

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Lion dancing outside Purple Kow.

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I already bought the white bandana jacket this season though...

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I’m glad I’m not the reader I was in college anymore, and I’ll tell you why: it made me feel lonely. Back then I wanted to tear down the icon of the author and abolish, too, the idea of a privileged reader — the text was to be a free, wild thing, open to everyone, belonging to no one, refusing an ultimate meaning. Which was a powerful feeling, but also rather isolating, because it jettisons the very idea of communication, of any possible genuine link between the person who writes and the person who reads. Nowadays I know the true reason I read is to feel less alone, to make a connection with a consciousness other than my own. To this end I find myself placing a cautious faith in the difficult partnership between reader and writer, that discrete struggle to reveal an individual’s experience of the world through the unstable medium of language. Not a refusal of meaning, then, but a quest for it.