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Saturday, July 31, 2004

Note to all absent minded ruzz'

When disposing of bird carcuses (carci?) in laundry room garbage. Make a note to any ruzz in the area saying:

"dearest ruzz, when bird alive, bird stink. When bird dead, bird stink more. When dead bird stink it can be very hard to determine origin of gut wrenching odour. Thus, ruzzamaroll, upon finding this note, promptly discard laundry room garbage."

"ps. you smell, but not that bad. Trust me, its the dead bird."

Posted by ruzz on July 31, 2004 at 10:51 PM in why annabelle why | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Don't hate the player.

I have always believed, and my experience supports it, that people are contrary motherfuckers. That most people when presented with the word yes, will say no. When presented with the idea of positive, they will take the negative. They will be contrary for the sake of some underdeveloped fantasy of individualism. Because in what we do we make ourselves more distinct than in our choice of yes or no. What more pubic means is there to differentiate yourself from the masses than to poo on their choices and reduce those who might be working on different planes through our most modern implement: cynicism and one left over from the ages, a refusal to truly know something. A refusal -as if refusing as an act in and of itself were some measure of taste, style, intelligence or other-- to engage, to evaluate or come to know this thing which we have chosen to refute, denigrate or place the most offensive sully possible: to make common.

It takes no effort to make a sharp but insecure mind feel condescended to. They do the hard work themselves after one stops speaking. It's essential to take extra steps with these wayward sons and daughters, lest we lose them to their illusions about right, wrong and the value of classes, hierarchy and levels.

Everything in nature, every single thing that surrounds you and i here today is a part of the most pervasive and enduring class war ever mounted in the history of life. Every bug, plant, leave of grass, animal and other who might contain the spirit of life is part of an absurdly brutal class system. Man's denial of this obvious truth when looking at himself is one of our most tragic failings.

There are men who are more handsome, more funny, more intelligent and more experienced than me. This is a fact. It's plain truth. There are men who get less pussy, and more. Men who make more money or less (few who make the same, but mathematically someone must), men who live more. or less. We have these variations to make life thrive. Deny this at your own peril.

And, just as my cock is small and thick by comparison to some guy i saw in a porn movie last night there are some writers, some bloggers, some photographers, poets, painters, shoemakers who do things better than others. Some more worthy of an audience. Some more worthy of praise, commentary and further reading. If you don't believe this get out of the car now because i don't have the energy to deconstruct your mamby pamby new age "everyone is great, everyone is wonderful" philosophy. Tell it to the bottom of my boot right before i crush your face for the last chicken wing in the middle of Armageddon.

I support David Fincher.

David Fincher makes movies. Great movies with visual textures that make me cum buckets. I figure i'm smarter than him. I figure i fuck better than him too, but i still support him.

David Fincher does not support me.

David doesn't write comments on my website telling me how great he thought my blog about jude's errant penis was. He doesn't because in this media foodchain i fall below him.

David Fincher ranks higher than me. Through skill, hard work, sucking gay porn producers, or whatever. The point is he raised his fucking game and did what he needed to do to get to that point where i know him but he doesn't know me. Where, no matter if i am more talented, better looking, or as i said before a better lay, he still gets the cake for the movies. I don't. He still puts asses in the seats of theatres across this great conflicted land. I don't.

I entertain a few. I piss off more but i have my place. I know it.

I've been around long enough i don't need to take anyone's shit. I've played every variation of the blogging game you can think of. I've played every variation of the attack and defend, im smart are you smarter, im funny are you funnier, i type fast are you faster games you can imagine. I know the shit i'm talking about because i lived it. And it doesn't mean i'm not wrong.

it just means i don't fuckin care if i am. Because, pisshead, I have as much right to my opinion as you do. In fact, i would argue with most, i have the right to my opinion and yours. and if you can convince me otherwise i will be a swell dood and let you keep yours.

Maybe.

Don't like how it works?

Tough shit. Take your keyboard and go cry to mama. Lifes hard. People are shallow, vain, and fickle. They want to be more, and i respect everyone of them for that, but at the end of the day, when the shit is falling every last one of us is going to be pushing over grandma to get out of the way.

it's how we survived this long.
it's how we continue to survive.

i'm telling you the truth your brittle ego already knows.

and as far as the writing hierarchy is concerned it's essential to praise the few great minds we find and verbally abuse those who aren't. Because without this safety mechanism, we are doomed to be over-run by an avalanche of aunt bea's peanut butter cookie recipes. We have too many writers. We have too much being said by too many people who should just go annoy their spouses.

And only through violent attrition can we overcome this dearth of mediocrity.

Peaceful means. Friendly, i love you you love me means is going to get us no where.

china put a law saying one child per couple. i say, we put a law saying one blog per city block and you have to debate all comers to hold your spot.

because then there are fewer voices. more voices that are saying something and we aren't all being bored to fucking death with each word.

Blogging is no different than regular media. You get to the top by being hot, clever, funny or ruthless.

Whining about your needs isn't going to get you anywhere.

go over to some a-list blogger and pick a fight. give the fucker a bloody nose. Tell him his font is so 1998. Wake him up. He's there now, but does he deserve to be?

if not, feed the fat to the wolves and let the hungry rule.

Posted by ruzz on July 31, 2004 at 09:14 PM in crimes against brilliant minds | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

i'm angry, and you should be too.

10 reasons you fuckers lost out with the demise of judekyle.

10. January 2003: Brother Jude tells us why hate is important, why we can't have love without it and why bush's greatest evil is his love of america.

Yes hatred can be a horrible thing. It can lead to genocide, war and abuse – all forms of violence physical and mental. But so can love. Love is equally responsible for acts of genocide, war, and abuse. Love co-exists with hate in almost every act of violence one can conjure: the Holocaust was as much about Hitler’s love for the German people as it was about his hatred of the Jews; Bush’s war on Iraq is as much about his love for the US as it is about his hatred of Saddam; and my father’s abuse of me as a child is as much about his love for my mother as it was hatred for me.

9. February 2003: Brother Jude tries in vain to wake us up. How many times did he try?

You are dead. You…the person reading this, the slave of North America’s exploitative, consumerist, propagandist society. You are dead. Oh! you may think you’re alive, reading your newspaper or magazine, drinking your decaf, venti, vanilla, non-fat, no foam latte, but you’re not. You’re dead.

8. February 2003: Brother Jude gives us one of the most memorable peices of short writing i've read. These lucid pictures, built on his words will be with me to the day i die. But, i made the effort to read it. To absorb it. To feel it. How many chances did we get to do this?

i'll know her instantly. steel blue eyes, barely discernable eyebrows, wisps of hair cross hatching the horizontal creases of her forehead. her tan is the darkness of freckles. her hair is so truly blonde, and she's spent so much time in the sun, that i can barely find a fleck of white amid her blanket of deep brown freckles. but it is her lips that i can't get enough of. large, full, cracked by the sun, and as freckled as the rest of her, they are a wonder of dried crimson.

7. March 2003: Brother Jude shares his uniquely honest american shame and encourages discussion and action. You've heard of action right? and no, its not when you get off the couch to get a beer.

the war on iraq is wrong. the united states of america, my country, is the world's most horrifying aggressor. i am ashamed of my country and it needs to be stopped. and if thomas jefferson were alive today he'd agree with me completely. just read his constitution folks: he put down the ground rules for revolution and this is certainly one of those times.

6. April 2003: Brother Jude shares one of the most pain-filled parts of him, and how it taught him about love and beauty. Honest. Real. Human.

i look up and i see a picture of my grandfather. he was one of the most important people in my life, the man who taught me to see beauty in everything, my namesake, and he was murdered so long ago. sad that my mind always goes to that thought, to his murder, when i think of him

5. May 2003: Brother Jude gives us some historical context for the fascist slde of the US. Saying what many think, but few would say. What many fear but few dare contemplate.

the shift toward fascism is not a new development in the united states. the u.s. economy began its inexhorable slide toward fascism as far back as america's furthest left president, franklin delano roosevelt (or, perhaps, the slide began further back still. it could very well be the reponsibility of abraham lincoln and his disregard for the constitution, or maybe it began with jefferson and the creation of an economy based on slavery). f.d.r. loosened the control of competition, allowing monopolies -- or near monopolies -- to spring up in several war and civil industries. this process continues today.

4. September 2003: Brother Jude shares his vision, his strength and his passion, and shows us inside the creative mind. But, that's work too. isn't it?

my caesar will make all the men and women equal in their dress. women will be warriors and senators, not just wives. women will do battle with rocks and stone caesar to death side by side with the men. if the entire cast is without shirts and the men "act" as though this is normal then it will appear normal to the audience and become invisible -- particularly when it is juxtaposed with the cleanliness and clothing of the soothsayer.

3. October 2003: Brother Jude facilitates the creation of an interactively written play through a blog and comments, encouraging creativity, engagement, and an equal chance for everyone to be a part of the creative process. How many took part? How many watched The Bachelor?

hamlet lives by the deaths of rosencrantz and guildenstern; oedipus saves his people through his figurative sacrifice (his crippling at the hands of creon) and his literal sacrifice (his blinding).

2. October 2003: Brother jude shows us, that behind all that brain power, he's more about love than you might ever guess. And more fragility. And more humanity than most would ever share in a public forum.

but she'd come home because she was sick. not sick in a bad way, it's just that she's been fighting a cold for a week and the babies finally told her that she needed to stay home and rest. so she came into the bedroom to kiss my lips, probably through a fog of stinky morning breath, and she whispered to me that she was going to go get some groceries and then she'd be right back home. she'd be right back home.suddenly, fatigue took my body and the comfort of knowing she'd be here while i slept made me long for sleep. i begged for a blanket to keep me warm. she asked if i need pillows for my hips, but i told her i had enough to do the job. she was gone and then back with the blanket, wrapping me up like she will our children. i felt safe and loved, and i slept.

1. November 2003: Brother Jude, facing his greatest public failure, for his most ambitious project demonstrates he is more about meaning than being right. He admits his flaws, he admits his hopes and he stands behind his team when they are attacked. Taking the bullet for us.

he was totally right in his criticism of the imbalanced vocal performances -- some were strong and some were desperately weak. he didn't like the soundscape, nor the lack of physical interaction with the actress -- both artisitic choices that i remain proud of and believe work well. and he didn't like my lead actress, the girl playing brutus. but she's doing precisely what i've asked of her and her failings -- which i don't see -- are solely my responsibility. i directed her to be quiet with her body and react with her eyes (a strong choice in the intimate space we're playing in). i directed her to find the powerful core of brutus and not slip into an over-the-top mad woman. and she's doing just that.

I could've put 50 more. He never stopped giving us some of the best parts of him. But you cowards and small minds either ignored him or pigeon-holed him to the point where giving to you was tantamount re-enforcing the "judekyle" stereo type and making it even easier for you to dismiss him rather than do any work, make any effort, expend any thought and meet him in the middle to explore this medium together.

shame on you.

We lost a great one. And his brother jude's last teaching is: If you kick a man enough times, no matter how passionately he cares, he's going to kick back, then he's going to go somewhere else.

Posted by ruzz on July 31, 2004 at 02:18 AM in crimes against brilliant minds | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

walk with the truth

my man jude has called it quits. given the state of his blog, where he consistantly talks about important things, consistantly gives straight talk and goes out of his way to welcome discussion and then gets labelled as a bully, i can't say i blame him.

i accept some responsibility for that, but the sad fact is that most people are too fucking afraid of confrontation and when confrontation rears its beautiful head (and i do think many of you need to learn that confrontation and debate is beautiful) most of y'all would rather slag than engage intelligently. and when you're called on it you turtle and fuck off.

read his goodbye and fuck you post.

And why not up the irony by commenting for a change.

Posted by ruzz on July 31, 2004 at 01:23 AM in crimes against brilliant minds | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

recently..

chatter, chatter, chatter.

pause.

i say, dood, your cock is hangin out.
"is it?"

he looks.

"it is.."

he tucks it back in.

chatter, chatter, chatter.

Posted by ruzz on July 31, 2004 at 01:11 AM in all hail the penis | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Friday, July 30, 2004

i'm a liar

20040725_042047_0026_resizeI wanted so badly to post this pic to my photo of the day site, but all two of my regular readers were complaining about too many plant/bug photos. And since i hate today's photo, this is what it woulda been if we lived in a perfect world.

I could easily spend an entire day taking photos of plants, bugs, flowers and ordinary things. In fact, i spend hunks of days in my yard photographing the same scope over and over again, rarely seeing the same thing twice. It's remarkable. This world is remarkable.

go kiss someone deeply.
do it for ruzz.


Posted by ruzz on July 30, 2004 at 05:48 PM in random photos | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBack

lastly.

before i sequester myself to my work, does anyone want to know what happens when i sleep too heavy?

WARNING: before you click on that link, think twice, it might upset you.

and with that, my daily content quotient is above and beyond those meager minds who challenge and i'm off to make some money.

Posted by ruzz on July 30, 2004 at 04:55 PM in why annabelle why | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Because i love you

and because i'm sorry i broke your nose.

I put up a gallery of last nights shots. you can check it out by clicking here, or the link on the right side of the page.

and no, it wasn't just to test out the typepad galleries. honest.

and yes, if you like anything, i am selling copies for wallpapers or prints.
though, they aren't very good, and you would find more interesting things to buy here if you can't seem to stop yourself from giving me money.

don't worry it's normal, just trust it and thank paypal that we can work out our twisted kinks together this way. it'll be A-okay baby.

Posted by ruzz on July 30, 2004 at 04:24 PM in the joy of photo graphy | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack

comic book capers.

"so ruzz, i have a problem and i need your help" he says.
i say, who are you and why are you talking to me.

long silence.

"listen ruzz, nevermind that, i need your help man. I have a situ.."
no, really, who are you?

"Can i speak for just a moment?"
blankstaresabound.

"okay, thanks. I know i don't know you, but if i get her naked, will you take the pictures?"
just tell me where and when, my mama only raised the two fools and i'm not one of them.

but wait.. who is she, and why are we cataloging her body? we can't just go around cataloging them all. that would be chaos. we need a reason. a good reason.

"i'm a comic book artist here in bc and i need models for characters and she's agreed to model for me, but i can't get to calgary, i found your info in that modeling spot where you catch those girls unawares and thought i would ask for your help"

well god-damn, thats a good reason and you're doing the hard work aren't you? i'm in. i'm all in. because i've spent oodles of time working with "models" who say they want one thing and really want another and man, this is cut and dry.

and a great chance to work on some interesting form silhouettes.

"you rock ruzz. I will see if she wants to have your babies because you rock so hard"
that won't be necessary i'm not building my army of ruzz for another 10 years. but thanks.

and so it was, that some random guy talked some random girl into modeling for me.
sometimes, i love the internet.

Posted by ruzz on July 30, 2004 at 02:47 PM in the joy of photo graphy | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

death.

stephen, in a comment way back down there around the bottom of the page, says: "I don't believe in death, only change. I think our culture makes the death of our bodies scary and weird, where it is inevitable and commonplace."

and that's well and good, but its a negative. Negatives don't actually say anything. I want Stephen to say something and you do too.

Stephen You don't believe in death, only change, what's that mean?

and later you said, "And it creates an enormaous and mysterious rift between the living and those who have passed on."

by my figuring when you're dead you're dead. Nada. end o story. You may still fart but nothing is left. So, to me, there should be a rift between the living and the dead. Cuz, the two couldn't be farther apart (lest they were bush and the truth).

Now, i know my friend stephen is a god fearing man who see's things differently and that's why i'm here asking?

what sort of rift do you think there ought to be?

Now, before anyone thinks i'm shitting on stephen, i'm not. I dig stephen and i want to know more about what he thinks, so i'm calling him out, putting the big lens on and seeing what we can learn.

Or what i can learn, you buggers learn your own shit. No one is paying me to teach you anything.

See, i've always thought that death was final for a reason. I think, if we die for real at the end, then every moment we're alive becomes valuable ten fold. If we live on infinitely what difference does a year make, let alone a moment. It seems to me, that the only one that benefited from people absconding their lives for a dream of an after life were the rich and the church who were forcing people to live in intolerable ways.

but, i'm a kook like that.

Stephen, step up to the mic.

MC stephen is in da house.. woot woot.

Posted by ruzz on July 30, 2004 at 01:29 PM in ruthie asked, am i going to get broken? | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack