Friday

East to West: January 30, 2009


Her We Go - (album update/initial sketches)

headphones are good a thing
all are everything is headphones & cocoa collection
doy
Her We Go playlist
1) Taste The Monster 5:58
2) Make As New Place 7:20 - new!
3) in progress.
4) in progress..
5) in progress...
6) in progress....
7) in progress.....
8) in progress......
9) in progress.......
10) Taste (reprise) 1:54
the Kingdom of Leisure playlist
1) richey powell berkeley
2) big dave wave miami
3) philly boy gabe philadelphia
4) in progress.
5) in progress..
6) in progress...
7) in progress....
8) in progress.....
9) in progress......
10) tyrone hussein hardaway washington, d.c.
© 2009 Middlespace Arts - Middlespace East/Middlespace West

-------------------------------------------------------
Here we go thread [clicky]
WTF? Contact: admin[at]middlespace[dot]net
Here we go photography by RPW CMcG or TJH
What's in the Hat? v06.x update [clicky]

Quote: "A mope's gotta do what a mope's gotta do"

Thursday

Today Someone Called Me This

"Polymath"

I know, I know...where the posts at, G? Just know that as I focus my efforts more acutely on other projects and clients you may see the occasional dip in services at Abnormally Keen Despair. And once said projects where efforts are more acutely focused right now near fruition, you'll be the very first to know.

Remember: Everything I do, I do for you.

Peaches!

Snow Day II

Wednesday

Middlespace National Tagline Campaign 2009

headphones are good a thing
all are everything is headphones and cocoa collection
doy

Tuesday

The Greatest Story Ever Told

Three older teens were entering restaurant I was leaving. One young lady, two young men. I caught this snippet and I smiled.
Young woman, incredulously, to young men:
"...but how do you know there's no god?"


The Greatest Story Ever Told live in 1998: [clicky]

I Am Such A Baby {and Old School Brackets}


Whaaaaaahhh!!!

I am such a huge fucking baby! Not the guy above, he's a "big boy." That toddler is a great kid and so extraordinarily beautiful and wondrous and smart with a whole, new and improved, Barack-world at his feet. He will live to be 104 years-old. He will do things I never imagined possible {and I have a healthy imagination}. I'm just using his photograph for conceptual representation. That's what I do. He's not the baby.

No, I'm the baby. Me. Ty Hardaway. Seriously. Whaaaaaahhh!!! I'm an artist. I need to do my life's work! Whaaaaaahhh!!! I gain spiritual fulfillment based on brilliantly conceived paradigms of self-mythology and intellectual superiority that only like five people understand. Whaaaaaahhh!!! I'm so talented and significant...where's my bah-bah?!

I am always in such a sprint to my ultimate greatness and worldwide, lifelong domination that I sometimes forget to smell roses and ponder blue skys and shit. I sometimes forget that I'm like a mastiff dragging so many midget dog walkers behind me like a cell from a Marmaduke strip {unfunny but illustrative}. I get antsy as fuck when I can't work {it's been that way since forever}. I mean, I'd be a 100% pitiful workaholic, given druthers, and would work and toil and tinker nonstop {with fantasies of nonstop output and production} without regard to time or space or world events or hunger. It's now like if I can't do "significant work" {or at the least make significant process efforts} during Any Given Day, I claim end-of-career and ponder job applications at the Whole Foods or some liquidation firm. Bar continually set higher. Elusive? Perhaps. Perhaps not, because I'm Ty Hardaway®. See?

Intellectually I realize that The Game doesn't work that way--so poppa don't preach to me, I know more about it than you ever will {and I might preach to you about it}. Emotionally and temperamentally...a masterpiece {output or paradigm} a day keeps Jack from being a dull boy. That's fucked up, right? But that's where I am; that's where it's at. I know it and my gang of art assassins know it too. If 2009 is "going to be pretty transformative," if its going to be one massive "molting," if its going to "become a new thing" then this crying like a baby business isn't going to cut it. No winning through whining. So if I have to drag all you all kicking and screaming into the light, so be fucking be it. I'm. That. Good. Nothing can stop us. {See?}

I know, I know...even The Black Beatles took a few days off to chill with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi but they were just fucking lazy ass slackers.

Saturday

Dedicated to All My Friends from Brooklyn to Berkeley

...in a middlespace style [clicky] from the middlespace years.

I Found The Cutest Antique Store Today (Saturday Workshop)

the iPhone knows...

Hey look, kids! More from Ella


A small turkey (or a large chicken) in the gutter and I don't care

If Richey Powell and Sistine Sixteen had a boy...they'd call him Sam

Wife and child trick man into going clothes shopping with them, this is the wall for staring at for six hours

Ella mentors Mu-Mu

Friday

Bethesda 2009

The Hustle

Liquidation Guy

Vegetarian Restaurant Guide Guy

Proportions

...in a middlespace style [clicky] from the middlespace years.

Ask Ty...January 23 [The Ken Griffey, Jr. Question]

It must be Tuesday Friday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions

Q: Dear Ty,
I read that Ken Griffey, Jr. doesn't have a job yet. How am I going to know that it's Springtime if Ken Griffey, Jr. doesn't get a season-ending injury in late April?

Sincerely,

Seasonally Challenged American

Ty: Good question and an even better observation, Cadet SCA (hereby dubbed Cadet "Ska Child"). Oh, for the want of spring....

The robins sing, the air smells acrid with mulch and hope, pearlescent skin and hibernating body parts magically reappear, daffodils push through the crusty earth, and Ken Griffey, Jr. goes down for the season. Again. Ah yes, Ken "OFS" Griffey, Jr., the Vernal equinox personified. At least his wrist, elbow, knee, hamstring, foot, and abdomen traditionally usher in each spring; harbingers in specificity.

Bats left, throws right, he's Kenny "The Kid" Griffey, Jr. formerly of the Seattle Mariners, the Cincinnati Reds, and the Chicago White Sox and currently sitting on 611 home runs. Twenty year Major League Baseball veteran. Born into baseball and lives baseball - a lifer. Say what you want about his injuries, haters, but I was still in college in Santa Cruz when he was a rookie and I'm a fucking old man now.

Granted, he has been on vacation in rehab for most of his career. Junior is basically a used car with low mileage but has been subjected to several wrecks that you know of. You hope it's finally repaired but you just can't trust it anymore. You might use it for weekend grocery runs but you wouldn't want to commute in it or go for a cross-country road trip. Given a choice, you wouldn't use that car to take a woman in labor to the hospital at 3:00 a.m. You would really question whether you'd want to buy that car. And thus, KGJ is unemployed like the rest of us real Americans. The bonds of trust have been violated by muscle, tendon, and fate.

So what if KGJ doesn't get signed this season? I believe he will definitely find a place to play with baseballs this coming season, but what if, hypothetically, he doesn't? How will we all know if it is spring in the northern hemisphere? Then what? We will have to look for other signs of spring, won't we? "Whaaaahh! We don't know when it's spring because Ken Griffey, Jr. isn't playing baseball and getting so hurt anymore!"

Since I'm so goddamn altruistic, I present the following:
Ty Hardaway dot com® and Ask Ty...® presents - How to tell when it is springtime if Ken Griffey, Jr. doesn't have a baseball job and thus suffer a career-ending injury again
- If you live somewhere in or below some mountains, flooding may occur near your area during the springtime because of "snowmelt," many times exacerbated by warm rains. If it is flooding where you are it might actually be spring. Unfortunately, it could just be a broken pipe too. And if it's like November or July then it just couldn't possibly be the spring. Dunno.

But maybe you are Ken Griffey, Jr. and you are caulking the shower in your trailer and you slip and fall. Maybe that "flooding" isn't water from above, but it is tears you are crying; a "flood" of tears because you just tore the major tendon that attaches your huge thigh muscles to your knee ("clean off") and it hurts so bad. Then, yeah, it has become the spring time.


- Many flowering plants bloom in spring, sometimes beginning even if snow is still on the ground (I know, huh?!). If you see flowers maybe it is the spring. Or maybe it is your birthday or maybe you have had some sort of emergency inter-abdominal surgery which could happen at any time of year exclusive of it being spring. Maybe your spouse was being a dick and is sorry. Flowers are a large, if not huge, business that services many occasions.

Yet, if you see some flowers maybe you are a post-surgical Ken Griffey, Jr. who tore an ACL when you accidentally fell off of a stepladder as you were dusting the drapes at your cousin's house. In that case it is most likely spring. See?


- What else happens? Oh this also happens in the springtime--I just read about it in the wiki so it has to be true: Nowruz happens on the first day of spring and the beginning of the Iranian year. As well as being a Zoroastrian holiday, it is also a holy day for adherents the Bahá'í Faith. Blah-blah-blah.

So if you see Ken Griffey, Jr. in a turban making that rapid, high-pitched, "blee-blee-blee-blee-blee-blee" sound with his tongue running around and blowing up buildings and airplanes "In the name of the savior," then it could be spring time. But if the terrorist Ken Griffey, Jr. is in some kind of sling, cast, wheelchair, or serious looking bandage then it is definitely the spring. Look closely for the signs.

Just a guess,

-ty

--------------

Ask Ty... Archive: [clicky]

File Under: Jackassing Jackassery

"It felt like our own miniature Obama moment."

- Some hippie dude on the radio talking about something
(hippie dude's new nickname: Mini-O)

[clicky] for radio broadcast (1/22/09 episode. 1:46 to 8:00; severe jackassing begins at 6:36)
[clicky] for more Mini-Os

Thursday

Toofs

Images for "Lockbox the Mopes"


Lockbox the Mopes

So I had this dream last night, and I do not remember what the plot was, but there was some subtlety that I believe is in need of documenting, if only for me to read in months or years.

What was striking and what stands out about this dream is that in this dream there was a time for me to wake up. That is, the (apparently unimportant) dream plot unfolded to a point where the dream was logically over, and it was then time to wake up. Naturally.

This is how I woke up in this dream: I woke up by being tired, putting on pajamas, getting into a bed, closing my eyes, and doing a thing called "waking up." In the dream (state), putting on pajamas and getting into a bed and closing my eyes was termed, "waking up."

Getting to the dream (state) is labeled "going to bed" and getting out of the dream (state) is labeled "waking up." The processes are analogous and invokes a portal of sorts.

Interesting, huh? But what do I know?

Shells

Ghosts of the New America [clicky]

Wednesday

An Inaugural Exception -- UPDATE --

Independent of any parental prompt or assistance.

--------------- UPDATE ---------------
New York Times [clicky]

44

What exactly is the word I'm looking for right now? Is "lordy" the word I seek? You know, as in, "...lordy, lordy, lordy...." It's something my grandmother might have said but it seems apropos for many reasons. Or, am I looking for something less a word and more of a...more of an exhalation? I will close my eyes, take a huge lungful of gentle, warm, moist air in through my nose and slowly, slowly, so very slowly exhale through puckered lips.

I just did this exact "breathing technique." Several times now.

There. What the hell?

It's all so different now, ain't it? But I'm sitting at the same kitchen table, using the same laptop, I see the same trees outside. Martha's house. Miriam is parked across the street; nothing different about any of that. This coffee tastes familiar. I am writing about stuff and trying to read about a dozen things at the same time (highlighted by the FoOl's Chinese Laundry posting). Everything seems to be the same as it was on Friday, January 16, 2009.

But today is Wednesday, January 21, 2009. Shit if "it" isn't all so very different...all of a sudden. Today. Just right now.

After 8 years of the W Bush administration, after a speech at a political convention in 2004, after John "Reporting for Duty" Kerry, after an 18-month presidential campaign, after "Heck of a job, Brownie," after The Great Depression of 2008 where the economy is fundamentally sound, after Sarah Palin , after Ashley Todd, after The Great Election of 2008, and after the inauguration where we actually peacefully passed the baton of World's Most Important Person from the son of an oil tycoon, senator, ambassador, CIA chief, vice president, and president to some black dude who is still accused of being a Muslim and a socialist...here we are. All of a sudden everything is radically different. Feel it? You feelin' it? I am.

It is not like today I have to provide links to articles that say the same damn thing because everybody is saying the same damn thing (except for the rube-mopetards who are arguing that Barack isn't the legitimate president because he and John Roberts got into some "rabbit season is open" routine). Some things are just that universal and that self-evident. Only the deepest levels of rube-mopetardism do not get it today.
Rich wrote:

My three favorite moments:

1) Having my belief system elevated from "and others" to "non-believer." I'm finally accepted in America. The white, male, Ivy League graduate finally feels accepted in America.

2) "We will restore science to its rightful place." Oh snap! George, are you still here?

3) Rev. Lowery to Rev. Warren: Let me show you how it's done, you fat, fucking mope-teed blowhard.

With regard to Rich's Item 1, President Obama said the following:

"For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus – and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace."

Non-believers? Jesus Christ! I do believe this is the first time that I have heard someone, anyone, in the official U.S. Government executive branch acknowledge in a sensible way the category that has and always will describe me: Non-believer. I suppose that if it's suddenly OK to have a black president, it must suddenly be OK to not believe in dragons, unicorns, Santa, and religions. For me and all of my friends that is one of the greatest American gifts of all time. It will soon be OK to be gay in America. Watch.

And, as a highly relevant and highly correlated segue, there is Rich's Item 2. As my friend Chris said through the character Roast Beef, "What we need more of...is science." No shit do we need more of...is science. More is the new less. Here's what President Obama said:

"We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology’s wonders to raise health care’s quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do."

He didn't say we will wield the science to wage war on the [brown] terrorists or make bitchin' robots to do the work for our fat lazy asses and to replace poor [brown] people. The president said to use the science to help save people from a micro level (health care) to a macro level (energy/environment/education). He didn't say new sciences to jail [brown] people and eliminate the fear of [brown] immigration. He said to fix people and fix the world. Science? Represent!

And, logical segues all around today, with regard to Rich's Item 3, that's the Rev. Dr. Joseph E. Lowery. While most people will remember the Rev. Dr. for his invocation of black, brown, yellow, red, and white, I offer the following to the department of historical engraving:

"And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will."

As for "pastor Rick".... Rich said enough. For all of us.
From chat with Lily:

me: we have a black president though Lily: hell yeah!me: even better...we have...a really smart person at the helmLily: i'm so glad that smart is in!
me: smart is the new black
black is the new black
smart black is the new black
Smart black is the new black. Did you see Jay-Z's glasses? Exactly. But it is where we've landed. Michelle and Barack are captain and co-captain.
So how did I feel? Yesterday? I was oddly glued to the festivities, focused. I was unexpectedly bursting into tears. Not like I surprisingly noticed a single tear trickling down my cheek like that litter Indian. No, I would burst into full, heaving sob, out of nowhere; throat so clenched I could hardly swallow. Kissing my daughter on the head.

Once it was over the relief was palpable. Friends were sending the emailings, the texts, and actually using the telephone to reconnect once again; to pinch themselves and others to see "if it is real." We held our collective breath when the president walked the parade route. And we are slowly beginning to realize that this thing actually happened. I felt proud. I felt that "us people" -- the smart people -- have decided to do something. I felt that we have incrementally evolved as a species. That's how I felt. And this is how I still feel.

Lordy, lordy, lordy....

---------------------------
  • Christine posted some photographs from Berkeley. I feel the third photo of this post (and related text) [clicky] probably describes how I felt.
  • HNIC/VNIC images by Big Dave Wave.

Ella of Kentlands

More Ella of Kentlands [clicky]

Monday

Tag, You're It - Continuing Adventures of...

Assessment follows:


AAR:
Topics covered by Grayman included:
- Grip
- Loading
- Unloading
- Reloading
- Sight Alignment
- Sight Picture
- Trigger Manipulation in both Double and Single Action Mode
- The 4-Count Draw Stroke
- Failure Drills (2 to Chest / 1 to Head)
- Basic Close Contact Shooting
- Use of the Front Sight to dictate Speed of Firing
- Theory of Flash Sight Picture / Timing based upon Threat Proximity
- Use of the Handgun as an Impact Tool
Overall Thoughts:

Ty is the only person I have ever taught shooting to who did not anticipate recoil -- he did not do this even once. When practicing initial trigger manipulation Ty, after being instructed to "pull the trigger so slowly that the shot surprises you" pulled the trigger slower then I have ever seen it done before by anyone. Ty exhibited good / safe weapon handling characteristics always keeping the weapon pointed in a safe direction and his finger straight and off of the trigger until it is time to kill. Overall Ty shows great potential and once he shoots about a million more rounds and does dry firing presentation drills from the holster 15 minutes a day for years he will be good to go.

100 Round Report:

Body Armor Bypass

Failure Drill
Goals:

My next goal is to convince Ty to buy a pistol of his own, preferably a Glock 19 or any similarly high quality semi-automatic pistol in 9mm caliber that fits his hand well.

Two Beaver Lake - Winter 2009

Going Out For Business

Ghosts of the New America [clicky]

Friday

You Enjoy Myself

I won't be very much interwebs online active between this Saturday and next Tuesday; until after we get a half-black president (or whatever happens on the 20th). Here's your prescription, the doctor is always looking out for your best health. There's an oath involved, my friends.

So, if you want, go here to look at the oldest stuff first:
Middlespace Classic, 2000, during my World Wide Art War period. Whaaaahh!!! How does it work? Helllllp me! Shhhh. It's okay...here's how it works:
a) Go "there" by clicking on the word "Middlespace Classic," above (or here).
b) Click on things, for instance click on a letter of the word "Middlespace."
c) Then click on pictures to "go" places.

Or, troll around here for more stuff:

Worldwide Headquarters of Middlespace Industries of America.

Want to listen with your earholes but not look through your eyeholes? Go here:


Want to look and/or listen and/or read with your earholes and your eyeholes?



Back soon. Shut up!

The Coldness




[What's In The Hat? - v07.a-01.16.09]

Working Title:
Grand Escape 2009 - Her We Go tour
Cast to Date:
  • Ty
  • Rich
  • Dave
In The Hat to Date:
  • Florida (Ft. Lauderdale to Key West)
  • The Dakotas
  • The American Midwest (KC + circle or one-way)
  • Northeastern Cabin
  • Three-day Canoe Trip with Jim
  • Two bedroom apartment in rural Indiana (somewhere near French Lick)
Production Notes to Date:
So I was doing my usual (now) once-monthly volunteer day at the B's school and one mom asked me about "the big trip, you know about America" and I blanched because I didn't remember talking about it in the volunteer workroom at my kid's school but wanted to appear hip so I didn't mention anything other than, "Ha! We're still working on that."

Another mom asked what it "was all about" and I talked about "a road trip" to "discover America" and she offered that her parents live in a small, rural area of southern Indiana "near Lousiville" but "Closer to French Lick." I said, "Larry Bird's from there." She said we could stay in their two-bedroom guest apartment, to "just let her know." She was serious, mentioned it three times.

What I didn't mention was that Louisville is home of Slint and Will Oldham. Hatted! Not Middlespace West but Middlespace Midwest.

To Be Continued -- Input Welcomed

-------------------------------------------------------
Here we go thread [clicky]
WTF? Contact: admin[at]middlespace[dot]net
Here we go photography by RPW CMcG or TJH
What's in the Hat? v06.x update [clicky]

Live Like A Suicide


I'll be direct with the news. That's my style.

Sadly, today my long-ailing coffeemaker committed suicide. I thought things were okay--at least, as good at they could be given circumstances--and that we could keep doing what we do best: deliver and receive caffeine...together. Obviously I was in serious denial. This is a fact I now fully realize and accept complete responsibility for. My therapist says that "human nature is a motherfucker." He's absolutely right.

Perhaps this passing is actually the most merciful outcome given my optimism-wrapped (or "optimistically warped") belief that these things could should last forever or, just until our next tomorrow. To the very end...best friends forever. I now realize how seriously I lacked coping skills to even understand what was happening. My coffeemaker was...dying and I was still pushing. Just pushing so hard...every day and telling anyone who asked, "What?! It's OK, it still works fine! What's a few grounds? You're just jealous that you don't have such a rad coffeemaker, haters!"

No blame or emotionally misdirected talk of selfishness or "what about me?" bullshit though. I get it. I do. Now. This is for the better. Better places for everyone involved. Cue Macy Gray because this is how life is; I now know that life is as brutal as it is beautiful. I've learned something. This is for the best!

And yet there was absolutely nothing else that I or anyone else could have done to make things better. Peak performance was an accepted remnant of history. I didn't push too hard...I just hope that I didn't push too hard. I didn't. I know I didn't. I mean, replacement parts have been discontinued in favor of new and ostensibly "improved" versions of the very same product. We all suffer at the throat-clenching hands of greed-driven capitalism, as Americans, each and every day of our putrid existences. It's fucking pathetic!

Maybe I knew today was going to be The Day, that day, and I unconsciously (or consciously) left my back turned when I could tell things didn't sound or feel exactly right. It is funny how one's mind can make the sound of a coffeemaker bleeding-out and onto the floor transpose to the beautiful chorus of a carafe filling appropriately. And happily. Maybe I am more relieved than I am despondent. Maybe.

Goodbye coffeemaker. You were my friend, you were family. Rest in peace. I will love you...forever. See you on the other side.

If You Stare She Will Dance