Search results for mother and daughter's massage
1771, 
06:17, 
2009-07-02 14:57:46 Description: Mother and daughter's massage
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1248, 06:21, 2009-07-02 14:57:46 Description: Mother and daughter's massage
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488, 00:00, 2009-08-07 16:57:35 Description: Mother Lode strikes gold as five mature, horny women looking for hard cock prey on young, innocent studs. We've rounded up some of the hottest MILFs in the biz and let them live out their aged to (More) Mother Lode strikes gold as five mature, horny women looking for hard cock prey on young, innocent studs. We've rounded up some of the hottest MILFs in the biz and let them live out their aged to perfection fantasies. From porn icon Amber Lynn in her comeback role as a ruthless boss who gets a foot massage (and more) from hung employee James Deen to oversexed mother Puma Swede, who takes advantage of her daughter's date, to a divorced Druuna trying to raise some money? Among other things to pay the bills to a scorching DP with Sexy Vanessa, we're sure you'll find something to stroke to here. And don't miss the four way blobbing starring Darryl Hannah! Her real life hubby actually jumped in without warning! Shot in Hi-Def! New special packaging includes an open flap with bonus collectors photo gallery! (Less)
Channel: naughtymovies Rate it: Rate:
16, 09:59, 2008-04-21 20:42:38 Description: 喝母乳的嬰兒，剛開始初期每天會上很多次大便，過了幾個月後，要很久才會上一次，記得上次女兒隔了二個星期才大便，儘管我每天幫她按摩都沒有 (More) 喝母乳的嬰兒，剛開始初期每天會上很多次大便，過了幾個月後，要很久才會上一次，記得上次女兒隔了二個星期才大便，儘管我每天幫她按摩都沒有用，最後才得知是因為吸收能力漸強的關係，甚至有人超過21天才大便，這都是屬於正常現象，而今天女兒晚餐時上了一次，睡覺前也上了超多的一次，連衣服都被軟軟黃黃的沾了背部全溼，只好再洗一次澡，這算是近幾個月來特殊現象。女兒現在趴著時，多了一個和她相同高度的朋友陪她玩，不過她的專注力仍不夠，碰了幾下就失去興趣而發生嗯嗯的聲音，即使媽媽唸小狗的玩具書也只能短暫安撫她。 Drinks mother's milk, the baby just started at the initial period daily meeting very many inferior bowel movements, crossed for several months, had at the very long period, to remember the daughter has separated two weeks only then bowel movements, although I helped her to massage every day have not been all useful, finally only then knew was because of the absorbancy gradually the strong relations, even some people surpassed 21 days bowel movements, this all belongs to the normal phenomenon, when daughter has one time in supper, has also gotten up ultra many in sleeping, has been all moistened including clothes, again to wash a time of bath, this is the nearly special phenomena several months. When the daughter now lies prone, many accompanied her with she same high friend to play, but her attention is not enough, did not bump several times and has lost the interest to have mmm mmm the sound, even if mother read puppy's toy book also only to be able short to comfort her. (Less)
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643, 02:41, 2008-04-22 09:25:51 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV. Artwork included in the projected "television" display included: The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland. These are the writing included in the live show: the poem: Paranoia we sit here at dinner. I try to breathe. My hands rest on my thighs. I must watch to be sure, everything must be right: the silverware, small fork, large fork, plate, knife, large spoon, small spoon. Water glass. Wine glass. I know no one else sees them: the fish, the red fish, in the curtains along the wall. You have to watch them. My eyes always glance there. They are evil fish. They sit in the curtains, they wait, and then they come out. And the yogurt, the yogurt is the only thing that can save me from them. throw the yogurt, take a spoon, use your hands. Anything. And we sat there before dinner, and he ate his yogurt with his first spoon before I could stop him. How could you do this? How can you save yourself now? Will I have to save you again, do you even understand the danger — the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone. I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing." Ex-eh-ba-che. "Man who talks loud... say nothing." Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything. But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world. — the poem: Fighting I Can Do I know these are normal things for me to be going through I know that I have been raped and beaten I know they've tried to kill me and lucky me, I survived I think I can survive everything they throw at me But as time wears on little pieces of this statue are chipped away everybody wants something, right? well, they've been taking from me and taking and taking and taking and my defenses are getting weaker and I don't know how much more fighting I can do — the poem: I Want you know what I want? i want a big house with filtered central air and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything in a row. and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn to keep the dandelions away and i want a plastic lobster bib over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne and i want a big fat car, and i want someone else to drive it and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl and i want a nanny to take care of them for me i want to be famous i want everyone to love me i want it i want it all — the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short - Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community. And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband. And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with. Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions. — the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen As a cop, I remember one lady, we found her in her bathtub, she cut her throat. That's odd, for women, normally they take pills, they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was doing, cutting her throat in a full bath. Less messy that way. Autopsy said she was full of barbiturates. She was a nurse, that explained how she knew how to do it, but then we found out that she was pregnant, too. And to top it off, her brother was a priest. — the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it) Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod. Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you. You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words. But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people. I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away. in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me, on the same street as me, but i still emailed her as much as i'd call her, even though i could just walk over to her house and have an actual conversation with her. And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them. I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe. — the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes i heard a story today about a little boy one of many who was enslaved by his country in child labor in this case he was working for a carpet factory he managed to escape he told his story to the world he was a hero at ten but the people from the factory held a grudge and today i heard that the little boy was shot and killed on the street he was twelve and then people complain to me when i buy shoes that are made in china now i have to think did somebody have to die for these will somebody have to die for these — the prose: Differences in China: children & trains Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog). But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el. — the poem: Private Lives 2005 sitting on the el train i saw a middle-eastern man sitting across from me holding a large Zip-Loc bag of some sort of food paste, i couldn't tell, it looked like some sort of curry-filled food paste and the man looked unhappy, and after a few minutes i saw him open up the Zip-Loc bag, throw up into it, then close the bag again so, he was carrying his vomit with him on the el at least he had a bag he could seal it up with — the prose: Passport To Outer Space And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China... I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned. But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done. Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences. — parts of the poem: In The Air Chicago looks grand from the sky with this huge expanse of lake next to it, like civilization crept up as far as it could but finally had to stop. The power of nature stopping the power of mankind... Daylight, and the snow on the ground in the winter time looks dirty, too many cars have splashed mud on it as they drove by. And in the winter the sky always matches the shade of grey of the snow: fitting for the city of the Blues. Maybe the snow is already that color, that perfect shade of grey, when it falls from the sky in this city. When I'm in the air, I like to look out the window. Clouds look like cotton balls when you're above them, and when you're landing cars look like little ants, on a mission, bringing food back to their hill. And the streets look like veins, capillaries in some massive, monstrous body. And the farmlands look like little squares of colors. I wonder why each plot of land is a different color, what's growing there that makes them different. Or maybe it's that some of them are turning shades of red and brown because they are dying. And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck sitting next to someone that is either too wide for their seat, or is a businessman with his newspaper stretched out and his lap top computer on his little fold out table. Once, when I was on a flight back from D. C., a flight attendant walked by, stack of magazines in her hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek, and I stopped her, asking what magazines she had. And she replied, "Oh, these magazines are for men." This is a true story. And I asked her again what she had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek. — the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer "I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms were always on demand on a flight this long. So I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle against a very healthy digestive system and left the "spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go down into the sewage tank where all the other waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean? Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this long line of people waiting to use this cramped little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all, 'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that plane, will think the exact same thing." — and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history. I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life. — For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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254, 01:54, 2008-04-22 16:28:13 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV. Artwork included in the projected "television" display included: The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland. These are the writing included in the live show: the poem: Paranoia we sit here at dinner. I try to breathe. My hands rest on my thighs. I must watch to be sure, everything must be right: the silverware, small fork, large fork, plate, knife, large spoon, small spoon. Water glass. Wine glass. I know no one else sees them: the fish, the red fish, in the curtains along the wall. You have to watch them. My eyes always glance there. They are evil fish. They sit in the curtains, they wait, and then they come out. And the yogurt, the yogurt is the only thing that can save me from them. throw the yogurt, take a spoon, use your hands. Anything. And we sat there before dinner, and he ate his yogurt with his first spoon before I could stop him. How could you do this? How can you save yourself now? Will I have to save you again, do you even understand the danger — the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone. I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing." Ex-eh-ba-che. "Man who talks loud... say nothing." Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything. But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world. — the poem: Fighting I Can Do I know these are normal things for me to be going through I know that I have been raped and beaten I know they've tried to kill me and lucky me, I survived I think I can survive everything they throw at me But as time wears on little pieces of this statue are chipped away everybody wants something, right? well, they've been taking from me and taking and taking and taking and my defenses are getting weaker and I don't know how much more fighting I can do — the poem: I Want you know what I want? i want a big house with filtered central air and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything in a row. and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn to keep the dandelions away and i want a plastic lobster bib over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne and i want a big fat car, and i want someone else to drive it and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl and i want a nanny to take care of them for me i want to be famous i want everyone to love me i want it i want it all — the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short - Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community. And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband. And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with. Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions. — the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen As a cop, I remember one lady, we found her in her bathtub, she cut her throat. That's odd, for women, normally they take pills, they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was doing, cutting her throat in a full bath. Less messy that way. Autopsy said she was full of barbiturates. She was a nurse, that explained how she knew how to do it, but then we found out that she was pregnant, too. And to top it off, her brother was a priest. — the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it) Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod. Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you. You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words. But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people. I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away. in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me, on the same street as me, but i still emailed her as much as i'd call her, even though i could just walk over to her house and have an actual conversation with her. And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them. I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe. — the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes i heard a story today about a little boy one of many who was enslaved by his country in child labor in this case he was working for a carpet factory he managed to escape he told his story to the world he was a hero at ten but the people from the factory held a grudge and today i heard that the little boy was shot and killed on the street he was twelve and then people complain to me when i buy shoes that are made in china now i have to think did somebody have to die for these will somebody have to die for these — the prose: Differences in China: children & trains Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog). But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el. — the poem: Private Lives 2005 sitting on the el train i saw a middle-eastern man sitting across from me holding a large Zip-Loc bag of some sort of food paste, i couldn't tell, it looked like some sort of curry-filled food paste and the man looked unhappy, and after a few minutes i saw him open up the Zip-Loc bag, throw up into it, then close the bag again so, he was carrying his vomit with him on the el at least he had a bag he could seal it up with — the prose: Passport To Outer Space And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China... I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned. But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done. Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences. — parts of the poem: In The Air Chicago looks grand from the sky with this huge expanse of lake next to it, like civilization crept up as far as it could but finally had to stop. The power of nature stopping the power of mankind... Daylight, and the snow on the ground in the winter time looks dirty, too many cars have splashed mud on it as they drove by. And in the winter the sky always matches the shade of grey of the snow: fitting for the city of the Blues. Maybe the snow is already that color, that perfect shade of grey, when it falls from the sky in this city. When I'm in the air, I like to look out the window. Clouds look like cotton balls when you're above them, and when you're landing cars look like little ants, on a mission, bringing food back to their hill. And the streets look like veins, capillaries in some massive, monstrous body. And the farmlands look like little squares of colors. I wonder why each plot of land is a different color, what's growing there that makes them different. Or maybe it's that some of them are turning shades of red and brown because they are dying. And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck sitting next to someone that is either too wide for their seat, or is a businessman with his newspaper stretched out and his lap top computer on his little fold out table. Once, when I was on a flight back from D. C., a flight attendant walked by, stack of magazines in her hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek, and I stopped her, asking what magazines she had. And she replied, "Oh, these magazines are for men." This is a true story. And I asked her again what she had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek. — the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer "I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms were always on demand on a flight this long. So I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle against a very healthy digestive system and left the "spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go down into the sewage tank where all the other waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean? Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this long line of people waiting to use this cramped little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all, 'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that plane, will think the exact same thing." — and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history. I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life. — For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
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23, 02:13, 2007-08-29 21:33:41 Description: Your Tribute to Diana Please Comment.
Princess Diana Tribute 10 years ago she died in a car wreck in Paris. She was Englands Rose. The popular and much loved Princess Diana was born on 1st July, (More) Your Tribute to Diana Please Comment.
Princess Diana Tribute 10 years ago she died in a car wreck in Paris. She was Englands Rose. The popular and much loved Princess Diana was born on 1st July, 1961, at Park House, Queen's Sandringham estate Norfolk. Diana Spencer met her future husband, Prince Charlesat Althrop. The marriage took place at St. Paul's Cathedral on 29th July, 1981. It was performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury "the stuff of fairy tales". The ceremony was watched by one billion people. The troubled marriage produced two sons, Prince William Arthur Phillip Louis, born on 21 June, 1982 and Prince Henry Charles Albert David, known as Harry on 15 September, 1984. Diana said, "at the end of my tether," secretly collaborated with the author Andrew Morton, in a book which exposed the royal marriage as the sham and chronicled in vivid detail Diana's struggle, bulimia, suicide attempts and her grievances of her self-centred husband's indifference to her plight and continued relationship with his long-term mistress. The Queen, concerned that her son and daughter-in-law's bickering and point scoring was damaging the monarchy, urged the couple to divorce. They were granted a decree nisi on 28 August, 1996. sharing custody of their children and Diana was paid a lump sum of seventeen million pounds. The Princess indulged in a series of much publicized relationships and was besieged by the notorious paparazzi. On the late evening of Saturday, 30 August, 1997, in attempt to escape these unwanted attentions, the couple left the Ritz Hotel by the rear entrance in a black Mercedes S-280, while a decoy car was driven from the front entrance. The vehicle was pursued by paparazzi photographers as it recklessly raced at high speed through Paris, with many of the motorbikes dropping behind. As the Mercedes entered the Pont de l'Alma tunnel under the River Seine, a notorious accident spot, it was on the left of two lanes, travelling at about 60-80 mph.
While attempting to pass a slow moving vehicle in front of them in the left lane, the driver Henri Paul swerved sharply and careened into the reinforced concrete thirteenth pillar of the underpass. Witnesses described the sound as being like an explosion. The car ricocheted back, spinning out of control. The Mercedes came to a halt, a smoking mangled heap of steel, the engine had been forced almost into the driver's seat by the force of impact. On arrival at the Pitie Salpetriere Hospital, one hour and forty six minutes after the accident, Diana suffered a further cardiac arrest, she was found to have suffered a thoracic haemorrhage from a torn pulmonary vein and her blood pressure was dangerously low. The severed vein was sewn and frantic efforts to revive her were made, including open heart massage and electric shocks, without success. She was pronounced dead at 4 a.m. on the morning of 31st August, 1997. In St. James' Palace, a vast sea of floral tributes began to build up outside Diana's London home at Kensington Palace, at Buckingham Palace and at Althrop. In death, as in life, it seemed, she reached out to thousands. Crowds flocked to London to pay their respects, queuing for hours to sign books of condolence. A unique state televised funeral was planned for Diana in London, watched by an estimated two billion worldwide audience. After the playing of a passage from Verdi's Requiem, a favourite of Diana, Elton John played his new rendition of 'Candle in the Wind', rewritten for the Princess. Her brother, Earl Spencer read his tribute to his sister in a voice cracked with emotion, it was greeted by rounds of applause from the crowds gathered outside. The coffin was then taken the eighty miles to Althrop in Northamptonshire, Diana's childhood home, for a private family burial. Crowds lined the entire route, throwing flowers at the hearse, even from motorway bridges. She was buried on an island, in the middle of a lake on the estate, known as the oval. Earl Spencer later spread the public's floral tributes to the "Peoples Princess" on her island grave. A visitor centre at Althrop covering the life of the Princess is now open to the public during the summer months. I do this Tribute in all respect to her the Peoples Princess Diana Princess of Wales. Ref Tags: Tony Blair Queen Death crash news Prime Minister Jeffrey Archer Helen Mirren Oscars RIP Elton John emotional royal royalty rod stewart sailing music video family BBC death closedown solemn Newsflash memorial hunted by press Dies France Funeral England camilla elizabeth mother sarah duchess york dodi memory documentary accident al fayed conspiracy bio movie film biography photos death landmines record Video charity icon marriage divorce car crash mourning Queen of Hearts Mother TLC Last days Kiss car accident UK British assassination London Ireland Scotland Europe world news heaven beautiful Lovely cute pretty Memorial (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 10 Britian Charles Death Di Diana Englands Funeral I Love Miss Peoples Prince Princess Rose Tribute Wales year your
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166, 02:41, 2007-07-25 12:33:34 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV.
Artwork included in the projected "television" display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.
These are the writing included in the live show:
the poem: Paranoia
we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.
I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.
They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.
And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.
And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.
How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger
—
the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing
I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone.
I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing."
Ex-eh-ba-che.
"Man who talks loud... say nothing."
Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything.
But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world.
—
the poem: Fighting I Can Do
I know these are normal things
for me to be going through
I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they've tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived
I think I can survive
everything they throw at me
But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they've been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don't know how much more
fighting
I can do
—
the poem: I Want
you know what I want?
i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature
and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine
and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.
and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away
and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant
and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne
and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it
and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me
i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me
i want it
i want it all
—
the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs
We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -
Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.
And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.
And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.
Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.
—
the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen
As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That's odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.
—
the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it)
Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.
You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.
I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i'd call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.
And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them.
I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe.
—
the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
the prose: Differences in China: children & trains
Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).
But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el.
—
the poem: Private Lives 2005
sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn't tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste
and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again
so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el
at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with
—
the prose: Passport To Outer Space
And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China...
I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.
—
parts of the poem: In The Air
Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind... Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.
When I'm in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you're above them,
and when you're landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what's growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it's
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.
And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, "Oh, these
magazines are for men." This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.
—
the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer
"I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
"spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing."
—
and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago
And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.
—
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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98, 00:33, 2007-07-25 09:47:39 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV.
Artwork included in the projected "television" display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.
These are the writing included in the live show:
the poem: Paranoia
we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.
I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.
They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.
And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.
And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.
How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger
—
the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing
I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone.
I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing."
Ex-eh-ba-che.
"Man who talks loud... say nothing."
Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything.
But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world.
—
the poem: Fighting I Can Do
I know these are normal things
for me to be going through
I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they've tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived
I think I can survive
everything they throw at me
But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they've been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don't know how much more
fighting
I can do
—
the poem: I Want
you know what I want?
i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature
and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine
and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.
and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away
and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant
and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne
and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it
and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me
i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me
i want it
i want it all
—
the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs
We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -
Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.
And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.
And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.
Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.
—
the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen
As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That's odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.
—
the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it)
Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.
You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.
I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i'd call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.
And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them.
I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe.
—
the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
the prose: Differences in China: children & trains
Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).
But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el.
—
the poem: Private Lives 2005
sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn't tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste
and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again
so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el
at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with
—
the prose: Passport To Outer Space
And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China...
I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.
—
parts of the poem: In The Air
Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind... Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.
When I'm in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you're above them,
and when you're landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what's growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it's
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.
And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, "Oh, these
magazines are for men." This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.
—
the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer
"I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
"spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing."
—
and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago
And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.
—
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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148, 00:34, 2007-07-25 09:44:59 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV.
Artwork included in the projected "television" display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.
These are the writing included in the live show:
the poem: Paranoia
we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.
I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.
They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.
And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.
And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.
How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger
—
the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing
I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone.
I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing."
Ex-eh-ba-che.
"Man who talks loud... say nothing."
Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything.
But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world.
—
the poem: Fighting I Can Do
I know these are normal things
for me to be going through
I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they've tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived
I think I can survive
everything they throw at me
But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they've been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don't know how much more
fighting
I can do
—
the poem: I Want
you know what I want?
i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature
and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine
and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.
and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away
and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant
and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne
and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it
and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me
i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me
i want it
i want it all
—
the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs
We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -
Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.
And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.
And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.
Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.
—
the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen
As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That's odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.
—
the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it)
Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.
You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.
I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i'd call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.
And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them.
I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe.
—
the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
the prose: Differences in China: children & trains
Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).
But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el.
—
the poem: Private Lives 2005
sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn't tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste
and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again
so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el
at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with
—
the prose: Passport To Outer Space
And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China...
I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.
—
parts of the poem: In The Air
Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind... Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.
When I'm in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you're above them,
and when you're landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what's growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it's
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.
And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, "Oh, these
magazines are for men." This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.
—
the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer
"I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
"spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing."
—
and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago
And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.
—
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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148, 01:58, 2007-07-25 10:06:29 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV.
Artwork included in the projected "television" display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.
These are the writing included in the live show:
the poem: Paranoia
we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.
I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.
They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.
And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.
And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.
How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger
—
the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing
I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone.
I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing."
Ex-eh-ba-che.
"Man who talks loud... say nothing."
Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything.
But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world.
—
the poem: Fighting I Can Do
I know these are normal things
for me to be going through
I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they've tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived
I think I can survive
everything they throw at me
But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they've been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don't know how much more
fighting
I can do
—
the poem: I Want
you know what I want?
i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature
and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine
and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.
and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away
and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant
and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne
and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it
and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me
i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me
i want it
i want it all
—
the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs
We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -
Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.
And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.
And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.
Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.
—
the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen
As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That's odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.
—
the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it)
Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.
You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.
I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i'd call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.
And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them.
I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe.
—
the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
the prose: Differences in China: children & trains
Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).
But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el.
—
the poem: Private Lives 2005
sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn't tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste
and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again
so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el
at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with
—
the prose: Passport To Outer Space
And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China...
I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.
—
parts of the poem: In The Air
Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind... Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.
When I'm in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you're above them,
and when you're landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what's growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it's
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.
And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, "Oh, these
magazines are for men." This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.
—
the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer
"I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
"spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing."
—
and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago
And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.
—
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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136, 01:54, 2007-07-25 10:00:21 Description: Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in (More) Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show "Living in a Big World", live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from assorted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60" wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5" x 11" paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this "drawn" TV.
Artwork included in the projected "television" display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says "alto"), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.
These are the writing included in the live show:
the poem: Paranoia
we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.
I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.
They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.
And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.
And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.
How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger
—
the prose: Man Who Talks Loud... Say Nothing
I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I'm actually getting through to anyone.
I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means "man who talks loud... say nothing."
Ex-eh-ba-che.
"Man who talks loud... say nothing."
Oh, what am I saying, I've been around the world, but I've never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don't even know if "Ex-eh-ba-che" is a real word or means anything.
But... If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there's got to be something worth watching. Maybe I'll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what's out there in the world.
—
the poem: Fighting I Can Do
I know these are normal things
for me to be going through
I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they've tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived
I think I can survive
everything they throw at me
But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they've been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don't know how much more
fighting
I can do
—
the poem: I Want
you know what I want?
i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature
and i want a big fence so i'll know what's mine
and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.
and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away
and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant
and don't forget the hundred dollar champagne
and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it
and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me
i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me
i want it
i want it all
—
the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs
We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -
Now, I know I'm tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like... that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.
And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person's body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.
And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.
Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.
—
the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He's Seen
As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That's odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don't like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.
—
the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem "Communication '05" in it)
Oh, I'm sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.
You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it's brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I've even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.
I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i'd call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.
And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you'll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone... And I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn't even be there with them.
I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you've apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now... But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it's overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn't fit in with what we want to believe.
—
the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes
i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor
in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory
he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten
but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve
and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china
now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these
will somebody have to die
for these
—
the prose: Differences in China: children & trains
Children in different parts of the world... I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start pissing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren't even bothered by this... Someone explained to me that while they're little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).
But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like "America's Funniest Home Videos." Well, I couldn't understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn't help but watch, and you couldn't help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you're on a public train, like when you're on your way to work every morning on the el.
—
the poem: Private Lives 2005
sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn't tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste
and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again
so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el
at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with
—
the prose: Passport To Outer Space
And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I've tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China...
I've searched for these stories around the world, I've gotten my passport stamped like mad... but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad's who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff...). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there... Apparently Don's father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn't money that was valid anywhere, but it's illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so.... I guess there's no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you're up high in the Earth's atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It's only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.
—
parts of the poem: In The Air
Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind... Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.
When I'm in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you're above them,
and when you're landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what's growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it's
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.
And it always seems on a plane that you're stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, "Oh, these
magazines are for men." This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.
—
the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer
"I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
"spoils" in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn't want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn't budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
'you know, I didn't do that.' And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing."
—
and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago
And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, "My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from." So... not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, "I'm from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago." And that's when this old man from the other side of the world said, "oh... my kind of town." And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, "Frank Sinatra sang that." and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago... being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.
—
For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 17 2004 art big chair dreams Janet July Kuypers living monitor performance poem poetry prose reading show tv video world
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20, 03:38, 2008-01-22 16:36:27 Description: R.I.P.
1979 - 2008
The song is Hurt by Johnny Cash (A Nine Inch Nails cover)
January 22, 2008 -- Oscar-nominated Australian actor Heath Ledger died today in his SoHo apartment of an apparent (More) R.I.P.
1979 - 2008
The song is Hurt by Johnny Cash (A Nine Inch Nails cover)
January 22, 2008 -- Oscar-nominated Australian actor Heath Ledger died today in his SoHo apartment of an apparent sleeping-pill overdose, police said. He was 28.
Ledger was found naked by his maid and a massage therapist with whom he had a scheduled 3 p.m. appointment at his apartment at 421 Broome Street.
When they went to his bedroom at about 3:20 p.m., Ledger was lying face down and unresponsive, police sources said. Cops said sleeping pills were strewn around the bed and there was a bottle next to the actors body, police sources said.
Unable to wake him, the maid and therapist called 911 at about 3:26. Emergency workers were unable to revive the star and he was pronounced dead at 3:35 p.m.
Bottles of Diazepam and Alprazolam, both anti-anxiety drugs prescribed in his name, were found in the house, according to law enforcement sources.
Ledger's uncle and confidant, Neil Bell, said that his family was "devastated," according to close friend, LA-based private investigator Paul Baressi.
"He said the father and mother are devastated because they found out of his death through the media," said Baressi, who talked to Bell less than a half an hour after Ledger's death.
Locals in the neighborhood said Ledger was low-key.
"We always greeted each other, it's such a shock," said Julie McIntosh, 32, who works in a hair salon on his block.
It was unclear if it was an intentional or accidental death.
Ledger split last year from partner, Michelle Williams, with whom he has a daughter, Matilda.
Ledger's early career as an actor was marked by small roles in several independent features in his home country of Australia.
He broke onto the international movie scene in 1999 with his turn as the brooding high-school heart-throb who captures Julia Stiles' attention in "10 Things I Hate About You." After starring roles in "The Patriot," "A Knight's Tale," and "The Brothers Grimm," Ledger earned critical acclaim with his poignant performance as a gay cattle rancher in director Ang Lee's "Brokeback Mountain," for which he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor.
In 2007, he appeared in the independent film "I'm Not There," as one of many incarnations of Bob Dylan. He recently wrapped filming on 'The Dark Knight,' the sequel to 'Batman Begins,' in which he plays the villainous Joker. His most recent role was in director Terry Gilliam's 'The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus,' which is listed as still "in production" on imdb.com.
Ledger's love life earned him as many headlines as his acting career. He has been romantically linked to such A-list starlets as Naomi Watts and Heather Graham. He has a daughter, Matilda Rose, with actress Michelle Williams. The couple, praised for their down-to-earth lifestyle in Brooklyn's Carroll Gardens, announced their split earlier this year. (Less)
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21, 05:19, 2008-01-22 15:58:07 Description: During your journey on your final flight home.
White wings will carry you and you will be flown.
To the pearly gates of Heaven, where they will usher you in.
To the feet of your Lord, your Saviour, (More) During your journey on your final flight home.
White wings will carry you and you will be flown.
To the pearly gates of Heaven, where they will usher you in.
To the feet of your Lord, your Saviour, and your friend.
He will hold you in his arms and the angels will sing.
As another one of His children is delivered by white wings.
Song Used:
Jesus Christ - Brand New
You'll never be forgotten Heath.
You made Australia proud.
Rest in peace.
January 22, 2008 -- Oscar-nominated Australian actor Heath Ledger died today in his SoHo apartment of an apparent sleeping-pill overdose, police said. He was 28.
Ledger was found naked by his maid and a massage therapist with whom he had a scheduled 3 p.m. appointment at his apartment at 421 Broome Street.
When they went to his bedroom at about 3:20 p.m., Ledger was lying face down and unresponsive, police sources said. Cops said sleeping pills were strewn around the bed and there was a bottle next to the actors body, police sources said.
Unable to wake him, the maid and therapist called 911 at about 3:26. Emergency workers were unable to revive the star and he was pronounced dead at 3:35 p.m.
Bottles of Diazepam and Alprazolam, both anti-anxiety drugs prescribed in his name, were found in the house, according to law enforcement sources.
Ledger's uncle and confidant, Neil Bell, said that his family was "devastated," according to close friend, LA-based private investigator Paul Baressi.
"He said the father and mother are devastated because they found out of his death through the media," said Baressi, who talked to Bell less than a half an hour after Ledger's death.
Locals in the neighborhood said Ledger was low-key.
"We always greeted each other, it's such a shock," said Julie McIntosh, 32, who works in a hair salon on his block.
It was unclear if it was an intentional or accidental death.
Ledger split last year from partner, Michelle Williams, with whom he has a daughter, Matilda.
Ledger's early career as an actor was marked by small roles in several independent features in his home country of Australia.
He broke onto the international movie scene in 1999 with his turn as the brooding high-school heart-throb who captures Julia Stiles' attention in "10 Things I Hate About You." After starring roles in "The Patriot," "A Knight's Tale," and "The Brothers Grimm," Ledger earned critical acclaim with his poignant performance as a gay cattle rancher in director Ang Lee's "Brokeback Mountain," for which he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor.
In 2007, he appeared in the independent film "I'm Not There," as one of many incarnations of Bob Dylan. He recently wrapped filming on 'The Dark Knight,' the sequel to 'Batman Begins,' in which he plays the villainous Joker. His most recent role was in director Terry Gilliam's 'The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus,' which is listed as still "in production" on imdb.com.
Ledger's love life earned him as many headlines as his acting career. He has been romantically linked to such A-list starlets as Naomi Watts and Heather Graham. He has a daughter, Matilda Rose, with actress Michelle Williams. The couple, praised for their down-to-earth lifestyle in Brooklyn's Carroll Gardens, announced their split earlier this year.
Heath Ledger (Less)
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13, 05:09, 2008-01-22 19:25:33 Description: A Tribute to a Great Actor, Man and Father. We Love you, and will Miss you!
Our hearts and sympathy goes out to his family and friends.
With all our Love. R.I.P
Please feel free to rate it (More) A Tribute to a Great Actor, Man and Father. We Love you, and will Miss you!
Our hearts and sympathy goes out to his family and friends.
With all our Love. R.I.P
Please feel free to rate it and pass it on! and if you are a hater, then move along. ONLY nice comments about Heath will be posted. Any negative or fighting comments, will be removed, so don't bother wasting your time. He deserves nothing but our respect and sympathy right now.
Click or paste 2 hear Heath Ledger's Father statement: http://media.theage.com.au/?rid=34853
January 22, 2008 -- Oscar-nominated Australian actor Heath Ledger died today in his SoHo apartment. He was 28.
Ledger was found by his maid and a massage therapist with whom he had a scheduled 3 p.m. appointment at his apartment at 421 Broome Street.
Unable to wake him, the maid and therapist called 911 at about 3:26. Emergency workers were unable to revive the star and he was pronounced dead at 3:35 p.m.
Ledger's uncle and confidant, Neil Bell, said that his family was "devastated," according to close friend, LA-based private investigator Paul Baressi.
"He said the father and mother are devastated because they found out of his death through the media," said Baressi, who talked to Bell less than a half an hour after Ledger's death.
Locals in the neighborhood said Ledger was low-key.
"We always greeted each other, it's such a shock," said Julie McIntosh, 32, who works in a hair salon on his block.
It was unclear if it was an intentional or accidental death.
Ledger split last Sept from partner, Michelle Williams, with whom he has a daughter, Matilda.
Ledger's early career as an actor was marked by small roles in several independent features in his home country of Australia.
He broke onto the international movie scene in 1999 with his turn as the brooding high-school heart-throb who captures Julia Stiles' attention in "10 Things I Hate About You." After starring roles in "The Patriot," "A Knight's Tale," and "The Brothers Grimm," Ledger earned critical acclaim with his poignant performance as a gay cattle rancher in director Ang Lee's "Brokeback Mountain," for which he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor.
In 2007, he appeared in the independent film "I'm Not There," as one of many incarnations of Bob Dylan. He recently wrapped filming on 'The Dark Knight,' the sequel to 'Batman Begins,' in which he plays the villainous Joker. His most recent role was in director Terry Gilliam's 'The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus,' which is listed as still "in production" on imdb.com.
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Channel: youtubeTags: back batman broke Coldplay dead death died drugs found Heath joker Ledger mountain news overdose Tribute
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