Search results for pick up lines 15
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2009-09-11 11:22:48 Description: A video displaying the new Pick Up Lines That Work app for the iPhone and iPod touch available on the iPhone App Store. The app delivers over 1500 pick up lines (more than any other app), 15 (More) A video displaying the new Pick Up Lines That Work app for the iPhone and iPod touch available on the iPhone App Store. The app delivers over 1500 pick up lines (more than any other app), 15 categories, tips, and 150 hot babe pics providing beautiful backgrounds to the lines. Watch the video and you can imagine the possibilities. http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewSoftware?id=326247651&mt=8 Insturmental music by Deffix. (Less)
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5461, 00:00, 2009-09-03 23:02:33 Description: Tracy Ryan Avalon in Pick Up Lines 15
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0, 01:14, 2009-02-18 14:29:41 Description: GUYS I'M HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME SAD THE GOOD NEWS I GOT 100 SUBBERS THE BAD NEWS I DIDN'T GET EVEN 5 COMMENTS JUST 4 COMMENTS....
-STORY-
- AFTER SOME TIME -
- DOORBELL -
demi- i'll get (More) GUYS I'M HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME SAD THE GOOD NEWS I GOT 100 SUBBERS THE BAD NEWS I DIDN'T GET EVEN 5 COMMENTS JUST 4 COMMENTS....
-STORY-
- AFTER SOME TIME -
- DOORBELL -
demi- i'll get it
- blah blah blah joe was there they went upstairs sorry i'm very tired -
sel- * pulls demi in the bathroom * what the hell?!?!
demi- thank me later...
sel- no thank you your getting yourself a swollen eye....
demi- please don't
sel- fine lets get out of here * they went in her room *
nick- * says awkwardly * uhm...hey
demi- joe i forgot my purse lets go get it * eyes him *
sel- * glares at demi *
demi- * smiles innocently *
sel's pov
gosh right now i really hate demi but it wouldn't last long i know what she's trying to do she's trying to get me alone with nick the joe says " okay lets go ! " then i said " i'll get it with you demi " she thinks of something to say after somewhat 15 seconds she said " this is your house don't leave it alone " i protested " bu--" demi said " but nothing ! " when she said nothing she instantly left .... great ...
nick's pov
gosh they planned this this was very awkward then she said " what the hell was that earlier today?"
-end of pov's -
nick- sel look...
sel- ooohhh i'm looking at something alright...
nick- sel i love you....
sel- you always say that when you don't mean it...
nick- but i do.....
- lets skip two weeks -
- nick keeps on bugging sel and everything.. -
- at sel's house -
demi- he still keeps on bugging you
sel- worst he uses lame pick-up lines like hey baby get your library card cause i'm checkin you out and he goes all whats cookin good lookin ...
nick- hey sel
sel- heard of the thing called doorbell?
nick- sel aren't you tired/
sel- why?
nick- cause your all ways running on my mind...
demi- lame!!!
sel- what do you really want nick??
nick- one date thats all
sel- one date you'd stop the pick-up lines
nick- YES!!!!!!!!!!!
- end -
lame ep. but whatever been having writers block and i have this story in my ntbk called the crews of beverly high and its kinda pg well thinking of writing it here but three stories that would be a lot.... (Less)
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4, 02:43, 2008-04-21 20:05:03 Description: It's not about race. And it CAN be fixed. There are not 15 million illegals in America. There are 15 million illegal aliens in California --and it stamps out like that all across the US --leading (More) It's not about race. And it CAN be fixed. There are not 15 million illegals in America. There are 15 million illegal aliens in California --and it stamps out like that all across the US --leading to a real number in the vicinity of 100 million in just about thirty years. It's a crime wave. The Export Freedom Initiatives will take "a culture of disrespect" and turn it into billions of dollars to fix things like --healthcare and education. The Export Freedom Initiatives will grant citizenship along lines that Americans care about; Language, Law, Loyalty and Love. No border fence is needed. Landlords who EXPLOIT the crime wave will find their properties being seized --and others --who aid and abet --will find their immigration status --and their business licenses --under evaluation. Issues like Animal Rights and greenhouse emissions --which have been population-trampled --will now have new hope as well as billions of dollars for new social programs. When working class Americans can pick up a 3-bedroom home for 30,000 dollars, and UNDER-employed Americans never have to worry about healthcare again, AND parents with teens ready to graduate high school see college education FREE it'll all start to make VERY good sense. Moving INS responsibilities to the local law enforcement level is easy, it just depends on who your politicians work for and your politicians have SOLD YOU OUT to corporate CEO's --who are making a fortune --from the population wave currently storming into the US by way of our nations airports and borders. Immigration is not about race. If you want to prevent a THIRD WORLD FUTURE FOR AMERICA --end your own political isolation NOW --and DEMAND The Export Freedom Initiatives. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: art borders casting crime global immigration music political racism revolution tresspass warming
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82, 03:17, 2008-04-22 09:10:57 Description: Every one please show ur mates and leave comments, i want some advice, critisism, jst tell me wut u thot this is an amazing video fo me drawing a fight club poster on ms paint, took around forty (More) Every one please show ur mates and leave comments, i want some advice, critisism, jst tell me wut u thot this is an amazing video fo me drawing a fight club poster on ms paint, took around forty minutes all together, the video skips a bit, for examply whn i draw brad pitt's eye, but it does not affect the whole thing at all, took a while to learn how to do this well, but i think it turned out quite well, clockwork orange, reservoir dogs, pulp fiction, brad pitt, edward norton, electric aylum art, Fight Club[1] (1996) is the first published novel by American author Chuck Palahniuk. The plot is based around an unnamed protagonist who struggles with his growing discomfort with consumerism and changes in the state of masculinity in American culture. In an attempt to overcome this, he creates an underground fighting club as a radical form of psychotherapy. It was made into a movie of the same name in 1999 by director David Fincher. The movie became a pop culture phenomenon. In the wake of the film's popularity, the novel has become a target of criticism, mainly for its explicit depictions of violence. Contents [hide] 1 History 2 Plot summary 3 Characters in Fight Club 4 Motifs 5 Subtext 6 Literary significance and criticism 7 Fight Club in pop culture 8 Awards 9 U.S. editions 10 See also 11 Notes 12 References 13 External links [edit] History When Palahniuk made his first attempt at publishing a novel (Invisible Monsters) publishers rejected it for being too disturbing. This led him to work on Fight Club, which he wrote as an attempt to disturb the publisher even more for rejecting him. Palahniuk wrote this story while working as a diesel mechanic for Freightliner. After initially publishing it as a short story (which became chapter 6 of the novel) in the compilation Pursuit of Happiness, Palahniuk expanded it into a full novel, which, contrary to what he expected, the publisher was willing to publish.[2] While the original, hardcover edition of the book received positive reviews and some awards, it had a short shelf life. Nevertheless, the book had made its way to Hollywood, where interest in adapting it to film was growing. It was eventually adapted in 1999 by screenwriter Jim Uhls and director David Fincher. The film was a box office disappointment (although it was #1 at the U.S. box office in its first weekend) and critical reaction was mostly favorable, but a cult following soon emerged as the DVD of the film was popular upon release. As a result of the film, the original hardcover edition became a collector's item.[3] This film is now widely considered to be a defining work and an uncompromising critique of humanity's loss of identity through mass consumerism. Two paperback rereleases of the novel, one in 1999 and the other in 2004 (the latter of which begins with an introduction by the author about the conception and popularity of both the novel and the movie), were later made. This success helped launch Palahniuk's career as a popular novelist, as well as establish a writing style that would appear in many of his future novels. Despite popular belief, Palahniuk was not inspired to write the novel by any actual fight club. The club itself was based on a series of fights that Palahniuk got into over previous years (most notably one that he got into during a camping trip).[4] Even though he has mentioned this in many interviews, Palahniuk is still often approached by fans wanting to know where their local fight club takes place. Palahniuk insists that there is no real, singular organization like the one in his book. He does admit however that some fans have mentioned to him that some fight clubs (albeit much smaller than the one in the novel) exist or previously existed (some having existed long before the novel was written). Also, in the introduction to the current edition of the novel, Palahniuk refers to a few of the many actual instances of mischief being carried out in the style of fight club, most notably, a "Waiter from one of London's two finest restaurants" alleging that he ejaculated into Margaret Thatcher's food on multiple occasions. Many other events in the novel were also based on events that Palahniuk himself had experienced. The support groups that the narrator attends are based on support groups to which the author brought terminally ill people as part of a volunteer job he did for a local hospital. Project Mayhem is loosely based on the Cacophony Society, of which Palahniuk is a member. Various events and characters are based on friends of the author. Other events came as a result of stories told to him by various people he had talked to.[5] This method of combining various stories from various people into novels has become a common way of writing novels for Palahniuk ever since. Outside of Palahniuk's professional and personal life, the novel's impact has been felt elsewhere. Several individuals in various locations of the United States (and possibly in other countries), ranging from teenagers to people in technical careers, have set up their own fight clubs based on the one mentioned in the novel.[6] Some of Tyler's on-the-job pranks (such as food tampering) have been repeated by fans of the book (although these same pranks existed well before the novel was published). Palahniuk eventually documented this phenomenon in his essay "Monkey Think, Monkey Do",[7] which was published in his book Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories, as well as in the introduction to the 2004 paperback edition of Fight Club. Other fans of the book have been inspired to non-anti-social activity as well; Palahniuk has claimed that fans tell him that they have been inspired to go back to college after reading the book.[2] Other than the film, a few other adaptations have been attempted. In 2004 Fight Club was in development as a musical, developed by Palahniuk, Fincher, and Trent Reznor.[8] Brad Pitt, who played the role of Tyler Durden in the film, expressed interest in being involved. A video game loosely based on the film was published by Vivendi Universal Games in 2004, receiving poor reviews from gaming critics (see Fight Club (video game)). [edit] Plot summary The book centers on a nameless narrator who hates his job and his life. The narrator works for a car company, also unnamed, organizing product recalls on defective models if, and only if, the cost of the recall is less than the cost of out-of-court settlements paid to relatives of the deceased (which parallels the 1970s story of the Ford Pinto's safety problems and recall). At the same time, he is becoming disenchanted with the "nesting instinct"[9] of consumerism that has absorbed his life, forcing him to define himself by the furniture, clothes, and other material things that he owns. This dissatisfaction, combined with his frequent business trips across multiple time zones, disturb him to the point that he suffers from chronic insomnia. At the recommendation of his physician (who does not consider his insomnia to be a serious ailment), the narrator goes to a support group for men with testicular cancer to "see what real suffering is like". After finding that crying at these support groups and listening to emotional outpourings from the suffering allows him to sleep at night, he becomes dependent on them. At the same time, he befriends a cancer victim named Bob. Although he does not really suffer from any of the ailments that the other attendants have, he is never caught being a "tourist" until he meets Marla Singer, a woman who also attends support groups for alternative reasons. Her presence reflects the narrator's "tourism", and only reminds him that he doesn't belong at the support groups. He begins to hate Marla for keeping him from crying, and therefore from sleeping. After a short confrontation, they begin going to separate support groups in order to avoid meeting again. Shortly before this incident, his life changes radically upon meeting Tyler Durden, a beach artist who works low-paying jobs at night in order to perform deviant behavior on the job. After his confrontation with Marla, the narrator's condo is destroyed by an explosion and he asks Tyler if he can stay at his house. Tyler agrees, but asks for something in return, in a now-famous line: "I want you to hit me as hard as you can."[10] The resulting fight in a bar's parking lot attracts more disenchanted males, and a new form of support group, the first "Fight Club," is born. The fight club becomes a new type of therapy through bare-knuckle fighting, controlled by a set of rules: You don't talk about fight club. You don't talk about fight club.[11] When someone says stop, or goes limp, even if he's just faking it, the fight is over.[12] Only two guys to a fight. One fight at a time. They fight without shirts or shoes. The fights go on as long as they have to. If this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight. -- Fight Club, pages 48-50[13] Later in the book the mechanic tells the narrator two new rules to fight club. The first new rule is that nobody is the center of fight club except for the two men fighting. The second new rule is that fight club will always be free. Meanwhile, Tyler rescues Marla from a suicide attempt and the two initiate an affair that confounds the narrator. Throughout this affair, Marla is mostly unaware of the existence of fight club, and completely unaware of Tyler and the narrator's interaction with one another.[14] As the fight club's membership grows (and, unbeknownst to the narrator, spreads to other cities across the country), Tyler begins to use it to spread anti-consumerist ideas and recruits its members to participate in increasingly elaborate attacks on corporate America. This was originally the narrator's idea, but Tyler takes control from him. Tyler eventually gathers the most devoted fight club members (referred to as "space monkeys") and forms "Project Mayhem", a cult-like organization that trains itself as an army to bring down modern civilization. This organization, like the fight club, is controlled by a set of rules: You don't ask questions. You don't ask questions. No excuses. No lies. You have to trust Tyler. -- Fight Club, pages 119, 122, 125[15] The narrator starts off as a loyal participant in Project Mayhem, seeing it as the next step for fight club. However, he becomes uncomfortable with the increasing destructiveness of their activities after it results in the death of Bob. As the narrator endeavors to stop Tyler and his followers, he learns that he is Tyler;[16] Tyler is not a separate person, but a separate personality. As the narrator struggled with his hatred for his job and his consumerist lifestyle, his mind began to form a new personality that was able to escape from the problems of his normal life. The final straw came when he met Marla; Tyler was truly born as a distinct personality when the narrator's unconscious desire for Marla clashed with his conscious hatred for her. Having come to the surface, Tyler's personality has been slowly taking over the narrator's mind, which he planned to take over completely by making the narrator's real personality more like his. The narrator's bouts of insomnia had actually been Tyler's personality surfacing; Tyler would be active whenever the narrator was "sleeping". This allowed Tyler to manipulate the narrator into helping him create fight club; Tyler learned recipes for creating explosives when he was in control, and used this knowledge to blow up his own condo. The narrator also learns that Tyler plans to blow up the Parker-Morris building (the fictional "tallest building in the world") in the downtown area of the city using homemade bombs created by Project Mayhem. The actual reason for the explosion is to destroy the nearby national museum. During the explosion, Tyler plans to die as a martyr for Project Mayhem, taking the narrator's life as well. Realizing this, the narrator sets out to stop Tyler, although Tyler is always thinking ahead of him. In his attempts to stop Tyler, he makes peace with Marla (who always knew the narrator as Tyler) and explains to her that he is not Tyler Durden. The narrator is eventually forced to confront Tyler on the roof of the building. The narrator is held captive at gunpoint by Tyler, forced to watch the destruction wrought on the museum by Project Mayhem. Marla comes to the roof with one of the support groups. Tyler vanishes, because "Tyler was his hallucination, not hers." [17] With Tyler gone, the narrator waits for the bomb to explode and kill him. However, the bomb malfunctions because Tyler mixed paraffin into the explosives, which "never, ever works." Still alive and holding the gun that Tyler used to carry on him, the narrator decides to make the first decision that is truly his own: he puts the gun in his mouth and shoots himself. Some time later, he awakens in a mental institution, believing that he is dead and has gone to heaven. The book ends with members of Project Mayhem who work at the institution telling the narrator that their plans still continue, and that they are expecting Tyler to come back. [edit] Characters in Fight Club Narrator Some fans of the film refer to the narrator as "Jack", which is in reference to a scene in which he reads stories written from the perspective of a man's organs (e.g. "Jack's medulla oblongata"); the protagonists' lines in the official movie script also use the name "Jack" to denote them. Furthermore, a number of props from the film (such as a paycheck for the narrator) have the name "Jack Moore" on them, indicating that members of the film's crew also thought the narrator's name was Jack. The name "Jack" was "Joe" in the novel, which was changed in the film to avoid conflicts with Reader's Digest over the use of the name (the articles read by the narrator were featured in the magazine). The narrator of Fight Club set a precedent for the protagonists of later novels by Palahniuk, especially in the case of male protagonists, as they often shared his anti-heroic and transgressive behavior. Tyler Durden A neo-luddite, nihilist with a strong hatred for consumer culture. "Because of his nature"[18], Tyler works night jobs where he causes problems for the companies; he also makes soap to supplement his income and create the ingredients for his bomb making which will be put to work later with his fight club. He is the co-founder of fight club (it was his idea to have the fight that led to it). He later launches Project Mayhem, from which he and the members make various attacks on consumerism. Tyler is blond, as by the narrator's comment "in his everything-blond way." The unhinged but magnetic Tyler could also be considered an antihero (especially since he and the narrator are technically the same person), although he becomes the antagonist of the novel later in the story. Few characters like Tyler have appeared in later novels by Palahniuk, though the character of Oyster from Lullaby shares many similarities. Marla Singer A woman that the narrator meets during a support group. The narrator no longer receives the same release from the groups when he realizes Marla is faking her problems just like he is. After he leaves the groups, he meets her again when she meets Tyler and becomes his lover. She is a nymphomaniac, and she shares many of Tyler's thoughts on consumer culture. In later novels by Palahniuk in which the protagonist is male, a female character similar to Marla has also appeared. Marla and these other female characters have helped Palahniuk to add romantic themes into his novels. Robert "Bob" Paulson A man that the narrator meets at a support group for testicular cancer. A former bodybuilder, Bob lost his testicles to cancer caused by the steroids he used to bulk up his muscles, and had to undergo testosterone injections; this resulted in his body increasing its estrogen, causing him to grow large breasts (Gynecomastia) ("Bitch-tits") and develop a softer voice. The narrator befriends Bob and, after leaving the groups, meets him again in fight club. Bob's death later in the story while carrying out an assignment for Project Mayhem causes the narrator to turn against Tyler, because the members of Project Mayhem treat it as a trivial matter instead of a tragedy. When the narrator explains that the dead man had a name and was a real person, a member of Project Mayhem points out that only in death do members of Project Mayhem have a name. The unnamed member begins chanting, "his name was Robert Paulson", and this phrase becomes a meme and mantra that the narrator encounters later on in the story multiple times. This differs from the book which only states that people in other fight clubs were chanting "Robert Paulson" for the same reason as mentioned above. When the narrator goes to a fight club to shut it down for this reason, Tyler orders them to make him a "homework assignment". [edit] Motifs At two points in the novel, the narrator claims he wants to "wipe [his] ass with the Mona Lisa"; a mechanic who joins fight club also repeats this to him in one scene.[19] This motif shows his desire for chaos, later explicitly expressed in his urge to "destroy something beautiful". Additionally, he mentions at one point that "Nothing is static. Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart."[20] University of Calgary literary scholar Paul Kennett claims that this want for chaos is a result of an Oedipus complex, as the narrator, Tyler, and the mechanic all show disdain for their fathers.[21] This is most explicitly stated in the scene that the mechanic appears in: The mechanic says, "If you're male and you're Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God. And if you never know your father, if your father bails out or dies or is never at home, what do you believe about God? ... How Tyler saw it was that getting God's attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God's hate is better than His indifference. If you could be either God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose? We are God's middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention. Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption. Which is worse, hell or nothing? Only if we're caught and punished can we be saved. "Burn the Louvre," the mechanic says, "and wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa. This way at least, God would know our names." -- Fight Club, page 141[22] Kennett further argues that Tyler wants to use this chaos to change history so that "God's middle children" will have some historical significance, whether or not this significance is "damnation or redemption".[23] This will figuratively return their absent fathers, as judgement by future generations will replace judgement by their fathers. After reading stories written from the perspective of the organs of a man named Joe, the narrator begins using similar quotations to describe his feelings, often replacing organs with feelings and things involved in his life. The narrator often repeats the line "I know this because Tyler knows this." This is used to foreshadow the novel's major plot twist in which Tyler is revealed to be the same person as the narrator. The color cornflower blue first appears as the color of an icon on the narrator's boss's computer.[20] Later, it is mentioned that his boss has eyes of the same color.[24] These mentions of the color are the first of many uses of cornflower blue in Palahniuk's books, which all feature the color at some point in the text. The theme of masculinity is also a motif throughout the book. Different symbols lead to this reoccurring theme, such as violence, and testes. Fighting is perceived as a masculine characteristic. [edit] Subtext Throughout the novel, Palahniuk uses the narrator and Tyler to comment on how people in modern society try to find meaning in their lives through commercial culture. Several lines in the novel make b Paint (formerly Paintbrush for Windows) is a simple graphics painting program that has been included with almost all versions of Microsoft Windows since its first release. It is often referred to as MS Paint or Microsoft Paint. The program opens and saves files as Windows bitmap (24-bit, 256 color, 16 color, and monochrome, all with the .bmp extension), JPEG, GIF (without animation or transparency, although the Windows 98 version and a Windows 95 upgrade did support the latter), PNG (without alpha channel), and TIFF. The program can be in color mode or two-color black-and-white, but there is no grayscale mode. Contents [hide] 1 History 2 Features 3 Support for indexed palettes 4 Versions 5 See also 6 Notes and references 7 External links [edit] History The first version of Paint was introduced with the first version of Windows, Windows 1.0. This version only supported the MSP file format. This format is no longer supported by newer versions of Paint, along with PCX and RLE. Older versions cannot open or edit PNG files, and can only open GIF, JPEG, and TIFF files with a graphics filter for the specific file type. In Windows 95, a new version of Paint was introduced. The same icons and color palette continued to be used through Windows XP. An early version of the program, as bundled with Windows 3.1. (It was still known as Paintbrush at this stage.)In the Windows 98, Windows 2000 or Windows Me versions of Paint, images could be saved in JPEG and GIF formats if the necessary Microsoft graphics filters were installed, usually by another Microsoft application such as Microsoft Office or Microsoft PhotoDraw. Also, the canvas size was expanded automatically when larger images were opened or pasted. In Windows XP and later versions, Paint is based on GDI+ [1] and therefore, images can be natively saved as JPEG, GIF, TIFF and PNG without requiring additional graphics filters. However, alpha channel transparency is still not supported because the GDI+ version of Paint can only handle up to 24-bit depth images. Also, since another accessory, Imaging, was discontinued in Windows XP, support for acquiring images from a scanner or a digital camera was also added to Paint. However, the tertiary color function, used for creating GIF files with a transparent background, was removed. Also, the ability to save and load palette colors to and from .pal files was removed. In Windows Vista, the toolbar icons and default color palette have been updated. Also, an increased number of undo levels, a zoom slider, and a crop function have been added. [edit] Features Recent versions of Paint allow the user to pick up to three colors at a time: the primary color (left mouse click), secondary color (right mouse click), and tertiary color (control key + any mouse click). MS Paint ToolboxThe program comes with the following options in its Tool Box (from left to right in image): Free-Form Select Select Eraser/Color Eraser Fill With Color Pick Color Magnifier Pencil Brush Airbrush Text Line Curve Rectangle Polygon Ellipse Rounded Rectangle Paint does not have the ability to automatically create color gradients. The Image menu offers the following options: Flip/Rotate, Stretch/Skew, Invert Colors, Image Attributes, Clear Image, and Draw Opaque. The "Colors" menu allows the user to Edit Colors (only menu option under Colors). The Edit Colors dialog box shows a 48-color palette and 12 custom color slots that can be edited. Clicking "Define Custom Colors" displays a square version of the color wheel that can select a custom color either with a crosshair cursor (like a "+"), by Hue/Saturation/Luminance, or by Red/Green/Blue values. The default colors in the Color Box are the following: Black, White, Gray, Silver, Maroon, Red, Olive, Yellow, Dark Green, Green, Teal, Cyan, Navy blue, Blue, Purple, Magenta, Old Gold, Lemon Yellow, Slate grey, Kelly green, Dark Carolina blue, Aquamarine, Midnight blue, Periwinkle, Violet-blue, Coral, Brown, and Pumpkin orange. A color palette is also available. Paint also has a few hidden functions (or Easter eggs) not mentioned in the help file: a stamp mode, trail mode and 10x zoom. For the stamp mode, the user can select part of the image, hold the control key, and move it to another part of the canvas. This, instead of cutting the piece out, creates a copy of it. The process can be repeated as many times as desired, as long as the control key is held down. The trail mode works exactly the same, but it uses the shift key instead of the control key. 10x zoom can be accessed by clicking on a horizontal line of about 2 pixels right below the 8x zoom button. The user may also draw straight horizontal, vertical, or diagonal lines with the pencil tool, without the need of the straight line tool, by holding the shift key and dragging the tool. Moreover, it is also possible to thicken (control key + +) or thin (control key + −) a line simultaneously while it is being drawn. To crop whitespace or eliminate parts of a graphic, the blue handle in the lower right corner can be clicked and dragged to increase canvas size or crop a graphic. The colors in the image can be inverted by pressing Ctrl+ I Older versions of Paint, such as the one bundled with Windows 3.1, allowed controlling the drawing cursor with the use of arrow keys as well as a color-replace brush, which replaced a single color underneath (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: action animationpulp art brad club eyed fiction fight four hello horror microsoft monsters montage ms paint pitt youtube
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661, 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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261, 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)
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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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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149, 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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150, 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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137, 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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99, 03:17, 2007-06-10 04:45:57 Description: Every one please show ur mates and leave comments, i want some advice, critisism, jst tell me wut u thot
this is an amazing video fo me drawing a fight club poster on ms paint, took around forty (More) Every one please show ur mates and leave comments, i want some advice, critisism, jst tell me wut u thot
this is an amazing video fo me drawing a fight club poster on ms paint, took around forty minutes all together, the video skips a bit, for examply whn i draw brad pitt's eye, but it does not affect the whole thing at all, took a while to learn how to do this well, but i think it turned out quite well, clockwork orange, reservoir dogs, pulp fiction, brad pitt, edward norton, electric aylum art,
Fight Club[1] (1996) is the first published novel by American author Chuck Palahniuk. The plot is based around an unnamed protagonist who struggles with his growing discomfort with consumerism and changes in the state of masculinity in American culture. In an attempt to overcome this, he creates an underground fighting club as a radical form of psychotherapy. It was made into a movie of the same name in 1999 by director David Fincher. The movie became a pop culture phenomenon. In the wake of the film's popularity, the novel has become a target of criticism, mainly for its explicit depictions of violence.
Contents [hide]
1 History
2 Plot summary
3 Characters in Fight Club
4 Motifs
5 Subtext
6 Literary significance and criticism
7 Fight Club in pop culture
8 Awards
9 U.S. editions
10 See also
11 Notes
12 References
13 External links
[edit] History
When Palahniuk made his first attempt at publishing a novel (Invisible Monsters) publishers rejected it for being too disturbing. This led him to work on Fight Club, which he wrote as an attempt to disturb the publisher even more for rejecting him. Palahniuk wrote this story while working as a diesel mechanic for Freightliner. After initially publishing it as a short story (which became chapter 6 of the novel) in the compilation Pursuit of Happiness, Palahniuk expanded it into a full novel, which, contrary to what he expected, the publisher was willing to publish.[2] While the original, hardcover edition of the book received positive reviews and some awards, it had a short shelf life. Nevertheless, the book had made its way to Hollywood, where interest in adapting it to film was growing. It was eventually adapted in 1999 by screenwriter Jim Uhls and director David Fincher. The film was a box office disappointment (although it was #1 at the U.S. box office in its first weekend) and critical reaction was mostly favorable, but a cult following soon emerged as the DVD of the film was popular upon release. As a result of the film, the original hardcover edition became a collector's item.[3] This film is now widely considered to be a defining work and an uncompromising critique of humanity's loss of identity through mass consumerism. Two paperback rereleases of the novel, one in 1999 and the other in 2004 (the latter of which begins with an introduction by the author about the conception and popularity of both the novel and the movie), were later made. This success helped launch Palahniuk's career as a popular novelist, as well as establish a writing style that would appear in many of his future novels.
Despite popular belief, Palahniuk was not inspired to write the novel by any actual fight club. The club itself was based on a series of fights that Palahniuk got into over previous years (most notably one that he got into during a camping trip).[4] Even though he has mentioned this in many interviews, Palahniuk is still often approached by fans wanting to know where their local fight club takes place. Palahniuk insists that there is no real, singular organization like the one in his book. He does admit however that some fans have mentioned to him that some fight clubs (albeit much smaller than the one in the novel) exist or previously existed (some having existed long before the novel was written). Also, in the introduction to the current edition of the novel, Palahniuk refers to a few of the many actual instances of mischief being carried out in the style of fight club, most notably, a "Waiter from one of London's two finest restaurants" alleging that he ejaculated into Margaret Thatcher's food on multiple occasions.
Many other events in the novel were also based on events that Palahniuk himself had experienced. The support groups that the narrator attends are based on support groups to which the author brought terminally ill people as part of a volunteer job he did for a local hospital. Project Mayhem is loosely based on the Cacophony Society, of which Palahniuk is a member. Various events and characters are based on friends of the author. Other events came as a result of stories told to him by various people he had talked to.[5] This method of combining various stories from various people into novels has become a common way of writing novels for Palahniuk ever since.
Outside of Palahniuk's professional and personal life, the novel's impact has been felt elsewhere. Several individuals in various locations of the United States (and possibly in other countries), ranging from teenagers to people in technical careers, have set up their own fight clubs based on the one mentioned in the novel.[6] Some of Tyler's on-the-job pranks (such as food tampering) have been repeated by fans of the book (although these same pranks existed well before the novel was published). Palahniuk eventually documented this phenomenon in his essay "Monkey Think, Monkey Do",[7] which was published in his book Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories, as well as in the introduction to the 2004 paperback edition of Fight Club. Other fans of the book have been inspired to non-anti-social activity as well; Palahniuk has claimed that fans tell him that they have been inspired to go back to college after reading the book.[2]
Other than the film, a few other adaptations have been attempted. In 2004 Fight Club was in development as a musical, developed by Palahniuk, Fincher, and Trent Reznor.[8] Brad Pitt, who played the role of Tyler Durden in the film, expressed interest in being involved. A video game loosely based on the film was published by Vivendi Universal Games in 2004, receiving poor reviews from gaming critics (see Fight Club (video game)).
[edit] Plot summary
The book centers on a nameless narrator who hates his job and his life. The narrator works for a car company, also unnamed, organizing product recalls on defective models if, and only if, the cost of the recall is less than the cost of out-of-court settlements paid to relatives of the deceased (which parallels the 1970s story of the Ford Pinto's safety problems and recall). At the same time, he is becoming disenchanted with the "nesting instinct"[9] of consumerism that has absorbed his life, forcing him to define himself by the furniture, clothes, and other material things that he owns. This dissatisfaction, combined with his frequent business trips across multiple time zones, disturb him to the point that he suffers from chronic insomnia.
At the recommendation of his physician (who does not consider his insomnia to be a serious ailment), the narrator goes to a support group for men with testicular cancer to "see what real suffering is like". After finding that crying at these support groups and listening to emotional outpourings from the suffering allows him to sleep at night, he becomes dependent on them. At the same time, he befriends a cancer victim named Bob. Although he does not really suffer from any of the ailments that the other attendants have, he is never caught being a "tourist" until he meets Marla Singer, a woman who also attends support groups for alternative reasons. Her presence reflects the narrator's "tourism", and only reminds him that he doesn't belong at the support groups. He begins to hate Marla for keeping him from crying, and therefore from sleeping. After a short confrontation, they begin going to separate support groups in order to avoid meeting again.
Shortly before this incident, his life changes radically upon meeting Tyler Durden, a beach artist who works low-paying jobs at night in order to perform deviant behavior on the job. After his confrontation with Marla, the narrator's condo is destroyed by an explosion and he asks Tyler if he can stay at his house. Tyler agrees, but asks for something in return, in a now-famous line: "I want you to hit me as hard as you can."[10] The resulting fight in a bar's parking lot attracts more disenchanted males, and a new form of support group, the first "Fight Club," is born. The fight club becomes a new type of therapy through bare-knuckle fighting, controlled by a set of rules:
You don't talk about fight club.
You don't talk about fight club.[11]
When someone says stop, or goes limp, even if he's just faking it, the fight is over.[12]
Only two guys to a fight.
One fight at a time.
They fight without shirts or shoes.
The fights go on as long as they have to.
If this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight.
-- Fight Club, pages 48-50[13]
Later in the book the mechanic tells the narrator two new rules to fight club. The first new rule is that nobody is the center of fight club except for the two men fighting. The second new rule is that fight club will always be free.
Meanwhile, Tyler rescues Marla from a suicide attempt and the two initiate an affair that confounds the narrator. Throughout this affair, Marla is mostly unaware of the existence of fight club, and completely unaware of Tyler and the narrator's interaction with one another.[14]
As the fight club's membership grows (and, unbeknownst to the narrator, spreads to other cities across the country), Tyler begins to use it to spread anti-consumerist ideas and recruits its members to participate in increasingly elaborate attacks on corporate America. This was originally the narrator's idea, but Tyler takes control from him. Tyler eventually gathers the most devoted fight club members (referred to as "space monkeys") and forms "Project Mayhem", a cult-like organization that trains itself as an army to bring down modern civilization. This organization, like the fight club, is controlled by a set of rules:
You don't ask questions.
You don't ask questions.
No excuses.
No lies.
You have to trust Tyler.
-- Fight Club, pages 119, 122, 125[15]
The narrator starts off as a loyal participant in Project Mayhem, seeing it as the next step for fight club. However, he becomes uncomfortable with the increasing destructiveness of their activities after it results in the death of Bob.
As the narrator endeavors to stop Tyler and his followers, he learns that he is Tyler;[16] Tyler is not a separate person, but a separate personality. As the narrator struggled with his hatred for his job and his consumerist lifestyle, his mind began to form a new personality that was able to escape from the problems of his normal life. The final straw came when he met Marla; Tyler was truly born as a distinct personality when the narrator's unconscious desire for Marla clashed with his conscious hatred for her. Having come to the surface, Tyler's personality has been slowly taking over the narrator's mind, which he planned to take over completely by making the narrator's real personality more like his. The narrator's bouts of insomnia had actually been Tyler's personality surfacing; Tyler would be active whenever the narrator was "sleeping". This allowed Tyler to manipulate the narrator into helping him create fight club; Tyler learned recipes for creating explosives when he was in control, and used this knowledge to blow up his own condo.
The narrator also learns that Tyler plans to blow up the Parker-Morris building (the fictional "tallest building in the world") in the downtown area of the city using homemade bombs created by Project Mayhem. The actual reason for the explosion is to destroy the nearby national museum. During the explosion, Tyler plans to die as a martyr for Project Mayhem, taking the narrator's life as well. Realizing this, the narrator sets out to stop Tyler, although Tyler is always thinking ahead of him. In his attempts to stop Tyler, he makes peace with Marla (who always knew the narrator as Tyler) and explains to her that he is not Tyler Durden. The narrator is eventually forced to confront Tyler on the roof of the building. The narrator is held captive at gunpoint by Tyler, forced to watch the destruction wrought on the museum by Project Mayhem. Marla comes to the roof with one of the support groups. Tyler vanishes, because "Tyler was his hallucination, not hers." [17]
With Tyler gone, the narrator waits for the bomb to explode and kill him. However, the bomb malfunctions because Tyler mixed paraffin into the explosives, which "never, ever works." Still alive and holding the gun that Tyler used to carry on him, the narrator decides to make the first decision that is truly his own: he puts the gun in his mouth and shoots himself. Some time later, he awakens in a mental institution, believing that he is dead and has gone to heaven. The book ends with members of Project Mayhem who work at the institution telling the narrator that their plans still continue, and that they are expecting Tyler to come back.
[edit] Characters in Fight Club
Narrator
Some fans of the film refer to the narrator as "Jack", which is in reference to a scene in which he reads stories written from the perspective of a man's organs (e.g. "Jack's medulla oblongata"); the protagonists' lines in the official movie script also use the name "Jack" to denote them. Furthermore, a number of props from the film (such as a paycheck for the narrator) have the name "Jack Moore" on them, indicating that members of the film's crew also thought the narrator's name was Jack. The name "Jack" was "Joe" in the novel, which was changed in the film to avoid conflicts with Reader's Digest over the use of the name (the articles read by the narrator were featured in the magazine). The narrator of Fight Club set a precedent for the protagonists of later novels by Palahniuk, especially in the case of male protagonists, as they often shared his anti-heroic and transgressive behavior.
Tyler Durden
A neo-luddite, nihilist with a strong hatred for consumer culture. "Because of his nature"[18], Tyler works night jobs where he causes problems for the companies; he also makes soap to supplement his income and create the ingredients for his bomb making which will be put to work later with his fight club. He is the co-founder of fight club (it was his idea to have the fight that led to it). He later launches Project Mayhem, from which he and the members make various attacks on consumerism. Tyler is blond, as by the narrator's comment "in his everything-blond way." The unhinged but magnetic Tyler could also be considered an antihero (especially since he and the narrator are technically the same person), although he becomes the antagonist of the novel later in the story. Few characters like Tyler have appeared in later novels by Palahniuk, though the character of Oyster from Lullaby shares many similarities.
Marla Singer
A woman that the narrator meets during a support group. The narrator no longer receives the same release from the groups when he realizes Marla is faking her problems just like he is. After he leaves the groups, he meets her again when she meets Tyler and becomes his lover. She is a nymphomaniac, and she shares many of Tyler's thoughts on consumer culture. In later novels by Palahniuk in which the protagonist is male, a female character similar to Marla has also appeared. Marla and these other female characters have helped Palahniuk to add romantic themes into his novels.
Robert "Bob" Paulson
A man that the narrator meets at a support group for testicular cancer. A former bodybuilder, Bob lost his testicles to cancer caused by the steroids he used to bulk up his muscles, and had to undergo testosterone injections; this resulted in his body increasing its estrogen, causing him to grow large breasts (Gynecomastia) ("Bitch-tits") and develop a softer voice. The narrator befriends Bob and, after leaving the groups, meets him again in fight club. Bob's death later in the story while carrying out an assignment for Project Mayhem causes the narrator to turn against Tyler, because the members of Project Mayhem treat it as a trivial matter instead of a tragedy. When the narrator explains that the dead man had a name and was a real person, a member of Project Mayhem points out that only in death do members of Project Mayhem have a name. The unnamed member begins chanting, "his name was Robert Paulson", and this phrase becomes a meme and mantra that the narrator encounters later on in the story multiple times. This differs from the book which only states that people in other fight clubs were chanting "Robert Paulson" for the same reason as mentioned above. When the narrator goes to a fight club to shut it down for this reason, Tyler orders them to make him a "homework assignment".
[edit] Motifs
At two points in the novel, the narrator claims he wants to "wipe [his] ass with the Mona Lisa"; a mechanic who joins fight club also repeats this to him in one scene.[19] This motif shows his desire for chaos, later explicitly expressed in his urge to "destroy something beautiful". Additionally, he mentions at one point that "Nothing is static. Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart."[20] University of Calgary literary scholar Paul Kennett claims that this want for chaos is a result of an Oedipus complex, as the narrator, Tyler, and the mechanic all show disdain for their fathers.[21] This is most explicitly stated in the scene that the mechanic appears in:
The mechanic says, "If you're male and you're Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God. And if you never know your father, if your father bails out or dies or is never at home, what do you believe about God?
...
How Tyler saw it was that getting God's attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God's hate is better than His indifference.
If you could be either God's worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?
We are God's middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention.
Unless we get God's attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption.
Which is worse, hell or nothing?
Only if we're caught and punished can we be saved.
"Burn the Louvre," the mechanic says, "and wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa. This way at least, God would know our names."
-- Fight Club, page 141[22]
Kennett further argues that Tyler wants to use this chaos to change history so that "God's middle children" will have some historical significance, whether or not this significance is "damnation or redemption".[23] This will figuratively return their absent fathers, as judgement by future generations will replace judgement by their fathers.
After reading stories written from the perspective of the organs of a man named Joe, the narrator begins using similar quotations to describe his feelings, often replacing organs with feelings and things involved in his life.
The narrator often repeats the line "I know this because Tyler knows this." This is used to foreshadow the novel's major plot twist in which Tyler is revealed to be the same person as the narrator.
The color cornflower blue first appears as the color of an icon on the narrator's boss's computer.[20] Later, it is mentioned that his boss has eyes of the same color.[24] These mentions of the color are the first of many uses of cornflower blue in Palahniuk's books, which all feature the color at some point in the text.
The theme of masculinity is also a motif throughout the book. Different symbols lead to this reoccurring theme, such as violence, and testes. Fighting is perceived as a masculine characteristic.
[edit] Subtext
Throughout the novel, Palahniuk uses the narrator and Tyler to comment on how people in modern society try to find meaning in their lives through commercial culture. Several lines in the novel make
b
Paint (formerly Paintbrush for Windows) is a simple graphics painting program that has been included with almost all versions of Microsoft Windows since its first release. It is often referred to as MS Paint or Microsoft Paint. The program opens and saves files as Windows bitmap (24-bit, 256 color, 16 color, and monochrome, all with the .bmp extension), JPEG, GIF (without animation or transparency, although the Windows 98 version and a Windows 95 upgrade did support the latter), PNG (without alpha channel), and TIFF. The program can be in color mode or two-color black-and-white, but there is no grayscale mode.
Contents [hide]
1 History
2 Features
3 Support for indexed palettes
4 Versions
5 See also
6 Notes and references
7 External links
[edit] History
The first version of Paint was introduced with the first version of Windows, Windows 1.0. This version only supported the MSP file format. This format is no longer supported by newer versions of Paint, along with PCX and RLE. Older versions cannot open or edit PNG files, and can only open GIF, JPEG, and TIFF files with a graphics filter for the specific file type.
In Windows 95, a new version of Paint was introduced. The same icons and color palette continued to be used through Windows XP.
An early version of the program, as bundled with Windows 3.1. (It was still known as Paintbrush at this stage.)In the Windows 98, Windows 2000 or Windows Me versions of Paint, images could be saved in JPEG and GIF formats if the necessary Microsoft graphics filters were installed, usually by another Microsoft application such as Microsoft Office or Microsoft PhotoDraw. Also, the canvas size was expanded automatically when larger images were opened or pasted.
In Windows XP and later versions, Paint is based on GDI+ [1] and therefore, images can be natively saved as JPEG, GIF, TIFF and PNG without requiring additional graphics filters. However, alpha channel transparency is still not supported because the GDI+ version of Paint can only handle up to 24-bit depth images. Also, since another accessory, Imaging, was discontinued in Windows XP, support for acquiring images from a scanner or a digital camera was also added to Paint. However, the tertiary color function, used for creating GIF files with a transparent background, was removed. Also, the ability to save and load palette colors to and from .pal files was removed.
In Windows Vista, the toolbar icons and default color palette have been updated. Also, an increased number of undo levels, a zoom slider, and a crop function have been added.
[edit] Features
Recent versions of Paint allow the user to pick up to three colors at a time: the primary color (left mouse click), secondary color (right mouse click), and tertiary color (control key + any mouse click).
MS Paint ToolboxThe program comes with the following options in its Tool Box (from left to right in image):
Free-Form Select
Select
Eraser/Color Eraser
Fill With Color
Pick Color
Magnifier
Pencil
Brush
Airbrush
Text
Line
Curve
Rectangle
Polygon
Ellipse
Rounded Rectangle
Paint does not have the ability to automatically create color gradients.
The Image menu offers the following options: Flip/Rotate, Stretch/Skew, Invert Colors, Image Attributes, Clear Image, and Draw Opaque. The "Colors" menu allows the user to Edit Colors (only menu option under Colors). The Edit Colors dialog box shows a 48-color palette and 12 custom color slots that can be edited. Clicking "Define Custom Colors" displays a square version of the color wheel that can select a custom color either with a crosshair cursor (like a "+"), by Hue/Saturation/Luminance, or by Red/Green/Blue values.
The default colors in the Color Box are the following: Black, White, Gray, Silver, Maroon, Red, Olive, Yellow, Dark Green, Green, Teal, Cyan, Navy blue, Blue, Purple, Magenta, Old Gold, Lemon Yellow, Slate grey, Kelly green, Dark Carolina blue, Aquamarine, Midnight blue, Periwinkle, Violet-blue, Coral, Brown, and Pumpkin orange. A color palette is also available.
Paint also has a few hidden functions (or Easter eggs) not mentioned in the help file: a stamp mode, trail mode and 10x zoom. For the stamp mode, the user can select part of the image, hold the control key, and move it to another part of the canvas. This, instead of cutting the piece out, creates a copy of it. The process can be repeated as many times as desired, as long as the control key is held down. The trail mode works exactly the same, but it uses the shift key instead of the control key. 10x zoom can be accessed by clicking on a horizontal line of about 2 pixels right below the 8x zoom button.
The user may also draw straight horizontal, vertical, or diagonal lines with the pencil tool, without the need of the straight line tool, by holding the shift key and dragging the tool. Moreover, it is also possible to thicken (control key + +) or thin (control key + −) a line simultaneously while it is being drawn. To crop whitespace or eliminate parts of a graphic, the blue handle in the lower right corner can be clicked and dragged to increase canvas size or crop a graphic. The colors in the image can be inverted by pressing Ctrl+ I
Older versions of Paint, such as the one bundled with Windows 3.1, allowed controlling the drawing cursor with the use of arrow keys as well as a color-replace brush, which replaced a single color underneath (Less)
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6, 09:33, 2008-09-19 01:01:26 Description: **Category 2 Hurricane Ike**
Chase Summery:
Tyler Constantini, Mike Scantlin and I headed to Texas on the 12th of September to ride out Hurricane Ike and film as well as report on its furry as it (More) **Category 2 Hurricane Ike**
Chase Summery:
Tyler Constantini, Mike Scantlin and I headed to Texas on the 12th of September to ride out Hurricane Ike and film as well as report on its furry as it hit the Galveston Bay and the surrounding Houston Metro. After assisting my Uncle and Aunt install their finnal hurricane shutters early in the morning, Tyler, Mike and I embarked down Interstate 45 towards the Johnson Space Center and arived th shortly after sundown at the Hilton across the street from the space center and near the coast of Clear Lake. By this time the surge was already rising, joining the lake and the nearby Galveston Bay into one large body of water. The hotel where we first started filming at is where Jim Cantore and the Weather Channel as well as MSNBC and NBC and a smaller hand full of local stations were broadcasting out live footage from their sat trucks. We were suprised to see that the surge, well over four hours before the eye would make landfall, was already spilling into the parking lot. On the side of the hotel facing the space center (away from the bay) you will notice that a large area of the Wall had been blown out by the storm. This WAS done by the storm according to the staff person I asked and the winds at the time of th film had YET to reach hurricane force and were just tropical storm force. The area of lost plaster was large enough to drive a full sized semi truck through.
Later that night after we left Clear lake when we began to become worried that the surge would block us into the hotel's lot and that we would be come trapped and in fact we were right as this happened to the media crews here which at one point were ordered inside by the local police due to the life threatening conditions that hit there not too long after we had left. We evacuated back to the top of a 6 story parking garage in the Theater District where we watched as power lines arched and transformers blew. Remember, that isn't lightning... those are power flashes. Hurricanes have little to no lightning in them and you can tell they are power flashes by the eerie aqua or green color. Once the eye wall began to move on top of us we ventured out into the downtown area where we started to film the effects of the storms winds as they raced through the large towers that formed the city's skyline. As we passed between the towers the winds began to pick up more and more and we started to see more and more signs of windows being blown out until the inevitable happened and the vehicle was struck with a large piece of glass.... right next to my head! I yelped in horror due to how close it was to me. The camera's mic auto adjusted for the sound of the glass striking the car, turning down the mic's sensitivity for a brief moment. We quickly learned our lesson and headed back to the shelter of our parking garage where we waited out the rest of the storm down one level from the top. The following day we found it a bit troublesome trying to leave the downtown area due to the massive flooding going around it. That scene of us driving over the flood on the interstate was an area where the water had raised well over 15 feet and that WAS NOT storm surge... but rather was strictly freshwater flooding. Before we got on the freeway we were blown away (no pun intended) by just how damaging the hurricane was as just a Cat 2. The storm also gave me quite a surprise on the way home leaving power out around I-45 till we were 3/4ths of the way to Dallas from Houston and even in my home of NW Arkansas there was widespread tree damage and power outages due to Ike which was a tropical storm when it affected my home town.
**Hurricane Ike was a CAT 2, Hurricane with winds at landfall blowing at 110mph and has been rated the 3rd Costliest tropical system to hit the US and the 4th costliest Disaster in the nation's historty. Hurricanes and tropical storms are exetremely dangrerous. DO NOT chase them unless you have had training and are not alone and are with an experianced expert. If you are in a mandatory evacuation area head the warnings and leave before it is too late. Please keep your prayers and thoughts with those affected by this system. All footage is copyrighted to Joseph Bart Comstock.**
hurricane, tornado, severe weather, severe, weather, meteorology, bart, comsotck, bart comstock, flood, flooding, floods, surge, thunderstorms, tropical, cyclone, tropical cyclone, category 2, category 3, cat, nasa, texas, texas city, kemah, natural, disaster. (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: awesome cyclone destruction flood galveston houston hurricane ike storm surge texas typhoon weather
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0, 04:43, 2008-10-22 01:39:05 Description: my customer was extremely afraid of rejection and did´nt approached one single woman through the last 2 years. After 2,5 hours he approached more than 15 people. Check out more on (More) my customer was extremely afraid of rejection and did´nt approached one single woman through the last 2 years. After 2,5 hours he approached more than 15 people. Check out more on www.einfachflirten.com (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: Advice Anxiety Approach Dating Flirtcoaching Flirttraining free Geerdts Lines Michael Opener Pick Rejection Up women
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