April, 2009 Archives


Drowning my sorrows.


So..just finished watching this film. Its the new film by 2 time Sundance Winner Ondi Timoner, she also did Dig! which is another fabulous film, she’s pretty amazing. I’m lucky enough to know people, who know her. Brendan and Berto, specifically. And I got a copy of the film for my own personal viewing pleasure. And I watched it tonight and it was super great.

The film is about Josh Harris. Someone way ahead of his time in terms of knowing the internet capabilities and capacity to change us and how we communicate and know and understand each other..and ourselves. The whole social media thing..I’ve been digging in pretty deep lately. Even phone interviewed yesterday for a position that is all about using social media to market a site whose focus is entirely philanthropic. I’m struggling right now with diving back into this world, the interactive world…or turning my focus to more tangible items. It’s tough honestly.

Go see the film. For you Denver’ites..hopefully the screening event I’m trying to plan happens in July or August. Anyone else..look for it at a film festival near you.

We Live In Public.

So. I decided recently I needed to curb my text messaging. Not because I don’t love it, but because I think I’ve crossed the line from social texter to textaholic. And paired with an unreliable phone service that apparently doesn’t deliver messages when they are sent, from me, or to me, it’s certainly lead to some misunderstandings. More than once. So..I’m on a self imposed 12 step program.

Then I read this  in todays Boing Boing.

Woman publishes book full of text messages sent to her dead husband’s cell phone

65-year old Toshiko Fukuda of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, lost her husband to asbestos on April 17th last year. Her husband, Motoo, was diagnosed with mesothelioma in 2006, probably from the steel pipe factory he worked at. He got worker’s comp, but the disease ultimately destroyed his lungs and left him with hallucinations for the remainder of his life. Shocked, the widowed Fukuda started sending text messages to her dead husband every time she thought of something she wanted to say to him. Things like: “I couldn’t live if I didn’t think you were still beside me. I can’t live [without you]. I’m crying every day” and “I want to call you ‘Otosan’ to my heart’s content. Why do you have to be inside such a small urn?” Every time she sent a message, the phone by his home shrine vibrated (she made sure it was always charged).

Now she’s publishing a book with the loosely translated title Job Transfer to Heaven Without Family-I Wanted to Be With You Longer, a compilation of all her text messages from the past year that she hopes will educate the public about the dangers of asbestos. [via Yomiuri via Asia Daily News]

I find this interesting on several different levels. Our reliance on technology, to fortify and communicate our still overwhelming, maybe even greater, need to connect with each other. The way technology has changed the way we communicate..emails, texts, Facebook status, now twitter..all additional ways to connect..but using less and less words. Is the over simplification of the way we reach out helping or hurting us? Does anyone actually care? Or is everyone just scrambling to be the loudest person in the crowd hoping that that means someone is paying attention? It’s human nature to want to be heard, more than they want to hear. So are these tools helping or hurting? In this womans case, she reached out in a way that she could identify with, to her dead husband and his cell phone. But that wasn’t enough. Because truly, no one was listening. So she published a book. Did she publish that book to bring awareness to the dangers of asbestos, or because she needed to be heard?

On the other hand..when I read through my facebook status page and see what all my friends are doing..I feel a little bit more connected and in touch and the worlds feels a lot smaller.

Just thoughts..no conclusions..just thoughts.

Txt msg. Twitter. Talk?




Art Crank Denver 09


I met this man at the Mile High Flea Market yesterday. He busted me taking photos of tires. Said I should instead take a photo of him. He wanted me to be sure I got the embedded spikes in his neck. He told me that when people asked him if it hurt, he told them not as much as his divorce.




I found this photo in my archives a week or so ago….but I didn’t post it.  Well..today I am. I wish things like this could be found or returned by posting a few signs around the neighborhood.

I took this photo in Bend, Oregon in August. This lost sign struck me to the heart..then..and now. Love. It’s so brutal. Is there anything that hurts worse? Or feels better?  I want to believe it’s possible to have something real and amazing,  but I haven’t had real good luck finding this. Or holding onto it when I do.

And just when you think it can’t get worse..some one calls you a tree killer for putting your heart on a string..or tree trunk.


For more Lost signs…Jen’s Lost series on her blog.

What DID happen?


This is my ode to my cable. Goodbye cable. The only reason I keep you is because of Current TV. Which I can watch on my computer. That I spend way more time with. So..cable..it’s been a nice road. Sort of. Actually..no, it’s been a one sided relationship. You have done nothing but take from me. Precious hours I could be creating, or reading or …sleeping. Anything you claim to have given me, I can get from a much more amicable source…..goodbye cable..and with you..your dumb sister land line. Who needs a land line? Telemarkers..that’s who.


This is from an exhibit in Bristol, England where some really talented street artists are painting the interiors of jail cells. Really beautiful work here. Stunning actually.

From Wooster.

Jail cell artwork.


This one has me stumped. I mean..I really..really don’t get it. It’s almost like the timeout corner, or solitary confinement, or a meditation chair. A lovely wooden, cushioned chair, in a small space, safe. Cozy. Except its in the alley, behind a dumpster, with barbed wire around the tops of the fence. I don’t know. Is this a punishment area? A place to get away from it all? What is this? This does remind me of a fantastic art exhibit though…