Color For the Colorblind


This got me. Damn it. I’m over here crying actual tears to these people’s reactions at seeing certain shades of red and green for the first time.

It just seems so magical and profound, to suddenly have the world pop with all the colors of the rainbow. What a gift. I want that. Hell, I need it. Not so much on the visual spectrum. On a spiritual one.




Attenuation is the gradual loss in intensity of any kind of flux through a medium.

Los Angeles is a study in attenuation.

The sunset is attenuated as it pierces through the rush hour smog. Your cell phone signal is attenuated as it bounces up and through the canyons. Dreams are attenuated as they grind through the celebrity machine.

The process of attenuation is this city’s preferred method of chaos, because it is a delicate rhythm of scattering and absorption. Of all the flavors of entropy, attenuation renders the most graceful patterns of annihilation.


Zen Poetry



There is an ancient custom amongst Zen monks and haiku poets to compose a jisei or “death poem” when nearing the very end of their lives.

I feel like Anna Nicole Smith may have been more of a Zen poet than any of us ever gave her credit for.

All My Friends


You don’t notice at first, but this is only one shot, and it’s filled with glitter and rain and smoke and mirrors, and it all ends in a shower of sparks. Just like life, I suppose.

Fuck me. Until yesterday at the Hollywood Bowl, I’d forgotten how much I loved, loved, loved LCD Soundsystem deep down in that burning core of a place where I thought there weren’t any more tears left to cry for that last beautiful summer in 2007 when none of us were dead, divorced, or doing time.

God damn, the last few years have been rough.

Where are my friends tonight, indeed?