i can watch reality shows

holy crap. best thing i've ever seen on tv EVER


i can see the end

so there are two weeks left of the semester and therefore two weeks left until my birthday.
i hope the feelings i have had inside me since i was 16 are incorrect. if they are not, then i have less than two weeks to live.

what am i gonna do?

i've decided on my thesis topic.
if i am not dead, i will work on making the worlds of art and design better by incorporating interactive exhibitions into art galleries and art museums, thus promoting peoples' understanding and appreciation of art.

if i am dead, maybe someone can do this in memory of me. just, you know, do all the research and all the work, and go ahead and slap my name on it.

thanks for that.

more of thesis talk to come.


i can edit videos

i made this video in maybe...2002?


i can fall in fake love

the L train is made for lovers, i swear.

he had the softest eyes
i thought about how if they were the first thing i saw
every morning for the rest of my life
that would be ok
i feel like i know him from before or something

i can make a lamp out of found objects

sometimes broken things make the best building supplies

i made a lamp out of found objects for my lighting class.

i originally intended to make it out of a garden hose all twisted around and knotted like you know how garden hoses get and suspend the light bulb inside this mess. after two hours of shoving 40 feet of 1/4" armature wire through the hose, forming it to an acceptable shape and wiring it, i gave up. my crude tools were not allowing me to create a base that would hold the whole thing above the table. (i didnt want there to be a base, but my teacher insisted. i will finish this lamp and keep it for myself, sans base...its pretty awesome)

so instead, at the last minute i decided to make the lamp out of negatives, empty film canisters, a book on photography, and an old kodak instamatic camera that i bought at a thrift store a few months ago. the film it takes is nonexistent anymore so i couldnt use it anyway.

here is how it turned out:


i can get straight A's

so i guess this semester is kicking my ass kind of hard, but i have to say, im pretty much kicking its ass even harder.

some images from my fridge:


i can wear mens underwear

about my invisible penis: written by jeremy behrhorst

standing on my chair
camel toe nonexistent
i got a dick, bro

(couldnt let all those dick pics go to waste!)

i can want this

i can wet my pants

in the past two weeks i have:

+designed many things
+not slept many hours
+hardly spoken with the people i love
+lost 7 pounds
+lost my mind

in the next two days i have to:
+create an identity for a museum that does not exist
+design and build a lamp made out of found objects
+decided what my thesis will be
+finish two websites
+make thousands of dollars

today i peed in my pants a little bit


i can write haikus

a haiku called procrastination

sitting at my desk
staring at my ghost penis
wearing boxer briefs


i can comment on the chenel contemporary art pavilion

kaaahl lagerfeld, is it true you had sloppy sex with zaha hadid?

so, as you all know (since the only people who read this blog are alfie and....alfie?) i love that wax enigma known to the world as karl lagerfeld. my feelings for zaha hadid are..not as strong.

(such the cute couple, cant wait for the sex tape)

but still. they have come together to create the Chanel Contemporary Art Pavilion which has recently been plopped down in central park.

i had the opportunity to see said pavilion last friday. thanks to my carefully color coded planner, i was able to score some tickets without having to wait on ridiculously long standby lines. (WOO!)

the guards or chanel militia or whatever were standing all around the pavilion. i was intrigued and excited by their custom chanel jackets and hats. i was even more excited when they spoke...in a very pleasant yet semi-robotic voice.

who does that.

anywayz. the structure looked like some sort of pearly white space ship. my favorite part about it was that it was so perfect and pristine and totally covered in bugs.

the experience inside was just as creepy as i would have liked it to be. you're greeted by like 5 different people all giving you very detailed instructions. you're immediately stripped of all your belongings and seated on a bench. a pleasant robot from the chanel militia places an mp3 player around your neck, because obviously you cant do things like that on your own. the robot sets your language and starts up the guided tour. a raspy, jeanne moreau begins growling demands into your ear. "stand up" "go left" "don't go up the stairs" "sit down" "unbutton your blouse". i felt like if i didnt listen and follow her instructions, she would know and would be very, VERY angry.

most of the artwork was....not...very good? i spent most of the time in the beginning trying to admire the interior architecture of the structure. this proved to be a difficult task when jeanne was ordering me around while weird new age music or whatever it was took over my brain. finally, i gave up trying to make the most of my own experience and surrendered to jeanne and the techno.

after this, i realized that maybe it wasnt so bad afterall. all i had to do was walk. i didnt have to decide what to look at or for how long, or how quickly to walk up stairs, or even what to THINK about what i was seeing! jeanne had all the answers! i was a robot too! and it was fucking awesome!

i feel like the interior of the exhibit is what the inside of karl lagerfeld's brain looks like. zaha's structure woven around and through all this chanel bullshit like synapses.

maybe if the art was good. maybe if the content related at all to zaha's structure. maybe if i was able to form my own opinions and create my own experience. maybe i could have enjoyed this exhibit. regardless, i have never seen anything like this, and will not soon forget it.


i can always save a place in my heart for puma

im really glad puma decided to bring back my favorite shoe of all time.

im gonna need someone to buy these for me.

sneaker freaker